Gogol's state system. Essay on the topic: Provincial city in Gogol’s poem “Dead Souls”

In “Dead Souls” N.V. Gogol presented the readers with a panorama of Russian reality. In the work, the author raises many issues relevant to Russia of that period. Not last place The poem also features an urban theme.

The story begins with the fact that the main character Pavel Chichikov arrives in NN - one of the provincial cities. Judging by the description, we immediately understand that this is a provincial town: “the pavement everywhere was rather bad,” there were many “drinking houses,” a poor city park, which “consisted of thin trees, badly grown, with supports at the bottom, in the form of triangles, very beautifully painted with green oil paint.”

Gogol very easily notices funny absurdities that are quite familiar to the local population, but greatly amuse visitors. Just look at the name of the cap and cap store “Foreigner Vasily Fedorov”.

Chichikov devoted his time in this city to visits to high-ranking officials. For each of them he found words of praise, saying that they were doing a good job with the city affairs entrusted to them. But Sobakevich, on the contrary, speaks very unflatteringly about them: “I know them all: they’re all swindlers, the whole city there is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives the swindler.” So where is the truth? The writer will help you understand this issue. Here is what he says about the NN officials, in particular about the police chief: “The police chief was in some way a father and benefactor in the city. He was among the citizens just like in family of origin, and he visited the shops and the living room as if he were visiting his own pantry...” Yes, Gogol is ironic. And this irony hides his entire attitude towards officials as a class: they are “more or less enlightened: some have read Karamzin, some have read Moskovskie Vedomosti, some have not even read anything at all.”

The behavior of the ladies in this city is also quite remarkable. They tried to imitate the St. Petersburg representatives of the aristocracy and behaved very carefully and decently. Instead of saying, “I blew my nose,” they said, “I cleared my nose.”

Gogol in “Dead Souls,” in fact, as in “The Inspector General,” showed the empty and worthless life of provincial officials of that time. Having the opportunity and power to improve the state of affairs in society, they spend their time on card games, banquets at public expense, gossip and intrigue. They steal and take bribes without a twinge of conscience. And how could it be otherwise, if the police chief, who is the guardian of law and order, himself steals... I think that officials, as well as landowners, can quite reasonably be “attached” to the class “ dead souls"Russian reality.

N.V. Gogol always considered literature to be a socially transformative, educational force. That is why in the poem “ Dead Souls“He seeks to continue Pushkin’s traditions of satirical denunciation in the novel “Eugene Onegin.” A special place in the work is occupied by the exposure of the vices of bureaucracy. It can be noted that Gogol reaches new heights in the development of this topic. If we compare the bureaucracy in “The Inspector General” and “Dead Souls,” it becomes clear that the author has created not only individual images-symbols, but a magnificent collective image bureaucracy of the provincial city of NN. The comedy and humor of “The Inspector General” develops into irony and sarcasm in the poem. The first chapter is partially devoted to depicting the world of officials, in which Chichikov, having arrived in the city, begins to establish the necessary connections. Pavel Ivanovich “went to make visits to all the city dignitaries.” The author gives a brief, but succinct and vivid description each of these “fathers of the city,” for example, the governor “had Anna around his neck... however, he was a great good-natured person and even sometimes embroidered tulle himself.” Officials are described in much more detail in chapters 7-10. In this world of bureaucracy, two forces reign: bribery and execution-joy. Main character The poem returns to the city and decides to formalize the deed of sale in the chamber. This allows Gogol to give big picture morals of officials. At the same time, he uses his favorite techniques of irony, hyperbole and illogic. In the “public places” where Chichikov and Manilov entered, “the noise from the feathers was great and sounded as if several carts with brushwood were passing through a forest littered with a quarter of an arshin of withered leaves.” Having tried to find out where a deed of sale can be made, Pavel Ivanovich immediately encounters the red tape typical of such places. Having finally found a serf expedition, Chichikov meets an official, so to speak, of mediocre quality. The author describes Ivan Antonovich Kuvshinnoe Rylo: “...he was already a man of prudent years, not like a young talker and helipad.” It seems to me that it is interesting to compare how officials give a bribe in the comedy “The Inspector General” to a higher-ranking person and how Chichikov gives a bribe to an official, although lower in rank and position, but on whom the decision of the case to a certain extent depends. Khlestakov takes the money easily, saying that he takes it on loans, gradually increasing the named amounts, Ivan Antonovich, transparently hinting that although the petitioner is familiar with the chairman of the chamber, Ivan Grigorievich, he is “not alone; there are others." Having received from Chichikov the so-called “lamb in a piece of paper,” he pretends that he “didn’t notice the piece of paper and immediately covered it with a book.” Everything happens in a very ordinary, familiar way, according to certain already established rules. The author’s sarcasm, in our opinion, is also manifested in the fact that the chairman of the chamber is well aware of everything. Having given orders and settled Chichikov’s affairs, he even proudly says: “Everything will be done, but don’t give anything to the officials, I ask you about this. My friends don't have to pay."

The “miracle worker” police chief is just as colorful. His description is one of the most vivid in the poem. It can be noted that this image is reminiscent of both the mayor and the police chief from The Inspector General. N.V. Gogol writes that “the police chief was in some way the father and benefactor of the city. He was among the citizens just like in his own family, and he visited the shops and the guest courtyard as if he were visiting his own pantry.” In just a few phrases, the author managed to masterfully reproduce the entire picture of life in this provincial city. It seems that one can believe Sobakevich, who characterizes officials as follows: “They are all scammers: the scammer sits on the scammer and drives the scammer.” Overall this social group appears, despite individual bright characters, like some faceless monolith, very successfully dealing with strangers.

Gogol identifies in each of the officials a certain trait that allows one to remember this image (for example, a prosecutor who winks an eye, about which there seems to be nothing more to say). All characters represent, one might say, parts of a single bureaucratic machine. They turn service into a means of obtaining illegal income, and often into leisure, and lead an idle life, practically devoid of any spiritual needs. long evenings filled mostly card game. Again, I remember the nobody town Skvoznik-Dmukhanovsky, who said that he does not play cards, since state affairs are more important to him. N.V. Gogol debunks all the officials’ claims to enlightenment with just one phrase: “The others were also, more or less, enlightened people: some read Karamzin, some Moskovskie Vedomosti, some didn’t even read anything at all.” " Although the world of bureaucracy is given less space than the depiction of landowners, the author created a bright and multifaceted picture.

It is probably not by chance that one of the last episodes in the poem “Dead Souls” is the scene of the funeral of the prosecutor, who “came home, began to think, think... and suddenly died.” What truly murderous sarcasm is full of the author’s lines that “it was only then with condolences that they learned that the deceased definitely had a soul, although due to his modesty he never showed it.”

N.V. Gogol, in exposing the vices of bureaucracy, reached heights of typification that none of his predecessors had achieved. M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin later became the continuer of the Gogol tradition in revealing this topic.

How much did you buy your soul from Plyushkin? - Sobakevich whispered in his other ear.

Why was Sparrow assigned? - Chichikov told him in response to this.

What Sparrow? - said Sobakevich.

Yes, the woman, Elizaveta Vorobya, also put the letter ъ at the end.

No, I didn’t attribute any Sparrow,” Sobakevich said and went off to the other guests.

The guests finally arrived in a crowd at the police chief's house. The police chief was definitely a miracle worker: as soon as he heard what was happening, at that very moment he called to the policeman, a lively fellow in patent leather boots, and, it seems, he whispered only two words in his ear and only added: “You understand!” - and there, in another room, while the guests were playing whist, beluga, sturgeon, salmon, pressed caviar, freshly salted caviar, herrings, stellate sturgeon, cheeses, smoked tongues and balyks appeared on the table - that was all from the fish row. Then there were additions from the owner's side, kitchen products: a pie with head, which included the cartilage and cheeks of a nine-pound sturgeon, another pie with milk mushrooms, yarn, butter, and boiled milk. The police chief was in some way a father and benefactor in the city. He was among the citizens just like in his own family, and he visited the shops and the guest courtyard as if he were visiting his own pantry. In general, he sat, as they say, in his place and understood his position to perfection. It was even difficult to decide whether he was created for the place, or the place for him. The matter was handled so cleverly that he received twice as much income as all his predecessors, and meanwhile earned the love of the entire city. The first merchants loved him very much, precisely because he was not proud; and indeed, he baptized their children, worshiped them and, although sometimes he tore them hard, but somehow extremely deftly: he would pat them on the shoulder, and laugh, and give them tea, promise to come and play checkers himself, and ask about everything : how are you doing, what and how. If he finds out that the cub is somehow ill and recommends medicine, in a word, well done! He’ll ride in a droshky, give order, and meanwhile say a word to one or the other: “Well, Mikheich, you and I should finish playing uphill someday.” “Yes, Alexey Ivanovich,” he answered, taking off his hat, “it would be necessary.” - “Well, brother, Ilya Paramonych, come to me to look at the trotter: he’ll go overtaking with yours, and put his own in the races; Let's try." The merchant, who was obsessed with the trotter, smiled at this with special, as they say, eagerness and, stroking his beard, said: “Let’s try it, Alexey Ivanovich!” Even all the inmates usually at this time, taking off their hats, looked at each other with pleasure and seemed to want to say: “Alexey Ivanovich is a good man!” In a word, he managed to acquire a complete nationality, and the opinion of the merchants was that Alexey Ivanovich “even though it will take you, it will certainly not give you away.”

Noticing that the appetizer was ready, the police chief invited the guests to finish whist after breakfast, and everyone went into the room from where the wafting smell had long begun to pleasantly tickle the nostrils of the guests and where Sobakevich had long been peering through the door, noticing from a distance a sturgeon lying to the side on a large dish. The guests, having drunk a glass of dark olive-colored vodka, which can only be found on Siberian transparent stones from which seals are cut in Russia, approached the table from all sides with forks and began to discover, as they say, each of his own character and inclinations, leaning on caviar. , some for salmon, some for cheese. Sobakevich, leaving all these little things without any attention, settled down to the sturgeon, and while they were drinking, talking and eating, he reached the whole thing in a little over a quarter of an hour, so that when the police chief remembered him and said: “How do you feel?” , gentlemen, will this work of nature appear?” - I approached him with a fork along with others, then I saw that only one tail remained from the product of nature; and Sobakevich hissed as if it were not him, and, going up to the plate, which was further away from the others, poked with a fork at some dried small fish. Having finished the sturgeon, Sobakevich sat down in a chair and no longer ate or drank, but only squinted and blinked his eyes. The police chief, it seems, did not like to spare wine; there was no shortage of toasts. The first toast was drunk, as readers may have guessed for themselves, to the health of the new Kherson landowner, then to the prosperity of his peasants and their happy resettlement, then to the health of his future wife, a beauty, which brought a pleasant smile from the lips of our hero. They approached him from all sides and began to convincingly beg him to stay in the city for at least two weeks:

No, Pavel Ivanovich! as you wish, it comes out of the hut only to cool it down: on the threshold, and back! no, you spend time with us! Here we are marrying you: aren’t we, Ivan Grigorievich, marrying him?

Let's get married, get married! - the chairman picked up. - No matter how you resist with your hands and feet, we will marry you! No, father, you got here, so don’t complain. We don't like to joke.

Well? “Why bother with your arms and legs,” Chichikov said, grinning, “marriage is not such a thing that there would be a bride.”

There will be a bride, if not, everything will be, everything you want!..

And if it happens...

Bravo, it remains! - everyone shouted. - Vivat, hurray, Pavel Ivanovich! hooray! - And everyone came up to him to clink glasses with glasses in their hands.

Chichikov clinked glasses with everyone. “No, no, not yet!” - said those who were more playful, and clinked glasses again; then they went to clink glasses a third time, and clinked glasses a third time. In a short time everyone felt incredibly happy. The chairman, who was a very nice man when he was having fun, hugged Chichikov several times, saying in an outpouring of heart: “You are my soul! my mother! - and even, snapping his fingers, began to dance around him, chanting famous song : “Oh, you are such and such a Kamarinsky man.” After the champagne, the Hungarian wine was uncorked, which added even more spirit and cheered up the company. They completely forgot about whist; they argued, shouted, talked about everything: about politics, even about military affairs, they expressed free thoughts for which in another time they themselves would have flogged their children. Many of the most difficult issues were resolved immediately. Chichikov had never felt in such a cheerful mood, imagined himself to be a real Kherson landowner, talked about various improvements: about a three-field economy, about the happiness and bliss of two souls, and began to read to Sobakevich a message in Werther’s verses to Charlotte, to which he only batted his eyes , sitting in an armchair, because after the sturgeon I felt a great urge to sleep. Chichikov himself realized that he was beginning to get too loose, asked for a carriage and took advantage of the prosecutor's droshky. The prosecutor's coachman, as it turned out on the road, was a little experienced, because he drove with only one hand, and, putting the other back, held the master with it. Thus, already on the prosecutor's droshky, he arrived at his hotel, where for a long time all sorts of nonsense was on the tip of his tongue: a blond bride with a blush and a dimple on her right cheek, Kherson villages, capital. Selifan was even given some economic orders: to gather all the newly resettled men in order to make a personal roll call of everyone. Selifan listened in silence for a very long time and then left the room, saying to Petrushka: “Go undress the master!” Petrushka began to take off his boots and almost pulled the master himself down to the floor with them. But finally the boots were taken off, the master undressed properly and, after tossing and turning for a while on the bed, which creaked mercilessly, he fell asleep resolutely like a Kherson landowner. Meanwhile, Petrushka brought out into the corridor trousers and a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a sparkle, which, spread out on a wooden hanger, began to beat with a whip and a brush, spreading dust throughout the entire corridor. Just getting ready to take them off, he looked down from the gallery and saw Selifan returning from the stables. They met their gazes and instinctively understood each other: the master had fallen asleep, they might as well look in somewhere. That same hour, having carried his tailcoat and trousers into the room, Petrushka went downstairs, and both walked together, not telling each other anything about the purpose of the trip and joking about completely unrelated things on the way. They didn’t walk far: namely, they just crossed to the other side of the street, to the house that was opposite the hotel, and entered a low glass smoky door that led almost to the basement, where a lot of people were already sitting at wooden tables: those who shaved and those who didn’t shave their beards, both in sheepskin coats and just a shirt, and some even in a frieze overcoat. What Petrushka and Selifan were doing there, God knows, but they left there an hour later, holding hands, maintaining perfect silence, showing each other great attention and warning each other against any corners. Hand in hand, without letting go of each other, they climbed the stairs for a whole quarter of an hour, finally overcame it and climbed up. Petrushka stopped for a minute in front of his low bed, wondering how to lie down more decently, and lay down completely across it, so that his legs rested on the floor. Selifan himself lay down on the same bed, placing his head on Petrushka’s belly and forgetting that he should not have slept here at all, but perhaps in the servants’ quarters, if not in the stables near the horses. Both fell asleep at the same moment, raising snores of unheard-of density, to which the master from the other room responded with a thin nasal whistle. Soon after them everyone calmed down, and the hotel fell into a deep sleep; Only in one window was light still visible, where lived some lieutenant who had arrived from Ryazan, a big hunter, apparently, of boots, because he had already ordered four pairs and was constantly trying on the fifth. Several times he went up to the bed in order to take them off and lie down, but he just couldn’t: the boots were definitely well made, and for a long time he raised his foot and examined the smartly and wonderfully worn heel.

Chapter Eight

Chichikov's purchases became the subject of conversation. There were rumors, opinions, and arguments in the city about whether it was profitable to buy peasants for withdrawal. During the debate, many responded with perfect knowledge of the subject. “Of course,” others said, “this is so, there is no dispute against it: the lands in the southern provinces are certainly good and fertile; but what will it be like for the peasants of Chichikov without water? There’s no river.” - “It would be nothing if there is no water, that would be nothing, Stepan Dmitrievich, but resettlement is an unreliable thing. It’s a well-known fact that a man: on a new land, but still has to take up arable farming, but he has nothing, neither a hut, nor a yard, he will run away like two times two, sharpen his skis so much that you won’t find a trace.” - “No, Alexey Ivanovich, excuse me, excuse me, I don’t agree with what you say, that Chichikov’s man will run away. Russian people are capable of everything and get used to any climate. Send him to Kamchatka, just give him warm mittens, he claps his hands, an ax in his hands, and goes to cut himself a new hut.” - “But, Ivan Grigorievich, you have lost sight of an important matter: you have not yet asked what kind of man Chichikov is. I forgot what it was good man the landowner will not sell; I’m ready to lay my head down if Chichikov’s man is not a thief or an extreme drunkard, a loiterer with violent behavior.” - “Yes, yes, I agree to this, it’s true, no one will sell good people, and Chichikov’s men are drunkards, but you need to take into account that this is where morality is, this is where morality lies: they are now scoundrels, and having moved to new land, suddenly they can become excellent subjects. There have been many such examples: just in the world, and in history too.” “Never, never,” said the manager of state-owned factories, “believe me, this can never happen. For the peasants of Chichikov will now have two strong enemy. The first enemy is the proximity of the Little Russian provinces, where, as you know, there is a free sale of wine. I assure you: in two weeks they will be drunk and there will be insoles. Another enemy is the very habit of a vagabond life, which the peasants must acquire during the resettlement. Is it really necessary that they always be before Chichikov’s eyes and that he holds them with a tight rein, that he drives them away for any nonsense, and not so much by relying on someone else, but that he personally, where appropriate, would give both a punch and a slap on the head? " - “Why should Chichikov bother himself and slap him on the head, he can find a manager.” - “Yes, you will find a manager: they are all scammers!” - “They are scammers because the gentlemen are not involved in the business.” “It’s true,” many chimed in. “If the gentleman himself knows at least some sense in the economy and knows how to distinguish between people, he will always have a good manager.” But the manager said that for less than five thousand you cannot find a good manager. But the chairman said that it could be found for three thousand. But the manager said: “Where will you find him? maybe in your nose? But the chairman said: “No, not in the nose, but in the local district, namely: Pyotr Petrovich Samoilov: this is the kind of manager Chichikov’s peasants need!” Many felt strongly about Chichikov’s position, and the difficulty of relocating such huge amount the peasants were extremely frightened of them; They began to be very afraid that even a rebellion would not occur between such a restless people as the peasants of Chichikov. To this, the police chief remarked that there was nothing to fear from rebellion, that the power of the police captain existed in disgust of it, that even though the police captain himself did not go, but only sent his cap to take his place, then this cap alone would drive the peasants to their very place residence. Many offered their opinions on how to eradicate the violent spirit that overwhelmed the peasants of Chichikov. There were all kinds of opinions: there were those who were already too reminiscent of military cruelty and severity, almost unnecessary; There were, however, also those who breathed meekness. The postmaster noticed that Chichikov had a sacred duty ahead of him, that he could become a kind of father among his peasants, as he put it, even introduce beneficent education, and in this case he spoke with great praise about Lancaster’s school of mutual education.

In this way they reasoned and spoke in the city, and many, prompted by participation, even informed Chichikov personally of some of these tips, even offered a convoy to safely escort the peasants to their place of residence. Chichikov thanked for the advice, saying that if necessary, he would not fail to use them, but from He resolutely refused the convoy, saying that it was completely unnecessary, that the peasants he bought were of an extremely peaceful nature, they themselves felt a voluntary disposition towards resettlement, and that in no case could there be a rebellion between them.

All these rumors and reasoning produced, however, the most favorable consequences that Chichikov could have expected. Namely, rumors spread that he was no more, no less than a millionaire. The inhabitants of the city, as we already saw in the first chapter, fell in love with Chichikov, and now, after such rumors, they fell in love even more deeply. However, to tell the truth, they were all good people, living in harmony with each other, treated themselves in a completely friendly manner, and their conversations bore the stamp of some special simplicity and brevity: “Dear friend Ilya Ilyich,” “Listen, brother, Antipator Zakharyevich!”, “You lied, mommy, Ivan Grigorievich.” To the postmaster, whose name was Ivan Andreevich, they always added: “Sprechen for deutsch, Ivan Andreich?” - in a word, everything was very family-like. Many were not without education: the chairman of the chamber knew Zhukovsky’s “Lyudmila” by heart, which was still difficult news at that time, and masterfully read many passages, especially: “The forest has fallen asleep, the valley is sleeping,” and the word “chu!” so that it really seemed as if the valley was sleeping; for greater resemblance, he even closed his eyes at this time. The postmaster delved more deeply into philosophy and read very diligently, even at night, Jung’s “Nights” and Eckartshausen’s “Key to the Mysteries of Nature,” from which he made very long extracts, but no one knew what type they were; however, he was witty, flowery in words and loved, as he himself put it, to embellish his speech. And he equipped his speech with many different particles, something like: “My sir, some kind of you know, you understand, you can imagine, relatively, so to speak, in some way,” and others that he sprinkled in bags; He also equipped his speech quite successfully with winking, squinting of one eye, which all gave a very caustic expression to many of his satirical allusions. The others were also more or less enlightened people: some had read Karamzin, some had read Moskovskie Vedomosti, some had not even read anything at all. Who was what is called a tyuruk, that is, a person who needed to be kicked up to something; who was just a bob, lying, as they say, on his side all his life, which was even in vain to raise: he would not get up under any circumstances. As for good looks, we already know that they were all reliable people, there was no one consumptive among them. They were all of the kind to whom wives, in tender conversations taking place in solitude, gave names: egg capsules, chubby, pot-bellied, nigella, kiki, juju, and so on. But in general they were kind people, full of hospitality, and a person who ate bread with them or spent an evening at whist already became something close, especially Chichikov with his charming qualities and techniques, who really knew great secret like. They loved him so much that he saw no means of getting out of the city; All he heard was: “Well, a week, another week, live with us, Pavel Ivanovich!” - in a word, he was carried, as they say, in his arms. But incomparably more remarkable was the impression (an absolute object of amazement!) that Chichikov made on the ladies. In order to explain this at all, it would be necessary to say a lot about the ladies themselves, about their society, to describe, as they say, in living colors spiritual qualities; but for the author it is very difficult. On the one hand, his unlimited respect for the spouses of dignitaries stops him, but on the other hand... on the other hand, it’s simply difficult. The ladies of the city of N. were... no, I absolutely can’t: I definitely feel timidity. What was most remarkable about the ladies of the city of N. was this... It’s even strange, the feather does not rise at all, as if some kind of lead were sitting in it. So be it: about their characters, apparently, it is necessary to leave it to the one who has livelier paint and there are more of them on the palette, and we will only have to say two words about the appearance and what is more superficial. The ladies of the city of N. were what is called presentable, and in this respect they could safely be set as an example to all others. As for how to behave, maintain tone, maintain etiquette, many of the most subtle decencies, and especially observe fashion in the very last detail, then in this they were ahead of even the ladies of St. Petersburg and Moscow. They dressed with great taste, drove around the city in carriages, as prescribed latest fashion, a footman swayed behind him, and a livery in gold braiding. Business card, whether it was written on the two of clubs or the ace of diamonds, the thing was very sacred. Because of her, two ladies, great friends and even relatives, completely quarreled, precisely because one of them somehow skimped on a counter-visit. And no matter how hard their husbands and relatives tried later to reconcile them, but no, it turned out that everything could be done in the world, but one thing could not be done: to reconcile two ladies who had quarreled over skimping on a visit. So both ladies remained in mutual dislike, as the city society put it. There were also many very strong scenes regarding the taking of first places, which sometimes inspired husbands with completely chivalrous, magnanimous concepts of intercession. Of course, there was no duel between them, because they were all civil officials, but one tried to harm the other wherever possible, which, as we know, is sometimes more difficult than any duel. In morals, the ladies of the city of N. were strict, filled with noble indignation against everything vicious and all temptations, and executed all kinds of weaknesses without any mercy. If anything happened between them that is called another or third, then it happened in secret, so that there was no indication of what was happening; all dignity was preserved, and the husband himself was so prepared that even if he saw another or third or heard about him, he answered briefly and sensibly with a proverb: “Who cares if godfather sat with godfather.” It must also be said that the ladies of the city of N. were distinguished, like many ladies in St. Petersburg, by extraordinary caution and decency in words and expressions. They never said: “I blew my nose,” “I sweated,” “I spat,” but they said: “I relieved my nose,” “I managed with a handkerchief.” In no case could one say: “this glass or this plate stinks.” And it was even impossible to say anything that would give a hint of this, but instead they said: “this glass is not behaving well” or something like that. In order to further refine the Russian language, half of almost the words were completely thrown out of the conversation, and therefore it was very often necessary to resort to French , but there, in French, it’s a different matter: there words were allowed that were much harsher than those mentioned. So, this is what can be said about the ladies of the city of N., speaking more superficially. But if you look deeper, then, of course, many other things will be revealed; but it is very dangerous to look deeper into women's hearts. So, limiting ourselves to the surface, we will continue. Until now, all the ladies somehow spoke little about Chichikov, giving him, however, complete justice in the pleasantness of his social treatment; but since rumors of his millionaire spread, other qualities have been discovered. However, the ladies were not at all interesting; the word “millionaire” is to blame for everything, not the millionaire himself, but precisely one word; for in one sound of this word, besides every money bag, there is something that affects both scoundrel people, and neither this nor that, and good people - in a word, it affects everyone. The millionaire has the advantage that he can see meanness, completely disinterested, pure meanness, not based on any calculations: many know very well that they will not receive anything from him and have no right to receive, but they will certainly at least run ahead of him, at least laugh , even if they take off their hat, even if they forcefully ask for that dinner where they find out that a millionaire has been invited. It cannot be said that this tender disposition towards meanness was felt by the ladies; however, in many living rooms they began to say that, of course, Chichikov was not the first handsome man, but he was as a man should be, that if he were a little fatter or fuller, it would not be good. At the same time, something was said that was somewhat insulting about the thin man: that he was nothing more, like something like a toothpick, and not a person. There were many different additions to the ladies' outfits. There was a hustle and bustle in the guest yard, almost a stampede; There was even a party, so many carriages came. The merchants were amazed to see how several pieces of material, which they had brought from the fair and had not gotten away with because of the price that seemed high, suddenly went into use and were sold out like hot cakes. During mass, one of the ladies noticed a roll at the bottom of her dress that spread it halfway across the church, so the private bailiff, who was right there, gave the order to the people to move further away, that is, closer to the porch, so that her nobility’s dress would somehow not become wrinkled. Even Chichikov himself could not help but partly notice such extraordinary attention. One day, returning to his home, he found a letter on his table; where and who brought it from, nothing could be known; The tavern servant responded that they brought it and didn’t tell me from whom. The letter began very decisively, exactly like this: “No, I must write to you!” Then it was said that there is secret sympathy between souls; this truth was sealed with several points that took up almost half a line; then followed several thoughts, very remarkable in their justice, so that we consider it almost necessary to write them down: “What is our life? - The valley where sorrows settled. What's the light? “A crowd of people who don’t feel.” Then the writer mentioned that she would wet the lines of her tender mother with tears, who, twenty-five years had passed, no longer existed in the world; they invited Chichikov to the desert, to leave forever the city, where people in stuffy enclosures do not use the air; the end of the letter even echoed with decisive despair and concluded with the following verses:

There was no meter in the last line, but this, however, was nothing: the letter was written in the spirit of the time. There was no signature either: no first name, no last name, not even a month or date. In the postscriptum it was only added that his own heart should guess the writer and that the original himself would be present at the governor’s ball, which was to take place tomorrow.

This interested him very much. There was so much in the anonymous letter that was tempting and inciting curiosity that he re-read the letter a second and third time and finally said: “It would be interesting, however, to know who the writer was!” In a word, the matter, apparently, has become serious; For more than an hour he kept thinking about it, finally, spreading his arms and bowing his head, he said: “And the letter is very, very curly written!” Then, of course, the letter was folded and placed in a box, next to some kind of poster and a wedding invitation card, which remained in the same position and in the same place for seven years. A little later, they brought him an invitation to a ball with the governor - a very common thing in provincial cities: where the governor is, there is a ball, otherwise there will be no proper love and respect from the nobility.

Everything extraneous was at that very moment abandoned and pushed aside, and everything was focused on preparing for the ball; for, for sure, there were many motivating and bullying reasons. But, perhaps, since the very creation of light, so much time has not been spent on the toilet. A whole hour was devoted to just looking at the face in the mirror. I tried to tell him a lot different expressions: sometimes important and sedate, sometimes respectful, but with some smile, sometimes simply respectful without a smile; several bows were made into the mirror, accompanied by unclear sounds, partly similar to French, although Chichikov did not know French at all. He even made a lot for himself pleasant surprises, winked his eyebrows and lips and even did something with his tongue; in a word, you never know what to do, left alone, feeling that you are good, and besides being sure that no one is looking through the crack. Finally, he lightly tapped himself on the chin, saying: “Oh, what a little face you are!” - and began to get dressed. The most contented disposition accompanied him the entire time he was dressing: putting on suspenders or tying a tie, he scraped and bowed with particular dexterity and, although he never danced, he did an entrechat. This entreche produced a small, innocent consequence: the chest of drawers shook and a brush fell from the table.

His appearance at the ball had an extraordinary effect. Everything that was turned to meet him, some with cards in their hands, some in real interesting point conversation saying: “and the lower zemstvo court responds to this...”, but what is the zemstvo court answering, he threw it aside and hurried with greetings to our hero. “Pavel Ivanovich! Oh my God, Pavel Ivanovich! Dear Pavel Ivanovich! Dear Pavel Ivanovich! My soul Pavel Ivanovich! Here you are, Pavel Ivanovich! Here he is, our Pavel Ivanovich! Let me press you, Pavel Ivanovich! Let's bring him here, so I'll kiss him harder, my dear Pavel Ivanovich! Chichikov immediately felt himself in several arms. Before he had time to completely crawl out of the chairman’s arms, he found himself in the arms of the police chief; the police chief handed him over to the inspector of the medical board; the inspector of the medical board - to the tax farmer, the tax farmer - to the architect... The governor, who at that time was standing near the ladies and holding a candy ticket in one hand, and in the other a lap dog, seeing him, threw both the ticket and the lap dog onto the floor - the little dog just squealed; in a word, he spread extraordinary joy and joy. There was not a face that did not express pleasure, or at least a reflection of general pleasure. This is what happens on the faces of officials when a visiting chief inspects their places entrusted to management: after the first fear had passed, they saw that he liked a lot of things, and he himself finally deigned to joke, that is, to utter a few words with a pleasant grin. The officials close to him laugh twice in response to this; those who, however, heard the words spoken by him somewhat poorly, and finally, standing far at the door at the very exit, some policeman, who had never laughed in his entire life and who had just shown his fist to the people, laughed heartily, and he according to the immutable laws of reflection, he expresses some kind of smile on his face, although this smile is more similar to how someone is about to sneeze after drinking strong tobacco. Our hero answered everyone and everyone and felt some kind of extraordinary dexterity: he bowed to the right and left, as usual, somewhat to the side, but completely freely, so that he charmed everyone. The ladies immediately surrounded him with a shining garland and brought with them whole clouds of all kinds of fragrances: one breathed roses, another smelled of spring and violets, the third was completely scented with mignonette; Chichikov just raised his nose and sniffed. There was an abyss of taste in their outfits: muslins, satins, muslins were so pale fashionable colors, which even the name could not be tidied up (the subtlety of taste had reached such an extent). Ribbon bows and flower bouquets fluttered here and there across the dresses in the most picturesque disorder, although a lot of decent brains worked on this disorder. The light headdress rested only on one ears, and seemed to say: “Hey, I’ll fly away, it’s just a pity that I won’t take the beauty with me!” The waists were tight and had the most strong and pleasing to the eye shape (it should be noted that in general all the ladies of the city of N. were somewhat plump, but they laced up so skillfully and had such a pleasant appeal that the thickness could not be noticed). Everything was thought out and provided for with extraordinary care; the neck and shoulders were open exactly as much as needed, and no further; each exposed her possessions as long as she felt, in her own conviction, that they were capable of destroying a person; the rest was all hidden with extraordinary taste: either some light tie made of ribbon, or a scarf lighter than a cake, known as a “kiss,” ethereally hugged the neck, or small jagged walls of thin cambric, known as "modesty". These “modesty” hid in front and behind what could no longer cause death to a person, and meanwhile they made one suspect that it was precisely there that death itself lay. The long gloves were not worn all the way to the sleeves, but deliberately left the stimulating parts of the arms above the elbows, which for many exuded enviable fullness, bare; some even had kid gloves burst, prompted to move further - in a word, it seemed as if it was written on everything: no, this is not a province, this is the capital, this is Paris itself! Only here and there some cap unseen on earth, or even some almost peacock feather, suddenly stuck out, contrary to all fashions, according to one’s own taste. But it’s impossible without this, such is the nature of a provincial city: somewhere it will certainly end. Chichikov, standing in front of them, thought: “Who, however, is the author of the letter?” - and stuck his nose out; but right on his nose he was tugged by a whole series of elbows, cuffs, sleeves, ends of ribbons, fragrant chemisettes and dresses. The gallop flew at full speed: the postmistress, the police captain, the lady with a blue feather, the lady with a white feather, Georgian prince Chiphaikhilidzev, an official from St. Petersburg, an official from Moscow, the Frenchman Kuku, Perkhunovsky, Berebendovsky - everything rose and rushed.

Won! I went to write the province! - Chichikov said, backing away, and as soon as the ladies sat down, he again began to look out: is it possible to recognize by the expression in his face and eyes who the writer was; but there was no way to know, either by the expression on her face or the expression in her eyes, who the writer was. Everywhere one could notice something so slightly detected, so elusively subtle, wow! how subtle!.. “No,” Chichikov said to himself, “women, this is such a subject...” Here he waved his hand: “there’s simply nothing to say!” Go ahead, try to tell or convey everything that runs across their faces, all those twists and hints, but you simply won’t convey anything. Their eyes alone are such an endless state into which a man has driven - and remember his name! You can't get him out of there with any hook or anything. Well, try, for example, to tell one of their shine: moist, velvety, sugary. God knows what kind there is not yet! both hard and soft, and even completely languid, or, as others say, in bliss, or without bliss, but more than in bliss - it will hook you by the heart and lead you through your whole soul, as if with a bow. No, you just can’t find the words: the gallant half human race, and nothing more!”

Guilty! It seems that a word that was noticed on the street came out of our hero’s mouth. What to do? Such is the position of the writer in Rus'! However, if a word from the street ends up in a book, it is not the writer’s fault, it is the readers, and above all the readers, who are to blame high society: from them you won’t hear a single decent Russian word, but they will probably give you so many French, German and English words that you won’t even want them, and they will even give you the same while preserving all possible pronunciations: burr in French, burr in your nose, They will pronounce English as it should to a bird, and they will even make a bird’s face, and they will even laugh at those who cannot make a bird’s face; but they won’t give the Russians anything, unless out of patriotism they build themselves a hut in the Russian style at their dacha. This is what readers of the upper class are like, and after them all those who consider themselves to be part of the upper class! And yet, what exactingness! They absolutely want everything to be written in the most strict, purified and noble language - in a word, they want the Russian language to suddenly descend from the clouds of its own accord, properly processed, and sit right on their tongue, and they would have nothing else as soon as open your mouths and expose him. Of course, the female half of the human race is tricky; but respectable readers, it must be admitted, are even wiser.

Meanwhile, Chichikov was completely at a loss to decide which of the ladies was the author of the letter. Trying to look more attentively, he saw that on the lady’s side something was also being expressed, sending both hope and sweet torment into the heart of the poor mortal, that he finally said: “No, it’s impossible to guess!” This, however, did not in any way diminish the cheerful mood in which he was. He casually and deftly exchanged pleasant words with some of the ladies, approached each one with small small steps, or, as they say, minced his feet, as little old dandies usually do high heels, called mouse stallions, running very quickly around the ladies. Having minced around with rather deft turns to the right and left, he immediately shuffled his leg in the form of a short tail or like a comma. The ladies were very pleased and not only found a lot of pleasantries and courtesies in him, but even began to find a majestic expression in his face, something even Mars and military, which, as you know, is very popular with women. Even because of him, they had already begun to quarrel somewhat: noticing that he usually stood near the doors, some vyingly hurried to take a chair closer to the doors, and when one was lucky enough to do this first, a very unpleasant incident almost happened, and many who wanted to do this However, such impudence seemed too disgusting.

Chichikov became so busy talking with the ladies, or, better yet, the ladies kept him so busy and whirled with their conversations, pouring in a bunch of the most intricate and subtle allegories that all had to be solved, which even caused sweat to appear on his forehead - that he forgot to fulfill his duty of decency and approach first of all the hostess. He remembered this already when he heard the voice of the governor herself, who had been standing in front of him for several minutes. The governor’s wife said in a somewhat affectionate and sly voice with a pleasant shake of her head: “Ah, Pavel Ivanovich, so that’s how you are!..” I cannot accurately convey the words of the governor’s wife, but something was said filled with great courtesy, in the spirit in which Ladies and gentlemen express themselves in the stories of our secular writers, who are eager to describe living rooms and boast of knowledge of the highest tone, in the spirit of the fact that “have they really taken possession of your heart so much that there is no longer any place in it, nor the most cramped corner for those who have been mercilessly forgotten by you.” Our hero turned at that very moment to the governor’s wife and was ready to give her an answer, probably no worse than those given in fashionable stories by the Zvonskys, Linskys, Lidips, Gremins and all sorts of clever military people, when, accidentally raising his eyes, he suddenly stopped, as if stunned by a blow.

Standing in front of him was more than one governor's wife: she was holding by the arm a young sixteen-year-old girl, a fresh blonde with thin and slender features, with a sharp chin, with a charmingly round oval face, the kind an artist would take as a model for a Madonna and which is only rarely seen in Russia , where everything loves to appear in a wide size, everything that is: mountains and forests and steppes, and faces and lips and legs; the same blonde whom he met on the road, driving from Nozdryov, when, through the stupidity of the coachmen or horses, their carriages collided so strangely, their harnesses got tangled, and Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyai began to unravel the matter. Chichikov was so confused that he could not utter a single good words, and muttered God knows what, something that neither Gremin, nor Zyaonsky, nor Lidin would have said.

You don't know my daughter yet? - said the governor's wife, - a college student, just graduated.

He replied that he had already had happiness inadvertentlyпознакомиться; I tried to add something else, but some things didn’t work out at all. The governor's wife, having said two or three words, finally went with her daughter to the other end of the hall to other guests, and Chichikov still stood motionless in the same place, like a man who cheerfully went out into the street to take a walk, with his eyes disposed to look at everything, and suddenly stopped motionless, remembering that he had forgotten something, and then nothing could be more stupid than such a person: instantly the carefree expression flies from his face; he is trying to remember what he forgot - isn’t it a handkerchief? but the handkerchief is in my pocket; isn't it money? but the money is also in his pocket, everything seems to be with him, and meanwhile some unknown spirit whispers in his ears that he has forgotten something. And now he looks in confusion and embarrassment at the moving crowd in front of him, at the flying crews, at the shako and guns of the passing regiment, at the sign - and sees nothing well. So Chichikov suddenly became alien to everything that was happening around him. At this time, from the ladies' fragrant lips, many hints and questions, imbued with subtlety and courtesy, rushed to him. “Are we, the poor inhabitants of the earth, allowed to be so impudent as to ask you what you dream of?” - “Where are those happy places in which your thoughts flutter?” - “Is it possible to know the name of the one who plunged you into this sweet valley of reverie?” But he responded to everything with decisive inattention, and pleasant phrases sank as if into water. He was even so discourteous that he soon left them in the other direction, wanting to see where the governor’s wife had gone with her daughter. But the ladies did not seem to want to leave him so soon; each one internally decided to use all kinds of weapons, so dangerous for our hearts, and to use everything that was best. It should be noted that some ladies - I say some, this is not like everyone else - have a small weakness: if they notice something especially good in themselves, whether on the forehead, mouth, or hands, then they already think, What best part Their faces will be the first to catch everyone’s eye, and everyone will suddenly speak in one voice: “Look, look, what a beautiful Greek nose she has!” or: “What a correct, charming forehead!” The one who has good shoulders is sure in advance that all the young people will be completely delighted and will repeat every now and then as she passes by: “Oh, what wonderful shoulders this one has,” - and on her face, hair, they don’t even look at your nose or forehead, and even if they do, it’s as if they were something extraneous. Other ladies think this way. Each lady made an internal vow to herself to be as charming as possible in dancing and to show in all its splendor the superiority of what she had the most excellent. The postmistress, waltzing, lowered her head to the side with such languor that one actually heard something unearthly. One very kind lady - who did not come at all to dance, due to what had happened, as she herself put it, a small pea-shaped incomodity on her right leg, as a result of which she even had to put on velvet boots - could not bear it, however, and did several laps in velvet boots, precisely so that the postmistress would not really take too much into her head.

This did not have the intended effect on Chichikov at all. He didn’t even look at the circles made by the ladies, but constantly rose on tiptoe to look over their heads where the entertaining blonde might climb; He crouched down too, looking between the shoulders and backs, and finally found her and saw her sitting with her mother, over whom some kind of oriental turban with a feather was hovering majestically. It seemed as if he wanted to take them by storm; Whether the spring mood had an effect on him, or someone was pushing him from behind, only he pushed decisively forward, no matter what; the farmer received such a push from him that he staggered and barely managed to stay on one leg, otherwise, of course, he would have knocked down a whole row of people; the postmaster also retreated and looked at him with amazement, mixed with rather subtle irony, but he did not look at them; he only saw in the distance a blonde who was putting on a long glove and, no doubt, burning with the desire to start flying across the parquet floor. And there, off to the side, four couples were practicing a mazurka; the heels broke the floor, and the army staff captain worked with his soul and body, and with his arms and legs, unscrewing steps that no one had ever unscrewed in a dream. Chichikov rushed past the mazurka, almost right on the heels and straight to the place where the governor’s wife was sitting with her daughter. However, he approached them very timidly, did not mince so briskly and smartly with his feet, he even hesitated somewhat, and there was some awkwardness in all his movements.

It is impossible to say for sure whether the feeling of love has truly awakened in our hero - it is even doubtful that gentlemen of this kind, that is, not so fat, but not so thin, are capable of love; but despite all this, there was something so strange here, something of this kind, which he could not explain to himself: it seemed to him, as he himself later admitted, that the whole ball, with all its talk and noise, became a little minutes as if somewhere far away; violins and trumpets were being cut somewhere behind the mountains, and everything was shrouded in fog, similar to a carelessly painted field in a painting. And from this hazy, somehow sketched field, only one thing emerged clearly and completely. fine features a fascinating blonde: her oval, round face, her thin, slender figure, like a college girl’s in the first months after graduation, her white, almost simple dress, which easily and deftly clasped young slender limbs in all places, which were outlined in some clean lines . It seemed that she all looked like some kind of toy, clearly carved from ivory; she alone turned white and emerged transparent and bright from the cloudy and opaque crowd.

Apparently, this is how it happens in the world; Apparently, the Chichikovs also turn into poets for a few minutes in their lives; but the word “poet” would be too much. At least he felt completely something like young man, almost a hussar. Seeing an empty chair near them, he immediately took it. The conversation did not go well at first, but after that things progressed, and he even began to get a boost, but... here, to the greatest regret, it must be noted that sedate people and occupying important positions are somehow a little difficult in conversations with ladies; for this, masters, gentlemen, lieutenants, and no further than the ranks of captain. How they do it, God knows: it seems that they say not very sophisticated things, and the girl constantly sways on her chair with laughter; the civil councilor, God knows what, will tell you: either he will talk about how Russia is a very vast state, or he will make a compliment, which, of course, was not invented without wit, but it smells terribly of a book; if he says something funny, he himself laughs incomparably more than the one who listens to him. This is noted here so that readers can see why the blonde began to yawn during our hero’s stories. The hero, however, did not notice this at all, telling many pleasant things that he had already happened to say on similar occasions in different places: precisely in the Simbirsk province with Sofron Ivanovich Bespechny, where his daughter Adelaida Sofronovna and three sisters-in-law were then: Marya Gavrilovna, Alexandra Gavrilovna and Adelgeida Gavrilovna; with Fedor Fedorovich Perekroev in the Ryazan province; with Frol Vasilyevich Pobedonosny in the Penza province and with his brother Pyotr Vasilyevich, where his sister-in-law Katerina Mikhailovna and her grand-sisters Rosa Fedorovna and Emilia Fedorovna were; in the Vyatka province with Pyotr Varsonofyevich, where his sister-in-law Pelageya Egorovna was with her niece Sofia Rostislavna and two half-sisters - Sofia Alexandrovna and Maklatura Alexandrovna.

All the ladies did not like Chichikov’s treatment at all. One of them deliberately walked past him to let him notice this, and even touched the blonde rather carelessly with the thick roll of her dress, and arranged the scarf that was fluttering around her shoulders in such a way that he swung its end right across her face; at the same time, behind him, from some lady’s lips, along with the smell of violets, a rather caustic and caustic remark emanated. But, either he didn’t really hear, or he pretended that he didn’t hear, only this was not good, because the opinion of the ladies should be valued: he repented of this, but only later, it was too late.

Below are quotes from Dead Souls.

Two hundred years have passed, two states have passed, but nothing has changed since then.

Chichikov, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket, placed it in front of Ivan Antonovich, which he did not notice at all and immediately covered it with a book. Chichikov wanted to show it to him, but Ivan Antonovich with a movement of his head made it clear that there was no need to show it.

When they passed the office, Ivan Antonovich the jug's snout, bowing politely, quietly said to Chichikov:
“They bought the peasants for a hundred thousand, but for their labor they gave only one little white one.”

The police chief was in some way a father and benefactor in the city. He was among the citizens just like in his own family, and he visited the shops and the guest courtyard as if he were visiting his own pantry. In general, he sat, as they say, in his place and understood his position to perfection. It was even difficult to decide whether he was created for the place, or the place for him.

With such funds, he obtained in a short time what is called a grain place, and took advantage of it in an excellent way. You need to know that at the same time the strictest persecution of all bribes began; He was not afraid of persecution and immediately turned it to his advantage, thus showing directly Russian ingenuity, which appears only during pressure. The thing was arranged like this: as soon as the applicant arrived and put his hand in his pocket in order to pull out the famous letters of recommendation signed by Prince Khovansky, as we say in Russia: “No, no,” he said with a smile, holding his hands , - do you think that I... no, no. This is our duty, our responsibility without any retribution we must do! From this point of view, rest assured: everything will be done tomorrow. Let me find out your apartment, you don’t have to worry about it yourself, everything will be brought to your home.” The enchanted petitioner returned home almost in delight, thinking: “Finally, here is a man of whom we need more, this is just a precious diamond!” But the petitioner waits a day, then another, they don’t bring the work to the house, and on the third, too. He went to the office, the matter had not even begun; it is to a precious diamond. “Oh, sorry! - Chichikov said very politely, grabbing him by both hands, - we had so much to do; but tomorrow everything will be done tomorrow without fail, really, I’m even ashamed!” And all this was accompanied by charming movements. If at the same time the hem of the robe somehow swung open, then the hand at that very moment tried to correct the matter and hold the hem. But neither tomorrow, nor the day after tomorrow, nor on the third day do they bring work home. The petitioner comes to his senses: yes, is there anything? Finds out; they say it should be given to the clerks. “Why not give it? I’m ready for a quarter or another.” - “No, not a quarter, but a white piece.” - “For the little white clerks!” - the petitioner screams. “Why are you so excited? - they answer him, “it will come out like that, the clerks will get a quarter, and the rest will go to the authorities.” The slow-witted petitioner hits himself on the forehead and scolds at all costs new order things, the pursuit of bribes and the polite, refined treatment of officials. Before, you at least knew what to do: you brought the red one to the ruler of affairs, and it’s all in the bag, but now it’s a white one, and you still have to fiddle with it for a week before you figure it out; Damn selflessness and bureaucratic nobility! The petitioner, of course, is right, but now there are no bribe takers: all the rulers of affairs are honest and noblest people, secretaries and clerks are just scammers. Chichikov soon presented himself with a much more spacious field: a commission was formed to build some kind of government-owned, very capital building. He joined this commission and turned out to be one of the most active members. The commission immediately got down to business. I spent six years fiddling around the building; But the climate, perhaps, got in the way, or the material was already like that, but the government building just didn’t fit higher than the foundation. Meanwhile, in other parts of the city each member found himself with beautiful home civil architecture: apparently the soil was better there. The members were already beginning to prosper and began to start families.