At the gates of the hotel in the provincial city of NN, a rather beautiful spring-loaded small britzka drove in, in which bachelors ride: retired lieutenant colonels, staff captains, landowners with about a hundred souls of peasants - in a word, all those who are called gentlemen of the middle hand. In the britzka sat a gentleman, not handsome, but not bad-looking, neither too thick nor too thin; one cannot say that he is old, but it is not so that he is too young. His entry made absolutely no noise in the city and was not accompanied by anything special; only two Russian peasants, standing at the door of the tavern opposite the hotel, made some remarks, which, however, referred more to the carriage than to the person sitting in it. “You see,” one said to the other, “what a wheel! What do you think, will that wheel reach Moscow, if it happens, or will it not?” "He'll get there," replied the other. "But I don't think he'll make it to Kazan?" "He won't get to Kazan," answered another. That was the end of the conversation. Moreover, when the britzka drove up to the hotel, a young man met in white canine trousers, very narrow and short, in a tailcoat with attempts on fashion, from under which was visible a shirt-front, fastened with a Tula pin with a bronze pistol. The young man turned back, looked at the carriage, held his cap, which was almost blown off by the wind, and went on his way.
When the carriage drove into the yard, the gentleman was greeted by a tavern servant, or floor servant, as they are called in Russian taverns, lively and fidgety to such an extent that it was even impossible to see what kind of face he had. He ran out quickly, with a napkin in his hand, all long and in a long denim frock coat with a back almost at the very back of his head, shook out his hair and quickly led the gentleman up the entire wooden gallery to show the peace bestowed on him by God. The rest was of a certain kind, for the hotel was also of a certain kind, that is, just like hotels in provincial cities, where for two rubles a day travelers get a quiet room with cockroaches peeping out like prunes from all corners, and a door to the next door. room, always cluttered with a chest of drawers, where a neighbor, silent and calm person, but extremely curious, interested in knowing about all the details of the passing. The outer facade of the hotel corresponded to its interior: it was very long, two stories high; the lower one was not chiseled and remained in dark red bricks, darkened even more by the dashing weather changes and already dirty in themselves; the top was painted with eternal yellow paint; below were benches with collars, ropes and bagels. In the coal of these shops, or, better, in the window, there was a sbitennik with a samovar made of red copper and a face as red as the samovar, so that from a distance one might think that there were two samovars in the window, if one samovar was not with jet-black beard.
While the visiting gentleman was inspecting his room, his belongings were brought in: first of all, a suitcase made of white leather, somewhat worn, showing that it was not the first time on the road. The suitcase was brought in by the coachman Selifan, a short man in a sheepskin coat, and the footman Petrushka, a fellow of about thirty, in a spacious second-hand frock coat, as can be seen from the master's shoulder, the fellow is a little stern in his eyes, with very large lips and nose. Following the suitcase was brought in a small mahogany chest lined with Karelian birch, shoe lasts, and a fried chicken wrapped in blue paper. When all this was brought in, the coachman Selifan went to the stable to mess about with the horses, and the footman Petrushka began to settle down in a small front, very dark kennel, where he had already managed to drag his overcoat and, along with it, some kind of his own smell, which was communicated to the brought followed by a sack with various footmen's toilets. In this kennel he fixed a narrow three-legged bed against the wall, covering it with a small semblance of a mattress, dead and flat as a pancake, and perhaps as greasy as a pancake, which he managed to extort from the innkeeper.
While the servants were managing and fussing, the master went to the common room. What these common halls are - every passing person knows very well: the same walls, painted with oil paint, darkened at the top from pipe smoke and greasy from below with the backs of various travelers, and even more native merchants, for merchants on trading days came here on their own - a pole and on their own - let's drink our famous couple tea the same sooty ceiling; the same smoked chandelier with many hanging pieces of glass that jumped and tinkled every time the floorman ran over the worn oilcloths, briskly waving a tray on which sat the same abyss of teacups, like birds on sea shore; the same wall-to-wall paintings, painted with oil paints - in a word, everything is the same as everywhere else; the only difference is that in one picture there was a nymph with such huge breasts as the reader has probably never seen. A similar game of nature, however, happens on different historical paintings, it is not known at what time, from where and by whom they were brought to us in Russia, sometimes even by our nobles, art lovers who bought them in Italy on the advice of the couriers who brought them. The gentleman took off his cap and unwound from his neck a woolen scarf of rainbow colors, which the wife prepares for the married with her own hands, providing decent instructions on how to wrap herself up, and for the unmarried - I probably can’t say who makes them, God knows them, I never wore such scarves . Having unwound the scarf, the gentleman ordered dinner to be served. In the meantime, he was served various dishes common in taverns, such as cabbage soup with puff pastry , specially saved for those passing through for several weeks, brains with peas, sausages with cabbage, fried poulard, pickled cucumber and eternal puff pastry, always ready for service; while all this was served to him, both warmed up and simply cold, he forced the servant, or sex, to tell all sorts of nonsense - about who kept the tavern before and who now, and how much income they give, and whether their owner is a big scoundrel; to which the sexual, as usual, answered: "Oh, big, sir, swindler." As in enlightened Europe, so in enlightened Russia there are now quite a lot of respectable people who, without that, cannot eat in a tavern, so as not to talk with a servant, and sometimes even play a funny joke on him. However, the newcomer did not ask all empty questions; he asked with extreme accuracy who was the governor in the city, who was the chairman of the chamber, who was the prosecutor - in a word, he did not miss a single significant official; but with even greater accuracy, if not even with participation, he asked about all the significant landowners: how many people have the souls of peasants, how far they live from the city, even what character and how often they come to the city; he asked carefully about the state of the region: were there any diseases in their province - epidemic fevers, any murderous fevers, smallpox and the like, and everything was so detailed and with such accuracy that showed more than one simple curiosity. In his receptions, the gentleman had something solid and blew his nose extremely loudly. It is not known how he did it, but only his nose sounded like a pipe. This, in my opinion, completely innocent dignity, however, gained him a lot of respect from the tavern servant, so that every time he heard this sound, he tossed his hair, straightened himself more respectfully and, bending his head from on high, asked: it is not necessary what? After dinner, the gentleman drank a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa, placing a pillow behind his back, which in Russian taverns is stuffed with something extremely similar to brick and cobblestone instead of elastic wool. Here he began to yawn and ordered to be taken to his room, where, lying down, he fell asleep for two hours. Having rested, he wrote on a piece of paper, at the request of the tavern servant, the rank, name and surname for the message to the right place, to the police. On a piece of paper, the floorman, going down the stairs, read the following from the warehouses: "College adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, landowner, according to his needs." When the officer was still sorting through the note, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov himself went to see the city, which he seemed to be satisfied with, for he found that the city was in no way inferior to other provincial cities: the yellow paint on the stone houses was strongly striking in the eyes and the gray was modestly darkening. on wooden ones. The houses were one, two and one and a half stories high, with an eternal mezzanine, very beautiful, according to provincial architects. In places, these houses seemed lost among the wide, field-like streets and endless wooden fences; in some places they crowded together, and here there was noticeably more movement of the people and liveliness. There were signs almost washed away by the rain with pretzels and boots, in some places with painted blue trousers and the signature of some Arshavian tailor; where is the store with caps, caps and the inscription: "Foreigner Vasily Fedorov"; where a billiards table was drawn with two players in tailcoats, in which guests at our theaters dress when they enter the stage in the last act. The players were depicted with aiming cues, arms slightly turned back and oblique legs, which had just made an entreche in the air. Underneath it was written: "And here is the establishment." Here and there, just outside, there were tables with nuts, soap, and gingerbread that looked like soap; where is a tavern with a painted fat fish and a fork stuck in it. Most often, the darkened double-headed state eagles were noticeable, which have now been replaced by a laconic inscription: "Drinking House". The pavement was bad everywhere. He also looked into the city garden, which consisted of thin trees, badly received, with props below, in the form of triangles, very beautifully painted with green oil paint. However, although these trees were not taller than reeds, it was said about them in the newspapers when describing the illumination, that "our city was decorated, thanks to the care of the civil ruler, with a garden consisting of shady, broad-branched trees, giving coolness on a hot day," and that with In this "it was very touching to watch how the hearts of the citizens trembled in excess of gratitude and streamed streams of tears as a token of gratitude to the mayor." After asking the watchman in detail where he could go closer, if necessary, to the cathedral, to government offices, to the governor, he went to look at the river flowing in the middle of the city, on the way he tore off the poster nailed to the post, so that when he came home, he could read it carefully, looked intently at a lady of not bad appearance walking along the wooden sidewalk, followed by a boy in military livery, with a bundle in his hand, and, once again looking around everything with his eyes, as if in order to remember the position of the place well, he went home straight to his room, supported lightly on the stairs by a tavern servant. Having drunk his tea, he sat down in front of the table, ordered a candle to be brought to him, took a poster out of his pocket, brought it to the candle and began to read, screwing up his right eye a little. However, there was little remarkable in the poster: a drama was given by Mr. Kotzebue, in which Roll was played by Mr. Poplevin, Kora was the maiden Zyablova, other faces were even less remarkable; however, he read them all, even got to the price of the stalls and found out that the poster had been printed in the printing house of the provincial government, then he turned it over to the other side: to find out if there was something there, but, finding nothing, he rubbed his eyes, turned neatly and put it in his chest, where he used to put everything that came across. The day seems to have ended with a portion of cold veal, a bottle of sour cabbage soup and sound sleep in the whole pump wrap, as they say in other places of the vast Russian state.
The whole next day was devoted to visits; the visitor went to pay visits to all the city dignitaries. He was respectfully with the governor, who, as it turned out, like Chichikov, was neither fat nor thin, had Anna around his neck, and it was even rumored that he had been introduced to the star; however, he was a very good-natured fellow and sometimes even embroidered tulle himself. Then he went to the vice-governor, then he was with the prosecutor, with the chairman of the chamber, with the police chief, with the farmer, with the head of state-owned factories ... it's a pity that it's somewhat difficult to remember everyone the mighty of the world this; but suffice it to say that the newcomer showed extraordinary activity in regard to visits: he even came to pay his respects to the inspector of the medical board and the city architect. And then he sat in the britzka for a long time, thinking about who else to pay a visit to, and there were no more officials in the city. In conversations with these rulers, he very skillfully knew how to flatter everyone. Somehow casually hinted to the governor that one enters his province, as if into paradise, the roads are velvet everywhere, and that those governments that appoint wise dignitaries are worthy of great praise. He said something very flattering to the chief of police about the town watchmen; and in conversations with the vice-governor and the chairman of the chamber, who were still only state councilors, he even said by mistake twice: "your excellency," which pleased them very much. The consequence of this was that the governor made him an invitation to come to him that day to a house party, other officials, too, for their part, some for dinner, some for a Boston party, some for a cup of tea.
The visitor, it seemed, avoided talking much about himself; if he spoke, then some common places , with noticeable modesty, and his conversation in such cases took on somewhat bookish turns: that he was an insignificant worm of this world and did not deserve to be cared for a lot, that he experienced a lot in his lifetime, suffered in the service for the truth, had many enemies, who even attempted on his life, and that now, wanting to calm down, he is finally looking for a place to live, and that, having arrived in this city, he considered it an indispensable duty to pay his respects to its first dignitaries. Here is everything that the city learned about this new face, who very soon did not fail to show himself at the governor's party. The preparation for this party took more than two hours, and here the newcomer showed such attentiveness to the toilet, which is not even seen everywhere. After a short afternoon nap, he ordered to be washed and rubbed both cheeks with soap for an extremely long time, propping them up from the inside with his tongue; then, taking a towel from the tavern servant's shoulder, he wiped his plump face from all sides with it, starting from behind his ears and snorting, first of all, a couple of times in the very face of the tavern servant. Then he put on his shirt-front in front of the mirror, plucked out two hairs that had come out of his nose, and immediately after that found himself in a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark. Thus dressed, he rolled in his own carriage along the endlessly wide streets, illuminated by the skinny illumination from the ocean that flickered here and there. However, the governor's house was so lit up, even for a ball; a carriage with lanterns, two gendarmes in front of the entrance, postillion cries in the distance - in a word, everything is as it should be. On entering the hall, Chichikov had to shut his eyes for a minute, because the glare from the candles, lamps, and ladies' dresses was terrible. Everything was filled with light. Black tailcoats flickered and flitted apart and in heaps here and there, like flies on the white shining refined sugar during the hot July summer, when the old housekeeper cuts and divides it into sparkling fragments in front of the open window; the children all stare, gathered around, following with curiosity the movements of her hard hands, raising the hammer, and the aerial squadrons of flies, lifted by the light air, fly in boldly, like complete masters, and, taking advantage of the old woman's short-sightedness and the sun that disturbs her eyes, sprinkle tidbits where smashed, where in dense heaps Saturated with rich summer, already at every step arranging delicious dishes, they flew in not at all to eat, but only to show themselves, to walk back and forth on the sugar heap, to rub one against the other back or front legs, or scratch them under your wings, or, stretching out both front paws, rub them over your head, turn around and fly away again, and fly again with new tiresome squadrons. Before Chichikov had time to look around, he was already seized by the arm of the governor, who immediately introduced him to the governor's wife. The visiting guest did not drop himself here either: he said some kind of compliment, very decent for a middle-aged man who has a rank that is not too high and not too small. When the established pairs of dancers pressed everyone against the wall, he, laying his hands behind him, looked at them for about two minutes very carefully. Many ladies were well dressed and fashionable, others dressed in what God sent to the provincial town. The men here, as elsewhere, were of two kinds: some thin, who kept hovering around the ladies; some of them were of such a kind that it was difficult to distinguish them from Petersburg ones, they also had sideburns combed very deliberately and tastefully, or simply plausible, very smoothly shaven ovals of faces, they sat down to the ladies just as casually, they also spoke French and made the ladies laugh just as in St. Petersburg. Another kind of men were fat or the same as Chichikov, that is, not so fat, but not thin either. These, on the contrary, squinted and backed away from the ladies and looked only around to see if the governor's servant had set up a green table for whist somewhere. Their faces were full and round, some even had warts, some were pockmarked, they did not wear hair on their heads either in tufts or curls, nor in the manner of "damn me", as the French say - their hair were either low cut or slick, and the features were more rounded and strong. These were honorary officials in the city. Alas! fat people know how to handle their affairs better in this world than thin ones. The thin ones serve more on special assignments or are only registered and wag hither and thither; their existence is somehow too easy, airy and completely unreliable. Fat people never occupy indirect places, but all direct ones, and if they sit somewhere, they will sit securely and firmly, so that the place will soon crackle and bend under them, and they won’t fly off. They do not like external brilliance; on them the tailcoat is not so cleverly tailored as on thin ones, but in the caskets there is the grace of God. At the age of three, a thin man does not have a single soul left that is not pawned in a pawnshop; the fat one was calm, lo and behold - and a house appeared somewhere at the end of the city, bought in the name of his wife, then another house at the other end, then a village near the city, then a village with all the land. Finally, the fat one, having served God and the sovereign, having earned universal respect, leaves the service, moves over and becomes a landowner, a glorious Russian master, a hospitable man, and lives, and lives well. And after him, again, thin heirs lower, according to Russian custom, all their father's goods on courier. It cannot be concealed that almost this kind of reflection occupied Chichikov at the time when he was considering society, and the consequence of this was that he finally joined the fat ones, where he met almost all the familiar faces: the prosecutor with very black thick eyebrows and a somewhat winking left eye as if saying: "Let's go, brother, to another room, there I'll tell you something," - a man, however, serious and silent; the postmaster, a short man, but a wit and a philosopher; chairman of the chamber, a very sensible and amiable person, - who all greeted him like an old acquaintance, to which Chichikov bowed somewhat sideways, however, not without pleasantness. Immediately he met the very courteous and courteous landowner Manilov and the somewhat clumsy-looking Sobakevich, who stepped on his foot the first time, saying: "I beg your pardon." Immediately he was given a whist card, which he accepted with the same polite bow. They sat down at the green table and did not get up until supper. All conversations ceased completely, as always happens when one finally indulges in a sensible occupation. Although the postmaster was very eloquent, he, having taken the cards in his hands, immediately expressed a thinking physiognomy on his face, covered his upper lip with his lower lip and maintained this position throughout the game. Leaving the figure, he struck the table firmly with his hand, saying, if there was a lady: "Go, old priest!", If the king: "Go, Tambov peasant!" And the chairman would say: "And I hit his mustache! And I hit her mustache!" Sometimes, when the cards hit the table, expressions escaped: "Ah! There was no, there was nothing, so with a tambourine!" Or just exclamations: "worms! wormhole! piquant!" or: "pikendras! pichuruschuh! pichur!" and even simply: "pichuk!" - the names with which they crossed the suits in their society. At the end of the game they argued, as usual, rather loudly. Our visiting guest also argued, but somehow extremely skillfully, so that everyone saw that he was arguing, but meanwhile he was arguing pleasantly. He never said: "you went", but: "you deigned to go", "I had the honor to cover your deuce" and the like. In order to further agree on something with his opponents, he each time offered them all his silver snuffbox with enamel, at the bottom of which they noticed two violets, put there for smell. The visitor's attention was especially occupied by the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, whom we mentioned above. He at once inquired about them, immediately calling a few in the direction of the chairman and the postmaster. A few questions made by him showed in the guest not only curiosity, but also thoroughness; for first of all he asked how many souls of peasants each of them had and in what condition their estates were, and then he inquired as to the name and patronymic. In a little while, he had completely charmed them. The landowner Manilov, not yet at all an elderly man, who had eyes as sweet as sugar, and screwed them up every time he laughed, was beyond memory of him. He shook his hand for a very long time and asked him convincingly to do him the honor of his arrival in the village, to which, according to him, was only fifteen miles from the city outpost. To which Chichikov, with a very polite inclination of his head and a sincere shake of the hand, replied that he was not only ready to fulfill this with great pleasure, but even honored it as a sacred duty. Sobakevich also said somewhat laconically: "And I ask you," - shuffling his foot, shod in a boot of such a gigantic size, which is unlikely to be found anywhere in response to the foot, especially at the present time, when heroes are beginning to appear in Rus'.
The next day, Chichikov went to dinner and evening to the police chief, where from three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to whist and played until two in the morning. There, by the way, he met the landowner Nozdryov, a man of about thirty, a broken fellow, who, after three or four words, began to say "you" to him. With the police chief and the prosecutor, Nozdryov was also on "you" and treated in a friendly way; but when they sat down to play big game, the police chief and the prosecutor were extremely attentive to his bribes and watched almost every card with which he walked. The next day, Chichikov spent the evening with the chairman of the chamber, who received his guests in a dressing gown, somewhat greasy, including two ladies. Then he was at a party with the vice-governor, at a big dinner at the farmer's, at a small dinner at the prosecutor's, which, however, cost a lot; on an after-mass snack given by the mayor, which was also worth dinner. In a word, he did not have to stay at home for a single hour, and he came to the hotel only to fall asleep. The visitor somehow knew how to find himself in everything and showed himself an experienced secular person. Whatever the conversation was about, he always knew how to support it: if it was about a horse farm, he talked about a horse farm; did you talk about good dogs, and here he reported very sensible remarks; whether they interpreted it with regard to the investigation carried out by the Treasury, he showed that he was not unfamiliar with judicial tricks; whether there was a discussion about the billiard game - and in the billiard game he did not miss; whether they talked about virtue, and he talked about virtue very well, even with tears in his eyes; about the manufacture of hot wine, and he knew the use of hot wine; about customs overseers and officials, and he judged them as if he himself were both an official and an overseer. But it is remarkable that he knew how to clothe all this with some degree, knew how to behave well. He spoke neither loudly nor softly, but exactly as he should. In a word, wherever you turn, he was a very decent person. All the officials were pleased with the arrival of the new face. The governor said of him that he was a well-intentioned man; prosecutor - what is he efficient person; gendarmerie colonel said that he scientist man; the chairman of the chamber - that he is a knowledgeable and respectable person; police chief - that he is a respectable and amiable person; the police chief's wife - that he is the most amiable and amiable person. Even Sobakevich himself, who rarely spoke of anyone in a good way, having arrived rather late from the city and already completely undressed and lay down on the bed next to his thin wife, said to her: dined, and met the collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov: a pleasant man! To which the wife replied: "Hm!" - and pushed him with her foot.
Such an opinion, very flattering to the guest, was formed about him in the city, and it was held until one strange property of the guest and an enterprise, or, as they say in the provinces, a passage, about which the reader will soon learn, did not lead to complete bewilderment almost the whole city.
At the gates of the hotel in the provincial town of NN, a rather beautiful spring small britzka drove in, in which bachelors ride: retired lieutenant colonels, staff captains, landowners with about a hundred souls of peasants - in a word, all those who are called gentlemen of the middle hand. In the britzka sat a gentleman, not handsome, but not bad-looking either, neither too fat nor too thin; one cannot say that he is old, but it is not so that he is too young either. His entry made absolutely no noise in the city and was not accompanied by anything special; only two Russian peasants, standing at the door of the tavern opposite the hotel, made some remarks, which, however, referred more to the carriage than to the person sitting in it. “You see,” one said to the other, “what a wheel! what do you think, will that wheel, if it happens, reach Moscow or not?” "He'll get there," replied the other. “But I don’t think he will reach Kazan?” “He won’t get to Kazan,” answered another. This conversation ended. Moreover, when the britzka drove up to the hotel, a young man met in white kanifas trousers, very narrow and short, in a tailcoat with attempts on fashion, from under which was visible a shirt-front, fastened with a Tula pin with a bronze pistol. The young man turned back, looked at the carriage, held his cap, which was almost blown off by the wind, and went on his way.
When the carriage drove into the yard, the gentleman was greeted by a tavern servant, or floor servant, as they are called in Russian taverns, lively and fidgety to such an extent that it was even impossible to see what kind of face he had. He ran out nimbly, with a napkin in his hand, all long and in a long denim frock coat with the back almost at the very back of his head, shook out his hair and deftly led the gentleman up the entire wooden gallery to show the peace bestowed upon him by God. The rest was of a certain kind, for the hotel was also of a certain kind, that is, just like hotels in provincial cities, where for two rubles a day travelers get a quiet room with cockroaches peeping out like prunes from all corners, and a door to the next door. a room, always cluttered with a chest of drawers, where a neighbor settles down, a silent and calm person, but extremely curious, interested in knowing all the details of the traveler. The outer facade of the hotel corresponded to its interior: it was very long, two stories high; the lower one was not chiseled and remained in dark red bricks, darkened even more by the dashing weather changes and already dirty in themselves; the upper one was painted with eternal yellow paint; below were benches with collars, ropes and bagels. In the coal of these shops, or, better, in the window, there was a sbitennik with a samovar made of red copper and a face as red as the samovar, so that from a distance one might think that there were two samovars in the window, if one samovar was not with jet-black beard.
While the visiting gentleman was inspecting his room, his belongings were brought in: first of all, a suitcase made of white leather, somewhat worn, showing that it was not the first time on the road. The suitcase was brought in by the coachman Selifan, a short man in a sheepskin coat, and the footman Petrushka, a fellow of about thirty, in a spacious second-hand frock coat, as can be seen from the master's shoulder, the fellow is a little stern in his eyes, with very large lips and nose. Following the suitcase was brought in a small mahogany chest lined with Karelian birch, shoe lasts, and a fried chicken wrapped in blue paper. When all this was brought in, the coachman Selifan went to the stable to mess about with the horses, and the footman Petrushka began to settle down in a small front, very dark kennel, where he had already managed to drag his overcoat and, along with it, some kind of his own smell, which was communicated to the brought followed by a sack with various footmen's toilets. In this kennel he fixed a narrow three-legged bed against the wall, covering it with a small semblance of a mattress, dead and flat as a pancake, and perhaps as greasy as a pancake, which he managed to extort from the innkeeper.
While the servants were managing and fussing, the master went to the common room. What are these common halls - every passing one knows very well: the same walls, painted with oil paint, darkened at the top from pipe smoke and greasy from below with the backs of various travelers, and even more native merchants, for merchants on trading days came here on their own - a pole and on their own -this is to drink their famous pair of tea; the same sooty ceiling; the same smoked chandelier with many hanging pieces of glass that jumped and tinkled every time the floorman ran over the worn oilcloths, waving smartly at the tray, on which sat the same abyss of teacups, like birds on the seashore; the same wall-to-wall paintings, painted with oil paints - in a word, everything is the same as everywhere else; the only difference is that in one picture there was a nymph with such huge breasts as the reader has probably never seen. A similar play of nature, however, happens in various historical paintings, it is not known at what time, from where and by whom they were brought to us in Russia, sometimes even by our nobles, art lovers who bought them in Italy on the advice of the couriers who brought them. The gentleman threw off his cap and unwound from his neck a woolen, rainbow-colored scarf, which the wife prepares with her own hands for the married, providing decent instructions on how to wrap up, and for the unmarried - I probably can’t say who makes them, God knows them, I never wore such scarves . Having unwound the scarf, the gentleman ordered dinner to be served. In the meantime, various dishes usual in taverns were served to him, such as: cabbage soup with a puff pastry, specially saved for passing through for several weeks, brains with peas, sausages with cabbage, fried poulard, pickled cucumber and eternal puff pastry, always ready for service. ; while all this was served to him, both warmed up and simply cold, he forced the servant, or the servant, to tell all sorts of nonsense about who kept the tavern before and who now, and how much income they give, and whether their owner is a big scoundrel; to which the sexual, as usual, answered: "Oh, big, sir, swindler." As in enlightened Europe, so in enlightened Russia there are now quite a lot of respectable people who, without that, cannot eat in a tavern, so as not to talk with a servant, and sometimes even play a funny joke on him. However, the newcomer did not ask all empty questions; he asked with extreme precision who was the governor in the city, who was the chairman of the chamber, who was the prosecutor - in a word, he did not miss a single significant official; but with even greater accuracy, if not even with participation, he asked about all the significant landowners: how many people have the souls of peasants, how far they live from the city, even what character and how often they come to the city; he asked carefully about the state of the region: were there any diseases in their province - epidemic fevers, any murderous fevers, smallpox, and the like, and everything was so detailed and with such accuracy that showed more than one simple curiosity. In his receptions, the gentleman had something solid and blew his nose extremely loudly. It is not known how he did it, but only his nose sounded like a pipe. This apparently completely innocent dignity, however, gained him a lot of respect from the tavern servant, so that every time he heard this sound, he tossed his hair, straightened himself more respectfully and, bending his head from on high, asked: it is not necessary what? After dinner, the gentleman drank a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa, placing a pillow behind his back, which in Russian taverns is stuffed with something extremely similar to brick and cobblestone instead of elastic wool. Here he began to yawn and ordered to be taken to his room, where, lying down, he fell asleep for two hours. Having rested, he wrote on a piece of paper, at the request of the tavern servant, the rank, name and surname for the message to the right place, to the police. On a piece of paper, the floorman, going down the stairs, read the following from the warehouses: "College adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, landowner, according to his needs." When the officer was still sorting through the note, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov himself went to see the city, which he seemed to be satisfied with, for he found that the city was in no way inferior to other provincial cities: the yellow paint on the stone houses was strongly striking in the eyes and the gray was modestly darkening. on wooden ones. The houses were one, two and one and a half stories high, with an eternal mezzanine, very beautiful, according to provincial architects. In places, these houses seemed lost among the wide, field-like streets and endless wooden fences; in some places they crowded together, and here there was noticeably more movement of the people and liveliness. There were signs almost washed away by the rain with pretzels and boots, in some places with painted blue trousers and the signature of some Arshavian tailor; where is the store with caps, caps and the inscription: "Foreigner Vasily Fedorov"; where a billiards table was drawn with two players in tailcoats, in which guests at our theaters dress when they enter the stage in the last act. The players were depicted with aiming cues, arms slightly turned back and oblique legs, which had just made an entreche in the air. Underneath it was written: "And here is the establishment." Here and there, just outside, there were tables with nuts, soap, and gingerbread that looked like soap; where is a tavern with a painted fat fish and a fork stuck in it. Most often, the darkened double-headed state eagles were noticeable, which have now been replaced by a laconic inscription: "Drinking House". The pavement was bad everywhere. He also looked into the city garden, which consisted of thin trees, badly taken, with props below, in the form of triangles, very beautifully painted with green oil paint. However, although these trees were no taller than reeds, it was said about them in the newspapers when describing the illumination, that “our city was decorated, thanks to the care of the civil ruler, with a garden consisting of shady, broad-branched trees, giving coolness on a hot day,” and that with In this "it was very touching to watch how the hearts of citizens trembled in abundance of gratitude and streamed tears in gratitude to the mayor." After asking the watchman in detail where he could get closer, if necessary, to the cathedral, to government offices, to the governor, he went to look at the river that flowed in the middle of the city, along the way he tore off the poster nailed to the post, so that when he came home, he could read it thoroughly, looked intently at a lady of not bad appearance walking along the wooden sidewalk, followed by a boy in military livery, with a bundle in his hand, and, once again looking around everything with his eyes, as if in order to remember the position of the place well, he went home straight to his room, supported lightly on the stairs by a tavern servant. Having drunk his tea, he sat down in front of the table, ordered a candle to be brought to him, took a poster out of his pocket, brought it to the candle and began to read, screwing up his right eye a little. However, there was not much remarkable in the poster: a drama was given by Mr. Kotzebue, in which Roll was played by Mr. Poplevin, Kora was Zyablov's maiden, other faces were even less remarkable; however, he read them all, even got to the price of the stalls and found out that the poster had been printed in the printing house of the provincial government, then he turned it over to the other side: to find out if there was something there, but, finding nothing, he rubbed his eyes, turned neatly and put it in his chest, where he used to put everything that came across. The day seems to have ended with a portion of cold veal, a bottle of sour cabbage soup, and a sound sleep in the whole pump wrap, as they say in other places of the vast Russian state.
The whole next day was devoted to visits; the visitor went to pay visits to all the city dignitaries. He was respectfully with the governor, who, as it turned out, like Chichikov, was neither fat nor thin, had Anna around his neck, and it was even rumored that he had been introduced to the star; however, he was a very good-natured fellow and sometimes even embroidered tulle himself. Then he went to the vice-governor, then he was with the prosecutor, with the chairman of the chamber, with the police chief, with the farmer, with the head of state-owned factories ... it is a pity that it is somewhat difficult to remember all the mighty of this world; but suffice it to say that the newcomer showed extraordinary activity in regard to visits: he even came to pay his respects to the inspector of the medical board and the city architect. And then he sat in the britzka for a long time, thinking about who else to pay a visit to, and there were no more officials in the city. In conversations with these rulers, he very skillfully knew how to flatter everyone. Somehow casually hinted to the governor that one enters his province, as if into paradise, the roads are velvet everywhere, and that those governments that appoint wise dignitaries are worthy of great praise. He said something very flattering to the chief of police about the town watchmen; and in conversations with the vice-governor and the chairman of the chamber, who were still only state councilors, he even said by mistake twice: "your excellency", which they liked very much. The consequence of this was that the governor made him an invitation to come to him that day to a house party, other officials, too, for their part, some for dinner, some for a Boston party, some for a cup of tea.
The visitor, it seemed, avoided talking much about himself; if he spoke, then in some general places, with noticeable modesty, and his conversation in such cases took on somewhat bookish turns: that he was an insignificant worm of this world and did not deserve to be taken care of a lot, that he experienced a lot in his lifetime, suffered in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even made attempts on his life, and that now, wanting to calm down, he is finally looking for a place to live, and that, having arrived in this city, he considered it an indispensable duty to testify his respect to its first dignitaries. Here is everything that the city learned about this new face, who very soon did not fail to show himself at the governor's party. The preparation for this party took more than two hours, and here the newcomer showed such attentiveness to the toilet, which is not even seen everywhere. After a short afternoon nap, he ordered to be washed and rubbed both cheeks with soap for an extremely long time, propping them up from the inside with his tongue; then, taking a towel from the tavern servant's shoulder, he wiped his plump face from all sides with it, starting from behind his ears and snorting, first of all, a couple of times in the very face of the tavern servant. Then he put on his shirt-front in front of the mirror, plucked out two hairs that had come out of his nose, and immediately after that found himself in a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark. Thus dressed, he rolled in his own carriage along the endlessly wide streets, illuminated by the meager illumination from the windows that flickered here and there. However, the governor's house was so lit up, even for a ball; a carriage with lanterns, two gendarmes in front of the entrance, postillion cries in the distance - in a word, everything is as it should be. On entering the hall, Chichikov had to shut his eyes for a minute, because the glare from the candles, lamps, and ladies' dresses was terrible. Everything was filled with light. Black tailcoats flickered and flitted apart and in heaps here and there, like flies on the white shining refined sugar during the hot July summer, when the old housekeeper cuts and divides it into sparkling fragments in front of the open window; the children all stare, gathered around, following with curiosity the movements of her hard hands, raising the hammer, and the aerial squadrons of flies, lifted by the light air, fly in boldly, like complete masters, and, taking advantage of the old woman's short-sightedness and the sun that disturbs her eyes, sprinkle tidbits where smashed, where in thick heaps. Saturated with a rich summer, already laying out delicious dishes at every step, they flew in not at all to eat, but only to show themselves, to walk up and down the sugar heap, to rub their hind or front legs against one another, or to scratch them. under your wings, or, stretching out both front paws, rub them over your head, turn around and fly away again, and fly back again with new tiresome squadrons.
Before Chichikov had time to look around, he was already seized by the arm of the governor, who immediately introduced him to the governor's wife. The visiting guest did not drop himself here either: he said some kind of compliment, very decent for a middle-aged man who has a rank that is not too high and not too small. When the established pairs of dancers pressed everyone against the wall, he, laying his hands behind him, looked at them for about two minutes very carefully. Many ladies were well dressed and fashionable, others dressed in what God sent to the provincial town. The men here, as elsewhere, were of two kinds: some thin, who kept hovering around the ladies; some of them were of such a kind that it was difficult to distinguish them from Petersburg ones, they also had sideburns combed very deliberately and tastefully, or simply plausible, very smoothly shaven ovals of faces, they sat down to the ladies just as casually, they also spoke French and made the ladies laugh just as in St. Petersburg. Another kind of men were fat or the same as Chichikov, that is, not so fat, but not thin either. These, on the contrary, squinted and backed away from the ladies and looked only around to see if the governor's servant had set up a green table for whist somewhere. Their faces were full and round, some even had warts, some were pockmarked, they did not wear hair on their heads either in tufts or curls, nor in the manner of “damn me”, as the French say - their hair were either low cut or slick, and the features were more rounded and strong. These were honorary officials in the city. Alas! fat people know how to handle their affairs better in this world than thin ones. The thin ones serve more on special assignments or are only registered and wag hither and thither; their existence is somehow too easy, airy and completely unreliable. Fat people never occupy indirect places, but all straight, and if they sit somewhere, they will sit securely and firmly, so that the place will soon crackle and bend under them, and they won’t fly off. They do not like external brilliance; on them the tailcoat is not so cleverly tailored as on thin ones, but in the caskets there is the grace of God. At the age of three, a thin man does not have a single soul left that is not pawned in a pawnshop; the fat one was calm, lo and behold - and somewhere at the end of the city a house bought in the name of his wife appeared, then another house at the other end, then a village near the city, then a village with all the land. Finally, the fat one, having served God and the sovereign, having earned universal respect, leaves the service, moves over and becomes a landowner, a glorious Russian master, a hospitable man, and lives, and lives well. And after him, again, thin heirs lower, according to Russian custom, all their father's goods on courier. It cannot be concealed that almost this kind of reflection occupied Chichikov at the time when he examined society, and the consequence of this was that he finally joined the fat ones, where he met almost all the familiar faces: the prosecutor with very black thick eyebrows and a somewhat winking left eye as if saying: “Let's go, brother, to another room, there I will tell you something,” a man, however, serious and silent; the postmaster, a short man, but a wit and a philosopher; chairman of the chamber, a very sensible and amiable person, who all greeted him as if they were an old acquaintance, to which Chichikov bowed somewhat sideways, however, not without pleasantness. Immediately he met the very courteous and courteous landowner Manilov and the somewhat clumsy-looking Sobakevich, who stepped on his foot the first time, saying: "I beg your pardon." Immediately he was given a whist card, which he accepted with the same polite bow. They sat down at the green table and did not get up until supper. All conversations ceased completely, as always happens when one finally indulges in a sensible occupation. Although the postmaster was very eloquent, he, having taken the cards in his hands, immediately expressed a thinking physiognomy on his face, covered his upper lip with his lower lip and maintained this position throughout the game. Leaving the figure, he struck the table firmly with his hand, saying, if there was a lady: “Go, old priest!”, If the king: “Go, Tambov peasant!” And the chairman would say: “And I'm on his mustache! And I'm on her mustache! Sometimes, when the cards hit the table, expressions came out: “Ah! was not, not from what, so with a tambourine! Or just exclamations: “Worms! worm-hole! picnic! or: “pickendras! pichurushchuh! pichura! and even simply: “pichuk!” - the names with which they crossed the suits in their society. At the end of the game they argued, as usual, rather loudly. Our visiting guest also argued, but somehow extremely skillfully, so that everyone saw that he was arguing, but meanwhile he was arguing pleasantly. He never said: “you went”, but: “you deigned to go”, “I had the honor to cover your deuce”, and the like. In order to further agree on something with his opponents, he each time offered them all his silver snuffbox with enamel, at the bottom of which they noticed two violets, put there for smell. The visitor's attention was especially occupied by the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, whom we mentioned above. He at once inquired about them, immediately calling a few in the direction of the chairman and the postmaster. A few questions made by him showed in the guest not only curiosity, but also thoroughness; for first of all he asked how many souls of peasants each of them had and in what condition their estates were, and then he inquired as to the name and patronymic. In a little while, he had completely charmed them. The landowner Manilov, not yet at all an elderly man, who had eyes as sweet as sugar, and screwed them up every time he laughed, was beyond memory of him. He shook his hand for a very long time and asked him convincingly to do him the honor of his arrival in the village, to which, according to him, was only fifteen miles from the city outpost. To which Chichikov, with a very polite inclination of his head and a sincere shake of the hand, replied that he was not only ready to fulfill this with great pleasure, but even honored it as a sacred duty. Sobakevich also said somewhat succinctly: “And I ask you,” shuffling his foot, shod in a boot of such a gigantic size, which is hardly anywhere to be found in response to the foot, especially at the present time, when heroes are beginning to appear in Rus'.
The next day, Chichikov went to dinner and evening to the police chief, where from three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to whist and played until two in the morning. There, by the way, he met the landowner Nozdryov, a man of about thirty, a broken fellow, who, after three or four words, began to say “you” to him. With the police chief and the prosecutor, Nozdryov was also on "you" and treated in a friendly way; but when they sat down to play a big game, the police chief and the prosecutor examined his bribes with extreme attention and watched almost every card with which he walked. The next day, Chichikov spent the evening with the chairman of the chamber, who received his guests in a dressing gown, somewhat greasy, including two ladies. Then he was at a party with the vice-governor, at a big dinner at the farmer's, at a small dinner at the prosecutor's, which, however, cost a lot; on an after-mass snack given by the mayor, which was also worth dinner. In a word, he did not have to stay at home for a single hour, and he came to the hotel only to fall asleep. The visitor somehow knew how to find himself in everything and showed himself an experienced secular person. Whatever the conversation was about, he always knew how to support it: if it was about a horse farm, he talked about a horse farm; whether they talked about good dogs, and here he reported very sensible remarks; whether they interpreted with regard to the investigation carried out by the Treasury, he showed that he was not unknown to judicial tricks; whether there was a discussion about the billiard game - and in the billiard game he did not miss; whether they talked about virtue, and he talked about virtue very well, even with tears in his eyes; about the manufacture of hot wine, and he knew the use of hot wine; about customs overseers and officials, and he judged them as if he himself were both an official and an overseer. But it is remarkable that he knew how to clothe all this with some degree, knew how to behave well. He spoke neither loudly nor softly, but exactly as he should. In a word, wherever you turn, he was a very decent person. All the officials were pleased with the arrival of the new face. The governor said of him that he was a well-intentioned man; the prosecutor - that he is a good person; the gendarmerie colonel said that he was a learned man; the chairman of the chamber - that he is a knowledgeable and respectable person; police chief - that he is a respectable and amiable person; the wife of the chief of police - that he is the most kind and courteous person. Even Sobakevich himself, who rarely spoke of anyone in a good way, having arrived rather late from the city and already completely undressed and lay down on the bed next to his thin wife, said to her: dined, and got acquainted with the collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov: a pleasant man! ” To which the wife replied: “Hm!” and kicked him with her foot.
Such an opinion, very flattering to the guest, was formed about him in the city, and it was held until one strange property of the guest and an enterprise, or, as they say in the provinces, a passage, about which the reader will soon learn, did not lead to complete bewilderment almost the whole city.
At the gates of the hotel in the provincial town of NN, a rather beautiful spring small britzka drove in, in which bachelors ride: retired lieutenant colonels, staff captains, landowners with about a hundred souls of peasants - in a word, all those who are called gentlemen of the middle hand. In the britzka sat a gentleman, not handsome, but not bad-looking either, neither too fat nor too thin; one cannot say that he is old, but it is not so that he is too young. His entry made absolutely no noise in the city and was not accompanied by anything special; only two Russian peasants, standing at the door of the tavern opposite the hotel, made some remarks, which, however, referred more to the carriage than to the person sitting in it. “You see,” one said to the other, “what a wheel! what do you think, will that wheel, if it happens, reach Moscow or not?” "He'll get there," replied the other. “But I don’t think he will reach Kazan?” “He won’t get to Kazan,” answered another. This conversation ended. Moreover, when the britzka drove up to the hotel, a young man met in white kanifas trousers, very narrow and short, in a tailcoat with attempts on fashion, from under which was visible a shirt-front, fastened with a Tula pin with a bronze pistol. The young man turned back, looked at the carriage, held his cap, which was almost blown off by the wind, and went on his way.
When the carriage drove into the yard, the gentleman was greeted by a tavern servant, or floor servant, as they are called in Russian taverns, lively and fidgety to such an extent that it was even impossible to see what kind of face he had. He ran out nimbly, with a napkin in his hand, all long and in a long denim frock coat with a back almost at the very back of his head, tossed his hair and quickly led the gentleman up the entire wooden gallery to show the peace bestowed upon him by God. The rest was of a certain kind, for the hotel was also of a certain kind, that is, just like hotels in provincial cities, where for two rubles a day travelers get a quiet room with cockroaches peeping out like prunes from all corners, and a door to the next door. a room, always cluttered with a chest of drawers, where a neighbor settles down, a silent and calm person, but extremely curious, interested in knowing all the details of the traveler. The outer facade of the hotel corresponded to its interior: it was very long, two stories high; the lower one was not chiseled and remained in dark red bricks, darkened even more by the dashing weather changes and already dirty in themselves; the upper one was painted with eternal yellow paint; below were benches with collars, ropes and bagels. In the coal of these shops, or, better, in the window, there was a sbitennik with a samovar made of red copper and a face as red as the samovar, so that from a distance one might think that there were two samovars in the window, if one samovar was not with jet-black beard.
While the visiting gentleman was inspecting his room, his belongings were brought in: first of all, a suitcase made of white leather, somewhat worn, showing that it was not the first time on the road. The suitcase was brought in by the coachman Selifan, a short man in a sheepskin coat, and the footman Petrushka, a fellow of about thirty, in a spacious second-hand frock coat, as can be seen from the master's shoulder, the fellow is a little stern in his eyes, with very large lips and nose. Following the suitcase was brought in a small mahogany chest lined with Karelian birch, shoe lasts, and a fried chicken wrapped in blue paper. When all this was brought in, the coachman Selifan went to the stable to mess about with the horses, and the footman Petrushka began to settle down in a small front, very dark kennel, where he had already managed to drag his overcoat and, along with it, some kind of his own smell, which was communicated to the brought followed by a sack with various footmen's toilets. In this kennel he fixed a narrow three-legged bed against the wall, covering it with a small semblance of a mattress, dead and flat as a pancake, and perhaps as greasy as a pancake, which he managed to extort from the innkeeper.
While the servants were managing and fussing, the master went to the common room. What are these common halls - every passing one knows very well: the same walls, painted with oil paint, darkened at the top from pipe smoke and greasy from below with the backs of various travelers, and even more native merchants, for merchants on trading days came here on their own - a pole and on their own -this is to drink their famous pair of tea; the same sooty ceiling; the same smoked chandelier with many hanging pieces of glass that jumped and tinkled every time the floorman ran over the worn oilcloths, waving smartly at the tray, on which sat the same abyss of teacups, like birds on the seashore; the same wall-to-wall paintings, painted with oil paints - in a word, everything is the same as everywhere else; the only difference is that in one picture there was a nymph with such huge breasts as the reader has probably never seen. A similar play of nature, however, happens in various historical paintings, it is not known at what time, from where and by whom they were brought to us in Russia, sometimes even by our nobles, art lovers who bought them in Italy on the advice of the couriers who brought them. The gentleman threw off his cap and unwound from his neck a woolen scarf of rainbow colors, which the wife prepares with her own hands for the married, providing decent instructions on how to wrap up, and for the unmarried - I probably can’t say who makes them, God knows them, I never wore such scarves . Having unwound the scarf, the gentleman ordered dinner to be served. In the meantime, various dishes usual in taverns were served to him, such as: cabbage soup with a puff pastry, specially saved for passing through for several weeks, brains with peas, sausages with cabbage, fried poulard, pickled cucumber and eternal puff pastry, always ready for service. ; while all this was served to him, both warmed up and simply cold, he forced the servant, or sex, to tell all sorts of nonsense - about who kept the tavern before and who now, and how much income they give, and whether their owner is a big scoundrel; to which the sexual, as usual, answered: "Oh, big, sir, swindler." As in enlightened Europe, so in enlightened Russia there are now quite a lot of respectable people who, without that, cannot eat in a tavern, so as not to talk with a servant, and sometimes even play a funny joke on him. However, the newcomer did not ask all empty questions; he asked with extreme precision who was the governor in the city, who was the chairman of the chamber, who was the prosecutor - in a word, he did not miss a single significant official; but with even greater accuracy, if not even with participation, he asked about all the significant landowners: how many people have the souls of peasants, how far they live from the city, even what character and how often they come to the city; he asked carefully about the state of the region: were there any diseases in their province - epidemic fevers, any murderous fevers, smallpox, and the like, and everything was so detailed and with such accuracy that showed more than one simple curiosity. In his receptions, the gentleman had something solid and blew his nose extremely loudly. It is not known how he did it, but only his nose sounded like a pipe. This, in my opinion, completely innocent dignity, however, gained him a lot of respect from the tavern servant, so that every time he heard this sound, he tossed his hair, straightened himself more respectfully and, bending his head from on high, asked: it is not necessary what? After dinner, the gentleman drank a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa, placing a pillow behind his back, which in Russian taverns is stuffed with something extremely similar to brick and cobblestone instead of elastic wool. Here he began to yawn and ordered to be taken to his room, where, lying down, he fell asleep for two hours. Having rested, he wrote on a piece of paper, at the request of the tavern servant, the rank, name and surname for the message to the right place, to the police. On a piece of paper, the floorman, going down the stairs, read the following from the warehouses: "College adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, landowner, according to his needs." When the officer was still sorting through the note, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov himself went to see the city, which he seemed to be satisfied with, for he found that the city was in no way inferior to other provincial cities: the yellow paint on the stone houses was strongly striking in the eyes and the gray was modestly darkening. on wooden ones. The houses were one, two and one and a half stories high, with an eternal mezzanine, very beautiful, according to provincial architects. In places, these houses seemed lost among the wide, field-like streets and endless wooden fences; in some places they crowded together, and here there was noticeably more movement of the people and liveliness. There were signs almost washed away by the rain with pretzels and boots, in some places with painted blue trousers and the signature of some Arshavian tailor; where is the store with caps, caps and the inscription: "Foreigner Vasily Fedorov"; where a billiards table was drawn with two players in tailcoats, in which guests at our theaters dress when they enter the stage in the last act. The players were depicted with aiming cues, arms slightly turned back and oblique legs, which had just made an entreche in the air. Underneath it was written: "And here is the establishment." Here and there, just outside, there were tables with nuts, soap, and gingerbread that looked like soap; where is a tavern with a painted fat fish and a fork stuck in it. Most often, the darkened double-headed state eagles were noticeable, which have now been replaced by a laconic inscription: "Drinking House". The pavement was bad everywhere. He also looked into the city garden, which consisted of thin trees, badly taken, with props below, in the form of triangles, very beautifully painted with green oil paint. However, although these trees were no taller than reeds, it was said about them in the newspapers when describing the illumination, that “our city was decorated, thanks to the care of the civil ruler, with a garden consisting of shady, broad-branched trees, giving coolness on a hot day,” and that with In this "it was very touching to watch how the hearts of citizens trembled in abundance of gratitude and streamed tears in gratitude to the mayor." After asking the watchman in detail where he could go closer, if necessary, to the cathedral, to government offices, to the governor, he went to look at the river flowing in the middle of the city, on the way he tore off the poster nailed to the post, so that when he came home, he could read it carefully, looked intently at a lady of not bad appearance walking along the wooden sidewalk, followed by a boy in military livery, with a bundle in his hand, and, once again looking around everything with his eyes, as if in order to remember the position of the place well, he went home straight to his room, supported lightly on the stairs by a tavern servant. Having drunk his tea, he sat down in front of the table, ordered a candle to be brought to him, took a poster out of his pocket, brought it to the candle and began to read, screwing up his right eye a little. However, there was little remarkable in the poster: a drama was given by Mr. Kotzebue, in which Roll was played by Mr. Poplvin, Kora was Zyablov's maiden, other faces were even less remarkable; however, he read them all, even got to the price of the stalls and found out that the poster had been printed in the printing house of the provincial government, then he turned it over to the other side: to find out if there was something there, but, finding nothing, he rubbed his eyes, turned neatly and put it in his chest, where he used to put everything that came across. The day seems to have ended with a portion of cold veal, a bottle of sour cabbage soup, and a sound sleep in the whole pump wrap, as they say in other places of the vast Russian state.
The whole next day was devoted to visits; the visitor went to pay visits to all the city dignitaries. He was respectfully with the governor, who, as it turned out, like Chichikov, was neither fat nor thin, had Anna around his neck, and it was even rumored that he had been introduced to the star; however, he was a very good-natured fellow and sometimes even embroidered tulle himself. Then he went to the vice-governor, then he was with the prosecutor, with the chairman of the chamber, with the police chief, with the farmer, with the head of state-owned factories ... it is a pity that it is somewhat difficult to remember all the mighty of this world; but suffice it to say that the newcomer showed extraordinary activity in regard to visits: he even came to pay his respects to the inspector of the medical board and the city architect. And then he sat in the britzka for a long time, thinking about who else to pay a visit to, and there were no more officials in the city. In conversations with these rulers, he very skillfully knew how to flatter everyone. Somehow casually hinted to the governor that one enters his province, as if into paradise, the roads are velvet everywhere, and that those governments that appoint wise dignitaries are worthy of great praise. He said something very flattering to the chief of police about the town watchmen; and in conversations with the vice-governor and the chairman of the chamber, who were still only state councilors, he even said by mistake twice: "your excellency", which they liked very much. The consequence of this was that the governor made him an invitation to come to him that day to a house party, other officials, too, for their part, some for dinner, some for a Boston party, some for a cup of tea.
The visitor, it seemed, avoided talking much about himself; if he spoke, then in some general places, with noticeable modesty, and his conversation in such cases took on somewhat bookish turns: that he was an insignificant worm of this world and did not deserve to be taken care of a lot, that he experienced a lot in his lifetime, suffered in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even made attempts on his life, and that now, wanting to calm down, he is finally looking for a place to live, and that, having arrived in this city, he considered it an indispensable duty to testify his respect to its first dignitaries. Here is everything that the city learned about this new face, who very soon did not fail to show himself at the governor's party. The preparation for this party took more than two hours, and here the newcomer showed such attentiveness to the toilet, which is not even seen everywhere. After a short afternoon nap, he ordered to be washed and rubbed both cheeks with soap for an extremely long time, propping them up from the inside with his tongue; then, taking a towel from the tavern servant's shoulder, he wiped his plump face from all sides with it, starting from behind his ears and snorting, first of all, a couple of times in the very face of the tavern servant. Then he put on his shirt-front in front of the mirror, plucked out two hairs that had come out of his nose, and immediately after that found himself in a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark. Thus dressed, he rolled in his own carriage along the endlessly wide streets, illuminated by the skinny illumination from the ocean that flickered here and there. However, the governor's house was so lit up, even for a ball; a carriage with lanterns, two gendarmes in front of the entrance, postillion cries in the distance - in a word, everything is as it should be. On entering the hall, Chichikov had to shut his eyes for a minute, because the glare from the candles, lamps, and ladies' dresses was terrible. Everything was filled with light. Black tailcoats flickered and flitted apart and in heaps here and there, like flies on the white shining refined sugar during the hot July summer, when the old housekeeper cuts and divides it into sparkling fragments in front of the open window; the children all stare, gathered around, following with curiosity the movements of her hard hands, raising the hammer, and the aerial squadrons of flies, lifted by the light air, fly in boldly, like complete masters, and, taking advantage of the old woman's short-sightedness and the sun that disturbs her eyes, sprinkle tidbits where smashed, where in dense heaps Saturated with rich summer, already at every step arranging delicious dishes, they flew in not at all to eat, but only to show themselves, to walk back and forth on the sugar heap, to rub one against the other back or front legs, or scratch them under your wings, or, stretching out both front paws, rub them over your head, turn around and fly away again, and fly again with new tiresome squadrons. Before Chichikov had time to look around, he was already seized by the arm of the governor, who immediately introduced him to the governor's wife. The visiting guest did not drop himself here either: he said some kind of compliment, very decent for a middle-aged man who has a rank that is not too high and not too small. When the established pairs of dancers pressed everyone against the wall, he, laying his hands behind him, looked at them for about two minutes very carefully. Many ladies were well dressed and fashionable, others dressed in what God sent to the provincial town. The men here, as elsewhere, were of two kinds: some thin, who kept hovering around the ladies; some of them were of such a kind that it was difficult to distinguish them from Petersburg ones, they also had sideburns combed very deliberately and tastefully, or simply plausible, very smoothly shaven ovals of faces, they sat down to the ladies just as casually, they also spoke French and made the ladies laugh just as in St. Petersburg. Another kind of men were fat or the same as Chichikov, that is, not so fat, but not thin either. These, on the contrary, squinted and backed away from the ladies and looked only around to see if the governor's servant had set up a green table for whist somewhere. Their faces were full and round, some even had warts, some were pockmarked, they did not wear hair on their heads either in tufts or curls, nor in the manner of “damn me”, as the French say - their hair were either low cut or slick, and the features were more rounded and strong. These were honorary officials in the city. Alas! fat people know how to handle their affairs better in this world than thin ones. The thin ones serve more on special assignments or are only registered and wag hither and thither; their existence is somehow too easy, airy and completely unreliable. Fat people never occupy indirect places, but all direct ones, and if they sit somewhere, they will sit securely and firmly, so that the place will soon crackle and bend under them, and they won’t fly off. They do not like external brilliance; on them the tailcoat is not so cleverly tailored as on thin ones, but in the caskets there is the grace of God. At the age of three, a thin man does not have a single soul left that is not pawned in a pawnshop; the fat one was calm, lo and behold - and somewhere at the end of the city a house bought in the name of his wife appeared, then another house at the other end, then a village near the city, then a village with all the land. Finally, the fat one, having served God and the sovereign, having earned universal respect, leaves the service, moves over and becomes a landowner, a glorious Russian master, a hospitable man, and lives, and lives well. And after him, again, thin heirs lower, according to Russian custom, all their father's goods on courier. It cannot be concealed that almost this kind of reflection occupied Chichikov at the time when he was considering society, and the consequence of this was that he finally joined the fat ones, where he met almost all the familiar faces: the prosecutor with very black thick eyebrows and a somewhat winking left eye as if saying: “Let's go, brother, to another room, there I will tell you something,” a man, however, serious and silent; the postmaster, a short man, but a wit and a philosopher; chairman of the chamber, a very sensible and amiable person, who all greeted him as if they were an old acquaintance, to which Chichikov bowed somewhat sideways, however, not without pleasantness. Immediately he met the very courteous and courteous landowner Manilov and the somewhat clumsy-looking Sobakevich, who stepped on his foot the first time, saying: "I beg your pardon." Immediately he was given a whist card, which he accepted with the same polite bow. They sat down at the green table and did not get up until supper. All conversations ceased completely, as always happens when one finally indulges in a sensible occupation. Although the postmaster was very eloquent, he, having taken the cards in his hands, immediately expressed a thinking physiognomy on his face, covered his upper lip with his lower lip and maintained this position throughout the game. Leaving the figure, he struck the table firmly with his hand, saying, if there was a lady: “Go, old priest!”, If the king: “Go, Tambov peasant!” And the chairman would say: “And I'm on his mustache! And I'm on her mustache! Sometimes, when the cards hit the table, expressions came out: “Ah! was not, not from what, so with a tambourine! Or just exclamations: “Worms! worm-hole! picnic! or: “pickendras! pichurushchuh! pichura! and even simply: “pichuk!” - the names with which they crossed the suits in their society. At the end of the game they argued, as usual, rather loudly. Our visiting guest also argued, but somehow extremely skillfully, so that everyone saw that he was arguing, but meanwhile he was arguing pleasantly. He never said: “you went”, but: “you deigned to go”, “I had the honor to cover your deuce”, and the like. In order to further agree on something with his opponents, he each time offered them all his silver snuffbox with enamel, at the bottom of which they noticed two violets, put there for smell. The visitor's attention was especially occupied by the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, whom we mentioned above. He at once inquired about them, immediately calling a few in the direction of the chairman and the postmaster. A few questions made by him showed in the guest not only curiosity, but also thoroughness; for first of all he asked how many souls of peasants each of them had and in what condition their estates were, and then he inquired as to the name and patronymic. In a little while, he had completely charmed them. The landowner Manilov, not yet at all an elderly man, who had eyes as sweet as sugar, and screwed them up every time he laughed, was beyond memory of him. He shook his hand for a very long time and asked him convincingly to do him the honor of his arrival in the village, to which, according to him, was only fifteen miles from the city outpost. To which Chichikov, with a very polite inclination of his head and a sincere shake of the hand, replied that he was not only ready to fulfill this with great pleasure, but even honored it as a sacred duty. Sobakevich also said somewhat succinctly: “And I ask you,” shuffling his foot, shod in a boot of such a gigantic size, which is hardly anywhere to be found in response to the foot, especially at the present time, when heroes are beginning to appear in Rus'.
The next day, Chichikov went to dinner and evening to the police chief, where from three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to whist and played until two in the morning. There, by the way, he met the landowner Nozdryov, a man of about thirty, a broken fellow, who, after three or four words, began to say “you” to him. With the police chief and the prosecutor, Nozdryov was also on "you" and treated in a friendly way; but when they sat down to play a big game, the police chief and the prosecutor examined his bribes with extreme attention and watched almost every card with which he walked. The next day, Chichikov spent the evening with the chairman of the chamber, who received his guests in a dressing gown, somewhat greasy, including two ladies. Then he was at a party with the vice-governor, at a big dinner at the farmer's, at a small dinner at the prosecutor's, which, however, cost a lot; on an after-mass snack given by the mayor, which was also worth dinner. In a word, he did not have to stay at home for a single hour, and he came to the hotel only to fall asleep. The visitor somehow knew how to find himself in everything and showed himself an experienced secular person. Whatever the conversation was about, he always knew how to support it: if it was about a horse farm, he talked about a horse farm; whether they talked about good dogs, and here he reported very sensible remarks; whether they interpreted with regard to the investigation carried out by the Treasury, he showed that he was not unknown to judicial tricks; whether there was a discussion about the billiard game - and in the billiard game he did not miss; whether they talked about virtue, and he talked about virtue very well, even with tears in his eyes; about the manufacture of hot wine, and he knew the use of hot wine; about customs overseers and officials, and he judged them as if he himself were both an official and an overseer. But it is remarkable that he knew how to clothe all this with some degree, knew how to behave well. He spoke neither loudly nor softly, but exactly as he should. In a word, wherever you turn, he was a very decent person. All the officials were pleased with the arrival of the new face. The governor said of him that he was a well-intentioned man; the prosecutor - that he is a good person; the gendarmerie colonel said that he was a learned man; the chairman of the chamber - that he is a knowledgeable and respectable person; police chief - that he is a respectable and amiable person; the wife of the chief of police - that he is the most kind and courteous person. Even Sobakevich himself, who rarely spoke of anyone in a good way, having arrived rather late from the city and already completely undressed and lay down on the bed next to his thin wife, said to her: dined, and got acquainted with the collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov: a pleasant man! ” To which the wife answered: “Hm!” - and pushed him with her foot.
Such an opinion, very flattering to the guest, was formed about him in the city, and it was held until one strange property of the guest and an enterprise, or, as they say in the provinces, a passage, about which the reader will soon learn, did not lead to complete bewilderment almost the whole city.
At the gates of the hotel in the provincial town of NN, a rather beautiful spring-loaded small britzka drove in, in which bachelors ride: retired lieutenant colonels, staff captains, landowners with about a hundred souls of peasants - in a word, all those who are called gentlemen of the middle class. In the britzka sat a gentleman, not handsome, but not bad-looking either, neither too fat nor too thin; one cannot say that he is old, but it is not so that he is too young either. His entry made absolutely no noise in the city and was not accompanied by anything special; only two Russian peasants, standing at the door of the tavern opposite the hotel, made some remarks, which, however, referred more to the carriage than to the person sitting in it. “You see,” one said to the other, “what a wheel! what do you think, will that wheel, if it happens, reach Moscow or not?” "He'll get there," replied the other. “But I don’t think he will reach Kazan?” “He won’t get to Kazan,” answered another. This conversation ended. Moreover, when the britzka drove up to the hotel, a young man met in white kanifas trousers, very narrow and short, in a tailcoat with attempts on fashion, from under which was visible a shirt-front, fastened with a Tula pin with a bronze pistol. The young man turned back, looked at the carriage, held his cap, which was almost blown off by the wind, and went on his way. When the carriage drove into the yard, the gentleman was greeted by a tavern servant, or floor servant, as they are called in Russian taverns, lively and fidgety to such an extent that it was even impossible to see what kind of face he had. He ran out nimbly, with a napkin in his hand, all long and in a long denim frock coat with the back almost at the very back of his head, shook out his hair and deftly led the gentleman up the entire wooden gallery to show the peace bestowed upon him by God. The rest was of a certain kind, for the hotel was also of a certain kind, that is, just like hotels in provincial towns, where for two rubles a day travelers get a quiet room with cockroaches peeping out like prunes from all corners, and a door to the next door. a room, always cluttered with a chest of drawers, where a neighbor settles down, a silent and calm person, but extremely curious, interested in knowing all the details of the traveler. The outer facade of the hotel corresponded to its interior: it was very long, two stories high; the lower one was not chiseled and remained in dark red bricks, darkened even more by the dashing weather changes and already dirty in themselves; the upper one was painted with eternal yellow paint; below were benches with collars, ropes and bagels. In the coal of these shops, or, better, in the window, there was a sbitennik with a samovar made of red copper and a face as red as the samovar, so that from a distance one might think that there were two samovars in the window, if one samovar was not with jet-black beard. While the visiting gentleman was inspecting his room, his belongings were brought in: first of all, a suitcase made of white leather, somewhat worn, showing that it was not the first time on the road. The suitcase was brought in by the coachman Selifan, a short man in a sheepskin coat, and the footman Petrushka, a fellow of about thirty, in a spacious second-hand frock coat, as can be seen from the master's shoulder, the fellow is a little stern in his eyes, with very large lips and nose. Following the suitcase was brought in a small mahogany chest lined with Karelian birch, shoe lasts, and a fried chicken wrapped in blue paper. When all this was brought in, the coachman Selifan went to the stable to mess about with the horses, and the footman Petrushka began to settle in a small front, very dark kennel, where he had already managed to drag his overcoat and, along with it, some kind of his own smell, which was communicated to the brought followed by a sack with various footmen's toilets. In this kennel he fixed a narrow three-legged bed against the wall, covering it with a small semblance of a mattress, dead and flat as a pancake, and perhaps as greasy as a pancake, which he managed to extort from the innkeeper. While the servants were managing and fussing, the master went to the common room. What these common halls are - every passing person knows very well: the same walls, painted with oil paint, darkened at the top from pipe smoke and stained from below with the backs of various travelers, and even more native merchants, for merchants on trading days came here on their own - a pole and on their own -this is to drink their famous pair of tea; the same sooty ceiling; the same smoked chandelier with many hanging pieces of glass that jumped and tinkled every time the floorman ran over the worn oilcloths, waving smartly at the tray, on which sat the same abyss of teacups, like birds on the seashore; the same wall-to-wall paintings, painted with oil paints - in a word, everything is the same as everywhere else; the only difference is that in one picture there was a nymph with such huge breasts as the reader has probably never seen. A similar play of nature, however, happens in various historical paintings, it is not known at what time, from where and by whom they were brought to us in Russia, sometimes even by our nobles, art lovers who bought them in Italy on the advice of the couriers who brought them. The gentleman threw off his cap and unwound from his neck a woolen, rainbow-colored scarf, which the wife prepares with her own hands for the married, providing decent instructions on how to wrap up, and for the unmarried - probably I can’t say who makes them, God knows them, I never wore such scarves . Having unwound the scarf, the gentleman ordered dinner to be served. In the meantime, various dishes usual in taverns were served to him, such as: cabbage soup with a puff pastry, specially saved for passing through for several weeks, brains with peas, sausages with cabbage, fried poulard, pickled cucumber and eternal puff pastry, always ready for service. ; while all this was served to him, both warmed up and simply cold, he forced the servant, or the servant, to tell all sorts of nonsense about who kept the tavern before and who now, and how much income they give, and whether their owner is a big scoundrel; to which the sexual, as usual, answered: "Oh, big, sir, swindler." As in enlightened Europe, so in enlightened Russia there are now quite a lot of respectable people who, without that, cannot eat in a tavern, so as not to talk with a servant, and sometimes even play a funny joke on him. However, the newcomer did not ask all empty questions; he asked with extreme precision who was the governor in the city, who was the chairman of the chamber, who was the prosecutor - in a word, he did not miss a single significant official; but with even greater accuracy, if not even with participation, he asked about all the significant landowners: how many people have the souls of peasants, how far they live from the city, even what character and how often they come to the city; he asked carefully about the state of the region: were there any diseases in their province - epidemic fevers, any murderous fevers, smallpox, and the like, and everything was so detailed and with such accuracy that showed more than one simple curiosity. In his receptions, the gentleman had something solid and blew his nose extremely loudly. It is not known how he did it, but only his nose sounded like a pipe. This apparently completely innocent dignity, however, gained him a lot of respect from the tavern servant, so that every time he heard this sound, he tossed his hair, straightened himself more respectfully and, bending his head from on high, asked: it is not necessary what? After dinner, the gentleman drank a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa, placing a pillow behind his back, which in Russian taverns is stuffed with something extremely similar to brick and cobblestone instead of elastic wool. Here he began to yawn and ordered to be taken to his room, where, lying down, he fell asleep for two hours. Having rested, he wrote on a piece of paper, at the request of the tavern servant, the rank, name and surname for the message to the right place, to the police. On a piece of paper, the floorman, going down the stairs, read the following from the warehouses: "College adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, landowner, according to his needs." When the officer was still sorting through the note, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov himself went to see the city, which he seemed to be satisfied with, for he found that the city was in no way inferior to other provincial cities: the yellow paint on the stone houses was strongly striking in the eyes and the gray was modestly darkening. on wooden ones. The houses were one, two and one and a half stories high, with an eternal mezzanine, very beautiful, according to provincial architects. In places, these houses seemed lost among the wide, field-like streets and endless wooden fences; in some places they crowded together, and here there was noticeably more movement of the people and liveliness. There were signs almost washed away by the rain with pretzels and boots, in some places with painted blue trousers and the signature of some Arshavian tailor; where is the store with caps, caps and the inscription: "Foreigner Vasily Fedorov"; where a billiards table was drawn with two players in tailcoats, in which guests at our theaters dress when they enter the stage in the last act. The players were depicted with aiming cues, arms slightly turned back and oblique legs, which had just made an entreche in the air. Underneath it was written: "And here is the establishment." Here and there, just outside, there were tables with nuts, soap, and gingerbread that looked like soap; where is a tavern with a painted fat fish and a fork stuck in it. Most often, the darkened double-headed state eagles were noticeable, which have now been replaced by a laconic inscription: "Drinking House". The pavement was bad everywhere. He also looked into the city garden, which consisted of thin trees, badly taken, with props below, in the form of triangles, very beautifully painted with green oil paint. However, although these trees were no taller than reeds, it was said about them in the newspapers when describing the illumination, that “our city was decorated, thanks to the care of the civil ruler, with a garden consisting of shady, broad-branched trees, giving coolness on a hot day,” and that with In this "it was very touching to watch how the hearts of citizens trembled in abundance of gratitude and streamed tears in gratitude to the mayor." After asking the watchman in detail where he could go closer, if necessary, to the cathedral, to government offices, to the governor, he went to look at the river flowing in the middle of the city, on the way he tore off the poster nailed to the post, so that when he came home, he could read it carefully, looked intently at a lady of not bad appearance walking along the wooden sidewalk, followed by a boy in military livery, with a bundle in his hand, and, once again looking around everything with his eyes, as if in order to remember the position of the place well, he went home straight to his room, supported lightly on the stairs by a tavern servant. Having drunk his tea, he sat down in front of the table, ordered a candle to be brought to him, took a poster out of his pocket, brought it to the candle and began to read, screwing up his right eye a little. However, there was little remarkable in the poster: a drama was given by Mr. Kotzebue, in which Roll was played by Mr. Poplevin, Kora was the maiden Zyablov, other faces were even less remarkable; however, he read them all, even got to the price of the stalls and found out that the poster had been printed in the printing house of the provincial government, then he turned it over to the other side: to find out if there was something there, but, finding nothing, he rubbed his eyes, turned neatly and put it in his chest, where he used to put everything that came across. The day seems to have ended with a portion of cold veal, a bottle of sour cabbage soup, and a sound sleep in the whole pump wrap, as they say in other places of the vast Russian state. The whole next day was devoted to visits; the visitor went to pay visits to all the city dignitaries. He was respectfully with the governor, who, as it turned out, like Chichikov, was neither fat nor thin, had Anna around his neck, and it was even rumored that he had been introduced to the star; however, he was a very good-natured fellow and sometimes even embroidered tulle himself. Then he went to the vice-governor, then he was with the prosecutor, with the chairman of the chamber, with the police chief, with the farmer, with the head of state-owned factories ... it is a pity that it is somewhat difficult to remember all the mighty of this world; but suffice it to say that the newcomer showed extraordinary activity in regard to visits: he even came to pay his respects to the inspector of the medical board and the city architect. And then he sat in the britzka for a long time, thinking about who else to pay a visit to, and there were no more officials in the city. In conversations with these rulers, he very skillfully knew how to flatter everyone. Somehow casually hinted to the governor that one enters his province, as if into paradise, the roads are velvet everywhere, and that those governments that appoint wise dignitaries are worthy of great praise. He said something very flattering to the chief of police about the town watchmen; and in conversations with the vice-governor and the chairman of the chamber, who were still only state councilors, he even said by mistake twice: "your excellency", which they liked very much. The consequence of this was that the governor made him an invitation to come to him that day to a house party, other officials, too, for their part, some for dinner, some for a Boston party, some for a cup of tea. The visitor, it seemed, avoided talking much about himself; if he spoke, then in some general places, with noticeable modesty, and his conversation in such cases took on somewhat bookish turns: that he was an insignificant worm of this world and did not deserve to be taken care of a lot, that he experienced a lot in his lifetime, suffered in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even made attempts on his life, and that now, wanting to calm down, he is finally looking for a place to live, and that, having arrived in this city, he considered it an indispensable duty to testify his respect to its first dignitaries. Here is everything that the city learned about this new face, who very soon did not fail to show himself at the governor's party. The preparation for this party took more than two hours, and here the newcomer showed such attentiveness to the toilet, which is not even seen everywhere. After a short afternoon nap, he ordered to be washed and rubbed both cheeks with soap for an extremely long time, propping them up from the inside with his tongue; then, taking a towel from the tavern servant's shoulder, he wiped his plump face from all sides with it, starting from behind his ears and snorting, first of all, a couple of times in the very face of the tavern servant. Then he put on his shirt-front in front of the mirror, plucked out two hairs that had come out of his nose, and immediately after that found himself in a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark. Thus dressed, he rolled in his own carriage along the endlessly wide streets, illuminated by the meager illumination from the windows that flickered here and there. However, the governor's house was so lit up, even for a ball; a carriage with lanterns, two gendarmes in front of the entrance, postillion cries in the distance - in a word, everything is as it should be. On entering the hall, Chichikov had to shut his eyes for a minute, because the glare from the candles, lamps, and ladies' dresses was terrible. Everything was filled with light. Black tailcoats flickered and flitted apart and in heaps here and there, like flies on the white shining refined sugar during the hot July summer, when the old housekeeper cuts and divides it into sparkling fragments in front of the open window; the children all stare, gathered around, following with curiosity the movements of her hard hands, raising the hammer, and the aerial squadrons of flies, lifted by the light air, fly in boldly, like complete masters, and, taking advantage of the old woman's short-sightedness and the sun that disturbs her eyes, sprinkle tidbits where smashed, where in thick heaps. Saturated with a rich summer, already laying out delicious dishes at every step, they flew in not at all to eat, but only to show themselves, to walk up and down the sugar heap, to rub their hind or front legs against one another, or to scratch them. under your wings, or, stretching out both front paws, rub them over your head, turn around and fly away again, and fly back again with new tiresome squadrons. Before Chichikov had time to look around, he was already seized by the arm of the governor, who immediately introduced him to the governor's wife. The visiting guest did not drop himself here either: he said some kind of compliment, very decent for a middle-aged man who has a rank that is not too high and not too small. When the established pairs of dancers pressed everyone against the wall, he, laying his hands behind him, looked at them for about two minutes very carefully. Many ladies were well dressed and fashionable, others dressed in what God sent to the provincial town. The men here, as elsewhere, were of two kinds: some thin, who kept hovering around the ladies; some of them were of such a kind that it was difficult to distinguish them from Petersburg ones, they also had sideburns combed very deliberately and tastefully, or simply plausible, very smoothly shaven ovals of faces, they sat down to the ladies just as casually, they also spoke French and made the ladies laugh just as in St. Petersburg. Another kind of men were fat or the same as Chichikov, that is, not so fat, but not thin either. These, on the contrary, squinted and backed away from the ladies and looked only around to see if the governor's servant had set up a green table for whist somewhere. Their faces were full and round, some even had warts, some were pockmarked, they did not wear hair on their heads either in tufts or curls, nor in the manner of "damn it to me", as the French say - their hair were either low cut or slick, and the features were more rounded and strong. These were honorary officials in the city. Alas! fat people know how to handle their affairs better in this world than thin ones. The thin ones serve more on special assignments or are only registered and wag hither and thither; their existence is somehow too easy, airy and completely unreliable. Fat people never occupy indirect places, but all straight, and if they sit somewhere, they will sit securely and firmly, so that the place will soon crackle and bend under them, and they won’t fly off. They do not like external brilliance; on them the tailcoat is not so cleverly tailored as on thin ones, but in the caskets there is the grace of God. At the age of three, a thin man does not have a single soul left that is not pawned in a pawnshop; the fat one was calm, lo and behold - and a house appeared somewhere at the end of the city, bought in the name of his wife, then at the other end of another house, then a village near the city, then a village with all the land. Finally, the fat one, having served God and the sovereign, having earned universal respect, leaves the service, moves over and becomes a landowner, a glorious Russian master, a hospitable man, and lives, and lives well. And after him, again, thin heirs lower, according to Russian custom, all their father's goods on courier. It cannot be concealed that almost this kind of reflection occupied Chichikov at the time when he examined society, and the consequence of this was that he finally joined the fat ones, where he met almost all the familiar faces: the prosecutor with very black thick eyebrows and a somewhat winking left eye as if he were saying: “Let's go, brother, to another room, there I will tell you something,” a man, however, serious and silent; the postmaster, a short man, but a wit and a philosopher; the chairman of the chamber, a very sensible and amiable person, who all greeted him as if he were an old acquaintance, to which he bowed somewhat sideways, however, not without pleasantness. Immediately he met the very courteous and courteous landowner Manilov and the somewhat clumsy-looking Sobakevich, who stepped on his foot the first time, saying: "I beg your pardon." Immediately he was given a whist card, which he accepted with the same polite bow. They sat down at the green table and did not get up until supper. All conversations ceased completely, as always happens when one finally indulges in a sensible occupation. Although the postmaster was very eloquent, he, having taken the cards in his hands, immediately expressed a thinking physiognomy on his face, covered his upper lip with his lower lip and maintained this position throughout the game. Leaving the figure, he struck the table firmly with his hand, saying, if there was a lady: “Go, old priest!”, If the king: “Go, Tambov peasant!” And the chairman would say: “And I'm on his mustache! And I'm on her mustache! Sometimes, when the cards hit the table, expressions came out: “Ah! was not, not from what, so with a tambourine! Or just exclamations: “Worms! worm-hole! picnic! or: “pickendras! pichurushchuh! pichura! and even simply: “pichuk!” - the names with which they crossed the suits in their society. At the end of the game they argued, as usual, rather loudly. Our visiting guest also argued, but somehow extremely skillfully, so that everyone saw that he was arguing, but meanwhile he was arguing pleasantly. He never said: “you went”, but: “you deigned to go”, “I had the honor to cover your deuce”, and the like. In order to further agree on something with his opponents, he each time offered them all his silver snuffbox with enamel, at the bottom of which they noticed two violets, put there for smell. The visitor's attention was especially occupied by the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, whom we mentioned above. He at once inquired about them, immediately calling a few in the direction of the chairman and the postmaster. A few questions made by him showed in the guest not only curiosity, but also thoroughness; for first of all he asked how many souls of peasants each of them had and in what condition their estates were, and then he inquired as to the name and patronymic. In a little while, he had completely charmed them. The landowner Manilov, not yet at all an elderly man, who had eyes as sweet as sugar, and screwed them up every time he laughed, was beyond memory of him. He shook his hand for a very long time and asked him convincingly to do him the honor of his arrival in the village, to which, according to him, was only fifteen miles from the city outpost. To which Chichikov, with a very polite inclination of his head and a sincere shake of the hand, replied that he was not only ready to fulfill this with great pleasure, but even honored it as a sacred duty. Sobakevich also said somewhat succinctly: “And I ask you,” shuffling his foot, shod in a boot of such a gigantic size, which it is hardly possible to find a responding foot anywhere, especially at the present time, when heroes are beginning to appear in Rus'. The next day, Chichikov went to dinner and evening to the police chief, where from three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to whist and played until two in the morning. There, by the way, he met the landowner Nozdryov, a man of about thirty, a broken fellow, who, after three or four words, began to say “you” to him. With the police chief and the prosecutor, Nozdryov was also on "you" and treated in a friendly way; but when they sat down to play a big game, the police chief and the prosecutor examined his bribes with extreme attention and watched almost every card with which he walked. The next day, Chichikov spent the evening with the chairman of the chamber, who received his guests in a dressing gown, somewhat greasy, including two ladies. Then he was at a party with the vice-governor, at a big dinner at the farmer's, at a small dinner at the prosecutor's, which, however, cost a lot; on an after-mass snack given by the mayor, which was also worth dinner. In a word, he did not have to stay at home for a single hour, and he came to the hotel only to fall asleep. The visitor somehow knew how to find himself in everything and showed himself an experienced secular person. Whatever the conversation was about, he always knew how to support it: if it was about a horse farm, he talked about a horse farm; whether they talked about good dogs, and here he reported very sensible remarks; whether they interpreted with regard to the investigation carried out by the Treasury, he showed that he was not unknown to judicial tricks; whether there was a discussion about the billiard game - and in the billiard game he did not miss; whether they talked about virtue, and he talked about virtue very well, even with tears in his eyes; about the manufacture of hot wine, and he knew the use of hot wine; about customs overseers and officials, and he judged them as if he himself were both an official and an overseer. But it is remarkable that he knew how to clothe all this with some degree, knew how to behave well. He spoke neither loudly nor softly, but exactly as he should. In a word, wherever you turn, he was a very decent person. All the officials were pleased with the arrival of the new face. The governor said of him that he was a well-intentioned man; the prosecutor - that he is an efficient person; the gendarmerie colonel said that he was a learned man; the chairman of the chamber - that he is a knowledgeable and respectable person; police chief - that he is a respectable and amiable person; the police chief's wife - that he is the most amiable and courteous person. Even Sobakevich himself, who rarely spoke of anyone in a good way, having arrived rather late from the city and already completely undressed and lay down on the bed next to his thin wife, said to her: dined, and got acquainted with the collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov: a pleasant man! ” To which the wife replied: “Hm!” and kicked him with her foot. Such an opinion, very flattering to the guest, was formed about him in the city, and it was held until one strange property of the guest and an enterprise, or, as they say in the provinces, a passage, about which the reader will soon learn, did not lead to complete bewilderment almost the whole city.The proposed history, as will become clear from what follows, took place somewhat shortly after the "glorious expulsion of the French." A collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov arrives in the provincial town of NN (he is not old and not too young, not fat and not thin, rather pleasant and somewhat rounded in appearance) and settles in a hotel. He makes a lot of questions to the tavern servant - both regarding the owner and income of the tavern, and revealing the solidity of it: about city officials, the most significant landowners, asks about the state of the region and whether there were "what diseases in their province, epidemic fevers" and other similar adversity.
Having gone on visits, the visitor discovers extraordinary activity (visiting everyone, from the governor to the inspector of the medical board) and courtesy, for he knows how to say something pleasant to everyone. He speaks about himself somehow vaguely (that he “experienced a lot in his lifetime, endured in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even attempted on his life,” and now he is looking for a place to live). On house party with the governor, he succeeds in gaining general favor and, among other things, making acquaintance with the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich. In the following days, he dines with the chief of police (where he meets the landowner Nozdryov), visits the chairman of the chamber and the vice-governor, the farmer and the prosecutor, and goes to the Manilov estate (which, however, is preceded by a fair author's digression, where, justified by love for detail, the author certifies in detail Petrushka, the visitor's servant: his passion for "the process of reading itself" and the ability to carry with him a special smell, "responding somewhat to residential peace").
Having traveled, against the promised, not fifteen, but all thirty miles, Chichikov finds himself in Manilovka, in the arms of an affectionate owner. Manilov's house, standing on a jig, surrounded by several English-style flower beds and a gazebo with the inscription "Temple of Solitary Reflection", could characterize the owner, who was "neither this nor that", not weighed down by any passions, only unnecessarily cloying. After Manilov's confessions that Chichikov's visit was "a May day, a name day of the heart", and a dinner in the company of the hostess and two sons, Themistoclus and Alkid, Chichikov discovers the reason for his arrival: he would like to acquire peasants who have died, but have not yet been declared as such in the revision help, having issued everything legally, as if on the living (“the law - I am dumb before the law”). The first fright and bewilderment are replaced by the perfect disposition of the kind host, and, having made a deal, Chichikov departs for Sobakevich, and Manilov indulges in dreams of Chichikov's life in the neighborhood across the river, of the construction of a bridge, of a house with such a belvedere that Moscow is visible from there, and of their friendship, having learned about which the sovereign would grant them generals. Chichikov's coachman Selifan, much favored by Manilov's yard people, in conversations with his horses misses the right turn and, at the sound of a downpour, knocks the master over into the mud. In the dark, they find lodging for the night at Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka, a somewhat timid landowner, with whom Chichikov also begins to trade dead souls in the morning. Explaining that he himself would now pay taxes for them, cursing the stupidity of the old woman, promising to buy both hemp and lard, but another time, Chichikov buys souls from her for fifteen rubles, receives a detailed list of them (in which he is especially struck by Pyotr Savelyev Disrespect-Trough) and, after eating an unleavened egg pie, pancakes, pies and other things, departs, leaving the hostess in great concern as to whether it was too cheap.
Having driven out onto the main road to the tavern, Chichikov stops for a bite to eat, which the author provides with a lengthy discourse on the properties of the appetite of middle-class gentlemen. Here Nozdryov meets him, returning from the fair in the britzka of his son-in-law Mizhuev, for he lost everything with his horses and even the watch chain. Describing the charms of the fair, the drinking qualities of dragoon officers, a certain Kuvshinnikov, a great lover of "use about strawberries" and, finally, presenting a puppy, "a real face", Nozdryov takes Chichikov (thinking to get hold of here too) to himself, taking away his son-in-law, who is resisting. Describing Nozdryov, “in some respects historical man”(for wherever he was, there was no history), his possessions, the unpretentiousness of dinner with an abundance, however, drinks of dubious quality, the author sends his son-in-law to his wife (Nozdryov admonishes him with abuse and the word “fetyuk”), and Chichikov is forced to turn to your subject; but he can neither beg nor buy souls: Nozdryov offers to exchange them, take them in addition to the stallion, or make them a bet in card game finally scolds, quarrels, and they part for the night. Persuasion resumes in the morning, and, having agreed to play checkers, Chichikov notices that Nozdryov is shamelessly cheating. Chichikov, whom the owner and the servants are already trying to beat, manages to escape due to the appearance of the police captain, who announces that Nozdryov is on trial. On the road, Chichikov's carriage collides with a certain carriage, and, while the onlookers who come running are breeding tangled horses, Chichikov admires the sixteen-year-old young lady, indulges in reasoning about her and dreams of family life. A visit to Sobakevich in his strong, like himself, estate is accompanied by a thorough dinner, a discussion of city officials, who, according to the owner, are all swindlers (one prosecutor is a decent person, “and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig”), and is crowned with an interesting guest deal. Not at all frightened by the strangeness of the object, Sobakevich bargains, characterizes the favorable qualities of each serf, supplies Chichikov detailed list and forces him to give a deposit.
Chichikov's path to the neighboring landowner Plyushkin, mentioned by Sobakevich, is interrupted by a conversation with a peasant who gave Plyushkin an apt, but not too printed nickname, and by the author's lyrical reflection on his former love for unfamiliar places and the indifference that has now appeared. Plyushkin, this "hole in humanity", Chichikov at first takes for a housekeeper or a beggar, whose place is on the porch. His most important feature is his amazing stinginess, and he even carries the old sole of his boot into a heap heaped in the master's chambers. Having shown the profitability of his proposal (namely, that he would take over the taxes for the dead and runaway peasants), Chichikov fully succeeds in his enterprise and, refusing tea with rusk, provided with a letter to the chairman of the chamber, departs in the most cheerful mood.
While Chichikov is sleeping in the hotel, the author reflects with sadness on the meanness of the objects he paints. Meanwhile, pleased Chichikov, waking up, composes merchant's fortresses, studies lists of acquired peasants, reflects on their alleged fates, and finally sets off for civil chamber in order to conclude the matter sooner. Manilov, met at the gates of the hotel, accompanies him. Then follows a description of the public office, Chichikov's first ordeals and a bribe to a certain jug snout, until he enters the chairman's apartment, where, by the way, he also finds Sobakevich. The chairman agrees to be Plyushkin's attorney, and at the same time speeds up other transactions. The acquisition of Chichikov is being discussed, with land or for withdrawal he bought peasants and in what places. Having found out that they were sent to the Kherson province, having discussed the properties of the sold peasants (here the chairman remembered that the coachman Mikheev seemed to have died, but Sobakevich assured that he was still alive and "has become healthier than before"), they finish with champagne, go to the chief of police, "father and a philanthropist in the city” (whose habits are immediately outlined), where they drink to the health of the new Kherson landowner, become completely excited, force Chichikov to stay and attempt to marry him.
Chichikov's purchases make a splash in the city, a rumor is circulating that he is a millionaire. Ladies are crazy about him. Several times trying to describe the ladies, the author becomes shy and retreats. On the eve of the governor's ball, Chichikov even receives a love letter, though unsigned. Having used, as usual, a lot of time on the toilet and being pleased with the result, Chichikov goes to the ball, where he passes from one embrace to another. The ladies, among whom he is trying to find the sender of the letter, even quarrel, challenging his attention. But when the governor's wife approaches him, he forgets everything, because she is accompanied by her daughter ("Institute, just released"), a sixteen-year-old blonde, whose carriage he encountered on the road. He loses the favor of the ladies, because he starts a conversation with a fascinating blonde, scandalously neglecting the rest. To top off the trouble, Nozdryov appears and loudly asks if Chichikov has bought a lot of the dead. And although Nozdryov is obviously drunk and the embarrassed society is gradually distracted, Chichikov is not given a whist or the subsequent dinner, and he leaves upset.
At this time, a tarantass with the landowner Korobochka enters the city, whose growing anxiety forced her to come, in order to still find out what the price of dead souls is. The next morning, this news becomes the property of a certain pleasant lady, and she hurries to tell it to another, pleasant in all respects, the story is overgrown with amazing details (Chichikov, armed to the teeth, breaks into Korobochka in the dead of midnight, demands the souls that have died, inspires terrible fear - “ the whole village has come running, the children are crying, everyone is screaming. Her friend concludes from the fact that the dead souls are only a cover, and Chichikov wants to take away the governor's daughter. After discussing the details of this enterprise, Nozdryov's undoubted participation in it and the qualities of the governor's daughter, both ladies dedicate the prosecutor to everything and set off to rebel the city.
IN a short time the city is seething, to which is added the news about the appointment of a new governor-general, as well as information about the papers received: about the maker of forged banknotes, who showed up in the province, and about the robber who fled from legal persecution. Trying to understand who Chichikov is, they recall that he was certified very vaguely and even spoke about those who attempted on his life. The postmaster’s statement that Chichikov, in his opinion, is Captain Kopeikin, who took up arms against the injustice of the world and became a robber, is rejected, since it follows from the entertaining postmaster’s story that the captain is missing an arm and leg, and Chichikov is whole. An assumption arises whether Chichikov is Napoleon in disguise, and many begin to find a certain similarity, especially in profile. Questions from Korobochka, Manilov, and Sobakevich did not yield any results, and Nozdryov only multiplied the confusion by announcing that Chichikov was definitely a spy, a maker of forged banknotes, and had an undoubted intention to take away the governor's daughter, in which Nozdryov undertook to help him (each of the versions was accompanied by detailed details up to the name priest who took up the wedding). All these rumors have a tremendous effect on the prosecutor, he has a stroke, and he dies.
Chichikov himself, sitting in a hotel with a slight cold, is surprised that none of the officials visits him. Finally, having gone on visits, he discovers that they do not receive him at the governor's, and in other places they fearfully shun him. Nozdryov, visiting him at the hotel, among the general noise he made, partly clarifies the situation, announcing that he agrees to facilitate the kidnapping of the governor's daughter. The next day, Chichikov hurriedly left, but was stopped funeral procession and forced to contemplate the whole world of bureaucracy, flowing behind the coffin of the prosecutor Brichka leaves the city, and the open spaces on both sides of it evoke sad and encouraging thoughts for the author about Russia, the road, and then only sad thoughts about the hero he has chosen. Concluding that it’s time for the virtuous hero to give rest, but, on the contrary, to hide the scoundrel, the author sets out the story of Pavel Ivanovich’s life, his childhood, training in classes where he already showed a practical mind, his relationship with his comrades and teacher, his service later in treasury chamber, some kind of commission for the construction of a government building, where for the first time he gave vent to some of his weaknesses, his subsequent departure to other, not so profitable places, transfer to the customs service, where, showing honesty and integrity almost unnatural, he made a lot of money on in collusion with smugglers, went bankrupt, but dodged the criminal court, although he was forced to resign. He became a confidant and, during the fuss about the pledge of the peasants, put together a plan in his head, began to go around the expanses of Rus', so that, having bought dead souls and pawned them in the treasury as alive, he would receive money, buy, perhaps, a village and provide for future offspring.
Having again complained about the properties of his hero’s nature and partly justified him, having found him the name of “owner, acquirer”, the author is distracted by the urged running of horses, the similarity of the flying troika with rushing Russia and the ringing of the bell completes the first volume.
Volume two
It opens with a description of the nature that makes up the estate of Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, whom the author calls "the smoker of the sky." The story of the stupidity of his pastime is followed by the story of a life inspired by hopes at the very beginning, overshadowed by the pettiness of service and troubles afterwards; he retires, intending to improve the estate, reads books, takes care of the peasant, but without experience, sometimes just human, this does not give the expected results, the peasant is idle, Tentetnikov gives up. He breaks off acquaintances with his neighbors, offended by the treatment of General Betrishchev, stops visiting him, although he cannot forget his daughter Ulinka. In a word, without someone who would tell him an invigorating “forward!”, He completely turns sour.
Chichikov comes to him, apologizing for a breakdown in the carriage, curiosity and a desire to pay respect. Having won the favor of the owner with his amazing ability to adapt to anyone, Chichikov, having lived with him for a while, goes to the general, to whom he spins a story about an absurd uncle and, as usual, begs for the dead. On the laughing general, the poem fails, and we find Chichikov heading towards Colonel Koshkarev. Against expectation, he gets to Pyotr Petrovich Rooster, whom he finds at first completely naked, keen on hunting for sturgeon. At the Rooster, having nothing to get hold of, for the estate is mortgaged, he only overeats terribly, gets acquainted with the bored landowner Platonov and, having incited him to travel together in Rus', goes to Konstantin Fedorovich Kostanzhoglo, married to Platonov's sister. He talks about the ways of managing, by which he increased the income from the estate dozens of times, and Chichikov is terribly inspired.
Very promptly, he visits Colonel Koshkarev, who has divided his village into committees, expeditions and departments and has arranged a perfect paper production in the mortgaged estate, as it turns out. Returning, he listens to the curses of the bilious Costanjoglo to the factories and manufactories that corrupt the peasant, to the peasant's absurd desire to enlighten, and to his neighbor Khlobuev, who has run a hefty estate and is now lowering it for nothing. Having experienced tenderness and even a craving for honest work, after listening to the story of the farmer Murazov, who made forty millions in an impeccable way, Chichikov the next day, accompanied by Kostanzhoglo and Platonov, goes to Khlobuev, observes the unrest and debauchery of his household in the neighborhood of a governess for children, dressed in fashion wife and other traces of ridiculous luxury. Having borrowed money from Kostanzhoglo and Platonov, he gives a deposit for the estate, intending to buy it, and goes to the Platonov estate, where he meets his brother Vasily, who effectively manages the economy. Then he suddenly appears at their neighbor Lenitsyn, obviously a rogue, wins his sympathy with his skillfully tickling a child and receives dead souls.
After many seizures in the manuscript, Chichikov is found already in the city at a fair, where he buys a fabric of a lingonberry color so dear to him with a spark. He runs into Khlobuev, whom, apparently, he cheated, either depriving him, or almost depriving him of his inheritance by some kind of forgery. Khlobuev, who missed him, is taken away by Murazov, who convinces Khlobuev of the need to work and determines for him to raise funds for the church. Meanwhile, denunciations are being found against Chichikov both about forgery and about dead souls. The tailor brings a new coat. Suddenly, a gendarme appears, dragging smart Chichikov to the governor-general, "angry as anger itself." Here all his atrocities become apparent, and he, kissing the general's boot, plunges into the prison. In a dark closet, tearing his hair and coat tails, mourning the loss of a box of papers, Murazov finds Chichikov, awakens in him with simple virtuous words the desire to live honestly and goes to soften the governor general. At that time, officials who want to harm their wise superiors and receive a bribe from Chichikov deliver him a box, kidnap an important witness and write many denunciations in order to completely confuse the matter. Unrest breaks out in the province itself, greatly worrying the governor-general. However, Murazov knows how to feel the sensitive strings of his soul and give him the right advice, with which the Governor-General, having released Chichikov, is already going to use it, as "the manuscript breaks off."
