Nikolai Gogol - Dead Souls

"Stay for this one day, brother," the hostess said, turning to Platonov.

"Why not, it makes no difference to me," the man said indifferently, "what about Pavel Ivanovich?"

"I, too, with the greatest pleasure . . . But there's this one circumstance—I must visit General Betrishchev's relative. There's a certain Colonel Koshkarev..."

"But he's . . . don't you know? He's a fool and quite mad."

"That I've heard already. I have no business with him myself. But since General Betrishchev is my close friend and even, so to speak, benefactor . . . it's somehow awkward."

"In that case, I tell you what," said Kostanzhoglo, "go to him right now. I have a droshky standing ready. It's even less than six miles away, you'll fly there and back in no time. You'll even get back before supper."

Chichikov gladly took advantage of the suggestion. The droshky was brought, and he drove off at once to see the colonel, who amazed him as he had never been amazed before. Everything at his place was extraordinary. The village was scattered all over: construction sites, reconstruction sites, piles of lime, brick, and logs everywhere in the streets. There were some houses built that looked like institutions. On one there was written in gold letters: Farm Implement Depot, on another: Main Accounting Office, on a third: Village Affairs Commitee; School of Normal Education of Settlers—in short, devil knows what was not there! He thought he might have entered a provincial capital. The colonel himself was somehow stiff. His face was somehow formal, shaped like a triangle. His side-whiskers stretched in a line down his cheeks; his hair, hairstyling, nose, lips, chin— everything was as if it had just been taken from a press. He began speaking as if he were a sensible man. From the very beginning he began to complain of the lack of learning among the surrounding landowners, of the great labors that lay ahead of him. He received Chichikov with the utmost kindness and cordiality, took him entirely into his confidence, and with self-delight told him what labor, oh, what labor it had cost him to raise his estate to its present prosperity; how hard it was to make a simple muzhik understand the lofty impulses that enlightened luxury and the fine arts give a man; how necessary it was to combat the Russian muzhik's ignorance, so as to get him to dress in German trousers and make him feel, at least to some extent, man's lofty dignity; that, despite all his efforts, he had so far been unable to make the peasant women put on corsets, whereas in Germany, where his regiment had been stationed in the year 'fourteen, a miller's daughter could even play the piano, speak French, and curtsy. Regretfully, he told how great was the lack of learning among the neighboring landowners; how little they thought of their subjects; how they even laughed when he tried to explain how necessary it was for good management to set up a record office, commission offices, and even committees, so as to prevent all theft, so that every object would be known, so that the scrivener, the steward, and the bookkeeper would not be just educated somehow, but finish their studies at the university; how, despite all persuasions, he was unable to convince the landowners of how profitable it would be for their estates if every peasant were so well educated that, while following the plough, he could at the same time read a book about lightning rods.

At this Chichikov thought: "Well, it's unlikely that such a time will ever come. Here I am a literate man, and I've yet to read The Countess La VOlliere."

"Terrible ignorance!" said Colonel Koshkarev in conclusion. "The darkness of the Middle Ages, and no way to remedy it. . . Believe me, there is none! And I could remedy it all; I know of one way, the surest way."

"What is it?"

"To dress every last man in Russia the way they go about in Germany. Nothing more than that, and I promise you everything will go swimmingly: learning will rise, trade will develop, a golden age will come to Russia."

Chichikov was looking at him intently, thinking: "Well, it seems there's no point in standing on ceremony with this one." Not leaving matters in the bottom drawer, he straightaway explained to the colonel thus and so: there was a need for such and such souls, with the drawing up of such and such deeds.

"As far as I can see from your words," said the colonel, not embarrassed in the least, "this is a request—is that so?"

"Exactly so."

"In that case, put it in writing. It will go to the commission for divers petitions. The commission for divers petitions, having made note of it, will forward it to me. From me it will go on to the village affairs committee, where all sorts of decisions and revisions will be made concerning the matter. The steward-in-chief together with the whole office will give his resolution in the soon-most time, and the matter will be settled."

Chichikov was dumbstruck.

"Excuse me," he said, "things will take too long that way."

"Ah!" the colonel said with a smile, "there's the benefit of paperwork! It will indeed take longer, but nothing will escape: every little detail will be in view."

"But, excuse me . . . How can one present it in writing? It's the sort of matter that. . . The souls are in a certain sense . . . dead."

"Very well. So you write that the souls are in a certain sense dead."

"But how can I—dead? It's impossible to write that. They're dead, but it must seem as if they're alive."

"Well, then, you write: 'But it must seem or it is required that they seem as if alive.'"

What was to be done with the colonel? Chichikov decided to go and see for himself what these commissions and committees were; and what he found there was not only amazing, but decidedly exceeded all understanding. The commission for divers petitions existed only on a signboard. Its chairman, a former valet, had been transferred to the newly formed village construction committee. He had been replaced by the clerk Timoshka, who had been dispatched on an investigation—to sort things out between the drunken steward and the village headman, a crook and a cheat. No official anywhere.

"But where is . . . but how am I to get any sense?" Chichikov said to his companion, an official for special missions, whom the colonel had given him as a guide.

"You won't get any sense," said the guide, "everything here is senseless. Here, you may be pleased to note, the building commission directs everything, disrupts everybody's work, sends people wherever it likes. The only ones who profit from it are those on the building commission." He was obviously displeased with the building commission. "It's customary here for everybody to lead the master by the nose. He thinks everything's as it ought to be, but it's so in name only."

"He ought, however, to be told that," thought Chichikov, and, having come to the colonel, he announced that his estate was in a muddle, and one could not get any sense, and that the building commission was stealing right and left.

The colonel seethed with noble indignation. Seizing pen and paper he straightaway wrote eight most severe inquiries: on what grounds had the building commission arbitrarily disposed of officials outside its jurisdiction? How could the steward-in-chief have allowed the chairman to go on an investigation without handing over his post? And how could the village affairs committee regard with indifference the fact that the committee for petitions did not even exist?

"Well, here comes mayhem," Chichikov thought, and he began to bow out.

"No, I won't let you go. In two hours, no more, you will be satisfied in everything. I will now put your matter in the charge of a special man who has just finished a course at the university. Sit in my library meanwhile. Here there is everything you might need: books, paper, pens, pencils—everything. Help yourself, help yourself, you are the master."