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Finally the manifesto arrived. The Patriarch finally regained his sight. First of all, he was struck by the number. There was a lot of everything here: canvas, cloth, shoe soles, not to mention people. Vigorous, tasty, juicy, this figure immediately resolved the ties that bound him, so that before he could even fully understand how many raisins, almonds and caviar it represented, his lips were already whispering: “Now I’m all on my own.” I'll do everything myself. Yes, sir, myself. And he whispered this with some kind of gloating, as if he wanted to take revenge on all these predators who unceremoniously filled their pockets, and he was kept on balyks and on grainy caviar. That same evening, he called the tax farmer to his place and stunned him with a question: “What are you sending me, my dear?” The tax farmer stood as if submerged in water, and did not dare look into his eyes. - You send me two buckets of vodka a month! Ska-a-ti-na! He said nothing more, but the news of this conversation spread throughout the city with the speed of lightning, so that the next day, when, on the occasion of some official parade, we were assembled, we were all already prepared for something decisive. And indeed, it is difficult to even imagine to what extent he suddenly changed, grew, and became prettier. It even seemed to many that he was sitting on a horse and prancing, although in reality there was no horse under him. He looked us over, then concentrated for a minute, then opened his mouth a couple of times and... spoke. He didn’t whistle, didn’t moo, but actually spoke. First of all, he put it beyond any doubt that the moment convenient for exterminating the enemy had arrived. “Our enemies have rifled guns, but they don’t have zeal,” he said, “while we don’t have rifled guns, we do have zeal.” And, moreover, discipline, sir. Smirrno! - he suddenly shouted, threatening us with his eyes. Then, having spoken very flatteringly about the militia, which would soon perform the glorious task of pacification, he moved from external enemies to internal ones (he was the first to use this expression, and so successfully that after that it was completely acclimatized in our administrative usage), which he divided into two categories. To the first he included restless people in general and critics in particular. “I will not tolerate either restless people or critics,” he said. - Critics in general are harmful, and here in particular. Our state is vast, and therefore the operations in it are extensive. And in the shortest possible time, sir. Consequently, if you listen to criticism, then just to consider them you will have to establish a special commission, and subsequently, perhaps, an entire ministry. Meanwhile, the militia will be without boots, sir. It is necessary not to criticize, but to remember that everything in the world is subject to decay, and ammunal things in particular. I'll tell you a parable. Last year, a certain gardener planted two apple trees in his garden, and this year he expected to receive fruit from them. And for sure: one apple tree bore fruit, but the other dried up. Should the gardener really be criticized for this? Similar to this - and the warrior’s boot. One boot will reach Sevastopol, the other will only reach the first station. No criticism will help in this case, because the dignity of the boot depends not on the criticism, but on the shoemaker. The law foresaw this and therefore did not establish a position for criticism in any department, sir. He included in another category of “internal enemies” those officials of “external departments” who, putting forward the principle of separation of powers, thereby strive for harmful administrative separatism. “Many of you, gentlemen, do not understand this,” he said, looking either angrily or ironically in the direction where the members of the treasury chamber stood, “and therefore use too broad a hand the prerogatives granted to them.” They think only about themselves, and either completely forget about their elders, or do not remember to the extent that they should be remembered by law. For the future, all these fanaberies should be abandoned. I I criticize everyone here, sir. But I won’t tolerate any criticism of myself, sir! Having said this, he concluded by exclaiming: “And now let us turn to the giver of all blessings and raise warm prayers to him to grant victory and victory to our dear fatherland.” You are welcome to the cathedral, gentlemen! This speech produced a very varied impression. The provincial government was triumphant, the treasury chamber seemed embarrassed, the chamber of state property listened in the proud consciousness of its nobility. The battalion commander kept his hands at his sides, the gendarmerie colonel tried to understand. Even the construction commission wondered whether it could also join the general patriotic mood by volunteering to take on the economic procurement of pikes and other non-firearms. I went to the cathedral with Pogudin. - But there’s no point in talking! - I said, - and, most importantly, completely unexpectedly. “It happens,” he answered, “in my practice, I have never seen such miracles.” One day they called me to the priest. I come, my priest lies like a log, doesn’t speak his tongue, doesn’t hear, doesn’t see, only sniffs with his nose. The family, of course, is confused; prepare mustard plasters and poultices. “Nothing is needed, I say, but bring the banknote to his nose.” So what would you think? As soon as he sniffed, he suddenly jumped up as if disheveled! Where did it come from: he spoke, and received his sight, and heard! And now he asked for vodka. - Well, you're being sarcastic. But tell me the truth: is your speech good? - It’s good, it’s good. And he eliminated the critics in advance, and about this division: “You think about yourself, but forget about your elders”... anywhere! But I’ll tell you this: a crow must never become an eagle! No matter how he plods around, they will still leave him on nothing but baliks! - As if! - Right, so. Just now I looked at the manager of the chamber of state property: he looked so nobly! It’s as if he’s saying with all his nature: “Just let me join the militia, and I’ll show you where the crayfish spend the winter!” - But you are a well-known pessimist! - Trust my experience. The manager of the chamber of state property is exactly the same person about whom it was written in ancient times: “And the Nets will come and inscribe on the gates of their homes: “Here they cut hair, shave and open blood.” And Nabryushnikov - balyks! When we arrived at the cathedral, the liturgy was already ending. Then there was a prayer service with kneeling. The singers outdid themselves, and so did the protodeacon. Nabryushnikov stood in front and looked back from time to time, as if testing to see if there were any “internal enemies” somewhere. I accidentally glanced at the manager of the chamber of state property. He looked nobly and, together with others, expressed confidence in the power of Russian weapons, but with the only indispensable condition that he, the manager, be provided with the economic procurement of things necessary for the militia. I don’t know why, but I involuntarily remembered Pogudin’s words: “And for Nabryushnikov - balyks!”

So, “the netsy will come and inscribe on the gates of their homes: “Here they cut hair, shave and open blood”... Despite the humorous tone, Pogudin’s prediction greatly upset me. Alas! it applied to my friend Udodov, the manager of the chamber of state property. Vladimir Onufrievich Udodov was the most handsome of the pioneers of that time. If I were a woman novelist, I would describe his appearance as follows: “He could not be called handsome, but his face represented such a harmonious combination of lines that in him, as in a mirror, all properties were reflected beautiful soul. Dark hair happily set off the high, matte white forehead on which thought had engraved its mark. It was a mournful, bitter thought that had its ramifications deep down to the very heart. Under her influence, his expressive face instantly flared up, his thin antique nostrils twitched nervously, and his deep dark eyes sparkled angrily. These eyes - they could not be forgotten. Dark gray, thoughtful, they, like a living mystery, peeked out from behind large dark eyelashes. What did they promise? rapture or the bitterness of disappointment - it was a secret that only his heart and the heart of that one knew... But we will not prevent events and will only say that the one who once saw these eyes was forever haunted by the memory of them. His voice was soft, insinuating and so melodic that the heart of the woman listening to him, like a caught bird, fluttered in her chest. He was small in stature, but the strict proportionality of all parts of the body made him forget about this shortcoming, if you can call it a shortcoming in a man who did not intend himself to be a drum major. Add to this the subtle smell of ess-bouquet, with which he had the habit of smothering his handkerchief, and you will get the answer to the charming effect that he had on women." But I am not a novelist and not a woman, and therefore I will simply say: Udodov was pioneer. He zealously supported and preserved those transformative traditions, by virtue of which the inhabitants, with the help of a whole system of clerical measures, had to be brought to one denominator. At that time there was still no talk of centralization, nor of self-government, nor of excise and control departments, but opinions have already been expressed, albeit with great caution, about the dangers of bribery and the need to protect ordinary people from it while benefiting well organized system guardianship. This was a kind of spirit of the times, which did not fail to be resolved by the appearance of a whole horde of Udodovs, who smartly set about fulfilling the reform task before them. In the provinces, the Udodovs were met with some bewilderment and even fear; they were secretly called Pugachev's emissaries. Vladimir Onufrievich loved to show off his oratorical talents. He spoke willingly about everything: about the people, about higher considerations, and about the holiness of the task to which he was called. He always had a whole stream of words ready, which flowed smoothly, and sometimes even animatedly, from his tongue, but the essence of which was quite difficult to determine. So, for example, I could never quite definitively answer the question of whether he really “pities” the people or, in essence, simply despises them. Most often it seemed to me that he saw in the people a suitable anima vilis ["vile soul", that is, an experimental animal (lat.) ], on which it is most convenient to experiment with clerical transformations and which, for the sake of the success of these transformations, can even be slightly disfigured. In general, he was a nervous man, carried away not so much by his own ideas as by the ideas of his superiors, which he perceived unusually vividly. The idea of ​​protecting the ignorant mass of peasants from the claims of bribe-taking officials undoubtedly fascinated him, but it became even more attractive to him due to the fact that, with the permission of the authorities, an educational element was also attached to the task of fencing. It’s not enough to protect, you also need to take care of it. It is pleasant to say to a person: “You will find in me protection from attacks!”, But it is even more pleasant to shout to him: “You will find in me the mind that you do not have!” And Udodov tirelessly traveled around the volosts, talked with heads and clerks, tried to introduce them to those higher ideas, the bearer of which he considered himself, collected some crumbs everywhere and from these crumbs made up notes and ideas, which, as they were completed, he sent to St. Petersburg. All peasant customs seemed to him harmful, the whole peasant - subject to radical alteration. Notes “on means to eradicate carelessness and laziness”, “on the need to eradicate harmful prejudices” poured in one after another, testifying to Udodov’s tireless reform activity. And what was especially valuable in these “notes” was their complete coincidence with the generally patronizing tone that dominated at that time in one part of the St. Petersburg bureaucratic world! The authorities read these notes and thought: “This is it! They write the same thing from everywhere!” - not at all suspecting that it, so to speak, was engaged in correspondence with itself, that is, it sent guiding instructions to itself and received from itself reports that corresponded to its desires. Be that as it may, there was a guy in the Udodov hostel who was positively pleasant and amiable. He willingly became close to young people and not only did not put on airs, like other fifth-class ranks, but even indulged in frank conversations with them, the subject of which was mainly: the holiness of his mission and his bureaucratic impeccability. One thing was somewhat suspicious about him: he too often fell into nervous irritability, too readily abused “tears”. It somehow reminded me of Ippolit Markelych Udushev, about whom Repetilov spoke in such enthusiastic terms... We often spent whole evenings sitting alone with him, and, really, those were not bad evenings. Over a glass of good wine, he conveyed to me his most cherished dreams and, despite the complete lack of any theoretical training, at times he even amazed me with the power of the flight of his thoughts. “Our people are children,” he told me. “A kind and intelligent child, but still a child.” He cannot control himself. He has no concept of either a civil union or a state union. The entire cycle of his ideas revolves around the requirements and instructions of common law. Therefore, he needs good rulers who would be, so to speak, intermediaries between him and the state. The state needs military defense, it needs a budget, but the people do not understand any of this. He does not know how to generalize and confines himself entirely to the community, to the volost and, in extreme cases, to his own county town. In his eyes, the fisk is something mysterious, something that comes, takes and goes. Therefore, it is necessary to educate him. It is necessary that he constantly be face to face with the state, so that the latter, so to speak, penetrates into his very heart. The people are a child, I repeat, a child with many prejudices, customs, habits... bad habits. He is so mired in all this that he himself does not even feel any particular inconvenience from it. But the point is not in him alone, but in the state - in the state, in relation to which the people represent only a tax unit. The state must be strong, the state must be educated, the state must have its own industry, trade, etc. The highest expression of the state is the government, which bears full responsibility for it. Hence his rights and obligations. Rights: collect taxes to meet budget requirements, announce recruitment to replenish the army and navies, maintain order, harmony and uniformity. Responsibilities: meet the needs of the people and arrange their well-being in such a way that the state prospers from it. This is the main idea of ​​our management. We undertake not only to protect the peasants under our jurisdiction from all kinds of claims, but also to serve as intermediaries between them and the state. Or, in other words, we must demand and observe that they internal regulations did not at all contradict the highest state considerations. Would you like me to read you a note about the need to increase the age of marriage for males from the peasant class? And he read me his “note,” in which he stated that, while traveling around the volosts, he was repeatedly struck by the immature and weak appearance of some young peasants, whom he took for teenagers and who, according to information, turned out to be already fathers of families. Bearing in mind, on the one hand, that premature fulfillment of marital duties generally has a harmful effect on the human body, and on the other hand, that early marriages significantly complicate the successful performance of conscription, he, Udodov, would believe in allowing male peasants to enter into marriage not before a favorable recruitment lot has been drawn, and, moreover, after a proper examination, in a presence specially established for this purpose, regarding the achievement of actual physical adulthood. As for the female peasants, he left their fate to the discretion of the authorities. So he read to me whole line“notes” in which, from the state’s point of view, the man seemed entangled in such a network of all kinds of dangers that if it weren’t for the same “notes” it was clear that, in the person of my interlocutor, the man would always find himself a true and ambulance , and therefore cannot die completely, then I would feel scared. - And this is our existence, my friend! - he added sadly, - we don’t have a single free minute, we don’t think about anything else but fulfilling the duties of the service, and yet they envy us, they call us Pugachev’s emissaries! Well, are we like this? Sometimes he was even too liberal and, perhaps, would have frightened me with the harshness of some of his positions if they had been expressed not at that simple-minded time when there was no mention of “unreliable elements”, but “at the present time, when... “I understand one of two things,” he said, “either an unlimited monarchy or a republic; but I do not recognize any other administrative combinations. I do not deny: a republic... res publica... this is true... But for Russia, in my opinion, an unlimited monarchy is more useful. What is an unlimited monarchy? - I ask you. This is the same republic, but brought to its simplest and, so to speak, clearest expression. This is a republic embodied in one person, and therefore no government in the world is able to produce so much good. Take, for example, such a phenomenon as war. What country can produce such a mass of operational material at once? Exhibit without noise, without hubbub, without stirring up strife? Or, for example, such a phenomenon as crop failure. What country can move such a huge amount of food material at once from a fertile area to a barren one, with the help of one in-kind underwater tax? - Of course, not a single country in the whole world except Russia and... the United States of America (I repeat, he was so perspicacious that he already foresaw “transatlantic friends” at that time)! So, it's not about the name, it's about the results. They say that thanks to the lack of publicity, bribery has become deeply rooted in our country. But I ask you: where is it not? And where, in essence, can it be as easily eliminated as with us? Just remember this: everywhere a court is required for bribe-takers, but we only have the internal conviction of the authorities so that a harmful person will forever be deprived of the opportunity to cause harm. Therefore, you just have to be careful and know how to find worthy rulers. That's all. And that there are such people - our department is the answer to this. Finally, he was completely inexhaustible and even poetic when it came to talking about love for the fatherland. “The Fatherland,” he said, “is something mysterious, inexplicable, but at the same time touching every fiber.” human heart. Sing in front of me: "je men fiche, je m"en moque" [I don't care, I don't care (French)] - and you will find me cold. But sing “The Snows Are Not White” or even “The Lady” - and I’m ready to cry. Why? Namely because there is something inexplicable and mysterious here. I cannot see with indifference when a trepak is danced at the theater, although there is absolutely nothing touching about a trepak. I cannot see the scenery depicting our Russian village without emotion. A dark hut, an endlessly winding road, a white shroud of winter, naked trees and below, under the mountain, a frozen river... isn’t it true that there is something familiar here? N"est ce pas? [Isn't that true? (French)] We spent hours talking about this topic and, not limiting ourselves to words, expressed the depth of our feeling through action. That is, they sang “The Snows Are Not White” and filled the walls of his apartment with sad singing until they reported that dinner was served. At dinner we again talked, talked, talked endlessly... And it was about this man that Pogudin pronounced such a cruel sentence. In fact, from the day the militia was announced in Udodovo, something strange happened. He began to look around somehow and indulged in some kind of intense activity. Before, hardly a day passed without us seeing each other, but now it’s as if he has disappeared into the water. Even his subordinates behaved somehow mysteriously. They show up at the club for a minute, whisper and go their separate ways. I only managed to meet Udodov once. He was driving down the street and, stopping for a minute, shouted to me: “Great trials, my friend, are coming for Russia!” Then, shaking my hand more warmly than usual, he moved on. What did he mean by this? Who is preparing difficult trials for Russia? Is it Voivode Palmerston or he, Udodov? Finally, a rumor spread that he had concluded a defensive and offensive alliance with Nabryushnikov, - with Nabryushnikov, about whom he had never before expressed himself in a tone of the greatest indignation... And so, one fine evening, I met him at the club. He came late and hugged me especially warmly. - I'm happy today, my friend! - he said, - this evening I have been entrusted with the entire economic part of organizing the militia. The fight was hot, but I won. Well, of course, you are sure that I won’t forget my pocket! The last words were spoken in that joking tone that should evoke, at the very least, a reassuring, simple-hearted laugh from a more or less well-bred interlocutor. But I, I don’t know why, suddenly blushed. - Thomas is an unbeliever! - he exclaimed reproachfully. Then we sat down to dinner and he asked for champagne. A whole company of henchmen who organized the militia immediately joined in. Everything was already formed and was, so to speak, on the alert. Everyone laughed, drank and looked into the eyes of the future with confidence. But I couldn’t get it out of my head: “The Nets will come and write on the gates of their homes: “Here they cut hair, shave and open blood.”

It was a mournful time; It was the time when the question first appeared to my alarmed mind: what, finally, is this patriotism, with which everyone so willingly shields himself, which I myself from the cradle considered obligatory for myself and with which, at such a decisive moment for the fatherland, the very last of the scoundrels treated in the most arrogant and unceremonious manner? Now, with the help of the Bismarcks, Napoleons and other champions of love of fatherland, I have somewhat understood this issue, but then I was still a novice on this matter. At the first moment, everyone seemed to be overwhelmed. They spoke in whispers, sighed, shook their heads and generally behaved decently under the circumstances. Then little by little they got used to it, and everyone turned to their daily work. Finally, we looked closer, delved into it, weighed it... And suddenly the most unheard of orgy excited our modest city. Like lightning, the truth flashed into everyone’s eyes: up to twenty thousand warriors are required! How much cloth, canvas, leather goods, sheepskin coats, carriage horses, provisions, welding money is here! And how many people will it take to sew all this, to drive it to the very short term ! And now all the more or less intelligent people became worried. Everyone was in a hurry to somehow take shelter near the pie in order to snatch something, hide it, sew it up, hide it, count it, and generally, if possible, put it in the back of the dear fatherland. Their faces became long, their eyes dimmed, their lips bared. From morning to evening, among the impenetrable autumn mud, people with greedy faces and tenacious hands scurried through the streets, hoping to take advantage of even a penny. Our quiet city, always stingy with money, suddenly seemed to go crazy. Money flowed like a river: the bazaars became lively, trade began to boil, the club flourished. Whole transports of wine and colonial goods were ordered from Moscow. Dinners and balls followed each other, with dancing, with patriotic toasts, with the singing of the then fashionable romance about Governor Palmerston, which some passing Italian, at the request of the police chief, set to music and mercilessly distorted during the outburst of general enthusiasm. Unconsciously, but nevertheless mercilessly, the fatherland was sold everywhere and at any price. It was sold both for a penny and for a larger sum; sold both at the card table and during the drunken toasts of subscription dinners; It was sold both in home circles, set up for the purpose of better organizing the militia, and with the ringing of bells, with exclamations calling for victory and victory. Those who could not grab anything sold themselves. Everything that was drunk, incapable, lazy in public places was drawn into the militia and was renamed into the corresponding military rank. Young people in brand new militia uniforms appeared on the streets and club evenings, in whom it was difficult to recognize yesterday’s clumsy and plucked office officials. Just yesterday, not a single provincial lady would have gone to dance with some college registrar Gorizontov for anything in the world, but today Gorizontov is so pure and sweet in his officer militia that the lady even becomes exhausted dancing the “polka-trambles” with him. And not only she, but even yesterday’s boss, the vice-governor, does not recognize in this clean officer yesterday’s unkempt, disheveled scribe Gorizontov. -- A! Horizons! cute! very good, my brother! - encourages the lieutenant governor, turning him around and examining him from behind and in front. - Just from the tailor today, Your Highness! -- Wonderful! The caftan is very, very well made! Are you going on a hike soon? - We’ll study for about two weeks, your honor, and go on a hike, sir! -- Look! Fight! Fight, brother! because the fatherland... - We, Your Highness, are unlikely to have to fight, because it’s far away. And so, we will see the countries of the world... And these people went, hoping to see the “countries of the world” for the warriors, they walked with a light heart, not knowing, not knowing where they were heading and what kind of Sevastopol in the world it was, What kind of “keys” are these that caused the fuss to catch fire? And most of them subsequently returned home from near Nizhny, returned drunk from the circle, without a penny of money, in militias worn to holes, with only memories of the countries of the world seen on the sides of the main road. And they still did not know what the “keys” were for the sake of which the Black Sea fleet was sunk and Sevastopol was destroyed. The sewing of the warrior's ammunition went on day and night. Everything that could hold a needle in his hand was occupied. Workshops were set up in almost every bourgeois house. Here they sewed shirts, in another place - militia caftans, in a third - they knocked on shoe lasts. You go, it used to be on a dark night along the street - lights are burning everywhere, windows are open everywhere, despite the dead autumn, and steam, chatter, din, songs are rushing from the windows... Meanwhile, the target of the militia was pouring into the city like a wave. He poured out with songs, with lamentations, with the harmonica playing along; fell, accompanied by the roaring and sobbing woman. - They brought the volost! - the volost foreman bravely reports to the manager of the chamber of state property, having lined up the future warriors in front of the chief’s apartment. The manager goes out onto the porch with the guests and says hello. -- Well done boys! - he shouts in military style, - for the faith! Remember guys! For the faith, for the Tsar and the Fatherland! With iron in hand... With God! And now, from among the guests, the tax farmer, a cross from the Jews, comes forward. He becomes so enthusiastic at the sight of the fellows that he immediately exclaims: “To the king!” two tsars for each warrior will be given away! for faith! -- With God blessing! touch it! - the manager again admonishes the crowd, - for the faith! The "object" is deleted with the songs. Does he know what kind of “keys” they are for the sake of which the cross of the Jews donates to him a glass of vodka per person? In a word, there was an unimaginable bustle both on the streets and in the houses. But a person outside the cause of organizing the militia was first of all struck in this bustle by the predominance of tension and mystery. The general conversation disappeared completely. In meetings, in private homes, separate groups of people immediately formed, heatedly whispering something to each other. In view of these groups, the uninitiated simply felt embarrassed. His greeting was answered mechanically; if he showed a desire to join the general conversation, they changed the conversation and began talking nonsense. I had to either retire or sit down with the girls, who were either pinching lint or grumbling about the fact that captured officers were not being sent to our city. From time to time, an individual separated from some group and hurriedly disappeared somewhere. After some time, the disappeared one would just as quickly reappear, alone or with new individuals, and the animated whispering would begin again. From time to time, the whole group disappeared somewhere, probably to the house of one of the conspirators, where they could settle down more freely... - What is this happening, finally? - I once asked Pogudin, who came to sit with me in the morning. - The furnace, father, is happening, a great furnace is now underway! “he answered, “they pray to God, and they steal, and again they pray to God, and they steal again.” “And in the shortest possible time,” as Nabryushnikov put it. - Is Udodov really here too? - Udodov - mainly. There were a lot of competitors here: both the head was asked, and the battalion commander inquired what it smelled like - he wiped out all the Udodovs. Now he was whipping Nabryushnikov so much that he was climbing, as if to pounce on someone. Every morning he just repeats to the police chief: “You will find me critics! Critics, sir! But we are enemies, with by God's help , let's win, sir!" - Have there really been critics? - Unwise. Some clerk wrote an anonymous letter: he calls Nabryushnikov the new Rehoboam. Well, what a Rehoboam he is! - So, the deal between Nabryushnikov and Udodov took place ? - A simple deal: Nabryushnikov negotiated ten percent for himself. Here, father, hundreds of thousands will fly, so if ten kopecks from every ruble - calculate how much money it will be! - Listen! Ten percent isn’t a lot! After all, if Nabryushnikov has ten percent, how much will Udodov take for himself! How much will his agents take! - They’ll take everything, and you’ll also see that there will be “prudent savings.” But by the way, you know what comes to my mind: Udodov will look and see , and he’ll plunder everything himself. And he’ll leave Nabryushnikov hanging on the beans! - Well, that’s tricky! - There’s nothing tricky. Look at Udodov, what kind of face he’s had lately. That’s what’s written on it: “And for that I will give ten percent to some black grouse!" - So here he is, Udodov! And what a man! The other day I was sitting with him, and we started talking about love for the fatherland. “The Fatherland, he says, is a shrine!” - And how he sings “Not White Snows”! It just brings tears to my eyes! Pogudin even began to spin under the influence of this memory. Mechanically he hung his head to the side and almost began to sing himself. “Yes,” he said after a minute’s silence, “there is some kind of secret here.” They’ll sing “The Snows Are Not White” - we can’t listen without tears, but to fleece people is a free spirit, now! Or, indeed, Mother Treasury has sinned so much that no one has pity for her and no one sees anything behind her! What use is a treasurer - a custodian, then! - and he stole a hundred thousand last year! No one’s heart aches for her, and that’s all! And what is happening between the merchants now - passion! -- For example? - And they bicker, and laugh, and tell jokes about each other. Even though it was a big deal to equip twenty thousand people, not everyone managed to get in there. So now they are having fun: who will put more money in someone’s pocket. Orfenov, for example, was not given anything, but he is our number one person in the leather industry. And they divided the sheepskin coats and leather goods of the Moskvins and Kostromins among themselves, but they had never been around leather goods. So Orfenov got angry. “I won’t live, he says, unless I buy up all the goods: let them buy short fur coats far away!” So today the police chief dragged him to Nabryushnikov. -- What is this for? - Nabryushnikov did the reprimand. “He’s eaten enough, he says, so he’s taken to criticizing! Do you know, he says, that you can be treated like a conspirator?” - Clever! - Yes, not without pleasure for Udodov. Yes, as a matter of fact, he is alone and will get pleasure from this whole thing. He’s already earned his percentage even now, but for the rest, if only for the same Kostromin and his brethren, it seems that they’ll just have to move out without any amenities. Only when they see a lot of money in their hands at once - it seems to make you happy! “Well, they won’t bother futilely either.” - But I’ll tell you how. I visited Radugin yesterday: last night he went to Moscow to buy cloth. So he told me: “He took it upon himself,” he said, “to deliver one hundred thousand arshins of cloth at a ruble per arshin, and for advance deposits I received twenty-five thousand - how much money do you think I have left of these twenty-five thousand?” - "Two blue ones?" - I say. "Two, not two, but... five thousand!!" - Udodov is strict! - So careful! so neat! I took into account twenty percent of everything at once. Holy cause. And what’s more: they sent different registers to Radugin from all sides: one asks to buy something, another asks for something else. He undertook to bring five ladies' hats from Moscow alone. I must admit, I even felt sorry for him: “Buy, I say, by the way, and some simple little house for me in Moscow; I, I say, will put the following inscription on the gate: given, they say, as a sign of the militia.” “The most amazing thing is that they don’t even hide.” That’s how they post everything! -- It is forbidden. Udodov tried to stop him, even threatened, but nothing could be done. At first they promise to remain silent, but after an hour they can’t stand it and blurt it out. In secret, of course. One is a secret, another is a secret - and it comes out as if it were published in the newspapers. So I’ll tell you a secret too - Damn it, though! After all, for real, now it’s a shame to shake hands with Udodov! - There is nothing to be ashamed of. His hand is now soft, like velvet. And he himself became kinder and softer. It used to be that my eyes would droop completely, but now my pupils have started to roll more and more under my forehead. It means that he is very sorry for his fatherland! The other day we were at the club when the newspapers arrived. It was Udodov who rushed, tore the envelope from Vedomosti: “He’s holding on!” he shouts, “our father is still holding on!” This is about Sevastopol! Well, goodbye! Secret! Pogudin started to go to the front, but returned halfway along the road. -- Forgot! - he said, - today the majordomo came to see me - you know, the same one who was exiled to us for “attempting to enter into an illegal relationship with Princess T***.” “What, he says, shouldn’t I, Pyotr Vasilich, sign up for the militia? I really, he says, wanted to serve the race!” “Go ahead,” I say. “Only I,” he says, “have doubts about the rank. They promoted Gorizontov to ensign, but what rank will they accept me with?” “Just a scoundrel,” I say. “Well, no,” he says, “in my position, I don’t need that!” - “And what, I ask, is your position?” - “And this is the situation,” he says, “that at the request of Prince Pavel Pavlych I was exiled here, and he himself is certainly my son!” - “You’re lying, I say, you’re bragging! You’ve been exiled for an “attempt” - you understand! You only tried to do an abomination, but didn’t carry it out!”... So he even got excited! He twirls this ring in front of my eyes: “This, he says! Is it really possible to give such rings for “attempts”!” I looked at the ring - it’s good! - “It’s a good ring, I say, but still I can’t promise you any other rank than a scoundrel!” With that, he left me... So that’s what it means, the fatherland! Even the majordomo felt it! “Race,” he says, “I want to serve!”

And everything started jumping and spinning again. The ladies pinch lint and dance. Men cry out for victory and overcoming, choke on champagne and organize picnics and dejeuners dansants [dance matinees] in honor of the militia (French)]. The farmer donates glass after glass. Bearded warriors, in their own torn sheepskin coats, waiting for new government ones, walk in crowds through the streets and sing songs. Everything was confused, everything was mixed into one common thick hubbub. And somehow clearly, sharply, Udodov’s voice stands out from this hubbub, exclaiming: “Hold on, our little darling!” Don't give up! Nakhimov! Lazarev! Totleben! Heroes! Hurray!

Finally the militia, finally formed, moved. I, however, was already in St. Petersburg at that time and therefore could not be a personal witness to the denouement of the great militia drama. I learned about this denouement from Pogudin’s letter. “Our militia drama,” he wrote to me, “was resolved yesterday in the most unexpected way. Udodov disappeared, that is, he left for St. Petersburg at night so as not to return here. It turns out that already two weeks ago he had a vacation in his pocket. That’s all.” This happened so suddenly that those closest to Udodov did not know anything. In the evening, two or three of his “devotees” gathered, played cards, had dinner. At midnight he sent for the horses, saying that he was going for an inspection for a day. And only as he was getting into the carriage, he said to the guests accompanying him: "Gentlemen, don't think ill of me! I'm running away to St. Petersburg! Nabryushnikov remained with the small bribe that was given to him from the deposit money. However, he decided not to abandon this matter and today sends a request about permission and leave for him to go to St. Petersburg. He hopes to convince Udodov of at least half the amount. Will he?"

WELL-INTENTIONAL SPEECHES

“Well-intentioned speeches” are dedicated, if we keep in mind their ultimate task, to the “secret secrets” and “holy of holies” of Saltykov’s contemporary society, its “corner stones.” We are talking about fundamental social concepts(“institutions”) developed historically by humanity.

“Have these concepts retained that strict meaning, that holiness that humanity gave them at the time when they were formed; if they have not, is it possible to return to them what was lost?” - Saltykov asked in the article “Modern Ghosts”, written back in 1863.

This article, like a number of other works, testifies that the range of ideas embodied in “Well-Intentioned Speeches” worried Saltykov for a long time. It worried the writer even later. Confirmation of this is his famous letter to E.I. Utin dated January 2, 1881. It was written regarding the latter's interpretation of the cycle " All year round"and Saltykov’s attitude to “ideals”, but is directly related to “Well-Intentioned Speeches”, is a kind of author’s commentary on them. “It seems to me that a writer who has more than just the interests of the moment in mind is not obliged to put forward ideals other than those that have worried humanity since time immemorial,” Saltykov wrote to Utin. - Namely: freedom, equality and justice<…>After all, family, property, and the state were also ideals in their time, but they are apparently being exhausted. It is the job of publicists to settle into these details, to defend some and destroy others. Reading Chernyshevsky’s novel “What is to be done?”, I came to the conclusion that his mistake lay precisely in the fact that he was too concerned with practical ideals. Who knows if it will be like that! And can the forms of life indicated in the novel be called definitive? After all, Fourier was a great thinker, but the entire applied part of his theory turns out to be more or less untenable, and only undying general provisions remain. This gave me reason to set myself a more modest mission, namely: to save the ideal of free inquiry as the inalienable right of every person and to turn to those modern “foundations” in the name of which this freedom of inquiry is trampled upon. To the best of my ability and to the extent of censorship arbitrariness, this is what I did in “Well-Intentioned Speeches.”

A few lines below, Saltykov clarified what he understands by these modern “foundations” of Russian reality. In “Well-Intentioned Speeches,” according to the satirist, he “turned to the family, to property, to the state, to what “were also ideals in their time,” and made it clear that none of this was available anymore. What became Perhaps the principles in the name of which freedom is constrained are no longer principles even for those who use them.”

The enlightener Saltykov, who sacredly and sincerely believed in reason as the main guiding force of progress, believed that there is nothing more important than the overthrow of failed “idols”, these spiritual and moral “altars”, which are the main obstacle to progress, the overthrow by the power of reason, research , analysis, and finally - the power of laughter.

In order to protect the interests of the propertied classes and justify the socio-political status quo, representatives of official science put forward various theories, among which a prominent place belonged to the theory of “alliance.” Its essence was outlined by B. N. Chicherin in the book “History of Political Doctrines” (1869) as follows: “The first union is the family. It is based on the complete internal consent of the members, on mutual love, which constitutes the life of the family<…>The second union, civil society, contains the totality of all private relations between people. Here the main principle is a free person with his rights and interests<…>The third union, the church, embodies the moral and religious principle; it is dominated by the element moral law. Finally, the fourth union, the state, dominates all the others. He represents primarily the beginning of power, as a result of which the supreme power on earth belongs to him."

“Well-Intentioned Speeches” were devoted to an artistic exploration of the real essence of these “unions,” declared by the official ideology as the “cornerstones” of Russian society.

In the essays “Father and Son”, “On the Women’s Question”, “Family Happiness”, “More Correspondence”, “Irreverent Coronation”, the “family union” was studied primarily in the most typical and characteristic forms of its existence in the conditions of post-reform reality.

In the essays “Guardians”, “Correspondence”, “In a Friendly Circle”, “Hard Year”, “In Pursuit of Ideals”, “Hello”, the main thing is the analysis of the union of “civil” and “state”.

The third direction of artistic and social research in “Well-Intentioned Speeches”, the third is the most significant group of essays and stories in terms of volume and space - “On the Road”, “On the Road Again”, “Pillar”, “Candidate for the Pillars”, “ Transformation”, “Cousin Mashenka” - is dedicated to a theme that was barely outlined in Saltykov’s work in the 60s and came to the fore for him in the 70s: the theme of property. This revealed a pattern of the times: by the mid-70s, the property principle was becoming one of the main “cornerstones” of post-reform Russia. His study became the cross-cutting theme of “Well-Intentioned Speeches,” which sounded not only, say, in the dilogy about Derunov (the essays “The Pillar” and “Metamorphosis”), but also in a number of essays in the “family” cycle (“Father and Son,” for example) , in essays devoted to “civil” and “state” unions (“Guardians”, “Correspondence”, etc.).

The “storyteller,” on whose behalf “Well-Intentioned Speeches” were written, is connected with the reality explored in the essays through his entire biography and life experience. The “Narrator” narrates his trips to his native places on business on his estate, the impressions he gained from these trips to his homeland after many years of absence, and his meetings with people long known and unknown. He is a local landowner and at the same time a “writer of satire,” known in those places as the author of “Well-Intentioned Speeches.” All this made us perceive “Well-Intentioned Speeches” as a reliable, factual story about real people and real situations that Saltykov encountered on his trips.

However, the documentary nature of “Well-Intentioned Speeches” is of a special kind: it must be perceived with the significant amendment that the “writer of the satirical part”, who in the essays appears as the author of “Well-Intentioned Speeches”, on whose behalf the story is told, is both Saltykov, and together with not Saltykov. This is the “storyteller”, that is fictional character, far from being identical in views and positions to Saltykov himself, is a kind of literary mask. The relationship between Saltykov and his double-narrator is quite definite and at the same time complex. The difficulty here is in the constantly changing distance between them: from the complete absence of it, when the appearance of the actual author of “Well-Intentioned Speeches” and his literary alter ego merge, and then the writer himself speaks in a full voice in the words and intonations of the “storyteller,” to complete confrontation, when the narrator is extremely distant and internally hostile, unacceptable to Saltykov and himself the object of his irony and satire. The certainty lies in the fact that under the literary mask of a “storyteller” - either a harmless “fronder”, or a “simpleton”, or a person of “average cultural quality” - we always, in any case, feel, feel Saltykov himself, his ideological position, his attitude towards life and the “storyteller”.

The figure of the “storyteller” - a well-intentioned “Russian frontier” who organically belonged to the social reality that was the object of the writer’s research and denunciation - allowed Saltykov to illuminate this reality “from the inside.” The writer seems to demonstrate self-exposure of his contemporary society and its cornerstones. Artistic principle Saltykov's satires - and this is characteristic of all the essays in the book - in the exposure, or rather, the self-exposure of a striking contradiction; between appearance and essence, between word and deed, between the external forms of bourgeois-serf reality, presented as truth, and its true content.

“Well-intentioned speeches,” revealing the dominant contradictions of post-reform society as a whole, developed hatred of the false “foundations” of life and readiness for a “high impulse,” revolutionized the social consciousness of the country, educated fighters. This, ultimately, was the “practical consequences” , the considerable benefit that this work of Saltykov brought - one of the central ones in his work - to the Russian people, the Russian liberation movement.

F. F. Kuznetsov

Excerpts from the speech of the country's minister and chief of staff of the SA Ernst Röhm to the diplomatic corps and representatives of the foreign press, delivered by him on April 18, 1934 in Berlin “Under the sign of the swastika, the new National Socialist Germany has no one in the world,

Excerpts from a speech delivered by Chancellor Hitler to the Reichstag deputies in the Krol Opera building on July 13, 1934 “Deputies of the German Reichstag, at the request of the government, your President, Hermann Goering, has convened you today so that I can give our people,