At that moment, just as the ladies so successfully and cleverly resolved this tangled state of affairs, the prosecutor entered the drawing room with his eternally motionless physiognomy, bushy eyebrows, and blinking eye. The ladies began vying with each other in informing him of all the events, told him about the purchase of the dead souls, the intention to carry off the governor's daughter, and got him completely bewildered, so that no matter how long he went on standing on one and the same spot, batting his left eye, flicking his beard with a handkerchief to brush off the snuff, he could understand decidedly nothing. With that the two ladies left him and set out each in her own direction to rouse the town. They managed to accomplish this enterprise in a little over half an hour. The town was decidedly aroused; all was in ferment, though no one could understand anything. The ladies managed to blow so much smoke in everyone's eyes that for a while everyone, the officials especially, remained dumbfounded. Their position for the first moment was like that of a sleeping schoolboy whose comrades, getting up earlier, have put a hussar in his nose—that is, a rolled-up paper filled with snuff. Unwittingly inhaling all the snuff with all the zeal of a still-sleeping man, he awakes, jumps up, stares like a fool, goggle-eyed, in all directions, unable to understand where he is or what has happened, and only then notices the indirect ray of sun shining on the wall, the laughter of his comrades hiding in the corners, and the dawning day looking in the window, the awakened forest sounding with the voices of thousands of birds, the light shining on the river, disappearing now and then in its gleaming curlicues amid the slender rushes, all strewn with naked children calling others to come for a swim, and only then finally feels the hussar sitting in his nose. This was precisely the position of the inhabitants and officials of the town for the first moment. Each of them stood like a sheep, goggling his eyes. The dead souls, the governor's daughter, and Chichikov got confused and mixed up in their heads extraordinarily strangely; and only later, after the first befuddlement, did they begin to distinguish them, as it were, and separate them from one another, did they begin to demand an accounting and to be angry that the matter refused to explain itself. What was this riddle, indeed, what was this riddle of the dead souls? There was no logic whatsoever in dead souls. Why buy dead souls? Where would such a fool be found? What worn-out money would one pay for them? To what end, to what business, could these dead souls be tacked? And why was the governor's daughter mixed up in it? If he wanted to carry her off, why buy dead souls for that? And if he was buying dead souls, why carry off the governor's daughter? Did he want to make her a gift of these dead souls, or what? What was this nonsense, really, that had been spread around town? What was this tendency, that before you could turn around there was already a story let out? And if only there were any sense . . . They did spread it, however, so there must have been some reason? But what was the reason for the dead souls? There even was no reason. It was all a mere cock-and-bull story, nonsense, balderdash, soft-boiled boots! Mere devil take it! . . . In short, there was talk and more talk, and the whole town started chattering about the dead souls and the governor's daughter, about Chichikov and the dead souls, about the governor's daughter and Chichikov, and everything there arose. Like a whirlwind the hitherto apparently slumbering town blew up! Out of their holes crept all the sluggards and sloths, who had been lying at home in their dressing gowns for several years, shifting the blame now onto the cobbler for making their boots too tight, now onto the tailor, now onto the drunken coachman. All those who had long since stopped all acquaintances and kept company only with the landowners Zavalishin and Polezhaev (well-known terms derived from the verbs polezhat, "to lie down," and zavalitsa, "to slump into bed," which are very popular in our Russia, as is the phrase about stopping to see Sopikov and Khrapovitsky, meaning all sorts of dead sleep—on your side, on your back, and in every other position, with snorting, nose whistling, and other accessories); all those who could not be lured out of the house even by an invitation to slurp up a five-hundred-rouble fish soup with a five-foot-long sterlet and various savory, melt-in-the-mouth pies; in short, it turned out that the town was populous, and big, and well inhabited. Some Sysoy Pafnutievich and Makdonald Karlovich appeared, of whom no one had ever heard; in the drawing rooms some long, long fellow with a bullet through his arm began sticking up, so tall that no one had ever seen the like. On the streets covered droshkies appeared, wagonettes previously unknown, rattletraps, wheel-squeakers—and the pot began to boil. At another time and under other circumstances, such rumors would perhaps not have attracted any attention; but the town of N. had not heard any news at all for a long time. Over the past three months there had even been nothing of what are called commérages[45]in the capitals, which, as everyone knows, is the same for a town as the timely delivery of food supplies. It suddenly turned out that the town's wits were divided into two completely opposite opinions, and suddenly two opposite parties were formed—the men's party and the women's party. The men's party, the more witless of the two, paid attention to the dead souls. The women's party occupied itself exclusively with the abduction of the governor's daughter. It must be noted to the ladies' credit that there was incomparably more order and circumspection in their party. Clearly, it is their very function to be good mistresses and managers. Everything with them soon took on a lively, definite look, was clothed in clear and obvious forms, explained, purified—in short, the result was a finished picture. It turned out that Chichikov had long been in love, and that they met in the garden by moonlight, that the governor would even have given him his daughter in marriage, because Chichikov was rich as a Jew, had it not been for the wife he had abandoned (where they found out that Chichikov was married—of this no one had any idea), that his wife, suffering from hopeless love, had written a most moving letter to the governor, and that Chichikov, seeing that the father and mother would never give their consent, had resolved on abduction. In other houses, it was told somewhat differently: that Chichikov did not have any wife, but, being a subtle man who acted only when certain of himself, he had undertaken, in order to win the hand of the daughter, to start an affair with the mother, had had a secret amorous liaison with her, and afterwards had made a declaration concerning the daughter's hand; but the mother, frightened that a crime against religion might be committed, and feeling pangs of conscience, had flatly refused, and this was why Chichikov had resolved on abduction. Many explanations and emendations were added to all this as the rumors finally penetrated into the remotest back alleys. In Russia, the lower society likes very much to discuss the gossip that occurs in high society, and so people started discussing it all in such hovels as had never known or set eyes on Chichikov, and there were additions and still further explanations. The subject became more entertaining every moment, assumed more definitive forms every day, and finally, just as it was, in all its definitiveness, was delivered into the very ears of the governor's wife. The governor's wife, as the mother of a family, as the first lady of the town, and finally as a lady who had never suspected anything of the sort, was thoroughly insulted by such stories, and felt an indignation in all respects justified. The poor blonde endured the most disagreeable tête-à-tête any sixteen-year-old girl had ever endured. Whole streams of queries, inquiries, reprimands, threats, reproaches, and admonishments poured out, so that the girl burst into tears, sobbed, and could not understand a single word; the doorkeeper was given the strictest orders not to admit Chichikov at any time or on any account.
Having done their bit with regard to the governor's wife, the ladies put pressure on the men's party, trying to win them over to their side and insisting that the dead souls were only an invention employed with the sole purpose of diverting all suspicion and carrying out the abduction more successfully. Many of the men were even seduced and joined their party, despite their being subjected to strong disapprobation by their own comrades, who berated them as old women and skirts—names known to be most offensive for the male sex.
But, however the men armed themselves a
nd resisted, their party still lacked the order of the women's. Everything with them was somehow crude, unpolished, unformed, uncomely, unattuned, none too good, in their heads a jumble, a muddle, a scramble, untidiness in their thoughts—in short, everything pointed to man's empty nature, his coarse, heavy nature, incapable of good management, or of heartfelt convictions, pusillanimous, lazy, filled with ceaseless doubt and eternal fear. They said it was all nonsense, that the abduction of the governor's daughter was more a hussar's affair than a civilian's, that Chichikov would not do it, that the women were lying, that a woman is like a sack—it holds whatever you put in it, that the main subject to pay attention to was the dead souls, which, however, meant devil knows what, but anyhow there was something quite nasty and none too good about them. Why it seemed to the men that there was something nasty and none too good about them, we shall learn at once: a new Governor-general had been appointed to the province—an event known to put officials into a state of alarm: there would be reshuffling, reprimanding, lambasting, and all the official belly-wash to which a superior treats his subordinates. "And what," thought the officials, "if he just simply finds out the strange sort of rumors that are going around town, for that alone he can give us a boiling that'll be the life of us." The inspector of the board of health suddenly turned pale: he imagined God knows what: might the "dead souls" not refer to the sick who had died in considerable numbers in the infirmaries and other places from epidemic fever, against which due measures had not been taken, and might not Chichikov be an official sent from the Governor-general's office to conduct a secret investigation? He informed the head magistrate of this. The magistrate replied that it was nonsense, and then suddenly he, too, turned pale, having asked himself the question: "And what if the souls bought by Chichikov are indeed dead, and he had allowed the deed to be drawn up for them and had himself acted as Plyushkin's agent, and it should come to the knowledge of the Governor-general—what then?" He did no more than tell this to one or two others, and suddenly the one or two others turned pale—fear is more catching than the plague and communicates itself instantly. Everybody suddenly discovered in themselves such sins as did not even exist. The words "dead souls" sounded so indefinite that there was even a suspicion that they might contain an allusion to some bodies hastily buried following two quite recent incidents. The first incident had occurred with some Solvychegodsk merchants, who came to town for the fair and when their dealings were finished threw a party for their friends, the merchants from Ustsysolsk, a party on a real Russian footing, with German trimmings: orgeats, punches, cordials, and so on. The party ended, as usual, with a fight. The Solvychegodsks did in the Ustsysolsks, though they, too, suffered a good drubbing on the sides, under the ribs, and in the solar plexus, which testified to the inordinate size of the fists with which the deceased were furnished. One of the triumphant even "had his pump lopped off entirely," as the combatants put it, meaning that his nose was smashed to a pulp, so that there was not even a half finger's width of it left on his face. The merchants confessed to the affair, explaining that they had been up to a bit of mischief; rumor had it that they added four thousand each to their confession; however, the affair was all too obscure; it turned out from the inquest and investigation undertaken that the Ustsysolsk boys had died of fume poisoning, and so as fume-poisoned they were buried. The other incident that had occurred recently was the following: the state peasants of the hamlet called Lousy Arrogance, joining with their fellows from the hamlet of Borovki, alias Cockyville, supposedly wiped from the face of the earth the local police force, in the person of the assessor, a certain Drobyazhkin, this local police force—that is, the assessor Drobyazhkin—having gotten into the habit of coming to their village far too often, which in some cases is as good as epidemic fever, and the reason for it, they said, was that the local police force, owing to certain weaknesses on the amorous side, had his eyes on the women and village girls. This was not known for certain, however, though the peasants stated directly in their evidence that the local police force was as lecherous as a tomcat, and had already been spared more than once, and on one occasion had even been driven naked out of some cottage he had made his way into. Of course, the local police force deserved to be punished for his amorous weaknesses, but the muzhiks of Lousy Arrogance and alias-Cockyville could not be justified for such summary justice, if they had indeed participated in the slaying.
But the affair was obscure; the local police force was found on the road, the uniform or frock coat on the local police force was worse than a rag, and his physiognomy was utterly beyond recognition. The case went through the courts and finally came to the chancellery, where the intimate deliberations took the following line: since it was not known precisely who among the peasants had participated, and there were many of them, and since Drobyazhkin was a dead man, meaning that it would not be much use to him even if he did win the case, while the muzhiks were still alive, meaning that for them it was quite important that the decision be in their favor, it was therefore decided thus: the assessor Drobyazhkin was himself the cause, having unjustly oppressed the peasants of Lousy Arrogance and alias-Cockyville, and he had died of apoplexy while returning home in a sleigh. The case, it seemed, had been handled squarely, but the officials, for some unknown reason, began to think that these were the dead souls now in question. It also happened, as if by design, that just when the gentlemen officials were in a difficult position to begin with, two documents came to the governor simultaneously. The content of one was that, according to evidence and reports received, there was in their province a maker of forged banknotes, hiding under various names, and that the strictest investigation should immediately be undertaken. The second document contained a request from the governor of a neighboring province concerning a robber fleeing legal prosecution, that if any suspicious man were to turn up in their province, unable to produce any certificates or passports, he should be detained without delay. These two documents simply stunned everyone. Former conclusions and surmises were completely confounded. Of course, it was quite impossible to suppose that anything here referred to Chichikov; nevertheless, once they reflected, each for his own part, once they recalled that they still did not know who in fact Chichikov was, that he himself had given a rather vague account concerning his own person—true, he said he had suffered for the truth in the service, but this was all somehow vague—and when they also remembered that, as he had even said himself, he had many adversaries who had made attempts on his life, they pondered still more: so his life was in danger, so he was being pursued, so he must have done something or other . . . but who in fact could he be? Of course, it was impossible to think of him as a maker of forged bills, still less as a robber: his appearance was trustworthy; but still, for all that, who in fact could he be? And so the gentlemen officials now asked themselves the question they ought to have asked themselves in the beginning—that is, in the first chapter of our poem. It was decided to make a few more inquiries of those from whom the souls had been bought, in order to find out at least what sort of purchases they were, and what precisely these dead souls could mean, and whether he had somehow explained to anyone, be it only by chance, in passing, his true intentions, and had told anyone who he was. First of all they addressed themselves to Korobochka, but there they gleaned little: he bought fifteen roubles' worth, she said, and was also buying bird feathers, and promised to buy a lot of everything, and also supplied the state with lard, and therefore was undoubtedly a crook, for there had already been one like him who used to buy bird feathers and supplied the state with lard, and then he deceived everybody and took the archpriest's wife for more than a hundred roubles. Whatever she said beyond that was a repetition of one and the same thing, and the officials saw only that Korobochka was simply a stupid old woman. Manilov answered that he was always ready to vouch for Pavel Ivanovich as for his own self, that he would sacrifice all he owned to have a hundredth part of Pavel Ivanovich's qualities, and in general spoke of him in the most flattering terms
, appending a few thoughts about friendship, with his eyes now tightly shut. These thoughts, of course, explained satisfactorily the tender impulse of his heart, but they did not explain to the officials the truth of the matter. Sobakevich answered that Chichikov was, in his opinion, a good man, and that he had sold him some choice peasants, folk alive in all respects; but that he could not vouch for what would happen later on, that if they died off a bit during the difficulties of resettlement, on the road, he was not to blame, since that was in God's power, and there were not a few fevers and various deadly diseases in the world, and there were examples when whole villages had died out. The gentlemen officials resorted to yet another method, not altogether noble, but which nevertheless is sometimes employed—that is, making inquiries in a roundabout way, through various lackey acquaintances, of Chichikov's servants, whether they knew any details concerning their master's former life and circumstances, but again they heard little. From Petrushka they got only the smell of living quarters, and from Selifan that he had been in the goverman's service and once worked in customs, and nothing else. This class of people has a very strange habit. If you ask one of them directly about anything, he will never remember, nothing will come to his head, and he will even say he simply does not know, but if you ask about something else, then he will spin his yarn and tell such details as you would not even want to know. The whole search carried out by the officials revealed to them only that they did not know for certain what Chichikov was, and that all the same Chichikov must certainly be something. They resolved finally to have a final discussion of the subject and decide at least what they were to do and how, and what measures to take, and what he was precisely: the sort of man to be detained and arrested as untrustworthy, or else the sort of man who might himself detain and arrest all of them as untrustworthy. To do all this it was proposed that they gather specially at the house of the police chief, known to the reader already as the father and benefactor of the town.
Dead Souls Page 24
