Why does Sobakevich praise dead peasants? “Here’s some more jam,” said the hostess, returning with a saucer, “radish boiled in honey.”

Gogol's talent for depicting a person through his everyday environment reaches triumph in the story of Chichikov's meeting with Sobakevich. This landowner does not have his head in the clouds, he has both feet on the ground, treating everything with callous and sober practicality. Solidity and strength are distinguished by everything on Sobakevich’s estate: “The landowner seemed to be working a lot about strength. For the stables, barns and kitchens, full-weight and thick logs were used, determined to stand for centuries. Village huts the men were also cut down in a marvelous way...” Everything was “stubbornly, without swaying, in some kind of strong and clumsy order.”

The character of Sobakevich is also indicated by interior decoration Houses. In the living room hang paintings of Greek generals; all these heroes were “with such thick thighs and an incredible mustache that a shiver ran through the body.” Next to the commanders was “the Greek Bobelina, to whom one leg seemed larger than the entire body of those dandies who fill today’s living rooms.” The furniture in the rooms is strong, awkward and similar to the owner: a pot-bellied walnut bureau on ridiculous legs - a perfect bear. “The table, armchairs, chairs - everything was of the heaviest and most restless quality - in a word, every object, every chair seemed to say: “And I, too, are Sobakevich!” or “And I, too, am very similar to Sobakevich!”

When it came to decorating people like Sobakevich, nature didn’t think twice about the finishing work of people like Sobakevich, didn’t use fine tools, but “simply chopped with all her might”: “she grabbed it with an ax once and her nose came out, she grabbed it another time and her lips came out, she picked her eyes with a large drill and, without scraping them off, , released into the light, saying: “Lives!” The result was a man who looked like a medium-sized bear, in a bear-colored tailcoat, walking at random and constantly stepping on other people's feet. To top off the similarities, his name was even Mikhail Semenovich.

Insatiable satiation is Sobakevich’s raison d’être: “When I have pork, put the whole pig on the table, lamb, bring the whole lamb, goose, the whole goose!” I’d rather eat two dishes, but eat in moderation, as my soul requires.” And the “measure” of his “soul” in this regard is immeasurable. At breakfast with the police chief, Sobakevich spotted a giant sturgeon for himself and “in a little over a quarter of an hour he finished it all.” When the owner and guests remembered this “work of nature”, only a tail remained from it, “and Sobakevich hissed as if it were not him, and, going up to the plate, which was further away from the others, he 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.” His “soul” fell into a blissful stupor.

An opponent of “high matters,” Sobakevich judges everything that is not related to his practical interest with clumsy straightforwardness. Enlightenment is a harmful invention. The people are all thieves and robbers: “I know them all: they are all scammers, the whole city there is like this: the scammer sits on the scammer and drives the scammer. All sellers of Christ. There's only one there honest man: prosecutor; and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.”

Within his limits, Sobakevich is smart. Without difficulty, he guesses Chichikov’s cunning plan and enters into trade with him. This is where a strange paradox suddenly appears, an unexpected touch in Sobakevich’s character. After all, there was already a “subtle” hint at him when describing the paintings in the living room: “Between the strong Greeks, no one knows how or why, Bagration, skinny, thin, with small banners and cannons below and in the narrowest frames, fit.” Let us remember the skinny wife of the fat Sobakevich!

In the narrow matter of trade and selfish interest, some hint of his insight and even poetic talent breaks through. Bargaining with Chichikov, he forgets what “product” he owns and describes the virtues of the dead as if they were alive. “Why are you being stingy? - said Sobakevich. - Really, it’s inexpensive! Another scammer will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls; But I have a tough nut, everything is for selection: not a craftsman, but some other healthy guy. Just look at it: for example, the carriage maker Mikheev! After all, he never made any other carriages other than spring ones. And it’s not like Moscow work happens, that it’s for one hour - it’s so durable, it’ll beat you up and cover it with varnish!... And Cork Stepan... Maxim Telyatnikov... And Eremey Skoroplekhin!” etc. Sobakevich’s description of the “product” is a whole poem about the strength, talent and ingenuity of the Russian people. And it is not without reason that she astonishes Chichikov: in this bear, an inveterate misanthrope and a callous fist, suddenly, out of nowhere, the “power of speech”, and the vividness of imagination, and the “gift of speech” are revealed.

It turns out that Sobakevich is “relative” to Chichikov not only in terms of stinginess and business acumen, but also in Russian “oversalting”, at the limit of which the possibilities of its straightening and revival are discovered in a distorted and darkened soul. After all, Chichikov also breaks down just like Sobakevich. Let us recall, for example, the “strange” order that the “reported” Chichikov gives to Selifan, forgetting what “product” he purchased: “gather all the newly resettled peasants to make a personal roll call of everyone.”

I “reported” in the same way in a conversation with the chairman civil chamber and Sobakevich, confirming the correctness of the Russian proverb “Simplicity is enough for every wise man.” “Why don’t you tell Ivan Grigorievich,” Sobakevich responded, “what exactly you purchased; and you, Ivan Grigorievich, why don’t you ask what acquisition they made? After all, what a people! just gold. After all, I also sold them the coachman Mikheev.” - “No, as if Mikheev was sold too? - said the chairman. - I know the carriage maker Mikheev: a glorious master; he rebuilt my droshky. Just excuse me, how... After all, you told me that he died...” - “Who, Mikheev died? – said Sobakevich, without being confused at all. “It was his brother who died, but he is still alive and healthier than before.”

So unexpectedly, two immortal writers are visible in Sobakevich - Khlestakov and Nozdryov, and along with them the skilled actor Chichikov. “It’s like there’s only Mikheev!” - continues Sobakevich, who has gone into a rage. “And Cork Stepan, the carpenter, Milushkin, the brickmaker, Telyatnikov Maxim, the shoemaker - after all, they all went, they sold them all!” - And when the chairman asked why they went, being people necessary for the house and artisans, Sobakevich answered, waving his hand: “Ah! so simple, I found something stupid: give it to me, I say, I’ll sell it, and I sold it foolishly!” Then he hung his head as if he himself repented of this matter, and added: “Here is a gray-haired man, but he still hasn’t gained his mind.”

“We remembered you at the chairman of the chamber, at Ivan Grigorievich,” Chichikov finally said, seeing that no one was in the mood to start a conversation, “last Thursday.” We had a very pleasant time there.
“Yes, I wasn’t with the chairman then,” Sobakevich answered.
- A wonderful person!
- Who it? - said Sobakevich, looking at the corner of the stove.
- Chairman.
- Well, maybe it seemed like that to you: he’s just a Freemason, but such a fool as the world has never produced.
Chichikov was a little puzzled by this somewhat harsh definition, but then, having recovered, he continued:
- Of course, every person is not without weaknesses, but what an excellent person the governor is!
- Is the governor an excellent person?
- Yes, isn't it?
- The first robber in the world!
- What, the governor is a robber? - said Chichikov and absolutely could not understand how the governor could end up among the robbers. “I admit, I would never have thought of this,” he continued. - But allow me, however, to note: his actions are not at all like that, on the contrary, rather, there is even a lot of gentleness in him. - Here he even brought as evidence the purses embroidered with his own hands, and spoke with praise of the affectionate expression on his face.
- And the face of a robber! - said Sobakevich. - Just give him a knife and let him out. high road- he’ll kill you, he’ll kill you for a penny! He and also the vice-governor are Goga and Magog!
“No, he’s not on good terms with them,” Chichikov thought to himself. “But I’ll talk to him about the police chief: he seems to be his friend.”
“However, as for me,” he said, “I confess that I like the police chief more than anyone else.” Some sort of direct, open character; There is something simple-hearted in his face.
- Scammer! - Sobakevich said very calmly, - he will sell, deceive, and even have lunch with you! I know them all: they are all scammers, the whole city there is like this: the scammer sits on the scammer and drives the scammer. All sellers of Christ. There is only one decent person there: the prosecutor; and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.
After such commendable, although several brief, biographies, Chichikov saw that there was nothing to mention about other officials and remembered that Sobakevich did not like to speak well of anyone.
“Well, darling, let’s go to dinner,” his wife said to Sobakevich.
- Ask! - said Sobakevich.
Then, going up to the table where there was a snack, the guest and the owner drank a glass of vodka, ate, as the whole of vast Russia snacks in cities and villages, that is, with all sorts of pickles and other stimulating blessings, and they all flowed into the dining room; ahead of them, like a smooth goose, the hostess rushed. The small table was set with four cutlery. In the fourth place she appeared very quickly, it is difficult to say for sure who she was, a lady or a maiden, a relative, a housekeeper, or simply someone living in the house: something without a cap, about thirty years old, wearing a colorful scarf. There are faces that exist in the world not as an object, but as extraneous specks or specks on an object. They sit in the same place, hold their heads in the same way, you are almost ready to mistake them for furniture and you think that a word has never come out of such mouths in your life; and somewhere in the girl's room or in the pantry it will be simply: wow!
- Cabbage soup, my soul, is very good today! - said Sobakevich, taking a sip of cabbage soup and taking a huge piece of nanny from his dish, a famous dish that is served with cabbage soup and consists of a lamb stomach stuffed with buckwheat porridge, brain and legs. “Such a nanny,” he continued, turning to Chichikov, “you won’t eat in the city, God knows what they’ll serve you there!”
“The governor, however, has a pretty good table,” said Chichikov.
- Do you know what it’s all made from? you won't eat it when you find out.
- I don’t know how it’s prepared, I can’t judge that, but the pork cutlets and boiled fish were excellent.
- It seemed so to you. After all, I know what they buy at the market. That rascal cook over there who learned from the Frenchman will buy a cat, skin it, and serve it on the table instead of a hare.
- Ugh! “What a nuisance you are talking about,” said Sobakevich’s wife.
- Well, darling, that’s how they do it, it’s not my fault, that’s how they all do it. Whatever is unnecessary that Shark throws, so to speak, into the trash can, they throw it into the soup! yes to the soup! there it is!
- You always say things like that at the table! - Sobakevich’s wife objected again.
“Well, my soul,” said Sobakevich, “if only I did it myself, but I’ll tell you straight to your face that I won’t eat nasty things.” Even if you put sugar on a frog, I won’t put it in my mouth, and I won’t take an oyster either: I know what an oyster looks like. Take a lamb,” he continued, turning to Chichikov, “this is a side of lamb with porridge!” These are not the fricassees that are made in noble kitchens from lamb, which has been lying around on the market for four days! The German and French doctors invented all this, I would hang them for this! They came up with a diet, treat with hunger! Because they have a German liquid nature, they imagine that they can cope with the Russian stomach! No, this is all wrong, this is all fiction, this is all... - Here Sobakevich even shook his head angrily. - They interpret: enlightenment, enlightenment, and this enlightenment is bullshit! I would have said another word, but it was just indecent at the table. Not so for me. When I have pork, bring the whole pig to the table, lamb, bring the whole lamb, goose, bring the whole goose! I’d rather eat two dishes, but eat in moderation, as my soul requires. - Sobakevich confirmed this with action: he threw half a side of lamb onto his plate, ate it all, gnawed it, sucked it to the last bone.
“Yes,” thought Chichikov, “this one’s got a good lip.”
“It’s not like that with me,” said Sobakevich, wiping his hands with a napkin, “it’s not like that with some Plyushkin: he has eight hundred souls, but lives and dines worse than my shepherd!”
- Who is this Plyushkin? - asked Chichikov.
“A fraudster,” answered Sobakevich. - Such a miser that it’s hard to imagine. The convicts live better in prison than he does: he starved all the people to death.
- Really! - Chichikov picked up with participation. - And you say that he definitely has people dying in large numbers?
- Like flies die.
- Really like flies! Let me ask, how far does he live from you?
- Five miles away.
- Five miles away! - Chichikov exclaimed and even felt a slight heartbeat. - But if you leave your gate, will it be to the right or to the left?
- I don’t even advise you to know the way to this dog! - said Sobakevich. “It’s more excusable to go to some obscene place than to go to him.”
“No, I didn’t ask for any reasons, but only because I’m interested in knowing all kinds of places,” Chichikov answered.
The side of lamb was followed by cheesecakes, each of which was much larger than a plate, then a turkey the size of a calf, stuffed with all sorts of goodness: eggs, rice, livers and God knows what, that everything lay in a lump in the stomach. That was the end of the dinner; but when they got up from the table, Chichikov felt a whole pound more heavy in himself. We went into the living room, where there was already jam on a saucer - neither a pear, nor a plum, nor any other berry, which, however, was not touched by either the guest or the owner. The hostess came out to put it on other saucers. Taking advantage of her absence, Chichikov turned to Sobakevich, who, lying in an armchair, was only groaning after such hearty lunch and made some indistinct sounds with his mouth, crossing himself and constantly covering it with his hand. Chichikov addressed him with these words:
- I wanted to talk to you about a certain business.
“Here’s some more jam,” said the hostess, returning with a saucer, “radish boiled in honey!”
- And here we are after it! - said Sobakevich. - Now go to your room, Pavel Ivanovich and I will take off our tailcoats and rest a little!
The hostess had already expressed her readiness to send for down jackets and pillows, but the owner said: “Nothing, we’ll rest in the chairs,” and the hostess left.
Sobakevich bent his head slightly, preparing to hear what the deal was.
Chichikov began somehow very distantly, touched upon the entire Russian state in general and spoke with great praise about its space, said that even the most ancient Roman monarchy was not so great, and foreigners are rightly surprised... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head. And that, according to the existing provisions of this state, the glory of which has no equal, audit souls, having completed their career in life, are, however, counted, until the submission of a new audit tale, on an equal basis with the living, so as not to burden government offices with a multitude of petty and useless certificates and not to increase the complexity of an already very complex state mechanism... Sobakevich listened to everything with his head bowed - and that, however, with all the justice of this measure, it can be partly burdensome for many owners, obliging them to pay taxes as if for a living object, and that he, feeling personal respect for him, would be ready to even partially take on this really difficult responsibility. As for the main subject, Chichikov expressed himself very carefully: he did not call souls dead, but only non-existent.
Sobakevich listened to everything as before, with his head bent, and at least something similar to an expression appeared on his face. It seemed that this body had no soul at all, or it had one, but not at all where it should be, but, like immortal koschei, somewhere behind the mountains and covered with such a thick shell that whatever was tossing and turning at the bottom of it did not produce any shock on the surface
“So?..” said Chichikov, expecting an answer, not without some excitement.
- Do you need dead souls? - Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if he were talking about bread.
“Yes,” Chichikov answered and again softened his expression, adding: “non-existent.”
“There will be, why not be…” said Sobakevich.
- And if there are, then you, no doubt... will be pleased to get rid of them?
“If you please, I’m ready to sell,” said Sobakevich, having already raised his head somewhat and realized that the buyer must probably have some benefit here.
“Damn it,” Chichikov thought to himself, “this one’s already selling before I even stuttered!” - and said out loud:
- And, for example, what about the price? although, however, this is such an item... that the price is even strange...
- Yes, so as not to ask too much from you, one hundred rubles apiece! - said Sobakevich.
- One hundred percent! - Chichikov cried, opening his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, not knowing whether he himself had misheard, or whether Sobakevich’s tongue, due to its heavy nature, turned the wrong way, blurted out another word instead of one.
- Well, is it really expensive for you? - said Sobakevich and then added: - But what would your price be?
- My price! We must have somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we have forgotten what the subject is. I believe, for my part, in all honesty: eight hryvnia per soul, this is the reddest qualification!
- What a waste - eight hryvnias!
“Well, in my judgment, I think it’s no longer possible.”
- After all, I’m not selling bast shoes.
- However, you must agree: after all, these are not people either.
- So you think you can find such a fool who would sell you a revision’s soul for two kopecks?
- But excuse me: why do you call them revisions, after all, the souls have already died a long time ago, only one sound, intangible to the senses, remains. However, in order not to enter into further discussions on this part, I’ll give you one and a half rubles, if you please, but I can’t take any more.
- It’s a shame for you to say such a sum! you bargain, tell the real price!
“I can’t, Mikhail Semyonovich, believe my conscience, I can’t: what can’t be done, that can’t be done,” Chichikov said, but he added another fifty kopecks.
-Why are you being stingy? - said Sobakevich. - Really, inexpensive! Another scammer will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls; But I have a tough nut, everything is for selection: not a craftsman, but some other healthy guy. Just look at it: for example, the carriage maker Mikheev! After all, he never made any other carriages other than spring ones. And it’s not like the Moscow work, which is for one hour - it’s so durable, it will cut it and cover it with varnish!
Chichikov opened his mouth in order to notice that Mikheev, however, had been gone for a long time; but Sobakevich entered, as they say, into the very power of speech, where the trot and the gift of speech came from:
- And Cork Stepan, the carpenter? I'll lay my head if you can find such a guy anywhere. After all, what kind of power was that! If he had served in the guard, God knows what they would have given him, three arshins and an inch tall!
Chichikov again wanted to point out that Cork was no longer in the world; but Sobakevich, apparently, was carried away: such streams of speeches poured out that it was only necessary to listen:
- Milushkin, brickmaker! could put a stove in any house. Maxim Telyatnikov, shoemaker: whatever pricks with an awl, then the boots, whatever the boots, then thank you, and even if it’s a drunken mouth. And Eremey Sorokoplekhin! Yes, this guy alone will stand for everyone, he traded in Moscow, brought one rent for five hundred rubles. After all, this is what people are like! This is not something that some Plyushkin will sell you.
“But excuse me,” Chichikov said finally, amazed at such an abundant flood of speeches, which seemed to have no end, “why are you counting all their qualities, because now there is no sense in them, because that’s all people are dead. Dead body At least prop up the fence, says the proverb.
“Yes, of course, dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering that they were in fact already dead, and then added: “However, what about these people who are now listed as living?” What kind of people are these? flies, not people.
- Yes, they still exist, and this is a dream.
- Well, no, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find people like him: the machine is such that it won’t fit into this room; no, this is not a dream! And he had such strength in his shoulders that a horse does not have; I would like to know where else you would find such a dream!
He had already said his last words, turning to the portraits of Bagration and Kolokotroni hanging on the wall, as usually happens with those talking when one of them suddenly, for some unknown reason, turns not to the person to whom the words refer, but to some third person who accidentally came , even to a complete stranger, from whom he knows that he will not hear any answer, opinion, or confirmation, but on whom, however, he fixes his gaze as if calling him to be an intermediary; and the stranger, somewhat confused at first, does not know whether to respond to this matter about which he has heard nothing, or to stand there, observing proper decency, and then walk away.
“No, I can’t give more than two rubles,” said Chichikov.
- Please, so that they don’t lay claim to me, that I’m asking dearly and I don’t want to do you any favor, if you please - seventy-five rubles per head, only in banknotes, right only for acquaintance!
“Does he really think to himself,” Chichikov thought, “does he take me for a fool?” - and then added out loud:
- It’s strange to me, really: it seems that some kind of theatrical performance or comedy is happening between us, otherwise I can’t explain it to myself... You seem to be a pretty smart person, you have information about education. After all, the subject is just fu-fu. What is he worth? who needs?
- Yes, you’re buying it, so it’s necessary.
Here Chichikov bit his lip and couldn’t find what to answer. He began to talk about some family and family circumstances, but Sobakevich answered simply:
- I don’t need to know what your relationship is; I don’t interfere in family affairs, that’s your business. You needed souls, I’m selling them to you, and you will regret that you didn’t buy them.
“Two rubles,” said Chichikov.
- Ek, really, Jacob’s forty confirmed one thing about everyone, as the proverb says; Once you set up two, you don’t want to move out of them. Give us the real price!
“Well, damn him,” Chichikov thought to himself, “I’ll give him half a rouble, for his nuts!”
- If you please, I’ll add half a ruble.
- Well, if you please, I’ll tell you mine too the last word: fifty rubles! Really, it's a loss to yourself, you can't buy this cheaper anywhere good people!
“What a fist!” - Chichikov said to himself and then continued out loud with some annoyance:
- Yes, really... it’s like it’s definitely a serious matter; Yes, I’ll take it somewhere else for no reason. Everyone will also willingly sell them to me, just to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Would a fool keep them with him and pay taxes for them!
- But do you know that this kind of purchase, I say this between us, out of friendship, is not always permissible, and whether I or someone else tells you, such a person will not have any power of attorney regarding contracts or entering into any profitable obligations.
“Look where he’s aiming, the scoundrel!” - thought Chichikov and immediately said with the most cold-blooded look:
- As you wish, I do not buy for any need, as you think, but according to the inclination of my own thoughts. If you don’t want two and a half, goodbye!
“You can’t knock him down, he’s stubborn!” - thought Sobakevich.
- Well, God bless you, give us thirty and take them for yourself!
- No, I see you don’t want to sell, goodbye!
- Allow me, let me! - said Sobakevich, not letting go of his hand and stepping on his foot, because our hero forgot to take care, as punishment for which he had to hiss and jump on one leg.
- Sorry! I seem to have disturbed you. Please sit down here! Ask! - Here he sat him in a chair with some dexterity, like a bear that has already been in the hands, knows how to roll over and do different things in response to the questions: “Show me, Misha, how women steam” or: “And how, Misha “Are the little guys stealing peas?”
- Really, I’m wasting my time, I need to hurry.
- Sit for a minute, I’ll tell you one pleasant word for you. - Here Sobakevich sat closer and said quietly in his ear, as if it were a secret: - Do you want a corner?
- That is, twenty-five rubles? Neither, nor, nor, I won’t even give a quarter of an angle, I won’t add a penny.
Sobakevich fell silent. Chichikov also fell silent. Silence lasted for two minutes. Bagration with an aquiline nose looked from the wall extremely carefully at this purchase.
- What will yours be? last price? - Sobakevich finally said.
- Two and a half.
- You're right, the human soul is like a steamed turnip. Give me at least three rubles!
- I can not.
- Well, there’s nothing to do with you, if you please! It’s a loss, and such a dog’s temper: I can’t help but please my neighbor. After all, I’m a tea, you need to complete the bill of sale so that everything is in order.
- Of course.
- Well, that’s the same, you’ll need to go to the city.
This is how it happened. Both decided that tomorrow they would be in the city and deal with the deed of sale. Chichikov asked for a list of peasants. Sobakevich agreed willingly and immediately, going up to the bureau, with his own hand began to write out everyone not only by name, but even with the designation of commendable qualities.
And Chichikov, having nothing better to do, began to look at his entire spacious salary from behind. As he looked at his back, wide, like the squat Vyatka horses, and at his legs, which resembled the cast-iron pedestals that are placed on the sidewalks, he could not help but exclaim inwardly: “Oh, God rewarded you! It’s certainly, as they say, not well-cut, but tightly sewn!.. Were you really born a bear, or did you become a bear from the provincial life, the grain crops, the fuss with the peasants, and through them you became what is called a man-fist? But no: I think you would still be the same, even if they brought you up according to fashion, let you go and live in St. Petersburg, and not in the outback. The whole difference is that now you will eat half a side of lamb with porridge, having a cheesecake on your plate, and then you would be eating some cutlets with truffles. Yes, now you have men under your power: you are in harmony with them and, of course, you will not offend them, because they are yours, but it will be worse for you; and then you would have officials whom you would slap hard, realizing that they are not your serfs, or you would rob the treasury! No, whoever has a fist cannot straighten into a palm! But straighten your fist with one or two fingers, and it will come out even worse. If he tasted the top of some science, he would let him know later, taking a more prominent place for all those who had actually learned some science. And then, perhaps, he will say later: “Let me show myself!” Yes, he will come up with such a wise resolution that many will have to go solo... Oh, if only they were all fists!..”
“The note is ready,” Sobakevich said, turning around.
- Are you ready? Bring her here! - He ran his eyes over it and marveled at the accuracy and precision: not only was the craft, title, years and family fortune written down in detail, but even in the margins there were special notes about behavior, sobriety - in a word, it was pleasant to look at.
“Now please give me a deposit,” said Sobakevich.
- Why do you need a deposit? You will receive all the money in the city at one time.
“That’s all, you know, that’s how it is,” Sobakevich objected.
- I don’t know how to give it to you, I didn’t take any money with me. Yes, here are ten rubles.
- Why ten! Give me at least fifty!
Chichikov began to make excuses that no; but Sobakevich said so affirmatively that he had money, that he took out another piece of paper, saying:
“Perhaps, here’s another fifteen for you, for a total of twenty.” Just give me a receipt.
- What do you need a receipt for?
- That’s it, you know, it’s better to have a receipt. It's not even an hour, anything can happen.
- Okay, give me the money here!
- What's the money for? I have them in my hand! as soon as you write a receipt, at the same minute
- Excuse me, how can I write a receipt? first you need to see the money.
Chichikov released the pieces of paper from his hands to Sobakevich, who, approaching the table and covering them with the fingers of his left hand, wrote on a piece of paper with the other that he had received the deposit of twenty-five rubles in government notes for the sold souls in full. Having written the note, he looked at the notes again.
- The piece of paper is old! - he said, examining one of them in the light, - it’s a little torn, but between friends there’s nothing to look at.
“Fist, fist! - Chichikov thought to himself, “and a beast to boot!”
- Don’t you want a female?
- No, thank you.
- I would take it inexpensively. For dating, a ruble apiece.
- No, I don’t need the female gender.
- Well, when you don’t need it, there’s nothing to say. There is no law on tastes: who loves the priest, and who loves the priest, says the proverb.
“I also wanted to ask you to keep this deal between us,” Chichikov said, saying goodbye.
- Yes, it goes without saying. There is nothing to interfere with the third; What happens in sincerity between short friends must remain in their mutual friendship. Farewell! Thank you for visiting; Please don’t forget in the future: if you have a free hour, come and have lunch and spend some time. Maybe it will happen again to serve each other in some way.
“Yes, no matter how it is! - Chichikov thought to himself, sitting down. in the chaise. “He tore two and a half rubles for a dead soul, damn fist!”
He was dissatisfied with Sobakevich's behavior. Still, be that as it may, the person is familiar, both the governor and the police chief met, but he acted as if he were a complete stranger, he took money for rubbish! When the chaise drove out of the yard, he looked back and saw that Sobakevich was still standing on the porch and, it seemed, was looking closely, wanting to know where the guest would go.
- Scoundrel, it's still standing! - he said through clenched teeth and ordered Selifan, turning to peasant huts, drive away in such a way that the carriage cannot be seen from the side of the master's yard. He wanted to visit Plyushkin, who, according to Sobakevich, had people dying like flies, but he didn’t want Sobakevich to know about it. When the chaise was already at the end of the village, he called the first man to him, who, having found a very thick log somewhere on the road, dragged it on his shoulder, like a tireless ant, to his hut.
- Hey, beard! But how can we get from here to Plyushkin without passing the manor’s house?
The man seemed to be at a loss with this question.
- Well, you don’t know?
- No, master, I don’t know.
- Oh you! And even a hint of gray hair! Don’t you know the miser Plyushkin, the one who feeds people poorly?
- A! patched, patched! - the man screamed.
He also added a noun to the word “patched”, which is very successful, but not common in social conversation, and therefore we will skip it. However, one can guess that it was expressed very aptly, because Chichikov, although the man had long since disappeared from sight and had traveled a lot ahead, was still grinning while sitting in the chaise. Expressed strongly Russian people! and if he rewards someone with a word, then it will go to his family and posterity, he will drag it with him into service, and into retirement, and to Petersburg, and to the ends of the world. And no matter how cunning or ennobled your nickname is then, even if you force the writing people to derive it for a hire from the ancient princely family, nothing will help: the nickname will caw for itself at the top of its crow’s throat and say clearly where the bird flew from. What is accurately spoken is the same as what is written; it cannot be cut down with an axe. And how accurate is everything that came out of the depths of Rus', where there are no Germans, no Chukhons, or any other tribes, and everything is a nugget itself, a lively and lively Russian mind that does not reach into its pocket for a word, does not hatch it , like a mother hen chicks, but it sticks right away, like a passport on an eternal sock, and there is nothing to add later, what kind of nose or lips you have - you are outlined with one line from head to toe!

– I wanted to talk to you about a certain business.

“Here’s some more jam,” said the hostess, returning with a saucer, “radish boiled in honey!”

- And here we are after it! - said Sobakevich. - Now go to your room, Pavel Ivanovich and I will take off our tailcoats and rest a little!

The hostess had already expressed her readiness to send for down jackets and pillows, but the owner said: “Nothing, we’ll rest in the chairs,” and the hostess left.

Sobakevich bent his head slightly, preparing to hear what the deal was.

Chichikov began somehow very distantly, touched upon the entire Russian state in general and spoke with great praise about its space, said that even the most ancient Roman monarchy was not so great, and foreigners are rightly surprised... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head. And that, according to the existing provisions of this state, the glory of which has no equal, audit souls, having completed their career in life, are, however, counted, until the submission of a new audit tale, on an equal basis with the living, so as not to burden government offices with a multitude of petty and useless certificates and not to increase the complexity of an already very complex state mechanism... Sobakevich listened to everything with his head bowed - and that, however, with all the justice of this measure, it can be partly burdensome for many owners, obliging them to pay taxes as if for a living object, and that he, feeling personal respect for him, would be ready to even partially take on this really difficult responsibility. As for the main subject, Chichikov expressed himself very carefully: he did not call souls dead, but only non-existent.

Sobakevich listened to everything as before, with his head bent, and at least something similar to an expression appeared on his face. It seemed that this body had no soul at all, or it had one, but not at all where it should be, but, like the immortal Koshchei, somewhere behind the mountains and covered with such a thick shell that everything that moved at the bottom it, did not produce absolutely any shock on the surface

“So?..” said Chichikov, expecting an answer, not without some excitement.

– Do you need dead souls? – Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if we were talking about bread.

“Yes,” Chichikov answered and again softened his expression, adding: non-existent.

“There will be reasons why not be...” said Sobakevich.

– And if they are found, then you, no doubt... will be pleased to get rid of them?

“If you please, I’m ready to sell,” said Sobakevich, having already raised his head somewhat and realized that the buyer must probably have some benefit here.

“Damn it,” Chichikov thought to himself, “this one’s already selling before I even stuttered!” - and said out loud:

- And, for example, what about the price? although, however, this is such an item... that the price is even strange...

- Yes, so as not to ask too much from you, one hundred rubles apiece! - said Sobakevich.

- One hundred percent! - Chichikov cried, opening his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, not knowing whether he himself had misheard, or whether Sobakevich’s tongue, due to its heavy nature, turned the wrong way, blurted out another word instead of one.

- Well, is it really worth it to you? - said Sobakevich and then added: - But what would your price be?

- My price! We must have somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we have forgotten what the subject is. I believe for my part, hand on heart: at eight hryvnia per soul, this is the best price!

- What a waste - eight hryvnias each!

“Well, in my judgment, I think it’s no longer possible.”

– After all, I’m not selling bast shoes.

- However, you must agree: after all, these are not people either.

“So you think you can find such a fool who would sell you a revision’s soul for two kopecks?”

- But excuse me: why do you call them revisions, after all, the souls have already died a long time ago, only one sound, intangible to the senses, remains. However, in order not to enter into further discussions on this part, I’ll give you one and a half rubles, if you please, but I can’t take any more.

– It’s a shame for you to say such a sum! you bargain, tell the real price!

“I can’t, Mikhail Semyonovich, believe my conscience, I can’t: what can’t be done, that can’t be done,” Chichikov said, but he added another fifty kopecks.

- Why are you being stingy? - said Sobakevich. - Really, it’s inexpensive! Another scammer will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls; But I have a tough nut, everything is for selection: not a craftsman, but some other healthy guy. Just look at it: for example, the carriage maker Mikheev! After all, he never made any other carriages other than spring ones. And it’s not like the Moscow work, which is for one hour - it’s so durable, it will cut it and cover it with varnish!

Chichikov opened his mouth in order to notice that Mikheev, however, had been gone for a long time; but Sobakevich entered, as they say, into the very power of speech, where the trot and the gift of speech came from:

- And Cork Stepan, the carpenter? I'll lay my head if you can find such a guy anywhere. After all, what kind of power was that! If he had served in the guard, God knows what they would have given him, three arshins and an inch tall!

Chichikov again wanted to point out that Cork was no longer in the world; but Sobakevich, apparently, was carried away: such streams of speeches poured out that it was only necessary to listen:

- Milushkin, brickmaker! could put a stove in any house. Maxim Telyatnikov, shoemaker: whatever pricks with an awl, then the boots, whatever the boots, then thank you, and even if it’s a drunken mouth. And Eremey Sorokoplekhin! Yes, this guy alone will stand for everyone, he traded in Moscow, brought one rent for five hundred rubles. After all, this is what people are like! This is not something that some Plyushkin will sell you.

“But excuse me,” Chichikov finally said, amazed at such an abundant flood of speeches, which seemed to have no end, “why are you counting all their qualities, because now there is no sense in them, because these are all dead people.” At least prop up a fence with a dead body, says the proverb.

“Yes, of course, dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering who they really were; they were already dead, and then added: “However, what can I say about these people who are now listed as living?” What kind of people are these? flies, not people.

– Yes, they still exist, and this is a dream.

- Well, no, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find people like him: the machine is such that it won’t fit into this room; no, this is not a dream! And he had such strength in his shoulders that a horse does not have; I would like to know where else you would find such a dream!

He had already said his last words, turning to the portraits of Bagration and Kolokotroni hanging on the wall, as usually happens with those talking when one of them suddenly, for some unknown reason, turns not to the person to whom the words refer, but to some third person who accidentally came , even to a complete stranger, from whom he knows that he will not hear any answer, opinion, or confirmation, but on whom, however, he fixes his gaze as if calling him to be an intermediary; and the stranger, somewhat confused at first, does not know whether to respond to this matter about which he has heard nothing, or to stand there, observing proper decency, and then walk away.

“No, I can’t give more than two rubles,” said Chichikov.

- Please, so that they don’t claim me, that I’m asking dearly and I don’t want to do you any favor, if you please - seventy-five rubles per head, only in banknotes, right only for acquaintance!

“Does he really think to himself,” Chichikov thought, “does he take me for a fool?” - and then added out loud:

“It’s strange to me, really: it seems like some kind of theatrical performance or comedy is happening between us, otherwise I can’t explain it to myself... You seem to be a pretty smart person, you have information about education.” After all, the subject is just fu-fu. What is he worth? who needs?

- Yes, you’re buying it, so it’s necessary.

Here Chichikov bit his lip and couldn’t find what to answer. He began to talk about some family and family circumstances, but Sobakevich answered simply:

– I don’t need to know what your relationship is; I don’t interfere in family affairs, that’s your business. You needed souls, I’m selling them to you, and you will regret that you didn’t buy them.

“Two rubles,” said Chichikov.

- Ek, really, Jacob’s forty confirmed one thing about everyone, as the proverb says; Once you set up two, you don’t want to move out of them. Give us the real price!

“Well, damn him,” Chichikov thought to himself, “I’ll give him half a dime, for the dog’s nuts!”

- If you please, I’ll add half a ruble.

- Well, if you please, I’ll also tell you my last word: fifty rubles! Really, it’s a loss to yourself; you can’t buy such good people cheaper anywhere!

“What a fist!” - Chichikov said to himself and then continued out loud with some annoyance:

- Yes, really... it seems like it’s definitely a serious matter; Yes, I’ll take it somewhere else for no reason. Everyone will also willingly sell them to me, just to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Would a fool keep them with him and pay taxes for them!

“But do you know that this kind of purchase, I say this between us, out of friendship, is not always permissible, and whether I or someone else tells you, such a person will not have any power of attorney regarding contracts or entering into any profitable obligations.

“Look where he’s aiming, the scoundrel!” – thought Chichikov and immediately said with the most cool-blooded look:

- As you wish, I do not buy for any need, as you think, but according to the inclination of my own thoughts. If you don’t want two and a half, goodbye!

“You can’t knock him down, he’s stubborn!” – thought Sobakevich.

- Well, God bless you, give us thirty and take them for yourself!

- No, I see you don’t want to sell, goodbye!

- Allow me, let me! - said Sobakevich, not letting go of his hand and stepping on his foot, because our hero forgot to take care, for which he had to hiss and jump on one leg as punishment.

- Sorry! I seem to have disturbed you. Please sit down here! Ask! “Here he sat him down in a chair with some dexterity, just like a bear that has already been in his hands knows how to roll over and do different things when asked: “Show me, Misha, how women steam” or: “And how, Misha?” “Are the little guys stealing peas?”

“Really, I’m wasting my time, I need to hurry.”

– Sit for a minute, I’ll tell you one pleasant word for you.

Then Sobakevich sat closer and said quietly in his ear, as if it were a secret:

- Do you want a corner?

- That is, twenty-five rubles? Neither, nor, nor, I won’t even give a quarter of an angle, I won’t add a penny.

Sobakevich fell silent. Chichikov also fell silent. Silence lasted for two minutes.

Bagration with an aquiline nose looked from the wall extremely carefully at this purchase.

– What will be your last price? - Sobakevich finally said.

- Two and a half.

“You’re right, the human soul is like a steamed turnip.” Give me at least three rubles!

- I can not.

- Well, there’s nothing to do with you, if you please! It’s a loss, and such a dog’s temper: I can’t help but please my neighbor. After all, I’m a tea, you need to complete the bill of sale so that everything is in order.

- Of course.

- Well, that’s it, you’ll need to go to the city.

This is how it happened. Both decided that tomorrow they would be in the city and deal with the deed of sale. Chichikov asked for a list of peasants. Sobakevich agreed willingly and immediately, going up to the bureau, with his own hand began to write out everyone not only by name, but even with the designation of commendable qualities.

And Chichikov, having nothing better to do, began to look at his entire spacious salary from behind. As he looked at his back, wide, like the squat Vyatka horses, and at his legs, which resembled cast-iron pedestals that are placed on sidewalks, he could not help but exclaim inwardly: “What God has rewarded you with!” It’s certainly, as they say, not well-cut, but tightly sewn!.. Were you really born a bear, or did you become a bear from the provincial life, the grain crops, the fuss with the peasants, and through them you became what is called a man-fist? But no: I think you would still be the same, even if they brought you up according to fashion, let you go and live in St. Petersburg, and not in the outback. The whole difference is that now you will eat half a side of lamb with porridge, having a cheesecake on your plate, and then you would be eating some cutlets with truffles. Yes, now you have men under your power: you are in harmony with them and, of course, you will not offend them, because they are yours, but it will be worse for you; and then you would have officials whom you would slap hard, realizing that they are not your serfs, or you would rob the treasury! No, whoever has a fist cannot straighten into a palm! But straighten your fist with one or two fingers, and it will come out even worse. If he tasted the top of some science, he would let all those who had actually learned some science know later, having taken a more prominent place. And then, perhaps, he will say later: “Let me show myself!” Yes, he will come up with such a wise resolution that many will have to go solo... Oh, if only they were all fists!..”

“The note is ready,” Sobakevich said, turning around.

- Are you ready? Bring her here! “He ran his eyes over it and marveled at the neatness and precision: not only was the craft, title, years and family fortune written down in detail, but even in the margins there were special notes about behavior, sobriety - in a word, it was pleasant to look at.

“Now please give me a deposit,” said Sobakevich.

- Why do you need a deposit? You will receive all the money in the city at one time.

“That’s all, you know, that’s how it is,” Sobakevich objected.

“I don’t know how to give it to you, I didn’t take any money with me.” Yes, here are ten rubles.

- Why ten! Give me at least fifty!

Chichikov began to make excuses that no; but Sobakevich said so affirmatively that he had money, that he took out another piece of paper, saying:

“Perhaps, here’s another fifteen for you, for a total of twenty.” Just give me a receipt.

- What do you need a receipt for?

– That’s it, you know, it’s better to have a receipt. It's not even an hour, anything can happen.

- Okay, give me the money here!

- What's the money for? I have them in my hand! as soon as you write a receipt, at the same minute.

- Excuse me, how can I write a receipt? first you need to see the money.

Chichikov released the pieces of paper from his hands to Sobakevich, who, approaching the table and covering them with the fingers of his left hand, wrote on a piece of paper with the other that he had received the deposit of twenty-five rubles in government notes for the sold souls in full. Having written the note, he looked at the notes again.

- The piece of paper is old! - he said, examining one of them in the world, - it’s a little torn, well, there’s nothing to look at between friends.

“Fist, fist! - Chichikov thought to himself, “and a beast to boot!”

– Don’t you want a female?

- No, thank you.

- I would take it inexpensively. For dating, a ruble apiece.

- No, I don’t need the female gender.

- Well, when you don’t need it, there’s nothing to say. There is no law on tastes: who loves the priest, and who loves the priest, says the proverb.

“I also wanted to ask you to keep this deal between us,” Chichikov said, saying goodbye.

- Yes, it goes without saying. There is nothing to interfere with the third; What happens in sincerity between short friends must remain in their mutual friendship. Farewell! Thank you for visiting; Please don’t forget in the future: if you have a free hour, come and have lunch and spend some time. Maybe it will happen again to serve each other in some way.

“Yes, no matter how it is! - Chichikov thought to himself, getting into the chaise. “He tore two and a half rubles for a dead soul, damn fist!”

Chichikov (LIE) and Plyushkin (IL)

Partners LIE and ILI, as a rule, have a lot in common; there is a good exchange of energy information on strong functions. Each of the partners “mirrors” the other, easily picks up and supports his initiatives, and is ready to help implement them during negotiations.

These relationships got their name (“mirror”) due to the fact that the words of one are reflected, as in a mirror, in the actions of the other. What one speaks about, the other unconsciously picks up, adapts to it and implements it with his behavior. However, such realization is never complete. Because their mirror is crooked, because partners proceed from different standards of behavior. Therefore, everyone adjusts their thoughts and actions in their own way. For this reason, confusion arises, and sometimes even claims against each other. Everyone strives to correct their partner’s behavior in accordance with their model, but such attempts at re-education have no chance of success.

At the same time, mirror relationships can be called relationships of constructive criticism. The fact is that in a mirror couple, both partners are always either theoreticians or practitioners. Therefore, they will definitely have common topics for conversations and discussions. Moreover, everyone sees only part of the same problem, so he is always interested in what the “mirror man” thinks about this. As a result collaboration mutual correction and clarification occurs. Criticism is almost always constructive, since it is caused by the desire to add missing qualities to a partner, and not to humiliate or offend him.

During negotiations, both partners, in parallel with the discussion of the main subject, secretly strive to change each other, teach, educate. When two ethical types collide, they may become personal or fearful of each other. When two people are logical, they either argue or remain silent, and silence always creates tension. Tension is accompanied by an internal monologue of condemnation and misunderstanding, which is not clear to the opponent.

Soon, however, the appearance of Sobakevich's village dispelled his thoughts and forced them to turn to their constant subject.

The village seemed quite large to him; two forests, birch and pine, like two wings, one darker, the other lighter, were on her right and left; in the middle one could see a wooden house with a mezzanine, a red roof and dark gray or, better, wild walls, a house of the kind that we build for military settlements and German colonists. It was noticeable that during its construction the architect constantly struggled with the taste of the owner. The architect was a pedant and wanted symmetry, the owner wanted convenience and, apparently, as a result, he boarded up all the corresponding windows on one side and screwed in their place one, small one, probably needed for a dark closet. The pediment also did not fit in the middle of the house, no matter how hard the architect struggled, because the owner ordered one column on the side to be thrown out, and therefore there were not four columns, as was intended, but only three. The yard was surrounded by a strong and excessively thick wooden lattice. The landowner seemed to be concerned a lot about strength. For the stables, barns and kitchens, full-weight and thick logs were used, determined to stand for centuries. The village huts of the peasants were also built marvelously: there were no brick walls, carved patterns or other tricks, but everything was fitted tightly and properly. Even the well was lined with the kind of strong oak that is used only for mills and ships. In a word, everything he looked at was stubborn, without shaking, in some kind of strong and clumsy order. Approaching the porch, he noticed two faces looking out of the window almost at the same time: a woman in a cap, narrow, long, like a cucumber, and a man, round, wide, like Moldavian pumpkins, called gourds, from which balalaikas are made in Rus', two-stringed, light balalaikas, the beauty and fun of an agile twenty-year-old guy, flashing and dandy, winking and whistling at the white-breasted and white-necked girls who had gathered to listen to his low-stringed strumming. Having looked out, both faces immediately hid. A footman in a gray jacket with a blue stand-up collar came out onto the porch and led Chichikov into the hallway, where the owner himself came out. Seeing the guest, he said abruptly: “Please!” and led him into the inner dwellings.

When Chichikov looked sideways at Sobakevich, this time he seemed to him very similar to a medium-sized bear. To complete the similarity, the tailcoat he was wearing was completely bear-colored, his sleeves were long, his trousers were long, he walked with his feet this way and that, constantly stepping on other people’s feet. His complexion was red-hot, the kind you get on a copper coin. It is known that there are many such persons in the world, over whose finishing nature did not spend much time, did not use any small tools, such as files, gimlets and other things, but simply chopped with all their might, hit with an ax once - the nose came out, hit another - her lips came out, she picked her eyes with a large drill and, without scraping them, released them into the light, saying: “he lives!” Sobakevich had the same strong and amazingly well-made image: he held it more down than up, did not move his neck at all and, due to such non-rotation, rarely looked at the person he was talking to, but always either at the corner of the stove, or on the door. Chichikov glanced sideways at him again as they passed the dining room: bear! perfect bear! We need such a strange rapprochement: he was even called Mikhail Semenovich. Knowing his habit of stepping on his feet, he moved his own very carefully and gave him the way forward. The owner seemed to feel this sin behind him and immediately asked: “Did I bother you?” But Chichikov thanked him, saying that no disturbance had yet occurred.

Entering the living room, Sobakevich pointed to the armchairs, saying again: “Please!” Sitting down, Chichikov looked at the walls and the paintings hanging on them. In the paintings all were fine fellows, all Greek commanders, engraved to their full height: Mavrocordato in red trousers and uniform, with glasses on his nose, Kolokotroni, Miaouli, Canari. All these heroes had such thick thighs and incredible mustaches that a shiver ran through their bodies. Between the strong Greeks, no one knows how or why, Bagration, skinny, thin, with small banners and cannons below and in the narrowest frames, was placed. Then again followed the Greek heroine Bobelina, whose one leg seemed larger than the entire body of those dandies who fill today's living rooms. The owner, being a healthy and strong man himself, seemed to want his room to be decorated by strong and healthy people too. Near Bobelina, right next to the window, hung a cage from which looked out a blackbird of a dark color with white specks, also very similar to Sobakevich. The guest and the owner did not have time to be silent for two minutes when the door in the living room opened and the hostess entered, a very tall lady, in a cap with ribbons, repainted home paint. She entered sedately, holding her head straight like a palm tree.

“This is my Feodulia Ivanovna!” Sobakevich said.

Chichikov walked up to Feodulia Ivanovna’s hand, which she almost pushed into his lips, and he had occasion to notice that his hands were washed with cucumber pickle.

Feodulia Ivanovna asked to sit down, also saying: “Please!” and made a movement of his head, like actresses representing queens. Then she sat down on the sofa, covered herself with her merino scarf and no longer moved an eye, an eyebrow, or a nose.

Chichikov again looked up and again saw Canary with thick thighs and an endless mustache, Bobelina and a blackbird in a cage.

For almost a full five minutes everyone remained silent; All that could be heard was the knock made by the blackbird’s nose on the wood of the wooden cage, at the bottom of which he was fishing for grains of bread. Chichikov once again looked around the room and everything that was in it - everything was solid, awkward to the highest degree and bore some strange resemblance to the owner of the house himself: in the corner of the living room stood a pot-bellied walnut bureau on the most absurd four legs: a perfect bear. The table, armchairs, chairs - everything was of the heaviest and most restless quality; in a word, every object, every chair seemed to say: I too am Sobakevich! or: I also look very much like Sobakevich!

“We remembered you at the chairman of the chamber, Ivan Grigorievich,” Chichikov finally said, seeing that no one was in the mood to start a conversation: “last Thursday. We had a very pleasant time there."

“Yes, I wasn’t with the chairman then,” Sobakevich answered.

“And a wonderful person!”

"Who it?" said Sobakevich, looking at the corner of the stove.

"Chairman"

“Well, maybe it seemed like that to you: he’s just a Freemason, but such a fool as the world has never produced.”

Chichikov was a little puzzled by this somewhat harsh definition, but then, having recovered, he continued: “Of course, every person is not without weaknesses, but the governor, what an excellent person!”

“Is the governor an excellent man?”

"Yes, isn't it?"

"The first robber in the world!"

“What, is the governor a robber?” said Chichikov and could not at all understand how the governor could end up among the robbers. “I admit, I would never have thought of this,” he continued. “But allow me, however, to note: his actions are completely different; on the contrary, there is rather a lot of softness in him.” Here he even brought as evidence the purses embroidered with his own hands, and praised the gentle expression on his face.

“And the face of a robber!” Sobakevich said. “Just give him a knife and let him out onto the main road, he’ll kill you, he’ll kill you for a penny! He and also the vice-governor are Goga and Magog.”

“No, he’s not on good terms with them,” Chichikov thought to himself. “But should I talk to him about the police chief? he seems to be his friend.” “However, as for me,” he said, “I admit, I like the police chief more than anyone else. Some sort of direct, open character; you can see something simple-hearted in his face.”

"Scammer!" Sobakevich said very calmly: “He will sell, deceive, and even have lunch with you!” I know them all: they are all scammers; the whole city is like this: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives the swindler around. All sellers of Christ. There is only one decent person there: the prosecutor, and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.”

After such commendable, although several brief, biographies, Chichikov saw that there was nothing to mention about other officials, and remembered that Sobakevich did not like to speak well of anyone.

“Well, darling, let’s go to dinner,” his wife said to Sobakevich.

"Ask!" Sobakevich said. Then, going up to the table where there was a snack, the guest and the owner drank a glass of vodka as they should, ate, as the whole of vast Russia snacks in cities and villages, that is, with all sorts of pickles and other stimulating blessings, and they all flowed into the dining room; ahead of them, like a smooth goose, the hostess rushed. The small table was set with four cutlery. She appeared in the fourth place very quickly, it is difficult to say for sure who she was, a lady or a maiden, a relative, a housekeeper or someone simply living in the house; something without a cap, about thirty years old, wearing a colorful scarf. There are faces that exist in the world not as an object, but as extraneous specks or specks on an object. They sit in the same place, hold their heads in the same way, you can almost mistake them for furniture and you think that a word like this has never come out of your mouth; and somewhere in the girl’s room or in the pantry it will be simply: wow!

“The cabbage soup, my soul, is very good today!” said Sobakevich, taking a sip of cabbage soup and taking a huge piece of nanny from his dish, a famous dish that is served with cabbage soup and consists of a lamb stomach stuffed with buckwheat porridge, brain and legs. “A kind of nanny,” he continued, turning to Chichikov: “you won’t eat in the city, God knows what they’ll serve you there!”

“The governor, however, has a pretty good table,” said Chichikov.

“Do you know what all this is made from? you won’t eat when you find out.”

“I don’t know how it’s prepared, I can’t judge that, but the pork cutlets and boiled fish were excellent.”

“It seemed so to you. After all, I know what they buy at the market. That rascal cook over there who learned from the Frenchman will buy a cat, skin it, and serve it on the table instead of a hare.”

"Ugh! what a nuisance you are talking about!” said Sobakevich's wife.

“Well, my dear, that’s how they do it; It’s not my fault, that’s how they all do it. Whatever is unnecessary that Akulka throws, so to speak, into the trash can, they throw it into the soup! yes to the soup! go there!”

“You always say things like that at the table!” Sobakevich’s wife objected again.

“Well, my soul,” said Sobakevich, “if only I did it myself, but I’ll tell you straight to your face that I won’t eat nasty things. Even if you put sugar on a frog, I won’t put it in my mouth, and I won’t take an oyster either: I know what an oyster looks like. Take the lamb,” he continued, turning to Chichikov: “this is a side of lamb with porridge! These are not the fricassees that are made in noble kitchens from lamb, which has been lying around on the market for four days! It was all invented by German and French doctors; I would hang them for this! They came up with a diet to treat with hunger! Because they have a German thin-boned nature, they imagine that they can cope with a Russian stomach! No, this is all wrong, this is all fiction, this is all...” Here Sobakevich even shook his head angrily. “They interpret it as enlightenment, enlightenment, but this enlightenment is bullshit! I would have said another word, but it was just indecent at the table. Not so for me. When I have pork, put the whole pig on the table; lamb - bring the whole ram, goose - the whole goose! I’d rather eat two dishes, but eat in moderation, as my soul requires.” Sobakevich confirmed this with action: he dumped half a side of lamb onto his plate, ate it all, gnawed it, sucked it to the last bone.

“Yes,” thought Chichikov: “this one’s got a good lip.”

“It’s not like that with me,” said Sobakevich, wiping his hands with a napkin: “with me it’s not like some Plyushkin: he has 800 souls, but lives and dines worse than my shepherd!”

“Who is this Plyushkin?” asked Chichikov.

“Fraud,” answered Sobakevich. “Such a miser that is hard to imagine. The convicts live better in prison than he does: he starved all the people to death.”

“Really!” picked up with the participation of Chichikov. “And you say that he definitely has people dying in large numbers?”

"Like flies die."

“Are they really like flies? Let me ask: how far does he live from you?”

"Five miles away."

“Five miles!” Chichikov exclaimed and even felt a slight heartbeat. “But if you leave your gate, will it be to the right or to the left?”

“I don’t even advise you to know the way to this dog!” Sobakevich said. “It’s better to go to some obscene place than to go to him.”

“No, I didn’t ask for any reasons, but only because I’m interested in knowing all kinds of places,” Chichikov answered.

The side of lamb was followed by cheesecakes, each of which was much larger than a plate, then a turkey the size of a calf, stuffed with all sorts of goodness: eggs, rice, livers and who knows what, everything lay in a lump in the stomach. That was the end of the dinner; but when they got up from the table, Chichikov felt a whole pound more heavy in himself. We went into the living room, where there was already jam on a plate, not a pear, not a plum, not another berry, which, however, was not touched by either the guest or the owner. The hostess came out to put it on other saucers. Taking advantage of her absence, Chichikov turned to Sobakevich, who, lying in an armchair, was only groaning after such a hearty dinner and making some indistinct sounds with his mouth, crossing himself and constantly covering it with his hand. Chichikov addressed him with these words:

“I wanted to talk to you about a business.”

“Here’s some more jam!” said the hostess, returning with a saucer: “radish boiled in honey!”

“And here we are after it!” Sobakevich said. “Now go to your room, Pavel Ivanovich and I will take off our tailcoats and take a little rest!”

The hostess had already expressed her readiness to send for down jackets and pillows, but the owner said: “Nothing, we’ll rest in the chairs,” and the hostess left.

Sobakevich bent his head slightly, preparing to hear what the deal was.

Chichikov began somehow very distantly, touched upon the entire Russian state in general and spoke with great praise about its space, said that even the most ancient Roman monarchy was not so great, and foreigners are rightly surprised... Sobakevich listened to everything with his head bowed. And that, according to the existing provisions of this state, the glory of which has no equal, audit souls who have completed their careers in life are, however, counted, until the submission of a new audit tale, on an equal basis with the living, so as not to burden government offices with a multitude of petty and useless certificates and not to increase the complexity of an already very complex state mechanism... Sobakevich listened to everything with his head bowed - and that, however, with all the justice of this measure, it can be partly burdensome for many owners, obliging them to pay taxes as if for a living object, and that he, feeling personal respect for it, would be ready to even partially take on this really difficult responsibility. As for the main subject, Chichikov expressed himself very carefully: he did not call souls dead, but only non-existent.

Sobakevich listened, still bowing his head, and at least something similar to an expression appeared on his face. It seemed that this body had no soul at all, or it had one, but not at all where it should be, but, like the immortal Koshchei, somewhere behind the mountains and covered with such a thick shell that everything that moved at the bottom it did not produce absolutely any shock on the surface.

“So?..” said Chichikov, expecting an answer, not without some nervousness.

"Do you need dead souls?" Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if he were talking about bread.

“Yes,” answered Chichikov, and again softened his expression, adding: “non-existent.”

“There will be reasons why not be...” said Sobakevich.

“And if they are, then you, no doubt... will be pleased to get rid of them?”

“If you please, I’m ready to sell,” said Sobakevich, having already raised his head somewhat and realized that the buyer must probably have some benefit here.

“Damn it,” Chichikov thought to himself: “this one’s already selling even before I even stuttered!” and said out loud: “And, for example, what about the price, although, of course, this is such an object... that the price is even strange...”

“Yes, so as not to ask too much from you, one hundred rubles apiece!” Sobakevich said.

“One hundred percent!” cried Chichikov, opening his mouth and looking into his very eyes, not knowing whether he himself had misheard or whether Sobakevich’s tongue, due to its heavy nature, had turned the wrong way, blurted out, instead of one, another word.

“Well, is it worth it to you?” Sobakevich said and then added: “But what would your price be?”

"My price! We must have somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we have forgotten what the subject is. I believe for my part, hand on heart: at eight hryvnia per soul, this is the best price!”

“What a waste, eight hryvnias!”

“Well, in my judgment, I don’t think it can anymore.”

“After all, I’m not selling bast shoes.”

“However, you must agree: these are not people either.”

“So do you think you can find such a fool who would sell you a revision’s soul for two kopecks?”

“But excuse me: why do you call them revisions, because the souls have already died a long time ago, only one sound, intangible with the senses, remains. However, in order not to enter into further discussions on this part, I’ll give you one and a half rubles, if you please, but I can’t take any more.”

“Shame on you to say such a sum! you bargain, tell the real price!”

“I can’t, Mikhail Semyonovich, believe my conscience, I can’t: what can’t be done, that can’t be done,” said Chichikov, but he added another fifty kopecks.

“Why are you being stingy?” said Sobakevich: “really, it’s inexpensive! Another scammer will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls; But I have a tough nut, everything is for selection: not a craftsman, but some other healthy guy. Just look at it: for example, the carriage maker Mikheev! After all, he never made any other carriages other than spring ones. And it’s not like the Moscow work, that for one hour, such strength, he will trim and cover it with varnish!”

Chichikov opened his mouth in order to notice that Mikheev, however, had been gone for a long time; but Sobakevich entered, as they say, into the very power of speech, where the trot and the gift of speech came from:

“And Cork Stepan, the carpenter? I'll lay my head if you can find such a guy anywhere. After all, what kind of power was that! If he had served in the guard, God knows what they would have given him, three arshins and an inch tall!”

Chichikov again wanted to point out that Cork was no longer in the world; but Sobakevich, apparently, was carried away; There were such streams of speeches that you just had to listen:

“Milushkin, brickmaker! could put a stove in any house. Maxim Telyatnikov, shoemaker: whatever pricks with an awl, then the boots, whatever the boots, then thank you, and even if you put a drunken mouth in your mouth! And Eremey Sorokoplekhin! Yes, this guy alone will stand for everyone, he traded in Moscow, brought one rent for five hundred rubles. After all, this is what people are like! This is not something that some Plyushkin will sell you.”

“But excuse me,” Chichikov finally said, amazed at such an abundant flood of speeches, which seemed to have no end: “why are you counting all their qualities, because now there is no sense in them, because they are all dead people. At least prop up a fence with a dead body, says the proverb.”

“Yes, of course, dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering that they were in fact already dead, and then added: “however, and that’s to say: what of these people who are now listed as living? What kind of people are these? flies, not people."

“Yes, they still exist, and this is a dream.”

“Well, no, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find people like him: the machine is such that it won’t fit into this room: no, this is not a dream! And he had such strength in his shoulders that a horse does not have; I would like to know where else you would find such a dream! He already said the last words, turning to the portraits of Bagration and Kolokotroni hanging on the wall, as usually happens with those talking when one of them suddenly, for some unknown reason, turns not to the person to whom the words refer, but to some third person who accidentally came , even to a complete stranger, from whom he knows that he will hear no answer, no opinion, no confirmation, but on whom, however, he fixes his gaze as if calling him to be an intermediary; and the stranger, somewhat confused at first, does not know whether to respond to this matter about which he has heard nothing, or to stand there, observing proper decency, and then walk away.

“No, I can’t give more than two rubles,” said Chichikov.

“If you please, so that they don’t lay claim to me, that I’m asking dearly and I don’t want to do you any favors, if you please, seventy-five rubles per head, only in banknotes, really, just for acquaintance!”

“Really,” Chichikov thought to himself, “is he taking me for a fool?” and then added out loud: “It’s strange to me, really: it seems like some kind of theatrical performance or comedy is happening between us; I can’t explain it to myself otherwise... You seem to be a pretty smart person, you have information about education. After all, the subject is simple: fu-fu. What is he worth? who needs?"

“Yes, here you are, buying; therefore, it is necessary.”

Here Chichikov bit his lip and couldn’t find what to answer. He began to talk about some family and family circumstances, but Sobakevich answered simply:

“I don’t need to know what your relationship is: I don’t interfere in family affairs, that’s your business. You needed souls, I’m selling them to you, and you will regret that you didn’t buy them.”

“Two rubles,” said Chichikov.

“Eh, really, Jacob’s forty confirmed one thing about everyone, as the proverb says; Once you set up two, you don’t want to move out of them. Give me the real price!”

“Well, damn him!” Chichikov thought to himself: “I’ll add half a ruble to him, the dog, for nuts!” - “If you please, I’ll add half a ruble,”

“Well, if you please, I’ll also tell you my last word: fifty rubles! Really, it’s a loss to yourself, you can’t buy such good people cheaper anywhere!”

“What a fist!” Chichikov said to himself and then continued aloud with some annoyance: “Yes, really... it seems like a serious matter; Yes, I’ll take it somewhere else for no reason. Also, everyone will willingly sell them to me, just to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Would a fool keep them with him and pay taxes for them!”

“But do you know that this kind of purchases, I say this between us, out of friendship, are not always permissible, and whether I or someone else tell you, such a person will not have any power of attorney regarding contracts or entering into any profitable obligations.”

“Look where he’s aiming, you scoundrel!” thought Chichikov and immediately said with the most cold-blooded expression: “As you wish, I am not buying for any need, as you think, but according to the inclination of my own thoughts. If you don’t want two and a half, goodbye!”

“You can’t knock him down, he’s stubborn!” thought Sobakevich. “Well, God bless you, give us thirty and take them for yourself!”

“No, I see you don’t want to sell; Farewell!"

“Allow me, let me!” said Sobakevich, taking him by the hand and leading him into the living room. “Please, I’ll tell you something.”

“Why bother, I said everything.”

“Allow me, let me!” said Sobakevich, not letting go of his hand and stepping on his foot, because our hero forgot to take care, as punishment for which he had to hiss and jump on one leg.

"Sorry! I seem to have disturbed you. Please sit down here! Ask!" Here he sat him down in a chair, with some even dexterity, like a bear that has already been in his hands knows how to roll over and do different things when asked: “Show me, Misha, how women steam?” or: “And how, Misha, do the little guys steal peas?”

“Really, I’m wasting my time, I need to hurry.”

“Sit for a minute, I’ll now tell you one pleasant word for you.” Then Sobakevich sat closer and said quietly in his ear, as if it were a secret: “Do you want a corner?”

“So, twenty-five rubles? Neither, nor, nor, I won’t even give a quarter of an angle, I won’t add a penny.”

Sobakevich fell silent. Chichikov also fell silent. Silence lasted for two minutes. Bagration with an aquiline nose looked from the wall extremely carefully at this purchase.

“What will be your last price?” Sobakevich finally said.

"Two and a half."

“Really, your human soul is like a steamed turnip. Give me at least three rubles!”

"I can not".

“Well, there’s nothing to do with you, if you please! It’s a loss, and I have such a dog’s temper: I can’t help but please my neighbor. After all, I’m a tea, we need to complete the bill of sale so that everything is in order.”

"Of course."

“Well, that’s it, you’ll need to go to the city.”

This is how it happened. Both decided to be in the city tomorrow and deal with the deed of sale. Chichikov asked for a list of peasants. Sobakevich agreed willingly and immediately, going up to the bureau, with his own hand began to write out everyone not only by name, but even with the designation of commendable qualities.

And Chichikov, having nothing else to do, began to look at his entire spacious salary from behind. As he looked at his back, wide, like the squat horses of the Vyatka horses, and at his legs, which resembled the cast-iron pedestals that are placed on the sidewalks, he could not help but exclaim inwardly: “Oh, God rewarded you! Well, as they say, it’s definitely not cut right, but it’s sewn tightly!.. Were you really born a bear, or did your provincial life, grain crops, fuss with the peasants bear you down, and through them you became what is called a man-fist? But no: I think you would still be the same, even if they had brought you up according to fashion, let you go and live in St. Petersburg, and not in the outback. The whole difference is that now you will eat half a side of lamb with porridge, having a cheesecake on your plate, and then you would be eating some cutlets with truffles. Yes, now you have men under your power: you are in harmony with them and, of course, you will not offend them, because they are yours, but it will be worse for you; and then you would have officials whom you would slap hard, realizing that they are not your serfs, or you would rob the treasury! No, whoever has a fist cannot straighten into a palm! But straighten your fist with one or two fingers, and it will come out even worse. If he tasted the top of some science, he would let all those who had actually learned some science know later, having taken a more prominent place. Moreover, he will probably say later: “Let me show myself!” Yes, such a wise decree will come up with that many will have to go solo... Oh, if only they were all fists!..”

“The note is ready,” Sobakevich said, turning around.

“Ready? welcome her here! He ran his eyes over it and marveled at the neatness and accuracy: not only was the craft, title, years and family fortune written down in detail, but even in the margins there were special notes about behavior, sobriety, in a word, it was pleasant to look at.

“Now please give me a deposit!” Sobakevich said.

“Why do you need a deposit? You will receive all the money in the city at one time.”

“Everything, you know, is just the way it is,” Sobakevich objected.

“I don’t know how to give it to you, I didn’t take any money with me. Yes, here, I have ten rubles.”

“Well, ten! Give me at least fifty!”

Chichikov began to make excuses that no; but Sobakevich said so affirmatively that he had money, that he took out another piece of paper, saying:

“Perhaps, here’s another fifteen for you, for a total of twenty-five. Just give me a receipt."

“What do you need a receipt for?”

“That’s it, you know, it’s better to have a receipt. The hour is uneven, anything can happen.”

“Okay, give me the money here!”

“What’s the money for? I have them in my hand! As soon as you write a receipt, you will take them that very minute.”

“Excuse me, how can I write a receipt? first you need to see the money.”

Chichikov released the pieces of paper from his hands to Sobakevich, who, approaching the table and covering them with the fingers of his left hand, wrote on a piece of paper with the other that he had received the deposit of twenty-five rubles in state banknotes for the sold Revizh souls in full. Having written the note, he looked at the notes again.

“The piece of paper is old!” he said, examining one of them in the world: “a little torn, well, between friends there’s no point in looking at that.”

“Fist, fist!” Chichikov thought to himself: “and a beast to boot!”

“Don’t you want a female?”

“No, thank you.”

“I would take it inexpensively. For dating, a ruble apiece.”

“No, I don’t need the female sex.”

“Well, when you don’t need it, there’s nothing to say. There is no law on tastes: who loves the priest, and who loves the priest, says the proverb.”

“I also wanted to ask you to keep this deal between us,” Chichikov said as he said goodbye.

“Yes, it goes without saying. There is nothing to interfere with the third; What happens in sincerity between short friends must remain in their mutual friendship. Farewell! Thank you for visiting; Please don’t forget in the future: if you have a free hour, come and have lunch and spend some time. Maybe it will happen again to serve each other in some way.”

“Yes, no matter how it is!” Chichikov thought to himself as he got into the chaise. “Two and a half rubles for a dead soul, damn fist!”

He was dissatisfied with Sobakevich's behavior. Still, be that as it may, the man is an acquaintance, we saw each other at the governor’s and the police chief’s, but he acted as if he were a complete stranger, he took money for rubbish! When the chaise drove out of the yard, he looked back and saw that Sobakevich was still standing on the porch and, as it seemed, was looking closely, wanting to know where the guest would go.

Nikolay Vasilievich Gogol, rightfully recognized as one of our greatest artists in the field of words, received the right to immortality not only by the high merits of his works, but also by his decisive influence on the entire course of the subsequent development of Russian literature - as the main culprit of its originality and the dominant character in it to this day realistic direction. This is how they present it to us Gogol his biographers. But to this idea we should also add the prophetic gift of the writer, which was especially noticeable in ideological content his poems "The Adventures of Chichikov or Dead Souls."

It must be said that the prophetic revelations contained in "Dead Souls", were pushed aside for a long time and forgotten under the influence of the polemical assessment of the Poem by V.G. Belinsky and a number of other representatives of the various intelligentsia (in particular, N.A. Dobrolyubov). Poem Gogol published in 1842. In the same year, two critical assessments of it were published, completely different, perhaps even opposite in meaning. We are talking about Belinsky’s article “The Adventures of Chichikov or Dead Souls” (published in the magazine “ Domestic notes"(vol. XXIII, department VI, p. 46−51)), and K. Aksakov’s brochure “A few words about the poem” published in Moscow Gogol: Chichikov's adventures or dead souls." Belinsky admits in his article that “Gogol is great talent, brilliant poet and first writer modern Russia..." “Dead Souls,” he believes, is such a great creation that it is not fully revealed the first time, even for thinking people: reading the poem for the second time, “it’s as if you’re reading a new, never-before-seen work.”

Unfortunately, with all the insight, resourcefulness and wit of this brilliant critic, he saw in this creation Gogol just a thing belonging to the literary genre of fiction. Himself Gogol looked at his work, the pinnacle of which was “Dead Souls,” completely differently. He believed that if God had given him a poetic calling, then he should use it to penetrate into the fate of the Russian people and the Russian people. Devoting himself to “his holy work” on “Dead Souls,” he took on obligations in the future (in the following volumes of the Poem) to depict the Russian person as a whole, with all the good and bad, as he appears on the verge of being and non-being. As a matter of fact, this idea, this plan is already sufficiently clear in the first volume of “Dead Souls” and in the statements of the author himself about their content.

In particular, in the eleventh chapter of the Poem there is a passage that alerted Belinsky, who saw something there that ran counter to his understanding of it. ideological plan. This idea is revealed slightly in the place where the author comments on the appearance of his main character. Many ladies, he writes, turning away from Chichikov, will say: “Fi! how disgusting! "Alas! The author knows all this, and despite all this, he cannot take a virtuous person as a hero. But...maybe in this very same story other, unspoken strings will be felt, the untold wealth of the Russian spirit will appear, a husband gifted with divine virtues will pass by, or a wonderful Russian maiden, which cannot be found anywhere in the world, with all the wondrous beauty female soul, all out of generous aspiration and selflessness.” Then Gogol adds, everyone will seem dead before them virtuous people other tribes, just as a book is dead before a living word. “Russian movements will rise... and they will see how deeply ingrained into Slavic nature is something that slipped only through the nature of other peoples...”

We’ll talk about how to understand the words “Russian movements will rise” as a conclusion at the end of the article, after we introduce the reader to the main points of Aksakov’s pamphlet and others, this kind, more detailed arguments.

We know, writes Aksakov, that our words will seem strange to many; but we ask you to delve into them. “So, deep is the meaning that appears to us in Gogol’s “Dead Souls”! A new character of creation appears before us, a justification appears the whole sphere poetry, a sphere that has long been humiliated; ancient epic rises up before us." The author of the brochure further explains that he means Homer's Iliad. We know, he says again, “how wildly the names of Homer and Gogol, placed side by side, will sound in many ears; but let them accept as they wish what we have now said in a firm voice...” However, we need to understand that Gogol’s poem presents us with a whole form of life, a whole world, similar in its integrity to what is depicted in other historical material by Homer. Gogol's epic, says Aksakov, embraces the world called Russia. At the same time, he compares the published part of the poem with the beginning of a river, the further course of which is known only to God. But, we, the brochure goes on to say, can at least “even have the right to think that this poem embraces Rus' widely, and isn’t the secret of Russian life contained in it, isn’t it expressed here artistically?”

Belinsky could never have seen Gogol’s statement of a problem so large in its epic scope. “For mercy,” he exclaimed in the second article directed against Aksakov, “what common life in the Chichikovs, Selifans, Manilovs, Plyushkins, Sobakeviches and in all the honest company that occupies the reader’s attention with their vulgarity in “Dead Souls”? Where is Homer? What kind of Homer is this? It’s just Gogol - and nothing more.”

As you know, Gogol burned the second volume of Dead Souls. But judging by the content of the remaining passage from this volume, as well as by the writer’s letters and individual notes concerning his Poem, we will come to the indisputable conclusion that Aksakov, and not Belinsky, is generally right in assessing it. Moreover, by the completeness of perception of Gogol’s plan and its partial implementation, one can discern in Gogol his prophetic vision regarding the destinies of Russia.

Let us recall the ending of the first volume of the poem, which is something like the final chord of one of the parts of a musical symphony.

“Aren’t you, Rus', like a brisk, unstoppable troika, rushing along? The road beneath you is smoking, the bridges are rattling, everything is falling behind and being left behind! The contemplator, amazed by God's miracle, stopped: was this lightning thrown from the sky? What does it mean terrifying movement? and what kind of unknown power is contained in these horses, unknown to the light?

Eh, horses, horses, what kind of horses! Are there whirlwinds in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear burning in every vein of yours? We heard a familiar song from above - together and at once we strained our copper breasts and, almost without touching the ground with our hooves, turned into just elongated lines flying through the air, and all inspired by God rushes!.. Rus', where are you rushing? Give an answer. Doesn't give an answer. The bell rings with a wonderful ringing; The air, torn into pieces, thunders and becomes the wind; everything that is on earth flies past, and other peoples and states sidestep and give way to it.”

Gogol’s further reflections, which arose while working on the second volume of Dead Souls, provide an answer to the question “what does this terrifying movement mean.” The answer, in fact, is contained in the contents of the passage preserved from this volume, as well as in a number of individual notes and letters concerning the entire work as a whole. Let's say right away: rushing headlong Rus' means in Gogol the Russian exodus, which was later depicted in the paintings of artists P.D. Korina “The Passing Rus'” and M.V. Nesterov "Holy Rus'". This is an exodus into a black hole, the symbol of which is the city whose name is St. Petersburg.

It is precisely this motive that can be heard in the farewell speech of the Governor-General on the eve of his departure to St. Petersburg from the provincial city that belonged to him, to which Chichikov arrived. “At the moment of farewell, which is still solemn - maybe we’ll see you, but maybe we won’t see each other - you shouldn’t say empty things. They can laugh at my words and at me, whoever has the courage to laugh. But I know that those who value the happiness of the earth, who are still Russian in the depths and have not yet had time to fade away, will agree with much of what I say. I repeat once again: “I will take care of everyone and try to ask for forgiveness from every single one,” therefore, I have some right to demand that you weigh them (?) carefully and think about it.” (We took these lines from “Newly found pages from part 2 of “Dead Souls””). The Governor General is presented here as a symbolic figure, a symbol of real, honest power, endowed with the right to administer a military court. That this is so is clear from Gogol’s letter to member of the State Council A.P. Tolstoy, from whom he hoped to receive an answer to the following request: “Are you surprised why I try with such diligence (sic) to define every position in Russia, why do I want to find out what its essence is? I’m telling you: I need this for my essay, for these very “Dead Souls”<…>. I thank you very much for explaining the position of the Governor General; I only learned from your words how it can truly be important and necessary for Russia. Before, it seemed to me that even without her, the body of government of the province was completely complete.”

Let us turn again to the outline of the farewell speech of the Governor General. “Here is my request. I know that no means, no fears, no punishments can eradicate untruths: they are already too deeply rooted. The dishonest business of taking bribes has become a necessity and a necessity even for people who were not born to be dishonest. I know that it is almost impossible for many to go against the general trend. But now I must, as in a decisive and sacred moment, when I have to save the fatherland, when every citizen bears everything and sacrifices everything - I must make a cry, at least to those who still have it in their chests Russian heart and the word nobility is somewhat understandable.” And I ask you to kick the Frenchman out, he adds at another point in his speech. “This is a blessing for him: if he lives, he’s a fool, he’ll go bankrupt. No one will pay him his debts. It’s your own fault - charging a tenth of the price! I don’t care that he needs to build capital with which he can then live well (to live) in Paris.” The paradox is that the Governor General is forced to go to St. Petersburg to this very Frenchman, to the St. Petersburg nobility, who exchanged their native Russian language for the French language.

Gogol knew well the chimerical nature of St. Petersburg life. He told about her in such stories and stories as “The Overcoat”, “The Nose” and others. He understood that St. Petersburg was a funnel, sucking in and deadening the roots of Russian national life. In “Notes relating to the 1st part” (“Dead Souls”) we find the following entry: “The idea of ​​a city is an emptiness that has arisen to the highest degree. Idle talk. Gossip that has gone beyond limits.<…>The terrible darkness of life is passing, and there is still a deep secret hidden in it. Isn't this a terrible phenomenon? Life is rebellious, idle - isn’t it a terrible, great phenomenon?......life. With a ballroom..., with tailcoats, with gossip and business cards, no one recognizes death...".

Against the background of precisely this (“urban”) way of life, in which the souls of living people die, Gogol sought to show that there is another way of life, although far from perfect, but in which human value is preserved even by those who are no longer alive. Another thing is that it initially appears in the form of a price set during a trade transaction. This is especially clearly described in the picture of Chichikov’s trade deal with Sobakevich. The subject of their conversation is in a broad sense words - the landowner's serfs (living and dead), the number of which he was obliged to report when paying taxes by submitting a list of them to the tax department - a revision tale. That's why they were called revision souls. We reproduce the dialogue in an abbreviated form without losing, however, its semantic content.
- “So?..” said Chichikov, expecting, not without some excitement, an answer.
− “Do you need dead souls?” Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if he were talking about bread.
- “Yes,” answered Chichikov and again softened his expression, adding: “non-existent.”
− “They will be found; why not be…” said Sobakevich.
- “And if they are found, then you, without a doubt...will be pleased to get rid of them?”
………………………………………………………………………………………….
- “Yes, so as not to ask too much from you, one hundred rubles apiece,” said Sobakevich.
− “One hundred at a time!” cried Chichikov, opening his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, not knowing whether he himself had misheard, or whether Sobakevich’s tongue, by its heavy nature, turned the wrong way, blurted out another word instead of one.
- “Well, is this really expensive for you?” said Sobakevich, and then added: “But what would your price be?”
− “My price! We must have somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we have forgotten what the subject is. I suppose, for my part, hand on heart; Eight hryvnia per head is the best price!”
- “Where did they have enough - eight hryvnias each!”
- “Well, in my opinion, I think it’s no longer possible.”
- “After all, I’m not selling bast shoes.”
- “However, you must agree, these are not people either.”
- “So you think you can find such a fool who would sell you an audit soul for two kopecks?”
- “But excuse me: why do you call them audits? After all, the souls have already died a long time ago; only one sound, intangible to the senses, remains. However, in order not to enter into further discussions on this part, I’ll give you one and a half rubles, but I can’t take any more.”

The simple-minded landowner Sobakevich could not agree with Chichikov that “the very souls ... have already died.” Moreover, for him there was discord between souls and souls. Therefore, he began to differentiate them according to their everyday value, trying to reconcile it with the commercial price.

- “Why are you being stingy?” said Sobakevich: “really, it’s not expensive! Another scammer will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls; But for me, like a hard nut, everything is selected: not a craftsman, but some other healthy guy. Just look at it: for example, the carriage maker Mikheev! After all, I never made any other carriages other than spring ones. And it’s not like Moscow work, which is for one hour: such strength... he’ll trim it and cover it with varnish!”

At some point in this dispute, Chichikov, with seemingly logical arguments, convinced Sobakevich of the inconsistency of his assessment of dead souls. But then Sobakevich comes to his senses...

“Yes, of course, dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering that they were in fact already dead, and then added: “however, to say the same: what of these people who are now considered living? What kind of people? - flies, not people."
− (Chichikov) “Yes, they still exist, but this is a dream”
− “Well, no, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find such people: the machine is such that it won’t fit into this room: no, this is not a dream!”

In “The Author’s Reflections on Some of the Heroes of the First Volume of Dead Souls,” Gogol clearly expressed his author’s attitude towards Chichikov, Manilov, Sobakevich, and Korobochka. “He (Chichikov - L.A.) didn’t even think about why it was so that Manilov, by nature kind, even noble, lived fruitlessly in the village, did not benefit anyone a penny, vulgarized, became cloying with his kindness, but the rogue Sobakevich, no longer at all noble in spirit and feelings, however, did not ruin the peasants, did not allow them to be drunkards, not loiterers? and why does the college registrar Korobochka, who has not read any books except the Book of Hours, and even then with a sin, having not learned any fine arts, except perhaps for fortune telling on cards, she knew how, however, to fill chests and boxes with rubles, and to do it [in such a way] that order, whatever it was there, remained in the village: souls were not pawned in the pawnshop, and the church, although not rich, was maintained, and both matins and mass were corrected correctly<…>. And on the other hand, others living in capitals, even generals in rank, educated and well-read, and delicate taste and approximately philanthropic, constantly starting all sorts of philanthropic institutions, “demand, however, from their managers all the money, without accepting any excuses that there is famine, crop failure - and all the peasants are mortgaged, and in every single store and to every last moneylender in the city must".

Before us Gogol presented in artistic form two ways of life, two types of worldviews, two ways of human behavior. One of these ways, let us call it briefly usurious, corresponds to the Old Testament, the other, incompatible with it, corresponds to the New Testament. Just as the Jewish god Yahweh creates the world out of nothing, the moneylender receives interest profit “out of nothing,” i.e. without cultivating the field, without giving anything in return to those who work in this field for the benefit of not only themselves, but also other people. So if for Chichikov, who buys up dead souls in order to pledge them to the Guardian Council and make a profit, these souls are nothing, just a “dream,” then for adherents of the New Testament a dead person is not an empty place, but the possibility of personal resurrection. And they see in it a real opportunity, because they rely on a concrete example of its implementation: the death of Christ on the cross and His resurrection.

The greatness of Gogol as a prophet lies in the fact that, based on his inherent prophetic vision, he set himself the goal of creating a project social activities people aimed at victory over death. At the same time, he considered a necessary condition for bringing the project to life to overcome the tendency observed in Russian reality, which can be briefly defined as the death of living souls. This is where the plot of his poem reveals a completely unexpected conclusion that the souls of people who went into other world, may be livelier, higher, in their human qualities, than many of those who in our worldly world are involved in a usurious way of life.

Working on the second volume of Dead Souls and reflecting on the contents of the first, Gogol became convinced that the problem of death and resurrection he posed was captivating the entire Russian people. Before his mental gaze there arose a picture of the Russian exodus into that abyss - now we call it a black hole - the direction of movement towards which was set by St. Petersburg. And here it is not difficult to imagine how this discovery could and did affect mental state writer. Who, tell me, would want to hasten the moment of their death, especially when it is intertwined with the death of the people to which you belong? After this discovery, Gogol turns to the task of personal salvation, which was greatly facilitated by the purely physical painful suffering that befell him. The result was disastrous: in 1845 he burned the second volume of Dead Souls, and in January 1847 he published Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends, which were harshly criticized by Belinsky. In the textbook-famous “Letter to Gogol,” Belinsky could not resist such an invective: “The humility you preach,” he turns to Gogol, “firstly, is not new, and secondly, it responds, on the one hand, with terrible pride, and on the other hand, the other, the most shameful humiliation.<…>. No, you are only darkened, not enlightened; you have not understood either the spirit or the form of Christianity of our time. Not the truth Christian teaching, and your book emanates a painful fear of death, the devil and hell!”

Irreversible obscuration spiritual state Gogol happened on last stage his creative life under the influence of the Rzhev priest Fr. Matvey Konstantinovsky, who in letters to his ward demanded repentance for the past literary activity writer and, especially, for his passion for the theater. The demand was accompanied by a threat to “answer at the Last Judgment.”

Gogol experienced a personal tragedy that upset all the best representatives cultural world Russia. But all this in no way casts doubt on the assessment of “Dead Souls” that K. Aksakov gave to this Poem (which, we note in passing, Belinsky could not understand). The point is that comparison Gogol's Poem with Homer’s “Iliad” clearly implies a comparison of the historical fate of Homer’s Troy with the future of Russia that appeared before Gogol’s mental gaze. Sacred Troy perished in its time. What awaits Holy Rus'? Gogol almost answered this question with the rhetorical question “Rus, where are you going?” Only along one road - the road to oblivion - could movement occur at such a rapid speed when “the air torn into pieces becomes the wind.” Under the conditions of extremely strict tsarist censorship, neither the author himself nor the critic Aksakov, who deeply penetrated his prophetic gift, could directly say this.

Let us now return to Gogol’s prophetic phrase “Russian movements will rise.” To understand it correctly, it is necessary to explain what is contained in the fatal concept of non-existence. Development experience historical identity humanity allows us to understand the dual nature of what they mean when they talk about non-existence. Non-existence means the end of everything that has a beginning, arises, develops and disappears. The death of systems passing through the life stage can be fundamentally different. On the one hand, there is a process of their irreversible chaotic disintegration into separate parts, fragments, from which it is impossible to restore again what has ceased to exist. “Heat death” is usually called just such a transition to non-existence. (At one time, the concept of “heat death of the universe” was widely known, which was then discarded due to scientific inconsistency). On the other hand, this is a departure from life, in which no elements of a system that has sunk into oblivion remain.

At least from this angle, a number of significant celestial phenomena are considered in modern astrophysics. Celestial stars and their associations are born, develop and die in time. Data from astronomical and astrophysical observations indicate that stars end their existence in just two different ways. Some of them turn into white dwarfs, pulsars, and neutron stars by the end of their lives. The final point in their life is nothing more than thermal death, entropic decay. Others are transformed into black holes, places with such a high density of matter and such a high intensity of gravity that nothing material, even light (electromagnetic radiation) can leave them. It is believed that black holes in the Universe are on guard to protect it from heat death. Everything that falls into a black hole comes out of it charged with the potential for new life. Therefore, each black hole is associated with its positive hypostasis - a white hole.

Isn’t this how things are in the life and death of people - both individuals and entire nations? When Aksakov put Gogol’s “Dead Souls” in parallel with Homer’s “Iliad,” he had in mind the destruction of Holy Troy. But this death, judging by the content of the Iliad and a number of related Trojan War historical facts, is not covered by the category of heat death. Rather, it can be compared with the death of those stars that turn into black holes and then return to life in the form of white holes. And on earthly path This is what the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ looks like.

In terms of its spiritual scale, Gogol, as the author of the poem “Dead Souls,” is too great to drop in it just like that, by chance, the phrase “Russian movements will rise... and they will see how deeply ingrained in the Slavic soul is something that slipped only through the nature of other peoples...” . Such grandiose movements could arise only after the death and resurrection of the Russian people, which is what happened to them after the fateful 1917. The enemies of our people then saw only one side of the Russian tragedy - only death. This vision was symbolically reflected in Alexander Korneychuk’s play “Death of the Squadron” (1933), based on which a film of the same name was subsequently made and even an opera was staged. It seemed to them then that the Russian people, as a result of the revolutionary catastrophe and the subsequent civil war, irrevocably disappeared into oblivion, just as the ships of the Russian Black Sea squadron went into the abyss of the sea. But, as mentioned above, the death of the organism in black hole serves as a prerequisite for his resurrection. It seems to us that Gogol’s prophetic words “Russian movements will rise” are connected with this. The ability of the Russian people to resurrect was preserved in its Slavic soul because its ancestors, the inhabitants of Troy, were precisely Slavs, as evidenced, in particular, by the results of historical research by Tadeusz Wolanski and Yegor Klassen, obtained back in mid-19th century. But this is a topic for another discussion.

Notes Literature
1. Quoting literary texts, belonging to Gogol, is given according to the edition: Complete collection. Op. N.V. Gogol (in 12 volumes). Ed. A.F. Marx, St. Petersburg, 1900, vol. 5,6, 12.
2. Source of citation V.G. Belinsky serves as a three-volume edition: V.G. Belinsky. Articles and reviews. M.: Gosizdat fiction, 1948, vols. 1&2.
3. With results historical research, concerning the genealogical connection between the inhabitants of Troy and the Russian ethnos, can be found, in particular, in the article: L.G. Antipenko. The life line of the Russian people (fatal lessons of history). Websites: www.titanage.ru; www.za-nauku.ru; www.rvs-757.narod.ru; www.rusobsch.ru.