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Title: Home Life in Russia, Volumes 1 and 2
(Dead Souls)
Author: Nikolai Gogol
Translator: Krystin Lach-Szyrma
Release Date: October 10, 2018 [EBook #58070]
Last Updated: March 30,2019
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME LIFE IN RUSSIA, VOLS 1 AND 2 ***
Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature
In laying before English readers a Work, of which the scene is exclusively laid in Russia, and which, it is confidently anticipated, will be recognised as furnishing a most interesting and graphic account of the manners and customs of a very extraordinary nation, the Editor considers it his duty to devote a few words to an explanation of the circumstances connected with the publication of these volumes.
The Work is written by a Russian nobleman, who offered the MS. in English to the publishers, and the Editor's task has been confined to altering such verbal errors as might be expected, when we bear in mind that the Author has written in a language which is not his own.
The story may be said to be unique. It gives us an insight into the internal circumstances and relations of Russian society, which only a Russian could afford us. The Nosdrieffs are an exceptional class, whose type is peculiar to a half-civilization where a blow is accounted as no disgrace, and "giving the lie" imparts no stigma. And yet men who quietly pocket such insults, we find are tolerated in good society, and, strange to say, are not thought the worse of on that account. The Napoleonic dictum, "grattez le Russe, et vous trouverez Tartare," is in this instance most fully verified. But we will not spoil the reader's enjoyment by any further intimation of the persons, whose acquaintance he will make while perusing the following pages. The author affirms that the story is true, and that the main facts are well known in Russia. There is hardly a class of Russian life and society which is not introduced upon the scene, and the Author displays their foibles with an unsparing hand. Still he must not be regarded as an enemy to his Fatherland: he acts under a salutary impression that the exposé can do no harm, and may possibly effect some good: and if he have such good fortune that his book obtains access into his own country, we feel sure that its truth will be immediately recognized, and its severity pardoned, at least by those not in authority, on account of the Author's strenuous exertions to do his part manfully in ameliorating the condition of his fellow sufferers in Russia.
In conclusion, we may regret that we are not at liberty to mention the author's name—not that the work itself requires any further verification, for its genuineness is avouched by almost every line—but the truth is, that the writer is still anxious to return to his native country, and is perfectly well aware that the avowal of his handiwork and such a display of his satirical powers, will not serve as a special recommendation, except, possibly, as a passport to the innermost regions of the Siberian wilds.
With these preliminary remarks, the Editor begs to offer "Home Life in Russia" to the English reader, as a worthy companion to the "Revelations of Siberia," and as adding one more to our scanty list of books which throw light upon the domestic life of our 'ancient allies' and present foes.
LONDON, 1854.
One fine summer's afternoon a few years ago, a pretty, neat-looking, but small spring-britchka, drove into the court-yard of an inn, in the governmental town of Smolensk. The vehicle was one of that peculiar description to which bachelors, retired colonels, staats-capitains, and landowners, rejoicing in the possession of about a hundred-and-fifty souls, give the preference for travelling purposes; in short, all those who in Russia are called "gentlemen of the middle rank."
The traveller who occupied the high seat in this convenient conveyance, was a man, who at first sight could not have been taken for handsome, yet we should do him injustice were we to affirm the contrary of him, for he was neither too stout nor too thin; it would also have been impossible to add that he was too old, as little as it would have been right to call him youthful. His arrival in the above-named town created no particular sensation, and, indeed, it took place without the occurrence of anything unusual or even extraordinary; two Russian mouzhiks, however, who were standing before the door of a dram-shop on the opposite side of the inn, were apparently making their strictures and observations, but which, were confined to conjectures concerning the britchka, not upon the gentleman occupying the carriage.
"Dost thou see it?" said the one to the other, "there is a wheel for you! what do you think of it, would it break or not, supposing it had to roll as far as Moscow?"
"It might stand the journey," replied the other, musingly, as he scratched himself sedulously behind the ear.
"But supposing it was on its way to Kazan, I think it could not stand the wear and tear of such a distance?" said the first speaker again.
"It will never roll into the ancient Tatar fastness," responded his friend somewhat affirmatively.
Thus ended their learned conversation, the scientific depth of which we will not venture to explore. But previous to the britchka being stopped by its driver before the entrance door of the inn, a young man had happened to pass; he was dressed in a pair of white, very tightly-fitting, and extremely short, twill inexpressibles, buttoned up under a dress-coat of the most fashionable cut, and from under which a snow-white linen shirt-front visibly displayed an elegant bronze pin of common Tula manufacture, representing a weapon in the shape of a pistol. This young gentleman turned round, and also honoured the travelling-carriage of our stranger with a hasty glance, at the same time adjusting his hat upon his head, to guard it against the attack of a sudden gust of wind, and then—turning upon his heel, he too went his way.
When the carriage had entered the court-yard, and stopped before the principal entrance of the inn, the traveller was welcomed by the head-waiter, or saloon-walker, as this class are commonly called in Russian hotels,—so lively, and spin-about a fellow, that it was actually impossible to look him in the face, or, in consequence of his mercurial evolutions, to recognise even the outlines of his features. He now came running out breathlessly with a napkin over his arm. He was all one length, without symmetry or the slightest appearance of proportion, and wore a long demi-cotton jacket, which nearly fitted his back instead of his waist; he shook his head, and made his long hair, which was cut à la mouzhik, fly in all directions, and led the stranger quickly up-stairs through the long range of wooden galleries of the inn, and showed the fatigued traveller into the apartment, which, by the decrees of the hotel authorities, he was to occupy.
The room was much the same as such rooms usually are, because the inn was of a similar character, i.e., such an inn as is to be found in all provincial towns of the vast Russian Empire; where, for the sum of two or three roubles, during the course of twenty-four hours, the weary traveller is accommodated with a comfortable room full of beetles, which, like blackberries, peep out from every corner; another door led into an adjoining bed-room, always barricaded with a chest of drawers, or a washing-stand, and occupied by a peaceable and silent neighbour, whose predominant propensity is a lively and irrepressible curiosity to ascertain all he possibly can about the private and public affairs of the new comer. The exterior of the building was in strict harmony with its interior: it was extremely long, and two stories high; the lower portion was not whitewashed, but was permitted to display its brownish red bricks, that had grown dark with years, and looked gloomy and dirty, not only from the sudden changes of wind and weather, but because they had no doubt been originally of a peculiar dirty tint. The upper story was painted all over with the eternal yellow, a colour so fancied and admired in Russia; on the ground-floor there were several small shops, in which harness, leather, cords, crockery, and cake of all description were displayed to the best possible advantage.
In one of these above-named shops, in the corner one, or rather at the window belonging to it, a dealer in heated mead-water, was standing close to his samovar made of bright copper, and it so happened, that he had a face as red as his samovar, so that at a distance, one might have easily fancied there were two self-boilers standing at the window, had it not been for the feet of one of the samovars being ornamented by a jet-black, long, flowing beard.
Whilst our gentleman traveller was examining the room allotted to him, his luggage and other effects were brought in. First of all, his portmanteau, originally made of white leather, but now looking somewhat old, and testifying to the fact that it had been more than once on the road. This portmanteau was carried in by the coachman Selifan, a man of middle stature, clad in a toulup, and the servant Petruschka, a brisk, handy fellow of about thirty, dressed in an ample, shabby-genteel coat, evidently cast off from the the shoulders of his master. He also was a man of middle size, apparently of a sulky nature at first sight, with very broad lips and a large nose.
After they had deposited the portmanteau, they brought in a small mahogany travelling box, inlaid with ebony and other ornamental woods, a pair of boot-legs, and a cold fowl, carefully wrapped in a piece of brown paper. When all these effects were properly located in their respective places, the coachman Selifan left the room with the intention of looking after his horses, whilst the servant Petruschka began to make his arrangements in a small adjoining antechamber, very dark and much like a dog-kennel, into which he had already succeeded in conveying with him his travelling cloak, together with a peculiar odour of his own which was also common to a large bag of his, containing a variety of articles, forming the indispensable toilet of a travelling servant. In this same dark dog-kennel he fixed against the wall as well as he possibly could, a shaky, three-legged bedstead, and stretched upon it something not unlike a mattress, but as meagre and flat as a pancake, and perhaps not less greasy. This mattress, however, he had obtained not without some difficulty, from the landlord of the inn.
During the time that these servants were thus busily engaged in making themselves and their master comfortable, the latter had himself descended into the reception saloon.
What character these so called reception-rooms bear—many of my readers, who have travelled in Russia, will know perfectly well —everywhere the same walls, painted in oil-colours, darkened by the smoke of stoves and tobacco in the upper parts, and greasy from the backs of visitors and travellers in the more accessible regions below; the walls are principally thus disfigured by the resident tradesmen of the town, who, on a market-day will gather together in friendly groups, to take their usual quantum of tea, and talk over business and things in general. There are the same grimy ceiling and glass-lustres with their numerous prismatic ornaments dangling around them, shaking and ringing whenever the head waiter runs across the room over the worn-out carpet, whilst swinging about his tray fearlessly and in the most acrobatic manner imaginable, though it be covered with cups and saucers like the ocean shore with sea-gulls—the same pictures all around the wall, painted, of course, in oil; in a word all was here similar to what it is elsewhere, the only striking difference worthy of notice was perhaps a painting representing a nymph with such an enormous bosom as undoubtedly my reader has never seen. Similar fancy portraitures of nature's bestowings, however, make their appearance in many historical pictures, which, heaven knows, at what period, from whence and by whom, have been brought to us into Russia, and exposed to our view. Sometimes indeed, we have to thank our aristocracy for them, who as admirers and patrons of the fine arts, commission their travelling couriers to purchase them in Italy and elsewhere, according to their taste and judgment.
Our hero took off his travelling cap and liberated his neck from the close embrace of a woollen rainbow-coloured neckcloth, resembling those which a dutiful wife will knit with her own fair hands for her beloved husband, and present it to him with the necessary instructions how to tie it and untie it; as for bachelors, I really cannot say whose kind hands knit such ties for them, but for my own part, I never had the fortune to wear such neck-wrappers in my life. After having freed himself of his woollen tie, the gentleman ordered his dinner to be brought to him.
Whilst various dishes were being served up to him, such as are customary in Russian hotels, as for example; stchee, or cabbage soup, with small meat pies, especially prepared—and indeed always kept ready for all travellers and for many weeks in advance—calf's head and green peas, sausages and greens, roast fowl, salt cucumbers, and the everlasting sweet flour tarts, continually ready and in store; whilst, as we before said, all these good things were being displayed before him, either cold or warmed up, he amused himself by addressing various questions to the head-waiter, inquiring who the former hotel-keeper was and who the present, what the expenses were, and how large the income was, whether the landlord was a thorough rogue or only partially so, to which the head-waiter would invariably reply: "Oh, yes, Sir, a great scoundrel, Sir!"
Thus, then, as is the case in civilized Europe, there are also in civilized Russia, a great many respectable people, who cannot eat their dinner in an hotel, without speaking to the waiter, and who even cannot forbear passing a joke or two upon him.
However, our traveller did not limit his inquiries to apparently unimportant matters, but he also and with wonderful circumspection and in due rotation inquired of the head-waiter who the Governor of the town was, after the names of the Presiding Magistrate and the Imperial Procurator—in a word, he did not omit any of the higher officers of the crown, but even tried to ascertain with as much precision as possible, if not with complete success all or any information he could elicit as regarded the most important and richest landowners of the vicinity, how many souls or peasants each of them might possess, how far out of town he lived and what his character and disposition were, and how frequently he came from his country-seat to visit the town. He also inquired very minutely about the condition and health of the environs, whether that particular government had been visited by any contagious diseases, such as epidemic and other fatal fevers, the ague, cholera, and similar plagues; and all this was asked with such apparent solicitude, and the replies were listened to with such marked interest as to make it quite obvious that simple curiosity was not the only motive that prompted him to put all these various questions.
In his manner there was something sedate and solid, and he had a habit of blowing his nose very noisily indeed, and though it is impossible to say how he contrived to do so, it must be admitted that the noise was something similar to a blow through a hautbois. This, in itself apparently, quite harmless habit had, nevertheless, the good effect of attracting the more particular attention of the head-waiter, who, each time he heard this singular noise, at once shook his head and made his hair fly in all directions, whilst straightening his frame and bending down his bust in a more respectful inclination, he asked the stranger if he wished for anything else?
After dinner, the gentleman took a cup of coffee and seated himself upon the sofa, and to increase his comfort he put a cushion behind his back; and cushions in Russian hotels, instead of fine and elastic wool are generally filled up with something not unlike bricks and pebbles; upon this the stranger yawned once or twice, and then wished to be shown into his apartment where he lay down and slept soundly for about two hours. After this refreshing siesta he rose, and wrote upon a slip of paper, accordingly to the regulations of the establishment, and the request of the head-waiter: his rank, profession, Christian and family name, for the due information of the police authorities. Upon this paper, the head-waiter whilst hurrying down stairs, spelled with as much agility as he was capable, the following: "Councillor of State, Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, landowner, travelling for his own amusement and affairs."
Whilst the head-waiter was still engaged in decyphering the words written on the slip of paper, Tchichikoff left his room and went into the street, to examine the town, with which he evidently appeared to be pleased; for he, no doubt, found that it in no way yielded precedence to any other governmental or provincial town of the Empire: the yellow colour was strikingly predominant upon all the stone edifices, whilst a more modest dark grey hue was thickly diffused over all the wooden buildings. The houses were of regular and irregular construction, of one, two, and one a-half stories high, with everlasting balconies, of course very pretty according to the good taste of provincial architects. In some places, these houses appeared as if lost in midst of the plain-like large streets and their interminable long wooden garden-enclosures; in other places again, they were huddled together, and here life and commerce were more perceptible.
Some of the sign boards, though many were washed clean by heavy rains and snow-storms, displayed here and there a well painted cake, a pair of Suwarrow boots, or a coat and pair of inexpressibles, with the inscription "tailor, from Paris;" then again a hosier's shop, exhibited hats and gloves, stockings and night-caps, with the superscription: "Arsenieff Philipoff, foreign merchant;" on another house might be seen a very large sign-board with a billiard-table painted upon it, and two players in dress-coats, such as the dramatis personae wear in an after-piece, when they enter as "guests," upon the stage. The players on this sign-board were represented in the act of aiming at a ball with their cues, their arms slightly bent backwards and rather ill-shaped legs, as if they had been in the act of making an unsuccessful attempt at an entrechat. Under this billiard-table was written in large characters: "And here is the establishment."
Here and there a man or woman was hawking wares about the street, or selling them at a stand, such as nuts, apples, soap, and cakes—which bore a striking resemblance to soap; then again a coffee and tea-shop, or eating-house, with a large sign board outside, with an enormous fish on it, in the back of which a gigantic fork was stuck, like an harpoon in a whale. Most frequent of all were the double-headed and swarthy looking Imperial eagles spreading their protecting wings over the entrance of the numerous taverns with the laconic inscription, "dram-shop." The pavement was in a bad condition everywhere. The curiosity of Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, the Councillor of State, went even so far as to honour with a minute inspection the public garden of the town; he found the trees very scrubby and scantily planted, taking feeble root, leaning for support against three posts in the shape of a triangle, and very neatly painted with green oil-colour.
Although these trees were not much higher than common reeds, yet they were mentioned and described in the newspapers on the occasion of the last illumination of the town in the following exceedingly complimentary style: "Thanks to the munificence and protection of our Governor-General, our town is being rapidly embellished, and has again been endowed with an additional ornament—a public garden—full of shady and broad-leaved trees, spreading their protecting branches against the oppressive heat of the day, and it is very gratifying indeed, to witness how loudly the hearts of the good citizens beat, and their tears of gratitude flow in acknowledgment and gratitude towards our Lord-Lieutenant and Governor."
After asking the policeman on duty the nearest way to the parish-church, the town-hall, and the residence of the Lord-Lieutenant, Tchichikoff went to take a walk near the river, which flowed through the centre of the town; on his road thither he happened to pass a lamp-post, from which he tore off a play-bill, which was flapping loosely; no doubt with the intention of reading it with more leisure, when at home; he looked attentively at a lady of rather elegant appearance who was passing along the wood pavement the other side of the street, and who was followed by a little page in a military livery, carrying a large bundle in his hands; once again he cast a long and general glance around him as if with the intention of familiarizing his memory with the position of place and streets, and then went straight home to his room, slightly assisted by the ever attentive head-waiter, during the process of getting up-stairs.
Having had tea, he sat down before a table and ordered a wax candle, produced the torn off play-bill from his pocket, and bringing it closer to the light, he began to read it, slightly closing his right eye. However, there was nothing remarkable in the play-bill: one of Shakespeare's dramas was to be performed; the part of Hamlet was allotted to a Mr. Matchaloff, and that of Ophelia, to Miss Assenkova, the other dramatis personae were of indifferent reputation, and for that reason less interesting; nevertheless, Tchichikoff read them all, and got even as far down the list as the price of the pit and gallery, and discovered that the bill had been printed in the governmental printing-office of the town.
When he had perused the whole, he turned the bill and examined the other side of it, to see if there was by chance something more to read, but finding nothing, he wiped his eyes and folded the bill carefully together, and then deposited it in his mahogany travelling box, into which he was accustomed to put anything, and everything he could lay hold of. The day, we imagine, was concluded with a plate of cold veal and ham, a bottle of sour Crimea-wine, and in a sound night's rest—all in one breath—as we express ourselves in some of the extensive towns of the broad Russian Empire.
The whole of the following day was devoted to paying visits. Tchichikoff went out to pay his devoirs to all the important officers and employés of the town. With hat in hand, he waited upon the Lord-Lieutenant, who, on closer inspection, proved to bear a great resemblance to Tchichikoff himself, for he was neither too stout nor too thin; but he wore the decoration for merit of St. Anne round his neck, and it was whispered about that he might shortly be honoured with a presidential star; however, he was a good-natured man, and even sometimes found leisure and pleasure to assist his lady in embroidering upon canvass.
Tchichikoff next went to present himself to the Vice-Governor, the Procurator, the Presiding Magistrate, the Commissary of Police, the Public Contractor-General, the Inspectors of the Imperial manufactories—our memory fails us, and we regret it; but in excuse we may state that it is rather difficult to remember the different grades of the all-powerful of this wicked world; it will therefore suffice to say, that our traveller displayed an unusual activity as regarded the visits he paid on that particular day. We will conclude a notice of them, by stating that he even went so far in the marks of his civilities, as not to forget to pay his compliments to the Inspector of the Surgical division and the Town-architect. When he had performed all these obligations, he was still sitting and musing in his britchka, and meditating whether he had not omitted any one; but really, there were no more officers of the crown to whom he could have shown his attentions.
In his conversation with these omnipotent personages, he contrived, very cleverly, too, to say to each of them separately something either laudatory or complimentary. To the Lord-Lieutenant he insinuated the flattering observation, that the entrance into his Lord-Lieutenancy was like that into Paradise, and that the roads were everywhere even and smooth as velvet, and that those governments which appoint so trustworthy managers merit the highest praise. To the Commissary of Police he expressed his admiration of the watchfulness and the civility of the policemen under his orders, and in his conversation with the Vice-Governor and the Presiding Magistrate, who had no higher rank than simply "councillors of state," he made an adroit mistake by addressing them twice as "your excellency," which of course pleased and flattered them amazingly.
The results of his praiseworthy attentions were, that the Lord-Lieutenant immediately honoured him with an invitation for that same day to an evening party en famille, whilst the other officers of the crown invited him, the one to dinner, another to a game of whist, a third asked him, as a favour, to come and take a cup of tea, and so forth.
About himself, our friend Tchichikoff obviously avoided saying much, and if he spoke of himself at all, it was but in very general terms indeed, and with an undeniable modesty; his conversation, in such instances, assumed rather more of a learned phraseology and expression. Thus he would remark, for instance, that he was the most insignificant worm that crept over the surface of this world of trouble and deception, and therefore quite unworthy to be an object of particular notice; that he had seen much, and acquired a great deal of experience during his life; that he had struggled and suffered in the service for the just cause; that he had many enemies, some of them even capable of preying on his very vitals; and that now, exhausted by fruitless contests, he was longing for tranquillity, and in search of a modest corner, where he might pass the remainder of his career in quiet and retirement; and, finally, that in passing through this beautiful town, he considered it to be his bounden duty to testify his respect and admiration to the magistrates of the place by waiting upon them. This was about all that the élite of Smolensk could learn touching the strange face that had arrived within the walls of the town, and which strange face did not fail to show itself that very same evening at the réunion of the Lord-Lieutenant.
The preparations for this evening party occupied our hero considerably above two hours, for he devoted such unusual care and attention to his toilette as, we venture to say, is perhaps seldom witnessed. Having enjoyed a short but sound after-dinner nap, he ordered fresh water to be brought in to him; he then began to wash very carefully both his cheeks, using soap very freely, and putting his tongue against each of them in turn—to tighten the skin, no doubt; then, taking the towel from off the shoulder of the officious head-waiter, he commenced rubbing and drying his full face, beginning from behind his ears, yet he did not do so without sneezing twice, and directly into the face of the clever head-waiter.
Having performed this operation, he took up his position before the looking-glass to adjust his shirt-front, and to abbreviate two hairs which protruded from his nostrils, and soon after he was shining in his glory and a dress coat of light coffee-brown colour with bronze buttons.
Thus tastefully and elegantly attired, he seated himself in his own carriage, and drove off through the interminable and dimly-lighted streets. The house of the Lord-Lieutenant, however, was illuminated as if for a regular ball; all the carriages that arrived had their lights; two gendarmes were maintaining order in the entrance-hall; in the distance were heard the loud yells of coachmen and footmen—in a word, all was as it ought to be. On entering the reception-room and salon, Tchichikoff was obliged to close his eyes for a moment, for the brilliancy of the lamps and lights, and the dresses and toilette of the ladies, were literally bewildering. All was one blaze of light. Black dress-coats were flying about in all directions, separately and in heaps, as flies will do around a sugar-loaf in the middle of a hot day in July, when the grumbling old housekeeper is cutting it into square, sparkling pieces before an open window; little children, if any, will gather around her, and watch with intense interest and curiosity the movements of her bony hand, raising in measured time the active hammer, whilst the airy brigade of flies, carried along by a whispering zephyr, approach her fearlessly as conquerors, and, taking advantage of the rays of the sun, which dazzle and dim her sight, besiege the tempting bits in small and large divisions. As they have been already abundantly nourished by the dainties of a fine summer, and at each flight desert some rich meal for another, they do not descend upon the sugar to feed, but come there with the intention of showing themselves, of parading up and down upon the sweet heaps, of rubbing their fore or hind legs against one another, or of performing the same process with their airy wings, and again stretching them out, and scratching their little heads, then turn round and fly away, only to return again, after joining a new and perhaps more numerous detachment.
Tchichikoff had not yet recovered from similar effects and reflections, when he found himself surrounded and soon after arm-in-arm with the Lord-Lieutenant, who introduced him at once to his lady. But even here our new guest did not lose his countenance; he said something complimentary, suitable to the circumstance, and very à propos for a man of his—the middle age—of a rank neither too exalted nor too insignificant. When the dancers took up their positions for a first set of quadrilles, the non-dancers were obliged to fall back towards the wall. Tchichikoff was among them, and did as they did by putting his arms behind him à la Napoléon, and for about two minutes he appeared to pay the greatest attention to what was passing before him.
Many of the ladies were dressed with good taste, and in the latest fashion, while others again displayed robes and jewels, such as could only be got in the shops of a provincial town. The gentlemen also, here as elsewhere, could be divided into two distinct classes: to the first belonged those who were tall, slender and thin, and who are always found buzzing around the fair sex; some of them even were of the same description as those we are wont to see in the salons at St. Petersburg; they wore their whiskers in the same studied and carefully-brushed manner, or had the oval of their faces carefully and neatly shaved; they were familiar with the same easy manners in presence of ladies, and they also spoke French fluently; they knew how to amuse and make the ladies laugh whether they liked it or not, just exactly as the fashionables do in the imperial capital.
The second class was composed of bulky and stout men, such as our friend Tchichikoff, that is to say, of the middle size, who could neither be called too stout or too slender. This latter description of gentlemen was always anxiously engaged in avoiding too close a proximity with the fair sex, and looking about right and left with the intention of espying, if possible, whether the servants of their host had not already prepared a green cloth table for a game of whist. Their faces were round as a full moon; upon some of them pimples and warts were visible; others again displayed the marks of small-pox; and as for their hair, they did not wear it in curls, brushed à la Titus, or cut à la diable m'emporte, as the French call it; their hair was neatly arranged or smoothly brushed down; and as for their features, they were rather round and strongly marked. Such men as we have described were the right honourable dignitaries of the town of Smolensk.
It is a curious fact that men of such frame know better how to manage their little affairs in this world of trouble and disappointment than those who are tall, slender or thin. Slender men are appointed in Russia—perhaps also elsewhere—as special commissioners, or are generally selected for such an office; they are to be met with, here, there and everywhere, somehow or another. Their existence is rather too easy, airy, and not at all calculated to be depended upon. Stout men, on the contrary, never accept doubtful or ambiguous appointments. They all grasp at something more substantial; and if they take up a position in life, it always proves to be a safe and a profitable one, and though the foundation may sometimes shake under their weight, they themselves are not to be unseated. They hate outward display and refinements; their coats may perhaps not be of the best fit or the latest fashion like those of the slender gentlemen, but in compensation, their money bags are filled with the blessings of providence.
The slender man may, after three or four years of extravagance, not have a single serf to mortgage at the Imperial Bank, whilst the stout man's glance is calm and satisfied, for somehow or another, he has saved sufficient to buy a modest cottage in some snug corner of the town, of course in the name of his wife—this attracts less attention, and is done for greater safety; for, in another snug corner of the same town we find another comfortable house belonging to the same stout man; also, at a later date, he builds a villa in the environs, and finally makes the acquisition of a whole estate with all its appurtenances.
Thus then the stout man, having served God and the Emperor, and gained universal esteem, retires from public service, leaves town for his estate, and becomes a farmer, a landowner, a real Russian gentleman, a regular, what we call in Russia, bread and salt man—he lives and he lives well indeed. But when he has done living, then come again his slender heirs; and in the Russian fashion, they spend in a race all the wealth, goods and chattels of their stout parent.
We will not attempt to conceal from our reader that reflections like those which concluded the last chapter preoccupied the mind of our friend Tchichikoff, at the time when he was casting his eyes around the company before him; the consequence was, that after mature consideration, he closed in with the ranks of the stout men, where he met with faces he was already acquainted with—the Procurator with his dark and heavy eyebrows, who was continually winking his left eye, as if he meant to say, "Follow me into the other room, my friend, and there will I tell you something." However, he was a serious and sober-minded man; next was the Commissary of Police, a middle-sized man, but sharp and acute, and with all that a philosopher; the Presiding Magistrate, a very judicious and amiable man, who was met by every one with much affability, and treated like an old acquaintance. Tchichikoff bowed low to all of them in turn, though rather lower than they had done, but not without something pleasing in his peculiar mode of salutation.
In this group of men he also made the acquaintance of Mr. Maniloff, a landowner of agreeable and polite manner, and of Mr. Sobakevitch, also a landed proprietor, who at first sight appeared of rather stiff, if not of clumsy carriage, and who, whilst replying to the civilities of Tchichikoff, accidentally trod upon his toe, saying at the same time, "I beg your pardon." After these introductions, he was presented with a playing card, and invited to join a game of whist, which he accepted as a matter of course, with his usual bow of politeness.
The players took their seats around the green table, which they did not leave until suppertime. All conversation was strictly prohibited, as usually happens when the mind is given up to serious occupations. Although the Postmaster was generally a talkative person, yet, from the instant he felt the cards in his hands, he ceased to be so, and his face assumed the expression of a meditating philosopher. He compressed his upper lip upon the lower one, and kept them in that position nearly during the whole time the game lasted. If he played a court card, he could not help knocking audibly with the knuckles of his hand upon the table, and whispering at the same time, if it was a queen, "off starts the pope's wife:" if it was a king, "here goes the mouzhik from Tambov!" To this the Presiding Magistrate would coolly reply; "And I will have her! And I shall pull his beard."
At the same time, and whilst playing a trump card, or knocking against the table, various expressions were made use of, such as, "Ah! bilá ne bilá! I don't know what to play, so I come out with a diamond;" or simply exclamations of, "Hearts! heartlings! spades! spadelings! club! clublings!" and a variety of other words, epithets and names, with which they had christened in their own immediate circles the various colours of the playing cards.
At the termination of their game, they had as usual in such cases, a few disputes, which they settled in rather a loud voice. Our guest and friend, Mr. Tchichikoff, of course took part in the dispute, but he did so with considerable ability, and so well, that though every one heard him protesting, yet all were obliged to agree that he did so with very good taste indeed. He never said, "you played this or that card," but "I believe you were pleased to play the ace," and "I had the honour of covering your knave, Sir," or something equally civil. And in order to convince his opponents still more upon the subject of their argument, he invariably presented to them his silver snuff-box, on the bottom of which they could perceive tonquin-beans which were placed there on purpose to increase the flavour of his snuff.
The attention of our stranger was particularly attracted by the two landed proprietors, Maniloff and Sobakevitch, of whom we have already had occasion to make mention. He availed himself of the first favourable opportunity to take the Presiding Magistrate and the Postmaster aside, and tried to learn from them all the information they could give him about these two gentlemen. A few questions and answers which passed between them, showed that our hero not only possessed the propensities of an inquisitive disposition, but also cherished a wish for positive information; because he first of all inquired how many serfs each of these landowners possessed, and in what suburbs their estates were situated, and then only bethought himself of asking the Christian names of those in whom he appeared to take such a lively interest.
This mode of taking an interest in persons is rather unusual in Russia, for we always begin our inquiries by asking for the Christian names of father and son first, and then only let our real intentions peep out. However, notwithstanding the omission of this general rule, Tchichikoff succeeded in a very brief time indeed, in completely captivating the good graces of the two gentlemen-farmers. Maniloff, who was yet in the prime of life, with eyes as sweet as sugar, and which he was continually winking when he laughed, was actually charmed with our friend's person and manners. He pressed his hand warmly and long, and begged of him most urgently to do him the honour of visiting him on his estate, which according to him was not more than fifteen wersts from the gates of the town. To this very polite invitation, Tchichikoff replied by a very civil inclination of the head, and a truly affectionate pressure of the hand, adding that he would not only be happy to do so, but that he considered it even to be his sacred duty to do himself that honour.
Sobakevitch also invited our guest, but he did so in a rather laconic manner, simply saying: "And don't forget me;" whilst he attempted a bow, accompanied by a scratch with his left foot; this manoeuvre drew the attention of Tchichikoff to his feet, which were shod in such a pair of gigantic boots, that we really believe it would be impossible to meet with a couple of feet proportioned to their size, especially now-a-days, when even Russians begin to look more at shape and fashion.
On the following day, Tchichikoff went to dine and spend the evening with the Commissary of Police, where at three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to a game of whist, and never rose till two hours after midnight. Here, however, he had the advantage of making the acquaintance of Mr. Nosdrieff, also an owner of some estates, a man of about thirty years of age, and of a very lively and volatile disposition, who, after three or four words, treated our stranger en frère. With the Commissary of Police, Nosdrieff appeared to be also very familiar and on fraternal terms; when they took their seats for the purpose of playing their long game, however, the Commissary of Police and the Procurator had the habit of very carefully examining his tricks, and followed very attentively every card he played.
Upon the following day, Tchichikoff went to pay a visit, and remained to tea at the chief magistrate's, who received his guests in a dressing gown, which looked somewhat greasy and worn out. Among the company there were also two ladies, whose names our guest did not catch. He also called in the evening upon the Vice-Governor; he dined at the great dinner of the public contractor, and at the modest table of the Procurator, whose dinner must have cost a great deal; and he supped at the Mayor's, whose supper was worth the two dinners. In a word, Tchichikoff had no two hours time to stay at home, so much was he engaged in town, and if he returned to his hotel, it was only for the purpose of taking necessary rest.
In all respects, our traveller appeared to be welcome everywhere, for he knew how to make himself comfortable in all positions; in short, he proved a man of considerable experience and tact, as well as a complete man of the world. It did not matter to him what question or argument was brought forward; he never seemed embarrassed or at a loss how to sustain the subject; if horses and races were on the tapis, he knew how to give his opinion on races in general, and horse-breeding in particular; if dogs were praised, he was not at a loss to say something about the perfections of the canine race; if the proceedings of the Imperial Courts of Inquiry were discussed, he proved that these cases, as well as the general conduct of the Imperial employés, were familiar to him; if the game of billiards was brought forward, even upon the billiard-table he did not give a miss; if benefactors were praised, he also knew how to acknowledge their merits, even with apparent tears in his eyes; if comments upon distilleries and spirits were expressed, he also knew how to find fault with the spirits of wine, &c.; if the indiscretions of custom-house officers and inspectors were complained of, even them he knew how to judge and condemn, just as if he had himself been a custom-house officer or inspector.
But it was remarkable that he knew how to express and clothe his comments and opinions in such a pleasing and unpretending manner that he never compromised his position. His voice was neither too loud, nor did he whisper, he spoke exactly as a man ought to speak; in a word, you might have turned him any way, and still you would have found him a gentleman, and of course all the Imperial employés of the higher ranks in the town of Smolensk were pleased and satisfied with the appearance and manners of the new and distingué personage who had arrived among them.
The Lord-Lieutenant's opinion of Tchichikoff was, that he believed him a man of strictly honourable intentions; the Procurator pronounced him a very practical man; the colonel of the garrison said that he was a learned gentleman; the Presiding Magistrate was convinced that he was a man of deep knowledge and great modesty; the Commissary of Police affirmed that Tchichikoff was very civil and amiable; but his wife proclaimed him to be the most amiable and well-bred man she had seen for some time. And even Sobakevitch, who seldom had a good opinion of any one, nevertheless, after his return home from town late at night, and whilst undressing and preparing to retire, said to his wife, a slender lady of not very prepossessing appearance: "My darling heart, I have spent the evening at his Excellency's the Lord-Lieutenant, I have dined with the Commissary of Police, and have made the acquaintance of Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, a Councillor of State; an exceedingly amiable gentleman!" whereupon the conjugal couple fell asleep.
Thus our hero had gained golden opinions from all manner of men in the good town of Smolensk, without in any way making known anything which might inform them as to the immediate object of his visit to that town. He was equally reserved as to his antecedents, but we fortunately are well acquainted with them, and for a better comprehension of the following story, we think it will be advisable to let our readers into the secret of Mr. Tchichikoff's birth, parentage, and education.
It is a very dubious circumstance whether the hero we have selected for our story will meet with much favour at the hands of our readers. Ladies he is sure not to please—and this assertion we advance confidentially—because ladies expect a hero to be a perfect creation, and if he present but the slightest mental or corporeal imperfection, then, woe to the author! However carefully he may describe his character, and were he even to draw his portrait brighter than a crystal mirror, his exertions, his talents, will be valueless, his time and labour thrown away.
The very corpulence and middle-age of Tchichikoff are calculated to injure him from the very outset: corpulence is unpardonable in a hero, and many fair ladies will turn away in disgust, and say, "Fie! how ugly, how very uninteresting!" Alas! all this is but too well known to the author, for the more he has looked about him, the more he has found it the case that perfect heroes are the only ones that meet with success in this world.
On glancing at all the productions of foreign genius, he has never met with any but fair and perfect heroes and heroines, and even in "Uncle Tom's Cabin" he was astonished at finding none but youthful, fair, and virtuous sufferers.
These, then, are the characters that have met, and still seem to meet with unbounded success in the reading world, though they have been, in our humble opinion, hunted down as it were with a Russian knout, ever since romance became fashionable. Our task, as a Russian author, is a very difficult one indeed, and especially so at the present moment; and unless we can lay before our reader something unmistakeably original, we ought not to have ventured on it. However, trusting in indulgence, and boldly asserting that the perfect and virtuous heroes are completely used up, we beg to introduce an imposing hero.
Dark and humble is the origin of our friend Tchichikoff. His parents he knew belonged to a lower degree of nobility, but whether of hereditary or acquired rank, he was profoundly ignorant; there was no family resemblance between them; at least, such was the opinion of a near relative of his mother's, a woman who was present at his birth. She exclaimed, as she took the new born babe in her arms, "He has not at all turned out what I expected he would be! He ought at least to have resembled his mother," which would have been even better, but he was born simply as the proverb says, "not like his father nor like his mother, but like a passing stranger."
His early life presented but acid-tasteing incidents and recollections, as if regarded through a pane of glass frozen over and covered with snow; he had no friend, no play companion in his early youth. He greeted the world in a country-house with low windows, which were never opened either in winter or summer; his father was a sickly-looking man, who wore a long kaftan or surtout, felt shoes on his bare feet, kept continually heaving deep sighs, walked up and down his room with evident preoccupation, and used to spit frequently into a spittoon standing in a corner; he also sat often uninterruptedly upon a wooden chair before a table with a pen in his hand and some ink on his fingers, and even upon his lips, his eyes fatigued by eternal copyings.
"Never tell a falsehood, fear God and pray for the Emperor, respect your superiors and cherish your benefactors," were the sentences and exhortations to which our hero had to listen while still a child and incapable of judging their importance; the continual and uniform noise of his father's feet clad in their felt shoes, and dragging across the floor, accompanied by the well-known but harsh voice of his parent, saying, "You are noisy again, you little rogue!" This is the triste picture of his early childhood, of which he had now scarcely preserved a faint recollection.
But in life all changes unexpectedly; on a fine and sunshiny morning in the spring, when snow had disappeared from the fields and the roads, the father took his son and seated himself with him in a modest telega, drawn by a small horse of the race called 'the hawk' by Russian horse dealers; this open equipage was guided by a little hunchbacked coachman, the only representative of his family and the only serf Tchichikoff's father possessed, as he was also the only servant to do all the work in his master's house. This hawk-race horse dragged them along the high road for more than two days and a half; they slept on the road, crossed the brooks and rivers, fed on cold fish pies and roast mutton, and arrived only late on the third day in the small town of Bobruisk, their destination.
Before the eyes of the little boy, glittered in unexpected magnificence the houses, shops, and streets of the little town, and so much was he at first bewildered by what he saw that he involuntarily opened his mouth widely, and kept it so for some time. His ecstacy was, however, interrupted by the quadruped hawk, falling with the telega into a deep hole, which was the entrance into a narrow lane, which led, as they advanced, down a steep declivity and was buried in mud on either side; for a long time the poor hawk-horse kept exerting itself and kicking about on all fours, assisted by both the hunchbacked coachman and the master himself, until at last the strength of all three combined brought the vehicle out of the hole, and before a small modest-looking house, with two scrubby poplars before and a small insignificant garden behind.
This house was inhabited by a relation of Tchichikoff's mother, an old trembling woman much advanced in years, and who, notwithstanding her age, went every morning to market, and on her return from there, used to dry her wet stockings by holding them up and close to the samovar! When she beheld the little boy, she took him on her knees, clapped his rosy cheeks with both her hands, and seemed exceedingly pleased with his childish corpulence. With this original and affectionate woman he was to remain for the future, and go daily to the parish-school of the town of Bobruisk.
After passing the night with them, his father left them the next morning and started at once on his road home again. At their separation no tears flowed from the parental eyes, but he presented his son with half a rouble, a few caresses and what is more valuable still, with the following exhortations:
"Now then my boy, Pavluschka, study and learn, do not be foolish nor become a good-for-nothing boy, but try as much as possible to please and always obey your masters. If you obey your superiors; then, whether you have been successful or not in your studies, if Providence refuses you natural talents, you will still be able to get on in the world and go-ahead, even before all others. Have little or nothing to do with gay companions, they will teach you nothing good; but if you cannot avoid making acquaintances, then he upon friendly terms only with those richer than yourself, for they might be later of use to you by their influence. Do not drink or play foolish tricks by standing treat, but conduct yourself in such a manner that others may treat and compliment you. Above all, be careful and economic and spare and gather up all your pence, for money is the most influential thing in this world. Your friends and gay companions will be the first to betray and desert you in case of need, but the money you have saved will never betray you in whatever circumstances you may find yourself placed. You can do much and succeed in everything in this world provided you have money."
After concluding his instructions and advice, the father parted with his son, took his seat on his telega, and the quadruped-hawk trotted along the high road towards home, and from that time the lowly little boy never saw his fond parent again; but his parting words and advice remained deeply impressed in his innocent soul.
Young Pavluschka went to school, immediately, on the following day. Any particular talent, for any particular science, was not observable in the boy; he distinguished himself more by assiduous application and orderly behaviour: but his want of talent, was counterbalanced by a mind full of practical wisdom. He at once understood and appreciated his peculiar position, and behaved in regard to his companions in such a manner, that they not only treated him always, but even gave him an excellent opportunity to reserve the greatest portion of the sweet-meats and knick-knacks, to sell at a later date, on very advantageous terms, to the very donors. Whilst still a child, he possessed sufficient strength of mind to refuse himself, and abstain from everything. Of the half-rouble given to him on the departure of his father, he had not spent a single copek, on the contrary, at the end of the year the sum at his disposal had increased considerably, showing nearly an incredible result of his carefulness and speculative mind. He commenced his speculation by making an hussar on horseback, out of wax, and sold him uncommonly advantageously. After this, his first success, he ventured sometime later into a variety of other speculations; such as buying honey-cakes in the marketplace, which he took with him to school and seated himself near those of his school-fellows, who were the richest, and as soon as he saw them moving about on their forms, with evident uneasiness, he took it for granted that his friend felt the pang of hunger, and immediately passed him under the bench a honey-cake or a copek-loaf, for which the other was but too glad to pay him at once, in order to satisfy the cravings of his boyish appetite.
He passed nearly two months at home devoting all his time and attention to the education of a mouse, for which he had made with his own little hands a wooden cage, and at last he had succeeded so far as to make the little animal sit up on its hind legs, lie down and get up again when commanded, and ultimately sold it very advantageously indeed. When he had economised about five roubles, he got himself a small bag, which he had sown himself, put the round sum of five into it, tied the bag up, and began to collect his rising capital in another.
As regards his conduct towards his teacher, he behaved himself, if possible, with even more wisdom. It must be observed that the master of that school was extraordinarily fond of quietude and good conduct, and could not bear the sight of intelligent and lively boys; he imagined that they would infallibly laugh at him. It was sufficient for any of the more intelligent boys to show their talent or make the master guess that they possessed some, even if it was betrayed by a slight movement with the eye-brows, it would have been sufficient to attract upon them his anger and resentment. He would persecute and punish the intelligent boy with unrelenting severity.
"'Twill cure you of your pretentions and want of respect, you saucy boy, and bring you back to your right senses; I'll make you kneel down—you shall have a day's fasting!" And the poor boy, not able to account for his punishment, had to kneel down and fast nearly every day.
"Disposition and talent! all that is stuff and nonsense!" he used to say: "I only look at your conduct. I will give any boy good marks for all sciences, no matter whether he know even the alpha of it, provided his conduct is good and praiseworthy; but wherever I observe a spirit of insubordination and inclination to ridicule, I'll give that boy a nought, whether he be talented enough to put a Solomon in his pocket!"
Thus spoke the master in the public school of Bobruisk, to his pupils, no doubt because he had himself been brought up in an establishment where the silent system was carried to such a perfection that a fly would have been heard flying across the school-room; where not one of the scholars in the course of the whole year had had ever any occasion to cough or blow his nose, and when not even the slightest noise ever betrayed that there were any scholars assembled.
Tchichikoff was also successful herein, and at once understood the animus of his school-master, and in what his general conduct towards him ought to consist. He never winked once, nor did he raise his eye-brows during the whole time the school hours lasted, however mischievously his school-fellows pinched and annoyed him; scarcely had he heard the bell ring as a sign for their dismissal, when he rushed forward before anyone else could have a chance, to hand his master his three-cornered headdress; when he had shown him this attention, he generally hastened to leave the school immediately, and always managed so well, as to meet his master at least three times on his road home, in order to have an opportunity to salute him, and take his cap off in the most respectful manner.
His manœuvres with his school-master were crowned with complete success. During the whole time of his being at the school, he always received the best marks, and on leaving it he was dismissed with the most flattering testimonials, and presented with a book with gold edges, and the following inscription in gold letters: "For praiseworthy application, and meritorious conduct."
When Tchichikoff left the school, he made his appearance in the world as a young man of very prepossessing appearance, and with a chin that already had begun to require the services of a razor. At the very same period he lost in quick succession his fond parents. The inheritance left to him consisted of four worn-out flannels, two old and irretrievable coats lined with squirrel skins, and a trifling sum of money. His father had been, as it seemed, an excellent adviser as regarded economy, and the principles connected with it, but had done little himself to cultivate that virtue, for the little he left his son was very unimportant indeed. Tchichikoff sold at once the modest house and the small stretch of land attached to it for a thousand roubles, and took his hunchbacked servant and his then two little boy serfs Selifan and Petruschka with him to the town of Pskov, where he intended to establish himself, and enter the service.
During the time of his preparations for departure from Bobruisk, his old school-master, who had been so very fond of silence and good conduct, had been dismissed in his turn from the public school, either for his stupidity or some similar reason. The poor master, overwhelmed with grief at his disgrace, addicted himself to drinking, and at last could not even satisfy that inclination from the want of the necessary funds; ill in health, without a crust of bread or any assistance, he hid himself and his sorrows in a miserable cold hovel.
Some of his former scholars, especially those who had displeased him so particularly, on account of their malicious intelligence, when they heard of his pitiable condition, immediately raised a subscription in his favour among them, depriving themselves even of many little necessaries to assist the poor ruined man. Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff was the only one who lacked generosity; he contributed the smallest silver coin of the realm, adding that he could afford no more; his colleagues refused to accept the donation, and called him a miserable specimen of selfishness personified.
The poor school-master, when he heard of this trait of one whom he considered his best scholar, covered his face with both hands, and burst into a flood of tears, which trickled down his pale and meagre cheeks like shot, until his eyes became dim like those of a crying child. "On my death-bed Heaven has condemned me to shed tears over a serpent," exclaimed he at last, in a feeble voice, and then added again: "Oh, Pavel Pavluschka! it is thus, then, that men can change! and when I think of it again, what an excellent boy he used to be, always of an exemplary conduct, no vestige of malice in him! He has deceived me, cruelly deceived me!" And hereupon the instructor of Tchichikoff's early youth breathed his last.
Nevertheless, it cannot be said that the nature of our hero was of a harsh and unfeeling description, or to such a degree insensible that he did not feel pity and sympathy for the sufferings of others; he felt the one as well as the other, he would have been even glad to alleviate the wants of his friends, provided they would not prove expensive, nor oblige him to break into that sum of money, which he had laid aside with the intention of not touching it under any circumstances, for he bore in mind his father's advice: "Take care and economise your copeks, or you will come to a bad end." However, he had no particular attachment to money, for the sake of money, he was not ruled by a stingy feeling of saving, nor was he a niggard. No, he was not animated with an insatiable desire for wealth, for the sake of keeping it hidden; life opened itself before him with all its attractions for a youthful mind; he wished to possess a beautifully furnished house, carriages and horses, and numerous serfs and servants, such were the thoughts that begun early to pre-occupy his mind.
And it was in order to obtain all these wishes and comforts in the course of time and his life, that he economised every copek he possibly could, and that he strictly refused himself in his earlier years all pleasures, or to others any assistance. Whenever he happened to see a wealthy parvenu drive along the streets, showing off a splendid droschki, and richly caparisoned horses, he would stop short and admire him with an air of envy, and forget himself in the sight before him, then suddenly recovering as if from a dream, add: "Some years ago you were perhaps a serf, you have purchased your freedom, and are rich; but for all that I see your origin by the peculiar cut of your hair!"
And the sight of all those that appeared to him to enjoy fortune and comforts, produced upon him a sorrowful impression to a certain degree inexplicable to himself. When he had left his school, and disposed of his trifling estate, he would not allow himself even the least relaxation, but was full of anxiety to begin his task in life at once, and enter the service in a civil capacity without delay. However, notwithstanding his excellent testimonials, he obtained with great difficulty a modest situation in a government office.
And heaven knows that in a country like Russia, the greatest talent is worth little without influential protection to back it! The place he held in the government office was an insignificant one which brought him an annual revenue of no more than forty or fifty roubles. But he was determined to work hard, to overcome all difficulties, and to succeed. And, really, perseverance, patience, and self-denial were qualities which he revealed in an incredible perfection. From the early morning until late at night, never feeling the fatigues of body and mind, he continued, to apply himself to his writings and copies; he never went home, but slept upon the benches and tables of the government office, he used to dine often even with the porter and servants; but with all that he knew how to preserve cleanliness and a respectable appearance in his dress, to give a pleasant expression to his face, and even assume some semblance of nobility in his movements and manners.
It must be observed that the official servants of the crown distinguish themselves generally by neglected, and in every respect disadvantageous appearance and manners. And this was especially the case with the colleagues of Tchichikoff; the faces of some of them looked really like badly-baked bread; the one had a cheek all on one side, another a chin out of proportion, a third was gifted with an upper lip as large as a bladder, which even used to burst now and then, in a word, they were far from being handsome. They used to speak in a harsh and unpleasant tone of voice, as if they had conspired to cut some ones' throat; they were addicted to pay frequent tributes to Bacchus, proving by such an inclination that the Sclavonic race was still addicted to the worship of the heathen gods; they did not even mind making their appearance in the office tolerably inebriated, which spread an unpleasant perfume all around the place, and which was far from being aromatic.
In the midst of such an assembly of employés of the Imperial Government, it was impossible that such a man as Tchichikoff should remain unnoticed and undistinguished; presenting, as he did, in every respect such a striking contrast as regarded his personal appearance, general bearing, and above all other good qualities, total abstemiousness from any intoxicating drink, as if he had secretly joined some teetotal brotherhood in England.
Notwithstanding all these advantages in his favour, his path to glory was a very difficult one indeed: he happened to be the under-clerk of a chancery-judge, an elderly man, who was the very image of insensibility and sternness; always the same, unapproachable, whose face had never been wrinkled by a smile, whose lips had never whispered even an inquiry after another fellow-creature's health. Nobody could have said, that he ever knew this man, or saw him different from what he appeared daily, whether in the open street, or in his own lonely house; if he had shown but once a slight interest in anything, if he could have but once forgotten himself and his sternness by getting intoxicated, and then have betrayed a smile; if he could but for once have given himself up to a mad gaiety like the highwayman, who, after the capture of a rich booty gives way to intemperance and debauchery—but no, there was not a vestige of anything of this sort, in this granite man. There seemed absolutely nothing in the man; he was not a villain, and yet he possessed no virtues, and something awful seemed to replace the visible absence of all else.
The hard, marble-like features of his face, without any striking irregularities, presented no harmony; his harsh features were in an unpleasant contradiction with themselves. The traces and little holes left by small-pox which covered his whole face, were the only striking peculiarities which classed it among the number of those faces, upon which, according to a popular saying, the devil had been threshing peas over-night. Now, although it appeared, at first sight, as if human ingenuity would fail to ingratiate itself with such a being, nevertheless Tchichikoff made the attempt.
In the commencement of this superhuman design, he began by trying to anticipate his slightest wishes in the merest trifles; examined most carefully every one of the quills, with which he was in the habit of writing, and after having made them as it were to pattern, he took good care to place them always ready to his hand; blew and swept from his table the snuff as well as the dust; supplied him with a new rag for the use of his inkstand; found out the place where he used to keep his official cap, a most filthy affair, such as has, perhaps, been rarely seen before, and took good care to place it constantly close to him at the last moment of his sitting in the office; brushed his back, if the old man had happened to rub off the whitewash from the wall; but all the attentions remained without being in the slightest degree noticed, just as if they had never happened to be shown to him.
At last, however, Tchichikoff succeeded in putting his nose as it were into the household and domestic life of the old original, and discovered that he had an adult daughter, with a face resembling that of her father, that is to say, a face with traces upon it, as if the devil had been threshing peas on it over-night. Upon this quarter he now determined on directing his attacks. When he had ascertained to which church she was in the habit of going on Sunday, he watched her enter, and took up his position exactly opposite to her, carefully dressed, and with a stiff collar, and neatly-plaited shirt-front.
By this stratagem he ultimately succeeded; the stem chancery-judge began to waver, and gave him an invitation to tea; and, before the other officials had yet found time to look around them, Tchichikoff had brought matters to such a satisfactory conclusion for himself, that he soon saw himself established in the house, and living with the old chancery-judge. He had rendered himself a useful and indispensable servant to the old man, and went to market for him to purchase meal and sugar for him; towards his daughter he behaved as if she were his bride; as for the old judge, he had accustomed himself to call him dear papa, and ever kissed his hand.
All the officials of the judge now expected that at the end of the month of February, before the long and general fast began, their friend and colleague, Tchichikoff, would become the happy and chosen husband of their superior's daughter. The stern and harsh old judge now begun even to bestir himself in his favour and to push him forward, and really, in a short time after, Tchichikoff was himself promoted to the vacant seat of a chancery-judge. With this success also, seemed to terminate the principal aim of his intimacy with the stem old judge; because, scarcely had he been appointed to his new office, when he secretly removed all his property from the house of his patron, and on the following day he was already quite at home in his new apartments. He ceased henceforth to call the old chancery-judge, papa, nor did he ever after think of kissing his bony hand, and as for the anticipated marriage with the judge's daughter, it was left to oblivion, and as if such a subject had never been on the tapis. However, whenever he happened to meet the old man in the street, he would always advance civilly towards him, take him by the hand and invite him to a cup of tea at his house, so that the old judge, notwithstanding his eternal sternness and inexplicable indifference to anything generally, could not help shaking his grey head thoughtfully, and murmuring in his beard: "He has deceived me, awfully deceived me, this child of Satan!"
This was the most difficult passage during the whole course of Tchichikoff's eventful career. Thenceforward his progress towards position and fortune became easier, and in course of time he even became a man of some importance and weight. He now began to display all those qualities that ensure success in the world; agreeable in his manners, delicate in his actions, and enterprising in business. Blessed in the possession of such indispensable and valuable qualifications, he succeeded in a very short time in securing himself a certain income and independent position, from which he knew how to derive excellent advantages.
It must be observed that at that particular time, and in consequence of the bitter complaints that had reached the imperial ears about the merciless exactions of the official employés in the provinces of the Empire, the Lord-Lieutenants of the various governments had received strict injunctions to punish with the utmost severity the impudent impositions of the imperial servants, and courts of inquiry were everywhere held for the purpose of putting a stop to the sufferings of the people from these imperial blood-suckers. These courts of inquiry did not in anyway alarm Tchichikoff, on the contrary, he even knew how to derive advantages from this imperial ordinance, and he furnished a striking proof of the ingenuity of the Russian spirit, which is always prepared to find ways and means when necessity demands them.
In order to avoid any unpleasant consequences, he had adopted the following system: as soon as a petitioner presented himself before him and proceeded to explain his case, and put his hand into his pocket with the evident intention of producing from there the requisite letter patent of recommendation, in order to obtain his Excellency's the Prince Hovanskois' (as we call it familiarly) signature to his document, "No, no," he used to say, with a smile on his countenance, whilst stopping the egress of the generous hand, "you think, perhaps, that I—oh no, by no means. It is our bounden duty, we are obliged to attend to your interest without the slightest pretention to a private remuneration for our trouble. As regards your application, you may rest tranquil and assured it shall be attended to by to-morrow at latest. Allow me to request the favour of your address; you need not even take the least trouble further about the matter, all your documents shall be forwarded to your house."
The enchanted petitioner returned home quite in ecstacy, thinking to himself: "At last I have met an honest man among our imperial employés, and I should be very glad to see more men of a similar stamp among us. He is a real gem!" The delighted petitioner waits patiently for a day, and then a second, and then a third day passes without his business or application having been sent to his house as promised. He returns again to the government office, and finds that his business has not been even begun; he addresses himself to the invaluable gem.
"Oh, I beg of you a thousand pardons, my dear Sir!" says Tchichikoff, very politely, and affably laying hold of both the hands of the disappointed petitioner, "but really, we had so very much business on hand; however, by to-morrow you shall be attended to, absolutely, by to-morrow, and most punctually, I can assure you, my dear Sir, I feel quite ashamed at the delay!"
And all this was said in the most winning manner, and accompanied by the most civil courtesies. If, on such an occasion, his morning gown (imperial employés generally transact public business at home, and in a very dégagé costume,) should accidentally unfold itself; his hands were always prepared to cover up the folds and amend the négligé? appearance. But, notwithstanding these civil assurances, the petitioner's business was neither attended on the next day nor on the day following, nor even on the next day following the day following.
The disappointed petitioner began to repent; can there be anything the matter? He at last comes to the conclusion, that it has always been the custom to give a gratuity to the copying-clerks.
"And why should I not give a trifle to these poor fellows?" says he to a friend. "I know but too well how miserably the government pays their services; I am ready and willing to give them a couple of roubles, to be sure."
"A couple of roubles will never do; you will have to fork out a bank-note."
"What! a bank-note to copying-clerks?" demands again the astonished petitioner.
"Why do you seem surprised, or out of temper?" his friends ask him; "what you anticipate will happen according to your intentions; the copying-clerks will receive a couple of roubles, and the remainder of your bank-note will find its way into the pocket of their superior."
The perplexed and slow-minded petitioner strikes his forehead with his hand, and is surprised at the changes in this world, and the new polite customs that had suddenly sprung up among the imperial employés. Formerly, a petitioner knew exactly what to do, and how to behave himself: he had simply to present a ten-rouble note to the head employé, and his business was attended to; but now-a-day a twenty-five-rouble note seems scarcely sufficient, and you have even to wait for a week before you can guess it. The devil take the shameless civilities and nobility of the imperial employés!
Some time after his instalment in his new dignity, an excellent opportunity to advance his fortunes presented itself to Tchichikoff; a committee was being formed for the construction of a very extensive and capital government storehouse. Tchichikoff found ways and means to be elected a member of it, and soon proved himself to be one of the most active promoters. This committee began its operations immediately. During six years, the committee busied itself about the building: but, whether it was the harshness of the climate, or the fault of proper material, the Crown building never rose above its foundations.
Meanwhile, and at the other end of the town, there sprung up, as it were from the ground, houses built on the principles of modern architecture, and the individual property of each member of the building-committee. These members now began to enjoy the well-being of home comforts, and got married in quick succession. It was then, and then only, that Tchichikoff began by degrees to emancipate himself from the harsh laws of abstinence and pitiless privations which he had imposed upon himself. It was only now that he ventured to relax from his long tasting, and it seemed that he had not always been a stranger to the enjoyments of comfort and general well-being, from which he had had sufficient strength of mind to abstain during the years of his adolescence, when no man can pretend to have been complete master of his passions.
He now even went as far as to display a few extravagant propensities, such as keeping a cook of some reputation, and made the purchase of very fine Irish linen shirts. As for the cloth which he wore, it was no longer of such inferior quality as was worn by the other officials of the province; he began to bring into fashion different shades of coffee and snuff-colours, and similar brownish tints; he made the acquisition of a fine pair of carriage-horses, and used to drive about in a droschki and pair, holding the reins of one of the horses himself, and making the horse bend his neck into the shape of a ring; he also began to indulge in a fine Turkish sponge to wash his face with, mixing his water profusely with Eau-de-Cologne; he even went so far as to buy a peculiar kind of soap, which was very expensive, but possessed the virtue to render the skin of his face smooth and velvety; he already—
But suddenly—in the place of the former sleepy president of the building-committee, a new chairman was appointed by the imperial ordinance: a military man, severe and strict in his principles—a man who was an enemy to all impositions upon the public as well as upon the Crown; in short, a detester of falsehood in any shape. Immediately after the day of his arrival, he caused a general consternation among the members of the building-committee by demanding a report and an account of their proceedings, and found defalcations at every step of his investigations; he also discovered and inspected the houses of modern architecture. In consequence of all these discoveries, he assembled a general meeting, and pushed his inquiries with the utmost diligence and severity. All the employés connected with the building-committee were at once dismissed the service; their houses of modern architecture were confiscated for the benefit of the Crown, and changed into benevolent institutions and public schools; all was blown down, as it were, like castles in the air, and among the severest sufferers was our friend Tchichikoff.
His general countenance and his affable manners, strange to say, displeased the new president at first sight; the exact reason, Heaven only knew, sometimes such results will happen quite unaccountably, but the fact remained the same—the new president could not endure the sight of the old committee member. However, as he happened to be a military man, it was not likely that he could know much, if anything, of the ways and means of officers in the civil service; and in a very short time indeed, and thanks to a respectable exterior, and the knowledge of applying themselves to any and everything, other employés found an opportunity of ingratiating themselves in the good graces of the new president, and the new honest and upright commander found himself soon in the hands of another and, if possible, a more dishonest set of officials than the former, and of which fact he had no opportunity of convincing himself; he was even much satisfied at having at last met with honest men, such as the Crown ought always to employ, and boasted of his own judgment in the choice he had made.
His new employés guessed and understood their chiefs character at once. Every one of the men who were under his command, became desperate hunters after anything that bore the slightest semblance to falsehood; everywhere, and under all circumstances, they prosecuted untruth like a fisherman of the Volga would hunt after a fine sturgeon; and they hunted after it with so much perseverance and success, that in a very short time indeed every one found himself at the head of a capital of a few thousand roubles.
At that very same period, a number of the former employés of this same committee turned again upon the way of truth, and were graciously received again in the service with their colleagues. But Tchichikoff, notwithstanding his strenuous exertions to ingratiate himself again, and in spite of the protection of his intimate friend, the private secretary of Prince Hovanskoi, who had become the right-hand man of the new president of the building-committee, he could not succeed in obtaining for him the most insignificant appointment under the new manager of the imperial interest. The president was a man of a peculiar character, though he was led by the nose (of this fact he was of course unaware); he would persevere in his once fixed opinion, provided it had presented itself to his mind and attention, and whenever it had taken root in his head, it would remain fixed there like a nail; nothing would ever be strong enough to extricate it from there, for he was frill of tenacity.
All that his friend, the private secretary of the Prince, could possibly obtain for Tchichikoff, was the destruction of the sullied certificate of his services as an employé in the building-committee; and even this favour he could only extract from his superior by a representation in the most touching terms of the pitiable position of Tchichikoff's family, which, by the bye, he had the good fortune of counting among the things that were not in existence.
"Well!" said Tchichikoff to himself, "it seems the bow could not stand the stretching. Tears will not amend the fault; I must betake myself to another task." And determined on beginning his career anew, he put on once more the armour of patience, and again subjected himself to every species of privations, however unpleasant they seemed now, after having accustomed himself to enjoy even luxuries. He was obliged to remove to another town, and make himself again notable, if not notorious.
Somehow or another, matters did not go on satisfactorily at all. He was obliged to resign two or three appointments in a very short space of time: the duties were in his opinion rather onerous and mean. It must be observed that Tchichikoff was a man of such unexceptionable propriety, it would have been difficult to meet with another like him anywhere in the broad Russian Empire. Although he had been obliged to wind his way through the midst of a sullied society, yet he had always succeeded in keeping his heart and his person clean; he was fond of holding an appointment in an office where the tables were well polished, and where gentlemanly habits were strictly regarded. He was never guilty of coarse expressions in his conversation, but was always offended when others omitted to show due respect to rank and position.
It will perhaps be interesting to our reader to know, that he had the habit of changing his linen every other day, and in summer, during the excessive heat, even every day; the least odour gave offence to his olfactory nerves. For this very reason, whenever his servant Petruschka came to undress him and take off his boots, he used to hold a smelling-bottle to his nose, whilst in many other instances his nerves were as sensitive as those of a young girl; and for this reason it was all the more difficult to him to accustom himself again to the habits of those who were addicted to the use of strong spirits, and generally displayed unbecoming manners. However much he tried to exert himself to keep up a good spirit within him, he nevertheless could not help pining away, and becoming even of a lemon-coloured complexion from the reverses of fortune.
He had already begun to grow corpulent and assume those pleasant and round forms, in which the reader found our hero at the commencement of the acquaintance with him, and more than once he had smiled at himself whilst looking at his face in the mirror and whilst whispering many a pleasant and insinuating smile; but now when he happened to look at himself furtively into the looking glass, he could not help exclaiming: "Holiest mother! how ugly I look to be sure!" And after this he would not venture to examine himself for a long while. However he endured and conquered the vicissitudes man-folly and patiently, and—at last entered the government service again, as a custom-house officer, in the frontier town of Bialystock.
We must here observe, that the custom-house service had been already for a considerable time the secret object of his wishes and speculation, because that particular branch of administration constitutes the chief revenue of the Empire, and consequently allowed the best pay to the officers employed in the service. But this was not the only reason for his giving the preference to a custom-house appointment. He saw with what exquisite articles of refinement all the custom-house officers used to parade in town, what fine china and linens they all sent to their sweethearts, sisters and cousins. And many a time he had already exclaimed, whilst heaving a deep sigh: "Oh, how I should like to get an appointment in the custom-house! the frontier is not far off, the people seem all more enlightened, and especially, what an excellent chance to provide one-self with fine linen!"
We must add, that at the same time, he also thought of the expensive French soaps, which had the virtue to increase and preserve the complexion! what its particular denominations was, heavens only knew, but accordingly to his suppositions, it would certainly absolutely be found at the frontier. And he therefore had long felt a desire to get himself an appointment in the custom-house; but he was prevented from sending in an application, on account of the advantageous profits which he derived from the building-committee, and in this his judgment was correct. Whatever the advantages of a custom-house appointment might offer in spe, they were nevertheless like a lark in the skies, whilst the building-committee was like an owl in his hands. Now was his time to exert himself to the utmost, and obtain the long wished for appointment in the custom-house, and really he at last obtained his wish.
He started upon his new duties with an unusual eagerness. Such abilities, penetration and application as he displayed in his new functions had not only never been witnessed before, but even never heard of. In less then three or four weeks after his appointment to office, he had so perfectly rendered himself master of everything, that his equal could not be found; he knew and understood all—he had no necessity either to weigh or measure anything, but knew from the invoices how many arschines a piece of cloth or silk contained; or on taking a piece of goods in his hands, he could say exactly how many pounds it weighed.
As regarded the regular business of an excise-man, namely, "searching," he displayed as his colleagues used to express themselves, the scent of a pointer; it was perfectly impossible not to be surprised, on seeing how he could display so much patience and trouble to touch and examine even every button, but all this was done with a killing coolness and an incredible politeness. And at the time, when the persons thus exposed to his "researches," were annoyed to madness, and lost their temper, and felt a wicked inclination to smash his pleasant countenance, he would, without changing either the expression of his face, or his polite manners, only add: "Would you, perhaps, have any objection to incommode yourself a little by rising from your seat?" or, "Would your ladyship have the kindness to step into the other room?" (even the ladies are not spared the annoyances of custom-house officers in Russia.) "There your ladyship will find the wife of one of our officials, who will have the honour to explain to you the regulations of the custom-house," or, "Will you allow me to rip up with this small pen-knife a little of the wadding of your cloak?" and saying this, and suiting the action to the word, he would produce from there, shawls and dresses as coolly as if he was taking them out of his own portmanteau.
His superiors even pronounced their opinion about him in the following terms, "that he was the devil himself and not a man:" he made his "researches" in carriage wheels, harness, and even in the ears of the horses, and heaven knows where he did not search for contraband goods; at any rate, an author would never hit upon the idea of searching in those places, where a custom-house officer has the right to pry.
The poor traveller who happened to leave or enter the Empire on that particular frontier, was sure to feel for some minutes at least, after the custom-house officer had performed his duty, the cold perspiration run down all over his body, and exclaim perhaps whilst crossing himself; "This is rather carrying custom-house regulations too far!" The position of a traveller who had the misfortune to fall in the hands of Tchichikoff, must have been similar to that of a schoolboy rushing out of the master's room, where he had entered under the impression that he would receive a simple reprimand, and where he had unexpectedly met with a sound thrashing.
In the course of a very short season indeed, those persons, who were in the habit of carrying on a regular system of contraband trade were completely ruined by his watchfullness. He was the terror and ruin of the whole of the Polish Jew race. His faith and honesty were unimpeachable—almost unnatural. He even declined to accept a portion of such monies as were the result of sales of the various confiscated goods or trifling sundry articles, which were not accounted for to the Crown, in order to avoid loss of time and expense.
Such zealous and disinterested service could not fail to become the subject of general admiration and surprise, and found at last its recompense with the higher authorities. He was knighted and elevated to the rank of Councillor of State, and soon after be submitted a project for capturing all contrabandists, asking only the favour to be appointed the executor of his scheme and for the necessary means. He was immediately invested with unlimited power, and the privilege of search wherever he thought proper. This was all he could wish for. At that time a large and powerful contraband society had been formed, based upon a regular system of fraud upon the Crown; more than a million worth of goods secretly imported into the Empire, yielded double the amount to this bold enterprize.
Tchichikoff had had long since an idea of this organization, and had even twice already repelled the envoys who had been sent to bribe him; but he refused to listen to any of their proposals, adding dryly, "It is not yet time." But scarcely had he obtained uncontrolled authority in everything, when he in the next moment after his confirmation, sent word to the secret associations, saying: "Now is the time."
His calculations were but too just. Now he stood a chance of gaining in one year, that which he could perhaps have never acquired otherwise in twenty. At the beginning of the foundation of this society, he would not have anything to do with them; because he was nothing else but a simple custom-house officer, consequently, besides perhaps compromising himself, his share in the transactions would have been insignificant; but now, now it was quite a different affair altogether; he was a Councillor of State, and could therefore fix his own terms.
In order to ensure speed and complete success, he even gained over another colleague of his, who could not resist the luring temptation, although he was already a greyhaired man. The conditions between the two contracting parties, namely the imperial employés and the contrabandists, were securely fixed, and the smuggling association began its operations.
The beginning of their operations was brilliant; some of our readers might perhaps have heard some time ago of the long-forgotten history of the wise Spanish sheep, who went out travelling in double coats; well, these very same Spanish sheep with a double fleece, imported on this occasion, Brussels lace of nearly one million roubles value. This was the first operation upon the interests of the Crown in which Tchichikoff played a prominent part. Had he presided over and led this undertaking himself, not even the cleverest and acutest Jew in the world would have ever succeeded in carrying out such a daring enterprize. After three or four journeys of the Spanish sheep across the frontier line, both chief custom-house officers had realized a capital of about four hundred thousand roubles each. It was even said, that Tchichikoff's share in the enterprize exceeded half a million roubles, because he was so much more daring.
Heaven knows to what incalculable amount these already very round and handsome sums of money would have increased in the course of time, if some evil spirit had not crossed in a fatal moment their path. The devil set the two chief officers by the ears; to speak intelligibly and simply, the two employés picked a quarrel about a mere nothing. Somehow or another, perhaps in a moment of excitement, and perhaps even while under the influence of a glass or two of good wine, Tchichikoff happened to call his worthy colleague a staròver (dissenter), and the other, though he really was a staròver, it is impossible to say why, felt horribly insulted, and answered him there and then, immediately, loudly, and in an unusually cutting tone of voice, as follows: "You lie! I am a Privy Councillor of State, and not a staròver; but as for you, you are a staròver!" And then he also added, a few minutes later, and as if to spite his friend: "Yes, take that and all!"
Though he had in this manner shaved the other, as it were, by retorting on him the appellation applied to himself, and though the expression of "Yes, take that and all!" might have had a powerful meaning; not satisfied with this, he sent in to government a secret information against Tchichikoff. However, it was said, that besides this quarrel, there was another cause of difference between them; and it was rumoured about, that it was concerning a woman, young, fresh, and healthy as a sweet beet-root, according to the expressions of the other custom-house officials; it was also known that some bravos had been hired to give a sound thrashing to our hero, which had really happened on a certain fine evening; but that, in the end, both superior's friends had been made fools of by the fair woman, and that a certain Stabz-Capitän Schamschareff gained the day over them, and succeeded in carrying the fair Briseïs off before their very noses.
The nearer particulars of this affair are wrapped in obscurity, and we therefore leave it to our courteous reader to imagine the details according to their own taste. The most important of all was, that the secret connection between our hero and the smugglers became known to the superior authorities. And though the Privy Councillor of State had ruined the simple Councillor of State through his infamous denunciation, he did not escape the due punishment himself, but was immediately degraded and dismissed.
Tchichikoff and his coadjutor were arrested and brought up to judgment, all their property was confiscated for the benefit of the Crown, and their misfortune and disgrace broke over them like a thunder-storm. When the storm was over, and when they began to recover again a little, they seemed quite horror-struck when they looked upon what they had been guilty of. The Privy Councillor could not resist the shock, and died soon after, but the simple Councillor of State bore up more manfully. He had succeeded in secreting a considerable amount of his fortune, notwithstanding the strictest investigations of the Court of Inquiry that was held over them. He used the finest diplomacy the human mind is capable of to extricate himself as advantageously as possible from his disgraceful position, and his experience assisted him in this most powerfully, for he knew already well enough of what stuff the men with whom he had to deal were made; he employed the greatest circumspection, his politest manners, the most touching and persuasive terms, burnt incense and confused his judges by a profusion of flattery, which did not in the least injure his position; he even went so far as to consider money no object, provided he could succeed in extricating himself; in a word, he turned the tables so well in his favour, that he could reappear again in the world, at least not so much disgraced as his more unfortunate colleague, for he ultimately succeeded, though narrowly, in escaping from being sent to Siberia.
Tchichikoff's reserve funds had, however, dwindled down to a mere trifle; his splendidly furnished house with all its foreign refinements was taken from him and given as a reward to some other official. All that was left to him, amounted to a sum of about ten thousand roubles, besides a couple of dozen fine Holland shirts, a convenient, light britchka, to which bachelors give the preference for travelling purposes, and two faithful serfs, his coachman Selifan and his valet Petruschka, (the little hunchback had died some time before), and we must also not forget to mention that his former colleagues in office, moved by compassion at his disgrace and sad prospects—for they believed him penniless—had had the generosity to leave him a few pieces of that peculiar French soap which possesses the virtue of preserving the freshness of the skin; and this was all that he could call his property.
And it was in such a position that our hero made his appearance! Such then was the excess of misfortunes that befel him! And this it was what he called in Smolensk to suffer in the service for truth and the just cause. Now the conclusion might have been drawn that, after so many sad experiences and changes of fortune and position in life, he would wisely retire with his round sum of ten thousand roubles into a small and quiet provincial town, and put on for ever a comfortable Tartar cotton morning-gown, and seat himself at the window of some modest private house, and look on a Sunday at the fights and quarrels of the mouzhiks before him in the street; or take a walk in the poultry-yard, and feed with his own hands the fowl which he would like to have cooked for his dinner, and would have continued to lead a quiet and retired though not entirely useless existence.
However, it did not happen thus. Justice must be rendered to his unconquerable fortitude of character. All that had happened to him would perhaps, if not have killed another man, at least would have served him as a caution and quieted him; but with our hero it was not so, the inward flame of his passion was as ardent as ever. He felt acute grief and vexation, swore at the whole world, angry at the injustice of Providence, disgusted at the injustice of men in general; but for all that he could not forbear making new essays. In a word, he displayed such an extraordinary amount of patience and perseverance, against which the wooden patience and perseverance of a German are nothing, because it is constitutional with them.
Tchichikoff's blood, on the contrary, was like an ever-playing fountain, and it was requisite for him to possess a powerful will and wisdom, to bridle all those passions which would have liked to escape and enjoy unbounded freedom. He began to muse and to reflect on the past and on the future, and the conclusions he arrived at were not at all devoid of sound judgment.
"Why should it be always I? Why should I continually be the victim of a cruel destiny? Who is the man in our empire who lingers over his duties? All, the whole nation, from the Emperor himself down to the meanest serf, all have their mind bent upon acquisition. I have ruined nobody; I have not robbed the lonely widow, nor have I made any children orphans. I have derived profit from superfluities, have only taken what every one else in my place would have taken; if I had not profited by the chance offered me, others would have done so. Why should others alone enjoy wealth and comforts, and why I alone be condemned to live and die like a worm?
"And what am I now? For what am I good now? With what countenance should I now be able to look into the face of any pater familias? How can I escape the pangs of shame, knowing that I walk uselessly on the face of the earth: and what will my children say when I am dead and gone? They will say our father was a villain: he left us no position, no fortune!"
It is already well known to our readers that Tchichikoff was particularly anxious about his heirs. A very tender subject. Many a man would perhaps venture head and neck, if it was not for the question which presses itself inexplicably upon him—"What, will my children say?" And the possible head of a future generation, like a precautious cat, looking sideways to espy if his master is in the way, seizes hurriedly everything that happens to be near him, either a piece of soap, some candles, tallow, or a canary bird if it should happen to fall under its claws; in a word, he allows nothing to escape.
Thus lamented our disconsolate hero: meanwhile his activity was not extinguished within him; it only slumbered for a while. There was always something that preoccupied his mind, and only waited for the chance of a sound plan. He armed himself once more with his peculiar virtues, and determined again to begin an active and difficult life; he again submitted himself to the well-known privations of former life, and again from an elevated and respectable position, he launched himself into sullied and low life. And in the expectation of something better turning up, he was obliged to accept the situation of a commission-agent, a profession yet badly received and acknowledged by our citizens, pushed about on all sides, shabbily paid and treated with disregard and even with contempt. However, necessity obliges us to many things, and also excuses them, and our hero therefore determined upon accepting the situation.
Among a variety of business with which he had been entrusted, was also the following: to mortgage in the Imperial Bank of the Council of Guardians, a few hundred serfs. The nobleman who had commissioned him to undertake this business was ruined, and reduced to the last extremity. His landed property was already completely encumbered, by an epidemic among his cattle, villainous and dishonest stewards, bad harvests, epidemic diseases which had carried off numbers of his most valuable serfs, and at last by the follies of the nobleman himself, who had purchased and furnished a house in St. Petersburg at an extravagant expense but in the last Parisian fashion, and who had spent upon this mad fancy his last rouble, so that he had nothing to eat. And for this reason, he was obliged to have recourse to the last extremity, and determine upon parting with his life estate.
The Imperial Bank for the mortgage of landed property and serfs, under the title of Council of Guardians, is one of the numerous paternal institutions of recent date, and of all of which his Majesty the Emperor is himself the head. The transactions of the Imperial Council of Guardians claim his peculiar attention, and consist chiefly in advancing monies to such noblemen of the Empire as have become embarrassed from various causes, but principally from such as we have already alluded to. The monies of the Crown are advanced upon real estate, namely upon land and serfs. It is principally left to the Council of Guardians to fix the period for repayment of the advanced funds, and if the nobleman thus assisted cannot redeem his mortgaged property in due time, it is again left to the discretion of the Imperial Council of Guardians to have the property of the nobleman valued by a special committee, and then it is sold to the Crown, which, after refunding itself, hands the residue to the thus ruined nobleman.
This system of paternal accommodation, which the Russian nobility enjoys at the hands of his Majesty the Emperor, fully accounts for the enormous number of Crown serfs, which number has increased since the establishment of the Imperial Council of Guardians nearly to a million souls.
At the time when Tchichikoff was intrusted with the mortgage of those few hundred serfs, the Council of Guardians had been but recently established, yet much of its operations had already transpired, and circulated among the nobility, and for that reason they were very reluctant to profit by this paternal accommodation. Tchichikoff, in his capacity of agent, had received instructions to conclude the mortgage of the serfs on the most advantageous terms; he therefore thought it proper to dispose everything favourably, (without previously well disposing a few of the Imperial employés, it would be hopeless to apply for anything like information, and it is therefore advisable to smooth their throats with a profusion of port and sherry), and thus, having as far as necessary well-disposed every one of the employés in the Council of Guardians, with whom he would have to transact business, he explained his errand to be connected with a very peculiar circumstance.
"Half of the serfs I wish to mortgage, have died since my arrival here at Moscow, and I am therefore alarmed lest there might be some misunderstanding about them later—"
"But allow me to ask you," said the secretary of the Board of Guardians, "are these two hundred serfs we are now speaking about, included in the census your nobleman has handed in to government, when the last census was taken?"
"Yes, they are included," answered Tchichikoff.
"If so, I can see no reason why you should feel faint-hearted?" the secretary returned, "if the one dies, another is born, and thus makes up the deficiency."
Meanwhile, a sublime idea seized upon the imagination of our hero, a thought that had perhaps never occurred to human mind before.
"Oh, I am the very image of simplicity," he said to himself, "I am looking about for my gloves, and have them already on my hands. Suppose I were to buy up all those serfs that have died lately, and before the new census is taken, suppose I made the acquisition of about a thousand dead serfs, and, suppose the Council of Guardians was to make me the trifling advance of two hundred roubles for each such serf; that would make a capital of two hundred thousand silver roubles. And now is just my time, an epidemic has but recently ravaged the whole of the country, and, thank Heaven, the number of people that have died from it is not insignificant at all. The country gentlemen have lost much, thanks to their gambling propensities, they have spent a deal in feasting, and have, in fact, ruined themselves most satisfactorily; all seem to have hurried off to St. Petersburg, to seek for appointments at court; their estates are neglected, and are administered any how, the payment of imposts to the Crown becomes with every year more difficult, and therefore, I am led to suppose that they will be glad to cede to me their valueless dead serfs, in order to avoid the payment of the annual tax upon them till the return of the next census; it might even happen that some of them will not only jump at my offer to purchase their valueless stock, but even pay me something extra for my generosity, my philanthrophy.
"Nevertheless, and, of course, it is a difficult, a complicated, a dangerous undertaking, for I might easily get myself into serious trouble, perhaps cause a great scandal, be sent to Siberia.... But wisdom an imagination have been given for some purpose to man. That, the most encouraging feature in my speculation, is, that the subject will appear incredible to every one, nobody will ever believe it. It is true, according to a recent ukase, it is impossible to buy serfs without the land they were born upon, nor can they be mortgaged without it. But I mean to purchase them for emigration, yes, for settling them elsewhere, now vast tracts of land are granted for a mere nothing in the provinces of Kherson, and close to the Turkish frontiers.
"It is there that I will settle them; in the government of Kherson; close to the Turkish frontiers; let them live among the heathens. As for their privilege of emigration, that can be done lawfully, and according to the sense of the imperial ukase, all this can be legally settled in the proper courts of the Crown. If they should ask me the proofs of the existence of such serfs? Why not? I shall not be at a loss to do even that, and from the very returns of the census, and with the genuine signature of the Capitän-Ispravnik (district judge). The new village which is to spring so suddenly into existence, I shall call 'Tchichikoff's New Settlement,' or according to the name which I received at my baptism, make from Pavel, 'The Village of Pavlovsk.'"
It is in this manner that the strange idea on which our story is founded, formed itself, in the head of our hero; whether our reader will feel himself under any obligation to him, we do not know; but as for ourselves we must confess, we feel indebted to Tchichikoff for this subject beyond description. Whatever might be said for or against it, without Tchichikoff's idea this novel would never have made its appearance.
Making a devout sign of the cross in the Russian fashion, Tchichikoff set about the execution of his fixed plan immediately. With a view of choosing places of residences, and under other pretences, he set about examining here and there the various corners of our vast Empire, and paid particular attention to those districts where the sufferings and losses from various disasters, such as epidemics, bad harvests, and other causes, had been felt most severely; in a word, he sought for those districts where he might be able to buy his stock, namely, dead serfs, on the most advantageous terms.
He did not address himself at random to every landed proprietor, and serf-owner, but made his choice among them, and according to the best of his judgment; or he applied to those men, from whom he had every reason to anticipate no particular scruples about transacting this strange business with him; he therefore introduced himself to them under the most favourable auspices, made their particular acquaintance, tried to gain their favourable opinion and esteem, so that he might, if possible, obtain from them what he wanted in a friendly manner, and as cheaply as possible.
From this reason, therefore, our reader must not be displeased with us, if the characters that will be introduced to them during the progress of Tchichikoff's career are not entirely to their taste, this is the fault of Tchichikoff, but not ours; for we are obliged to follow him wherever he chose to go. As for ourselves, if any blame should be cast upon us, for bringing such uncomely characters before a British public, especially at this present critical moment when a war with Russia is being carried on, we can only express our regret at the fact, but our conscience forbids us to represent our countrymen in any other than the real light.
Such then was the character of our hero, such as circumstances had created it, and the contact with the world and life had fashioned it in later years! But it is very likely that a positive definition of one of his characteristic traits will be demanded; what is he really as regards his moral qualifications? that he is not a hero full of perfections and virtues, we must confess, is obvious at first sight. Who, or what is he then? he must be a villain? Why should he be a villain? Why should we be so severe towards others? There are no real villains to be met with now-a-day; there are well disposed persons, agreeable, and even unexceptionable persons, but such persons, as would exhibit their physiognomy to the gaze of the world, and present their cheek for a public box on the ear, of such persons it is likely that two or three might be met with, and then even, they have begun already to speak of the charms of virtue.
We shall therefore be justified in calling our hero; not like the French a chevalier d'industrie but in simple English terms; a gentleman acquirer. Acquisition is the root of a great many evils, and that threatens our peace even now. The desire of acquisition rages now in all classes of society, and especially in Russia, commencing from the Emperor himself, down to his meanest serf, all are mad with a desire for acquisition. Without this desire on the part of the Emperor for the acquisition of Turkey, the nation at large would not have acquired the fanaticism to stand by his side, and back his mad propensity for acquisition; why should it not he excusable in one of his humble subjects?
Such then was the object which had brought our friend Tchichikoff to the pleasant town of Smolensk; the purchase, namely, of dead serfs. During the progress of his schemes, he was thrown into much curious society, and met with numerous queer adventures; these will form the subject matter of our work. While accompanying our hero on his perilous journey, we shall become acquainted with almost every class of Russian society, and the whole will furnish us at the least with a faithful, if not a flattering, idea of that nation which holds itself at the present day, as the supporter of the orthodox Church, and future master of the world's destinies.
In itself, the nefarious scheme devised by our hero, affords an extraordinary instance of the cunning inherent in the Russian character, for its whole success was based on the knowledge he possessed of the utter baseness of the national character. None of the actors in this strange drama will appear to exhibit the slightest compunction about defrauding the government, as long as they can gain any slight advantage to themselves, and even the certainty of condign punishment in the very possible event of detection, cannot cause them to refrain from their innate propensity. The fact is an humiliating one, but in our character as the historian of an actual event, we have not dared to omit a single trait which may seem to elucidate our story. We only wish it was in our power to draw a pleasanter portrait of our countrymen, and we fervently trust that the time may yet arrive when such stories as the present one, may be numbered among things that were.
More than a week had already passed away since Tchichikoff's arrival in Smolensk, during which time he had continued paying morning visits and attending dinner and evening parties, and in so doing, had spent—as the common phrase goes—his time very pleasantly. At last he determined upon extending his civilities beyond the limits of the town, and resolved to turn his attention to the pressing invitations of the landowners in the vicinity; among whom Maniloff and Sobakevitch were those to whom he had made a formal promise. It is very possible too, that this resolution arose from another, a more positive, a graver motive; perhaps, even an affair of the heart. But of all this the reader may learn more by degrees, and in proper time, if he will only take the trouble, and muster the patience, to read on and follow our traveller on his journeying.
Selifan, the coachman, had received instructions to be ready early in the morning, and to have his horses and the britchka ready to start at a moment's notice; Petruschka, his servant, was ordered to stay at home, and mind his master's apartment and his portmanteau. The reader will not deem it superfluous, we hope, to make the distant acquaintance of these two domestics of our hero, whom he was accustomed to call his men or serfs. Although, and of course, they will not have to appear as prominent characters, or even victims of despotism; yet, their denomination of serfs may serve us as an excuse for exciting the curiosity and sympathy of our courteous reader in their behalf, and for placing them among the third, or even second-rate personages, who are to figure in the adventures of our hero Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff.
Although, the plot, or the links that connect the whole, is not especially founded upon them, still, now and then, they will have to appear in order to pull us through this long "chain of events;" besides, as we are in England, we like to be minute in everything, and in this instance, and regardless of our being a Russian, we will do our best, and try to be as particular as an Englishman. In addition, the description will demand but little time and space, for it will not be necessary to add much more to that which the reader already knows; we therefore proceed to state at once that Petruschka was accustomed to wear, and to walk about in a large snuff-coloured coat, formerly cast off from the broad shoulders of his master, and that he had, as is common among persons of his calling, a very large nose and broad lips. As regards his character, he was addicted more to the silent system, than inclined to talkativeness; he had a laudable inclination for general information, i.e. he was fond of reading books, though he did not care much about their contents; it was a matter of perfect indifference to him, whether it was the adventures of an amorous hero, or simply a spelling, or a prayer-book, he read them all with equal attention; if therefore, a grave work on chemistry had been presented to him, he would have accepted it with equal resignation. It was not what he read that pleased him, but more the reading itself, or better said, the process of reading, because from the composition of letters, originate words, which again when spelled have a meaning, which many a poor devil like Petruschka has every difficulty to understand.
He had the habit of going through his reading process, generally in a recumbent position, which he took up in the anteroom, where he used to stretch himself upon his bed and upon a mattress, which, in consequence of the frequent use and this peculiar indulgence of his, had shrunk into a mere nothing in comparison to its original size, and had actually become as thin as a pancake. Besides his passion for reading, he had two more characteristic habits; he liked to sleep without undressing, just as he was, in the same surtout, and conveying with him a je ne sais quoi, an atmosphere of his own, which was not unlike the odour of an over-crowded room, so much so, that it was sufficient for him to put up his bedstead, no matter where, if even in an hitherto uninhabited apartment, and bring into it his cloak and other articles of wardrobe, when suddenly it would seem as the chamber had been occupied for the last ten years.
Tchichikoff had his peculiarities as well, and was in many instances a man of delicate feelings; sometimes, when rising early in the morning, he would inhale the air with his refreshed nostrils, but of a sudden he would sneeze and slowly add: "Well, Petruschka, the devil knows it, you seem to perspire strongly. I only wish you would go and take a warm bath." To this, Petruschka made no reply, but tried to busy himself immediately with something; or he went with brush in hand to his master's dress-coat which was hanging over the door, as if to clean it; or would arrange or put some of his effects in order. It is difficult to say what he might be thinking of at this precise moment, when he was thus rebuked and silent; perhaps he thus spoke to himself: "What an original my master is, to be sure, he seems not to be tired of repeating the same observation, fifty times over." Heaven knows! it is very difficult to tell what a wretched serf thinks at the moment when his lawful master scolds him. However, this is all we have to say at present about Petruschka.
The coachman, Selifan, was quite a different man. However, on second thoughts, we feel rather timid about troubling our reader so much with the affairs of persons of so low a condition, for we know by experience how little inclination there exists to make acquaintance with the lower classes. At any rate that is the case in Russia, where we have ranks of every shade and description, and where a frightful predilection prevails to become acquainted with persons of merely a higher nuance of rank, and a bowing acquaintance with a count or a baron of the Empire, is esteemed but too often more valuable than the most intimate ties of friendship.
And thus passing over the coachman, Selifan, we return to our hero, who having given his orders and already made his preparations on the previous evening, awoke the next morning early, washed himself with a wet sponge from top to toe, an operation which he had a particular habit of performing, usually on a Sunday; the day happening to be the one as well on which he shaved himself carefully and even so minutely, that his cheeks looked as smooth and shiny as satin; he put on his coffee-coloured dress-coat with the gilt brass buttons, and then his travelling cloak with its numerous collars. Thus dressed he descended the staircase, carefully assisted, now on side, now on the other, by the one ever attentive head-waiter, until he took his seat in the britchka.
The travelling carriage drove with great noise from the court-yard into the open street. A passing priest respectfully saluted the traveller, as if giving him his benediction on the road, whilst a few boys in ragged shirts and breeches stretched out their little hands and shouted after him, "Pray, good gentleman, do not forget the wretched orphans." Selifan, the coachman, observing that one of the little urchins was very expert in throwing somersets, gave him a touch with his whip on passing him, and away went the britchka clattering over the stones.
It is with no little pleasure that a traveller beholds in the distance the painted mile posts, which are the limits of the fatiguing pavement and other annoyances on passing through a town; a little more shaking and jolting about in his carriage and Tchichikoff found himself at last upon a more even and pleasanter road. Scarcely, however, had he left the town at his back when his sight was gratified with, what we term, "rural beauty," on either side of the road, such as mole-hills, fir-trees, low and stunted shrubs, and pine groves intermixed and surrounded by juniper and other such trees and bushes. Now and then the scene would be enlivened by the sudden appearance of a village laid out in a monotonous-geometrical order, and resembling in its architecture a huge pile of timber covered over with a grey roof, under which the ornamental wood-carvings forcibly reminded one of the embellishments of a Dutch towel.
Here and there a few mouzhiks might be seen yawning as usual, and sitting upon their sheepskins before their houses, whilst the women with their fat bodies and cheeks were peeping out from the windows above; from the lower story of the houses some serious sheep or a sullen pig would exhibit their grave faces. Such are the scenes that present themselves but too often on the high roads of Russia.
After having passed the fifteenth werst, Tchichikoff bethought himself, that it must be about here that, according to the words of Maniloff, his estate and village ought to be found, but after having passed the sixteenth werst-post he still saw nothing of that which was so minutely described to him, and had it not been for two peasants who were just passing, it is very difficult to say whether Tchichikoff would have found the spot or not. Upon the question being put to them, how far it was to the estate called Zamanilovka, the mouzhiks took off their hats, and one of them, being rather more intelligent than his comrade, for he wore his beard in the pointed style, replied, "It is perhaps Manilovka and not Zamanilovka, that your glory wishes to inquire for?"
"Just so, yes, Manilovka!"
"Manilovka! very well, if you drive on a werst farther, you will be there, that is to say, straight on and then to the right."
"To the right?" now inquired the coachman, in his turn.
"Yes, to the right," replied the peasant, "that will be your road to Manilovka; as for Zamanilovka, such a village does not exist. It is called so, that is to say, its name is Manilovka, as for Zamanilovka you will not find it; straight on before you, you will perceive upon a hill a house built of stone two stories high, in which lives the master, that is to say the owner of the estate. That then will be Manilovka, but as for Zamanilovka there is no such a place here, and never was." They now drove off in search of Manilovka. They had already gone two wersts, and came to the turning of a private road; they seemed to have passed two, three and even four wersts more, but still they did not behold the stone building that was to be two stories high. Suddenly, Tchichikoff bethought himself that if a person invites a friend to visit him at his estate, situated about fifteen wersts from town, it usually turns out to be at least thirty wersts distance; at any rate, the situation of Maniloff's estate seemed at present to be known but to few.
The dwelling-house of Maniloff's family stood, nevertheless, on a rising hill, quite isolated, that is to say, upon an elevation exposed to all the winds that might be blowing from any quarter; the declivity of the mount upon which the house stood was surrounded by a carefully cut grass-plot, upon which were scattered about a few bushy heaps à l'anglaise, shrubs of lilac and yellow acacias; here and there a group composed of five or six birch trees raised their thin branches and small leaves, thus forming a scanty cupola. From between two such cupolas peered out a pavilion with a flat roof, painted in light green and resting upon wooden columns of a sky-blue colour, with the laconic inscription: "Temple of solitary meditation;" a little lower in the foreground a brook rushed forth noisily from under the green foliage, which is not an uncommon thing in an English garden belonging to a Russian proprietor.
At the foot of the elevation and partly upon its incline, were scattered in the distance and in all directions a number of small grey wooden huts, forming the village; at the sight of these dwellings our hero began—for some reason or other best known to himself—to count them; and on counting their number he found them upwards of two hundred. They were nowhere intersected by trees or shrubs, they presented nothing else but the monstrous appearance of heaps of wood as previously described.
The scene, however, was enlivened by two women, who had tucked up their petticoats in a quite picturesque manner, and fixed them carefully to their sides; they were wading up to their knees through the brook, holding each one end of a ragged net, in which might have been seen a couple of entangled crayfish, and a fat trout; the women seemed to have some dispute, for they appeared quarrelling and scolding one another. In the distance, on the right hand side of the hill, loomed a dull looking fir-tree forest. The weather even, seemed in harmony with the scenery; the day was not exactly a dull one, nor could it be called a bright one, the sky was of a peculiarly greyish tint, not unlike the worn-out cloak of a garrison soldier. To complete the tableau, the cock, the prognosticator of the changes in the weather, even seemed out of tune; regardless of the fact that his head was damaged by the beaks of his fellow-creatures—according to their fashion he was crowing à tue-tête and even clapped his tattered wings against his ragged sides.
On driving up to the entrance-hall, Tchichikoff perceived the lord of the mansion standing upon the door steps, clad in a long parrot-green coloured surtout, holding his hands over his forehead in lieu of an eye-shade, no doubt for the purpose of concentrating his sight, for the purpose of more minutely examining the arriving carriage. Whilst the britchka was driving nearer towards the house, the eyes of the master seemed to dilate and brighten up by degrees, and his smiles increase in proportion.
"Pavel Ivanovitch," shouted Maniloff, for it was he, when he beheld Tchichikoff stepping out from the carriage; "at last you have been kind enough to remember us."
Both friends embraced each other most heartily, and Maniloff led his guest into the house. Although the time necessary for going from the outer premises into the anteroom, thence into the dining-room, until they arrived in the regular reception-room, would be rather short, yet we think it an opportune moment, and will endeavour to make the best use of it and say a few words en passant about the owner of the estate and mansion. But here we must observe that such an undertaking is fraught with many difficulties. It is far easier to delineate a strongly-marked character; to picture such a one is easy, for you have simply to throw the following characteristics upon the canvass, such as, black and piercing eyes, overshadowing eye-brows, a frowning forehead, a black, or fire-coloured large cloak thrown as if carelessly over the left shoulder—like Zamiel in "Der Freischütz"—and the portrait is finished; but there are men in this world, and they are numerous, who at first sight are very much alike, but if you look closer, you will find many unattainable traits and peculiarities in them, which are particularly their own; to describe this species of men is a very difficult task indeed. With them, it is necessary to use strenuous exertions and the greatest attention, before you are able to delineate even a portion of the fine and nearly imperceptible traits of their character, and in general, it is requisite to set about into such an undertaking with an experienced mind and eye.
Heaven alone, therefore, could, with any correctness portray the character of Maniloff. He seemed to belong to that class of men which we term in Russia among the good-natured ones, "neither a clown in town, nor a fool in the village." At first sight, he was a man of rather prepossessing appearance, and of a pleasing countenance; but these advantages seemed to have been too much sugared by nature. In his manners and demeanour there was something which courted acquaintance and friendship; he smiled enticingly; he was fair, and had blue eyes. In the beginning of a conversation with him it was impossible not to say: "What an agreeable and kind-hearted man!" and the following moment you would say nothing; whilst in the third you would most likely exclaim: "The devil understand the man, and what he means!" and you will leave him; if you have not that good fortune, you are sure to feel a killing ennui. You will not hear from his lips anything amusing, not even an insinuation, which you may hear from any one else, provided you touch but slightly the chord which is most in harmony with his interests.
Every one has his hobby-horse in conversation, as in other matters; the one has all his passion concentrated upon dogs and horses; another fancies he is an herculean admirer of music, and acutely feels all its delicate passages; a third is a passé maître in gastronomy; a fourth endeavouring to play a rôle, if but an inch loftier, then the one assigned to him by nature and his position in society; a fifth, with more moderation in his wishes, meditates how he could manage to be seen on the promenade walking side by side with an imperial colonel, or aide-de-camp, thus to show himself off to his friends known and unknown, in a word, every one has his peculiar ways and manners; but Maniloff had none.
At home he was accustomed to speak but little, for he seemed always busy thinking and meditating, but what about? that also might be known in Heaven. Nor could it be said that he busied himself in the management of his property, for he never took the trouble to visit his fields or his estate in general; thus, then, agriculture was left to go and find its own way. If his steward spoke to him, and suggested an alteration or improvement, saying, "This or that could or might be done for the better." "Yes, not a bad idea, that of yours, steward," would be his invariable reply, and he continued to smoke his Turkish pipe, a habit which he had contracted at an early age, while serving in the Caucasus, where he was pronounced to be one of the quietest, nicest, and best-bred officers in the regiment; "Yes, not a bad idea, indeed," would he repeat in conclusion.
If one of his peasants came to him, and whilst speaking to his lord and master, scratched his head, and stroked his beard, saying: "Would your glory allow me to go to town in search of work, and better my condition?" "Go," he would reply, and continue to smoke his pipe, for the idea never occurred to him that his serf came to ask him the privilege of absenting himself, for the purpose of becoming a drunkard.
Sometimes Maniloff would also lean over his balcony, and look silently upon the lawn and noisy brook before him, and then add: "How well it would be if there was a subterranean walk leading from the house, or a stone bridge across the murmuring brook, upon which I should have liked to see little shops on either side, occupied by tradesmen, who could satisfy my peasants' wants." At such and similar thoughts and wishes, his eyes used to fill to overflowing with their peculiar sweetness, and his countenance expressed the greatest satisfaction; these projects, however, remained what they originally were—thoughts and wishes.
In his study, there was always the same book lying on the same place, with a mark on its seventeenth page, which he had acquired the habit of reading for these last two years. In his house there was continually something wanting, either here or there; in the drawing-room there was some superb furniture covered with rich silken damask, which no doubt must have been very expensive; two chairs, however, were to be seen there, uncovered with this material, no doubt for want of it, and therefore, were left to exhibit their uncovered carcases; nevertheless, Maniloff had every time the politeness to caution his guests not to seat themselves upon any one of them; because, said he, they were not yet ready.
In some of the rooms there was even no furniture at all, although he had often spoken of the necessity of furnishing them, especially during the first weeks after his marriage: "My darting," he used to say to his wife, "my darling, it will be necessary to provide these rooms with proper furniture, if only temporarily, until we get more settled." In the evenings, a candlestick of fashionable appearance—dark bronze, with three small figures, representing the graces, and richly ornamented with mother-of-pearl, would be placed on the table; but, next to it another one—a common brass invalid, shaky, bent down on one side, and greasy all over, yet, without either the master, the mistress, or any of the domestics being aware of it. His wife—however, they seemed perfectly satisfied with each other. Although more than eight years had elapsed since they had lived in happy matrimony, still they continued to be upon petits soins one for another, and exchanged all sorts of sweet-meats and affections, which were offered and accepted in the most touching tones of voice, as for an example: "My darling, open your rosy lips, and I will put this sweet little bit into your mouth." And of course, the pretty little mouth was gracefully opened at such a loving request.
Birth-days were celebrated by exchanging all kinds of agreeable surprises, such as knitted articles and embroideries in silk, wool and pearls, and other ornamental knick-nacks. And very frequently too, whilst the husband was sitting in his easy-chair and his wife on the sofa, either the one or the other party would suddenly rise, heaven knows from what impulse, and leave—he his pipe, and she her needlework, if she happened to have some of it in her hands just at that moment—for the purpose of impressing a tender and such a long and affectionate kiss, that it would have been easy to smoke a pachito during the time this affectionate demonstration lasted.
In short, they were what is commonly called on the happiest terms. Of course, we could observe, that there are many other occupations in a house besides continued kissing and bickering, fating birth-days, and exchanges of presents; and many and various are the questions that could be put as regards a household in general. Why, for instance, is the kitchen department so much neglected? Why are the provision stores so indifferently attended to? Why is the housekeeper dishonest, and why are the servants so slovenly and negligent? Why does the whole batch of domestics sleep so mercilessly long, and waste the time during which they are awake? But all these facts and observations were beneath the notice of Madame Maniloff, for she was well-bred and brought up. And a good education, as is well known everywhere, can only be obtained in a private institution; and in these institutions, as it is well known again, three principal occupations, or subjects, constitute the foundation of female perfections: the French language, as indispensable to conjugal happiness; the pianoforte, as a medium to create some pleasant moments to a husband; and at last, and not least, a general knowledge of household matters: knitting purses, braces, and embroidering generally, for the purpose of exchanging presents.
There are many changes and improvements in various methods of teaching these indispensable branches of human perfections, particularly in the present time; all these, however, depend more or less on the clever or judicious management of the proprietors of these modern and fashionable institutions. In some of these places, the three branches above-named are classed in the following order: first, the piano forte, then the French language, and at last, household knowledge. But in some again it also happens that housekeeping obtains the first rank, i.e., knitting and embroidering of presents; then follows the French language, and the series is concluded most harmoniously by the pianoforte. It is obvious, therefore, that methods of teaching exist in great variety.
It will not be superfluous to observe also that Madame Maniloff—but I think I will stop here with my further remarks, for I must confess I am afraid to speak of ladies; besides, it is high time to return to the gentlemen, who have been already standing for some moments before the door of the reception-room, mutually inviting one another to step in the first.
"Pray do not so much incommode yourself on my account; I shall step in after you," said Tchichikoff.
"No, my dear Pavel Ivanovitch! pray advance; you are my guest," replied Maniloff, pointing civilly with his hand towards the door.
"Do not incommode yourself, I beg you will not. Step before me, if you please," said Tchichikoff.
"No, pardon me, but I shall not suffer such a civil and well-bred guest as you are to follow after me."
"Why, you overwhelm me with civilities! Pray pass on."
"Never mind, do me the favour to walk in first."
"But, my dear Sir, why all these ceremonies?"
"Because—and if you please," said Maniloff again, using now one of his most enticing smiles, whilst continuing his civil gesticulations.
At last, both friends entered the room backwards, at the same time squeezing one another gently against the door.
"Allow me to introduce you to my wife," said Maniloff. "My darling, allow me to introduce to you our friend Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff."
And in truth, Tchichikoff now beheld for the first time a lady, whom he had not observed during the moments that elapsed whilst he was exchanging complimentary gestures with his host. She was pretty, and dressed with taste. The light gris de perle coloured morning capotte became her exceedingly well; her finely-shaped hand was in the act of throwing some needlework hastily upon the table, and snatching up instead a fine batiste pocket-handkerchief with prettily-embroidered corners and initials. She rose slightly from her seat on the sofa, and gracefully welcomed her guest; and Tchichikoff hastened with evident eagerness to kiss her hand in the old Russian fashion.
Madame Maniloff spoke in a slightly affected tone of voice, and assured her guest that he caused them a real pleasure indeed by his arrival, and that her husband had not allowed a day to pass without speaking of him, his friend, continually.
"Yes," added Maniloff, "my wife has already several times inquired after you, and even often said, 'Why does your Petersburg friend not come?' 'Wait a little longer, my darling, he is sure to arrive, for he gave me his promise.' At last, you have been kind enough to gratify us with your presence. Indeed, you cause us quite a delight, as pleasant as a May-day, or 'birth-day of the heart.'"
Tchichikoff, on hearing that his host's exaltation had already attained such a pitch as to call his arrival a gratification as pleasant as a "birth-day of the heart," became a little confused, and answered civilly, and in a dignified tone of voice, that he could not boast of a princely name nor of an exalted position.
"You possess all," Maniloff interrupted, whilst sweetly smiling as usual, "you possess all, and even more.".
"How did you like our town?" added Madame Maniloff. "Have you spent your time pleasantly?"
"A very charming and pleasant town, my lady," answered Tchichikoff, "and I have spent a most agreeable week indeed; I have been in the choicest company."
"And how did you like our Lord-Lieutenant?" Madame Maniloff again inquired.
"Is he not one of the most civil and amiable men in our province?" added, in his turn, Mr. Maniloff.
"That is perfectly true," said Tchichikoff; "he is a highly accomplished and estimable man. How well he knows how to enter into the spirit of his exalted position, and how well he understands all his arduous duties! It is desirable to see many more such men administering our country!"
"And how kind and civil he is in his receptions, and how delicate and condescending in his manners;" Maniloff added again, with a smiling face, whilst satisfaction made him nearly close his eyes, like a cat when gently tickled with the finger behind the ear.
"A very condescending and agreeable man indeed," continued Tchichikoff; "and how clever he is, to be sure! I never anticipated that much of him. How well and tastefully he embroiders various household ornaments! He showed me a purse of his own knitting, and I must confess that I doubt whether a lady could do it much better."
"And the Vice-Governor, is he not an amiable gentleman?" questioned Maniloff, again closing his eyes slightly.
"A very, very deserving man indeed," replied Tchichikoff.
"But allow me to ask you, how did you like the Commissioner of Police? Am I not right in saying he is a very agreeable man?"
"An exceedingly agreeable man, and, at the same time, what a learned, what a well-informed man! I spent an evening at his house, where we played a game at whist with the imperial Procurator and the President of the Courts of Justice: we were assembled till the last cock crowed, and I agree with you, he is indeed a most estimable man."
"And pray, what is your opinion of his wife?" inquired Madame Maniloff. "She is a charming lady?"
"Oh, Madame, she is one of the most worthy ladies with whom I have the honour to be acquainted," replied Tchichikoff with an air of conviction.
After enumerating all these persons in due rotation, and in the manner described, they did not fail to bestow equal praise also upon the President of the Courts of Justice, the Postmaster-General, and, in fact, upon all the higher employés in the town of Smolensk, who, in their opinion, seemed to be one and all the most respectable and praiseworthy persons in the province, if not in the vast Russian Empire.
"And pray, do you spend all your time here in the country?" demanded Tchichikoff, in his turn, at last, and with the evident attempt to change the subject of conversation.
"Mostly here," replied Maniloff. "Sometimes, however, we go to town to spend a day or two and pay a few visits, just for the sake of a little recreation and intercourse with civilized society. One is apt to become boorish from living continually shut up in a country residence."
"True, very true," said Tchichikoff.
"Naturally," continued Maniloff. "It would be a different life if we had some pleasant neighbours, or acquaintance with persons with whom, in some respects, we could have some friendly intercourse and exchange opinions, talk about life and good company, or have an argument on some scientific subject, and thus stir up the dormant spirit, which again, as you well know, would give an impulse—"
Here he intended to express something more, and be if possible more explicit; but finding that he had lost the thread of his own ideas, he began to gesticulate with his hand in the air, and then continued to speak:
"Then of course the country and retirement would have many still more pleasant attractions. But we have no such persons around us. The only recreation we enjoy now and then is a book or a newspaper."
Tchichikoff fully agreed with Maniloff's opinion, and added, "That there can be nothing pleasanter than to live in retirement, to delight in the scenes of nature, and to read now and then a good book as a recreation."
"But allow me to tell you," said Maniloff, "that having no such friend with whom to exchange—"
"Oh, to be sure, that is true indeed!" interrupted Tchichikoff, "for what are all the treasures of this world? 'Care not so much for money as for good connections!' said some clever man somewhere."
"And you know it, Pavel Ivanovitch!" said Maniloff, whilst giving to his face not only more than its usual expression of sweetness, but even, if possible, an expression not unlike the mixture concocted by a clever physician of the world, who mercilessly sweetens his drugs, in the hope of pleasing is patients all the more. "Then, one feels a sensation—or something not unlike the 'heart's rejoicing'—something like that which I feel now, when chance gives me the felicity—nay, allow me to say, the exceptional gratification of seeing you here, and being delighted with your very pleasant conversation—"
"Pray pardon me, but why do you call me and my conversation so pleasant? I am an humble man, and nothing else," replied Tchichikoff, with great humility.
"Oh, my dear Pavel Ivanovitch, allow me to be candid. I would give away the half of my property, if I could possess but the half of the accomplishments that you can boast of."
"On the contrary, I on my part would esteem it as the highest—"
It is impossible to say to what extent the expressions of mutual esteem and admiration would have been carried between the two friends, if the entrance of a servant had not interrupted them, who came to announce that dinner was ready.
"Allow me to invite you to our table," said Maniloff, respectfully.
"You will excuse us, if we cannot ask you to a dinner like those you have been accustomed to partake of in the metropolis: with us all is simplicity—a modest; meal à la Russe, but offered with a candid heart," added Madame Maniloff.
Hereupon the two men had again a slight and polite difference as to who should enter before the other, but at last Tchichikoff entered the dining-room backwards.
On their entrance in the dining-hall, they found Madame Maniloff waiting with her two little sons. These children were of that tender age when parents are induced to seat them already among adults, though they still are accommodated with high stools. Near them stood their teacher who bowed courteously and with a smile.
The lady of the house took her seat before the soup-tureen; her guest was placed between herself and husband; the servant tied a napkin under the chin of the little boys, and the dinner ceremonial commenced.
"What pretty little boys!" said Tchichikoff, after a while, and looking intently at them. "What is their age?"
"The elder is in his eighth year, and the younger celebrated his sixth birth-day yesterday," answered Madame Maniloff, smiling.
"Themistoclus!" said Maniloff, whilst turning towards his elder boy, who was just engaged in liberating his chin from the napkin which the servant bad tied too tightly round his neck. Tchichikoff lifted up his head and frowned slightly when he heard this classic name, of which heaven knows why Maniloff had made the final syllable us; however he recovered immediately from his surprise, and his features reassumed their wonted expression.
"Themistoclus, my boy!" repeated Maniloff, "tell me which is the finest town in France?" Here the teacher directed all the power of his attention upon his pupil thus questioned by his father; and it seemed as if he intended to pierce him with his glance; but he gradually calmed down, and soon after nodded approvingly with his head, when he heard Themistocles give the answer:
"Paris."
"And which is the finest town in Russia?" demanded again Maniloff.
The master fixed his eyes again upon his pupil and frowned.
"St. Petersburg," replied Themistocles, quickly.
"And what town besides?"
"Moscow," again replied the boy with sparkling eyes, for he seemed to be sure of his lesson.
"Now for the last question," said his father, evidently pleased with his child's progresses. "Who are the natural enemies of Russia and of Christendom?"
"The Turks; and we ought to take Constantinople from them," replied Themistocles, with the air of a conqueror, and looking for approval towards his master.
"Oh, the clever darling!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, when he had heard all these replies. "Really," he continued, whilst turning with an air of agreeable surprise towards the happy parents, "I am of opinion that this little boy displays signs of great proficiency."
"Oh, you don't know him half," replied Maniloff; "he possesses a great deal of perspicuity. As for the younger son, Alcides," (here Tchichikoff, was startled again as before), "he is not so sharp a boy as his elder brother; Themistoclus is livelier, and his eyes will sparkle at anything. If even an insect, he will immediately run after it, and pay it the greatest attention. I intend to have him educated for the diplomatic career. Themistoclus," he continued, turning again towards the boy, "would you like to be an ambassador?"
"Oh yes, papa!" answered the child, with his mouth full of cake, and balancing his head like a Chinese mandarin.
At that very moment, the servant, who stood behind the future ambassador, wiped that young gentleman's nose, and it was well he did so, or else some mishap would have been the consequence. The conversation at table now turned upon the pleasures of domestic life, and was now and then enlivened by the observations of Madame Maniloff on the theatre and the actors of their town.
The teacher listened and looked very attentively upon the conversing parties, and whenever he saw the company laughing at some observations, he would at once open his mouth and join them in a most hearty approbation. No doubt he was a man with a deep sense of gratitude, and strove to display in this manner his acknowledgment for the treatment he met at the hands of his employer. Once, however, he could not prevent assuming an expression of reproof and knocking gently upon the table, while frowning at his pupils, who sat opposite to him. This was done at an opportune moment, because Themistocles had just bitten the ear of his brother Alcides, who instantly closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, and was on the point of beginning a most lamentable tune; but seeing the frowning forehead of his master, and fearing he might lose his dinner, he brought back his mouth to its former position, and began to gnaw lustily, with tears in his eyes at a large bone of roast mutton, which made both his cheeks shiny with grease.
The lady of the house frequently encouraged her guest in the following manner:
"You scarcely eat anything; you have taken so very little indeed."
To these observations Tchichikoff would invariably reply:
"I am very much obliged to you, Madame; I have had plenty—besides, pleasant intercourse surpasses the finest dish."
They at last rose from table. Maniloff seemed exceedingly pleased, and laying his hand gently on the back of his guest, he was on the point of leading him gently into the drawing-room, when the latter suddenly informed him, and with an air of confidential importance, that he had a wish to converse with him on the subject of some important business.
"In that event, allow me to show you into my private room," said Maniloff, and led him into a small adjoining chamber, the windows of which afforded a view of a gloomy fir-tree forest looming in the distance. "This is my own little corner," added Maniloff.
"A very pretty and comfortable room," said Tchichikoff, whilst casting a glance around. The room had really its pleasing features; the walls were painted of a light blue colour of a greyish tint; it contained four chairs, one arm-chair, a table; upon the latter lay the book with the marked page, of which we had already had occasion to speak, a few writing materials, and a quantity of tobacco. That fragrant weed was laying about in various forms and places, in packages, in pouches and boxes, and lastly even upon the table. Upon both windows numerous little heaps of tobacco ashes from his pipe were ranged, not without taste, in symmetrical order. It was obvious that this arrangement sometimes assisted the master of the house in passing his time pleasantly.
"Pray be seated in this arm-chair," said Maniloff; "here you will be more comfortable."
"I beg you will allow me to prefer this chair."
"Permit me to insist upon your' seating yourself in this arm-chair;" said Maniloff with a smile. "This old arm-chair has been assigned by me for my friends; and, therefore, whether you like it or not you must sit down in it."
Tchichikoff seated himself in the arm-chair.
"Will you take a pipe or a cigar?"
"I thank you, but I do not smoke," replied Tchichikoff civilly, as if with an air of regret.
"And pray, why don't you?" inquired Maniloff, also civilly, and with an air of regret.
"I did not contract the habit, I am afraid, because I was told that smoking originates consumption."
"I beg to observe that this is a prejudice. I am of opinion that to smoke a pipe is by far more healthy than taking snuff. In my regiment we had a lieutenant who was an excellent and well-bred officer, his pipe never quitted him, not even at table—and with your leave—not even at any other place. At present he is more than forty years old, and thank Heaven, as well and healthy as he could wish to be."
Tchichikoff observed that such instances were of frequent occurrence, and that there were many phenomena in human nature, quite incomprehensible to the most cultivated mind.
"But allow me now to put you a question." He then proceeded in a tone of voice in which there was a peculiar and nearly a strange expression, and after having spoken the last words, he, for some reason or other looked around him. Maniloff also looked round, but for what reason he did so, it is impossible to tell.
"How long, may I ask, if you please," continued Tchichikoff, "is it since you last handed in to government the census of the population on your estate?"
"Oh, if I recollect rightly, it is some time since;" replied Maniloff, "but to tell the truth, I do not exactly remember when."
"And can you perhaps recollect if many of your serfs have died since?"
"I must confess I don't know!" said Maniloff with a little embarrassment; "but I could question my steward about it. Hilloah! Ivan! or some one else, call my steward, he ought to be here to-day."
Soon after, the manager of Maniloff's estate made his appearance. He was a man under forty years of age, with a closely shaved head, fashionably dressed, and evidently enjoying and spending a pleasant existence; because his fat and rosy cheeks seemed to attest that he was well familiar with the comforts of a soft mattress and downy pillows. It was easy to see at a glance that he had accomplished his aim in life, as is usual among men of his calling: early in youth he was but an adopted orphan, charitably brought up in the family of his present master, and instructed in a little reading and writing; later he managed to marry the house-keeper—a favourite of her ladyship's—contrived to become housekeeper himself, until ultimately he got himself promoted to the rank of steward. And when he had become the general manager of the estate, he did like other stewards do: he frequented and connected himself only with the richer families in the village, exacted more tribute from the poorer, rose at nine o'clock in the morning, heated his samovar and took his tea comfortably.
"I say, my good fellow," Maniloff addressed himself to his humble steward; "how many of my peasants have died since you sent the last census to government?"
"Your glory wishes to know how many? Since then many have indeed died," replied the steward, whilst putting his hand before his mouth in lieu of a shield, to screen a slight hiccup, which he was unable to repress.
"Yes, I must confess, I thought as much myself," added Maniloff; "just so, a great many have died since." Hereupon he turned towards Tchichikoff, and repeated again; "exactly so, a great many have died."
"But, about how many in number?" demanded again Tchichikoff.
"Yes, to be sure, how many in number? repeated Maniloff.
"Yes, your glory; but how could I fix upon the number? It is impossible to say how many, no one has counted them," said the steward again, and with increasing embarrassment.
"Just so," said Maniloff, whilst turning towards his guest; "I anticipated as much; there was a great mortality during these latter years; and I think it is difficult to say with any precision how many have died."
"You had better number the dead, my good man;" Tchichikoff addressed himself to the steward, "and make out a correct list of all, together with their family and Christian names."
"Yes, to be sure," added Maniloff adopting the same positive tone of voice as his guest: "and give their names carefully."
"It shall be done, your glory!" replied the steward, and left the room.
"But for what purpose do you want these particulars?" inquired Maniloff, after the steward had left them.
This question seemed to embarrass his guest considerably; his face flushed, his countenance betrayed uneasiness and was altogether striking in its momentary change, and difficult to be described in words. At last Maniloff was obliged to listen to one of the strangest and most extraordinary proposals to which human ears were ever yet fated to listen. "You wish to know for what purpose? The reasons are the following: I should like to purchase some serfs—" said Tchichikoff, whilst recovering gradually; but scarcely had he uttered the last word, when he had a sudden attack of his cough, and did not, of course, conclude the phrase.
"But allow me to ask you," continued Maniloff, "on what condition do you wish to purchase peasants, is it together with the land they live upon, or do you want them for colonisation elsewhere, that is to say, without the land they live upon?"
"No, that is not exactly what I mean," replied Tchichikoff, after a moment's hesitation, "what I wish to purchase, are dead serfs."
"What? pardon me—I am rather deaf in one ear, but it seemed to me as if I had heard the strangest words that could possibly be spoken."
"Strange, perhaps," added Tchichikoff, more coolly than might have been expected after his first agitation; "yes, my dear sir, I have a wish to make the acquisition of the dead—who, however, must stand booked as existing or living in the columns of the last governmental census."
When Maniloff was convinced that he had rightly heard and understood what his friend had just spoken, he could not prevent his Turkish pipe dropping upon the floor and opening his mouth and eyes as widely as they would allow themselves to be opened; he remained passively thus for a few seconds. Both friends, who, but shortly before, had been familiarly discoursing on the pleasures of friendly life and intercourse, were now sitting opposite one another immoveably, gazing into each others eyes as if mesmerized, or like those portraits which in olden times were hung on either side of the looking-glass.
At last Maniloff mustered animation again, picked up his pipe, and, while doing this, he looked up seriously into the face of his companion, striving to catch, if possible, a smile upon his lips, as if to convince himself that all was but a jest; however, he could discover nothing to confirm him in this hope; on the contrary, Tchichikoff's face looked, if possible, more serious and composed than usual; at last he thought it likely his guest might have become the victim of a fit of insanity, and as this idea occurred to him he looked with the utmost terror fixedly at him.
But no, Tchichikoff's eyes were perfectly calm and bright, there was no wildness nor uneasiness in his glance, such as there would be in the gaze of a madman; all his mental faculties seemed to enjoy perfect health. Maniloff was at a loss what to imagine next, in order to account for the strange words and intention he had heard; but he could hit upon nothing to relieve him of his anxiety, except, letting the tobacco smoke, which the sudden surprise had made him swallow, unconsciously escape in thin wreaths.
"And thus then should I like to know if you would agree to part with such of your serfs as are actually dead; that is to say, not actually living, but nevertheless existing in a point of law; I am ready to make such arrangements about them as would be most agreeable to you."
But Maniloff was still so much overwhelmed and confused, that he could do nothing else but stare into the face of the speaker.
"You seem to feel embarrassed?" observed Tchichikoff, slowly.
"I?—no, not exactly," Maniloff at last murmured; "but I cannot comprehend—excuse me—I did not of course enjoy such a brilliant education, such a one—if I might express myself so—as is visible in every one of your movements; I have no talent for choice expressions—it might be also, that here—in this instance and in the manner in which you have just now chosen to express yourself—that there is something hidden—the meaning of which, I must confess, I could not catch, and I must presume that you have chosen to express yourself in this manner for the sake of a more select construction of your phrase—"
"Oh no, my dear Sir, no," interrupted Tchichikoff, "not at all, my proposal is like the phrase, pure and simple; I positively mean that what I said, namely: I wish to possess such serfs as are positively dead."
Maniloff was now actually lost in amazement; yet he felt that it became incumbent on him to do or say something; but what was he to do, what was he to say?—Heaven alone could inspire him. He finished at last by allowing another cloud of tobacco smoke to escape, but not as previously, out of his mouth, for this time the smoke evaporated from his nostrils.
"And now, if you have no objection, we might at once come to an understanding and proceed to draw up the contract of sale," said Tchichikoff.
"What? a contract of sale, for the dead?"
"Oh, no, my dear Sir, no," replied Tchichikoff, with slight impatience. "We shall write down, and presume them to be living, for such they actually are represented to be in the last census of the whole population of the Empire, and consequently, also in a point of law as well I am accustomed never to make the slightest deviation from our laws—either civil or military—though I have suffered much for this principle when I was in actual service myself, and allow me to assure you, my duty has always been a sacred obligation to me; the law—I never deviate from it."
These last observations very much pleased Maniloff, and reassured him considerably; but notwithstanding this assurance, it was impossible for him to enter into the spirit of the business proposed to him, and instead of an answer, he began to smoke so fast, that the room was soon filled with a dense fog, and the head of his pipe became so heated, that it began to crackle like a hoarse bassoon. It seemed as if he wished to inhale from his pipe an opinion upon the unprecedented project of his guest; but to no purpose, his pipe continued its crackling noise as before.
"You have, perhaps, your doubts on the subject?" said Tchichikoff.
"Oh! I can assure you, not the least," rejoined Maniloff. "Do not think for a moment that I could have the slightest reason to form any critical opinion as regards yourself. But allow me to ask you, will this speculation, or, in order to explain myself more distinctly—this negotiation—yes, will this negotiation not be in contravention to the civil laws and the future views and welfare of the Russian Empire?"
After having spoken thus, Maniloff made a few peculiar movements with his head, and looked steadfastly into Tchichikoff's face, showing in all the lineaments of his features, and in his compressed lips, such an undefinable expression, as perhaps never was beheld on a human face before; and if such an expression could find its equal, it could, perhaps, only be seen on the faces of those clever statesmen of all nations, who at the present day are discussing the political differences between Russia and Turkey.
Tchichikoff, however, answered simply, that such a speculation, or negotiation, would in no ways be in contravention with the civil or military laws of the country, and the future welfare of Russia; and a moment later he added, that on the contrary, the government would even derive an advantage, because it would receive the payment of the lawful capitation tax.
"Well, then, you think that—?"
"I am of opinion that all will be right and and well," said Tchichikoff again.
"Ah, if it is all right, then it is altogether a different thing; then I can have no objection whatever," said Maniloff, and recovered even so far as to assume his usual smile.
"Now we shall only have to fix upon a price—"
"How—a price?" said Maniloff with a new air of surprise, and stopped short for a while. "Is it possible that you could think that I would take money for such serfs, who, in some respects have already ceased to exist, and consequently, have become valueless to me? No, since you have a strange fancy for them, or, if I might use the expression, a phantastical wish for them, I am quite agreeable to deliver them up to you gratuitously, and am even ready to pay the expense of the contract of sale, in order to be agreeable to you."
We should deem it the greatest act of negligence on our part, if we were to omit mentioning in the narrative of these events, that the words thus spoken by Maniloff had the effect of diffusing an extraordinary amount of gratification over the countenance of his guest. However circumspect, self-possessed and prudent Tchichikoff habitually was, yet in this instance he had every difficulty in mastering a feeling which nearly made him jump from his seat like a goat, and such an attempt could certainly only be caused by an excess of joy. He turned so suddenly in his arm-chair that the woollen covering of the pillow was torn in consequence; even Maniloff could not help looking at him with some fresh bewilderment. Impelled by gratitude, he gave so many thanks, that the donor of the gift could not help blushing deeply, made a negative movement with his head, and then only found words to say, that, what he gave was a mere trifle.
"Not at all a trifle," replied Tchichikoff, warmly pressing the donor's hand.
Here a deep sigh was also allowed to escape from his broad chest, and it seemed as if this sigh was full of the warm effusions of his feeling heart; not without some feeling and expression in his language Tchichikoff, continued in the following words:
"If you knew, my dear Sir, what a favour you have granted me by this apparently trifling obligation.... to me, a man without name or fame.... Yes, truly, how much have I not suffered? like a bark amidst the boisterous waves of the agitated ocean.... What tribulations, what persecutions have I not experienced, and how many and bitter were the sorrows that I have tasted! but why? would you perhaps ask me? Because I always watched over truth, because I kept my conscience pure, my honour intact; because I stretched forth my hand to assist the mourning widow, and shielded the deserted orphan!"
Hereupon Tchichikoff could not help arresting the progress of a falling tear with his pocket-handkerchief.
Maniloff, too, was nearly moved to tears on hearing this eloquent language. Both friends pressed each other's hands long and warmly, and they looked long and silently into each other's eyes, in which a few more tears might have been seen glittering. Maniloff seemed not disposed to part with the hand of our hero, and continued to press it so warmly, that the other did not know how to liberate it. At last he succeeded in extricating it gently, and said that it would now be a good thing to conclude the contract of sale at once, and that it would be desirable that Maniloff should come for that purpose to town at his earliest convenience. He then rose, took his hat, and began to bow a farewell.
"What? are you going to leave us already?" said Maniloff, who had scarcely recovered from his emotion before he was frightened again.
At that moment, Madame Maniloff entered her husband's study.
"Lisinka," Maniloff exclaimed, with a rather pitiable expression in voice and countenance, "Pavel Ivanovitch wishes to leave us!"
"Because, perhaps, we do not entertain our guest well enough," remarked Madame Maniloff.
"My lady, here," said Tchichikoff, "here, in this spot," saying these words, he laid his hand upon his heart, and continued: "Yes, here shall for ever remain the recollection of the pleasant moments I have passed in your company; and believe me, there would be no greater felicity for me in this world, than to live—if not in the same house with you, at least in your immediate neighbourhood."
"Ah! my dear Pavel Ivanovitch," said Maniloff, whom this idea on the part of his friend seemed rather to please, "that would really be excellent, delicious, if we could live together under the same roof, or under the shadow of the same poplar, and philosophise on some subject, or launch ourselves into—"
"Oh, that would be like living in Paradise!" exclaimed Tchichikoff with a sigh. "Farewell, my lady!" continued he, whilst pressing his lips upon the hand of Madame Maniloff; "farewell, most esteemable friend! Pray do not forget our little business!"
"Oh, be sure of it!" replied Maniloff. "I do not bid you farewell for more than two days at the most."
All three entered again the reception-room.
"Farewell, my pretty little darlings!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, when he beheld Alcides and Themistocles once more, who were engaged playing with a wooden dragoon, who thanks to them, had already lost his hands and nose.
"Farewell, my little pets, you must excuse me this time for not having brought you something, because, I must confess, I was not aware of your existence; but, the next time I come, you may depend upon it, I shall surprise you with something nice to play with. To you I will bring a sword; would you like to have a sword? eh—"
"Oh, yes," replied Themistocles.
"And you shall have a drum; I know you would like to have a drum—eh?" he continued, bending down to Alcides.
"Drum—bum—bum," answered Alcides, as if he had it already.
"Very well then, I will bring you a drum, it shall be such a nice drum, that you will be able to play any tune upon it, and then you may turrrr-rurrr-rurrr and tratata upon it as long as you like. Farewell my little darlings! farewell!"
Hereupon he kissed the little boy upon the head, and turned with a smile towards Maniloff and his wife, with a smile like that usually assumed by persons who wish to convey to loving parents the innocent wishes of their children.
"Pray, dear Pavel Ivanovitch," said Maniloff, when all had already passed through the entrance, "pray, stay with us, look at the dark clouds around."
"These are but a trifle, they do not alarm an old traveller like myself," replied Tchichikoff.
"But do you know the road to Sobakevitch's estate?"
"Indeed, no, I was about asking you that question."
"Allow me then, I will immediately explain it to your coachman." Hereupon Maniloff very civilly explained to Selifan where he would have to drive his master to. The coachman finally understood, that he would have to pass two turnings and take the third, then took off his hat and exclaimed; "Thanks to your glory and long health!"
Tchichikoff drove off, and was saluted with wavings of pocket-handkerchiefs by his amiable hosts until they were out of sight.
Maniloff continued to stand and linger upon the stone steps before his house for some considerable time, and followed with his eyes the now fast disappearing britchka, and when he had already completely lost sight of it, he still continued to gaze into the distance and smoke his pipe. At last he entered the house and went into his own room, where he seated himself upon a chair opposite to the seat occupied previously by his guest; he began to give way to reflections, and was heartily rejoiced that he had had an opportunity of having been agreeable to his new acquaintance.
After having thus meditated for some time, his thoughts began to wander upon some other subject, until at last he lost himself, heaven knows in what reflections. He also thought of the blessings of friendly intimacy; he began to imagine, how pleasant it would be to live together with a faithful friend on the banks of some silvery stream; he then began to construct a stone bridge across his imaginary river, and concluded by building a splendid castle in the Spanish style, so high and beautiful, that he could behold Moscow the Holy from its turrets; nor did he forget either to imagine a magnificent Venetian balcony, where he beheld himself and his bosom friend, comfortably taking tea in the evening, and smoking real Turkey whilst having a pleasant argument. He continued to imagine, that he and Tchichikoff received an invitation to an evening party from some high functionary, and that they drove up to his house in a splendid carriage and four, that they were received in the best company; and finally, that one of the imperial ministers (of the foreign cabinet,) being informed of the exemplary friendship existing between the two friends, informed his Majesty the Emperor of its existence, and that they were promoted to the rank of generals in consequence. Thus he continued to dream on, until at last he lost himself again in his châteaux d'Espagne.
But suddenly he recovered his consciousness, thanks to the extraordinary application of his friend Tchichikoff, which he could not forget on any account; though it was of no use for him to think and study the nature and purpose of this strange whim of his friend, for he could not, either explain to himself the object, nor find the solution of this extraordinary negotiation as he still termed it, in his own mind. Thus he continued to sit in the same chair and smoke his pipe until he was called to supper, and went to bed at a late hour.
Tchichikoff was reclining comfortably, and in an excellent temper of mind in his britchka, which was now rolling rapidly along the high road. In the preceding chapters a little something has already transpired with reference to what his principal object consisted in, what his taste and inclination were, and for that reason it cannot be surprising that he, soon after his departure from Maniloff's house, plunged body and soul into a reverie upon what had passed between himself and his new friend.
Supposition, circumspection, anticipation seemed in turn to occupy his mind; and his speculations must have been of a pleasant nature, for his face betrayed it; and he seemed, as it were, to smile inwardly. Thus engrossed with his own thoughts, he did not pay the slightest attention to his coachman Selifan, who in his turn and in consequence of the excellent reception which he had met with among Maniloff's servants, was engaged in giving a lecture peculiar to himself, to the tiger-spotted outside horse, the reins of which he held fast in his right hand.
This tiger-spotted horse, as he used to call it, was, in his opinion a very sly and vicious animal indeed, for it only pretended to pull as hard as its two helpmates, whilst the brown insider or leader, who was of a more straightforward disposition, was doing his work most heartily. The natural fondness of Russian coachmen for their horses, goes frequently so far that they will speak to them as if to rational beings, and such a discourse, if it may be called so, took place between Selifan and his three horses that were attached before the britchka.
"Oh, you artful scamp; but wait a moment, I'll dodge you!" said Selifan, rising slightly upon his seat and giving a smack with his whip to the idler. "I'll teach you what your duty is, you German pantaloon. The brown one is a respectable horse, for he is doing his work like a horse, and I shall give him with pleasure an extra measure, because he is an honourable horse, and so is the leader too. Na, nuh! you are shaking your head, are you? You are a fool; listen, I'll tell you, when you are spoken to! for I shall not teach you anything that is wrong, you Master Careless! Look up! where you are going!"
Here he gave him another hearty correction with his whip and added: "Oh, you robber of a horse!" After this he indulged all three with a shout as the jamtchicks are accustomed to do. "Halloah yo, my darlings!" and laid the whip gently across their shoulders, but not with a feeling of anger, but by way of encouragement, as if satisfied with all three. Having thus shown them a little of his approbation, he again addressed his observations to the tiger-spotted idler.
"No, my fine fellow, you must be steady if you wish the world to acknowledge your merits. Look you here and listen; at the gentleman's house where we have been, there are some worthy people, and such persons I like to speak to and have some intercourse with; because everyone likes to be on friendly terms with good people. I had tea with them and ate and drank many a good thing there, because it gives me pleasure to do so among worthy people. A virtuous man meets with due respect everywhere. Look for an example at our master, he is esteemed by everybody; because, now, will you listen? because he served his country and the Emperor well, and is now a Councillor of State in consequence."
Thus reasoning, Selifan lost himself at last in the most abstract arguments. And if Tchichikoff had been listening he might have heard the most curious and interesting observations concerning himself personally; but his thoughts were so much occupied with his own projects, that a sudden, and loud clap of thunder alone could awake him to the scene around him, and cause him to look up again at the exterior world; the sky was covered with heavy dark clouds in all directions, and the dusty high road became sprinkled with heavy rain-drops. Soon after the thunder-peals were more frequent, they grew louder and nearer, and at last the rain came down as if out of a bucket.
At first the rain came sideways, and fell heavily on the left flank of the britchka, then it changed suddenly and washed its other side, until at last it began to fall horizontally upon the leathern roof of the carriage and continued to drum upon it with renewed power, and the drops at last reached even the face of our traveller. This induced him to draw down the leathern blind with its round glass holes, through which he began to examine the scenes around him and give the order to Selifan to drive quicker. Selifan also, had been unpleasantly interrupted in the midst of his reflections, and without losing an instant he produced from under his seat a something in the shape of a miserable-looking grey cloth cloak into the tattered sleeves of which he slipped his arms as speedily as the numerous holes would allow him to do, and then snatching up again the reins, he used once more his whip; and his troika sped on again with fresh vigour, as if the rain as well as Selifan's mode of encouraging them had had the most invigorating effects upon the horses.
As for Selifan, he could not for the life of him remember whether he had passed the second or the third turning. Imagining a great deal and recollecting a little of the road he had just passed, he guessed that he had already left many a turning on either side of the road behind him. Thus then like many Russians, never at a loss for imagination what to do next in a decisive moment, and without venturing into long speculations, he took the first turning to his right and shouting again: "halloah yo, my darlings!" he drove his horses into a full gallop, never caring for a moment, whither this road may lead him next.
The rain seemed to have set in with the appearance to last for sometime. The dust of the high-road was now converted into a thick paste of mud, and with every moment it became more difficult for the horses to pull through it. Tchichikoff already began to feel uneasy at not seeing anything yet of Sobakevitch's estate, for, according to his calculations, they ought to have been there long ago. He tried again to look through the glass holes of his leather curtains; but to no purpose, it seemed as if an Egyptian darkness surrounded them.
"Selifan!" he at last shouted and popped his head out through the curtain.
"What does your glory wish?" replied Selifan.
"Look about you, don't you see the village yet?"
"No, your glory, I cannot see it anywhere." After having spoken thus, Selifan belaboured his horses once more and began a song—no, rather a tune, like the "Lieder ohne Worte" of Mendelsohn Bartholdy—without an end. In this tune were comprised all the sounds of approbation and reproach addressed to all the horses by their drivers, throughout the vast expanse of the Russian Empire, from one extremity to the other; suitable under all circumstances just as it comes to the mind and upon the tongue, naturally, without choice or preparation.
Meanwhile, Tchichikoff began to feel that his britchka was balancing about on all sides, and dealt him many an unpleasant shaking and severe knocks; these unpleasant sensations brought him to the conclusion that they must have deviated from the high-road, and were now driving over some uneven field. Selifan seemed also to be under the same impression, however, he did not say a word about it.
"You blunderbuss, upon what road are you driving me now?" Tchichikoff inquired angrily.
"What am I to do, your glory! it is so very dark, indeed, I cannot even see my whip!" Saying this, he drove the britchka so carelessly that it was nearly upset from the sudden shock, and Tchichikoff was obliged to cling with both hands to his seat. Then, and not till then, it was that he conjectured his coachman Selifan was not sober.
"Stop, stop, you will upset me!" he cried out to him.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I? how could I upset your honour?" said Selifan. "It is a bad thing to be upset, I know it well myself; how could I therefore upset you, I certainly shall not upset you." Hereupon he began cautiously to turn the britchka round and round again, until he had at last succeeded in turning it all upon one side. Tchichikoff fell out of his carriage and lay there with his hands and feet deeply imbedded in the mud. Selifan had, however, succeeded in stopping his troika, though the horses would have done so, no doubt, from their own accord, for they seemed very much exhausted.
Such an unexpected mishap had completely bewildered him; he crept down from his seat and posted himself before the britchka, with both his hands firmly fixed on his sides, whilst his master was still trying to raise himself up again upon his legs; thus glancing for a moment upon his master and the carriage before him he added with an air of incredible surprise: "And I have upset him!"
"You are as drunk as a trooper!" exclaimed Tchichikoff.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I be drunk? I know it is a bad thing to be drunk, I have been talking to some friends, that is true; but then, it is a good thing to speak to worthy men, in that there can be no harm. I must confess we had a bit and a sup, but then there can be no harm in having something to eat and drink with worthy people."
"But what did I tell you the last time you got drunk—eh? Have you forgotten it?" inquired Tchichikoff.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I have forgotten what you told me I know my duty well. I know, it is bad to get drunk. I have only been speaking to some worthy friends, because I—"
"Only wait until you get a good thrashing again," interrupted Tchichikoff; "and then you will know what it is to speak to worthy people."
"Just as it may please your glory!" replied Selifan, with an air of resignation, "if I am to have a thrashing, I must, have it; I shall not escape it. And why should I not be punished if it is my fault, you as my master have a right to do so. It is also necessary that mouzhiks should be punished, now and then, to keep them in subordination and good order. If it is my own fault, then it is but just that I should be punished; and why should I not receive a thrashing?"
To such logical reasoning, his lawful master could not possibly imagine what he was to reply. But at that very moment also, it seemed as if Providence itself had taken his pitiable position into commiseration. In the distance the loud barking of dogs was audible. Tchichikoff, overjoyed, gave immediate instructions to his coachman that he should drive on at full speed. A Russian driver has often an excellent sense of presentiment instead of the sense of sight; for that reason it often happens that he will close his eyes, drive on full gallop, and yet arrive somewhere. Selifan, without hearing or seeing anything, had nevertheless succeeded in guiding his horses upon a road which led them straight into the village; and they stopped only then, when the horses and britchka came violently in contact with the gates of a house, and when it was already impossible to drive on any further.
All that Tchichikoff could perceive through the dark flood of rain was the roof of a house; he immediately ordered Selifan to go and find out the gates, which, no doubt, would have taken him a considerable time, if in Russia we had not excellent country dogs, instead of drowsy porters, who, in this instance, announced the arrival of our strangers so loudly, that Selifan himself was obliged to stop up both his ears. A light began to dawn in one of the windows and threw a foggy glimmer straight in the direction of our travellers, who were able to find the gates at last.
Selifan began to knock, and soon after a small gate was opened through which the head of a figure wrapped in a sheep-skin made its appearance, and master and servant were obliged to listen to a woman's creaking voice, uttering the question of: "Who is there? and why are you making all this noise?"
"We are travellers, my good woman, allow us to pass the night here," Tchichikoff pronounced in a faint voice.
"What hurried travellers you seem to be, for look here at the time of night!" the old woman again said, "besides, this is not an inn, a noble lady resides here."
"What are we to do, good mother—you perceive we have lost our way; and surely you cannot expect us to sleep on the steps."
"Yes, the night is dark, and the rain is pouring down in torrents," added Selifan.
"Be silent, you fool," said Tchichikoff.
"But who are you?" demanded the old woman.
"I am, a nobleman, good woman."
The word, nobleman, seemed to startle the old woman, and make her reflect. "Wait a little, I'll go and tell her ladyship," the old female muttered, and in a few minutes later she made her appearance, again, with a lantern in her hands. The gates were thrown open. A light even began to glitter in another window.
The britchka entered the court-yard, and stopped before a small house, which it was impossible to examine more particularly on account of the utter darkness around it. Only one portion of it was dimly illumined by the light proceeding from the window, a puddle formed by the heavy rain and flowing rapidly along before the house, was also visible in the same light. The rain pattered noisily upon the wooden roof, and streamed in loud jets into a large water-tub. Meanwhile, the house dogs joined into a loud discordant howling; the one threw his head back and set up such a long and plaintive howl, as if he were, Heaven knows generously paid for it; another replied to the first in a particular hoarse voice, as if he had already done his best in the concert; whilst a third joined them with a shrill ringing tone, not unlike a post-horse bell; it seemed to be the tenor voice of a juvenile dog; and all their canine voices were drowned at intervals by a deep base bark, undoubtedly a paternal barker, provided with an inexhaustible doggish nature, because he rattled away his tune in such a determined manner, that it would forcibly remind one of a counter-bass voice in a concert, when in the full tide of tone, the tenor raising himself on tip-toes, impelled by a strong desire to sing forth his highest note, and all in fact raise themselves, and their voice as high as possible. At such decisive moments, whilst they throw their heads back, the tenor alone will be sometimes original, and hide his unshaved chin in his white neck-cloth, sit down, or bend forward nearly to the ground, and yet send forth from his hiding place, his note, as loud and audible as to shake the very windows of the concert-room.
From the simple barking of these canine musicians, it was easy to surmise that the village must have been something extraordinary, too; but our wet and frozen hero thought for that moment of nothing else but a warm bed. The britchka had had scarcely time to stop before the entrance of the house, when he already hastened to alight, and jumped cleverly upon the landing, gave himself a considerable shaking, and nearly fell the to ground.
Another woman, rather younger, but very much like the first in appearance, now made her exit from the house upon the landing-steps before it. She led the stranger into the house, and then into a room. Tchichikoff cast two hasty glances around him whilst entering; the apartment was decorated with old and old-fashioned striped paper-hangings. Between the windows there were some pictures representing various species of birds; small rococo-fashioned looking-glasses, with dark frames, in the shape of curled leaves were suspended in a great variety around on the walls; behind each of them, or rather in the frames, were placed, either letters, an old pack of cards, or a stocking; an old clock with Roman figures, intermixed with flowers, also hung on the wall and was ticking loudly. It was impossible to notice more with two glances only.
Besides Tchichikoff felt as if some one had besmeared his eyes with honey, for he had the greatest difficulty in keeping them open. A few minutes later, and the lady of the house made her appearance. She was an elderly person, and entered with a species of nightcap and a flannel hurriedly thrown round her neck. She was one of those noble ladies who reside on their estates, because she was not rich enough in her opinion to live in town—one of those old women who continually complain of bad harvests and severe losses in their household, and who have the habit of keeping their heads bent on one side, whilst they meanwhile know how to heap money into narrow bags, and hide them in all the drawers and upon all the shelves available. In one of these little bags, they will keep nothing else but the shiny silver roubles, in another only the half-roubles, in a third again a few golden imperials, and so on till they have a whole collection of all the coins of the Empire.
At first sight, it would seem that these drawers contain nothing else but articles of wardrobe, such as night-caps, stockings, linen, night-gowns, reals of cotton, old silken cloaks cut up for the purpose of being transformed into a gown, as soon as the one in use is worn out or burnt somewhere at the elbow, whilst the old lady was superintending the baking and cooking of holiday pastries. But they are too careful; the old gown does not run with them the risk of being burnt or worn out at the elbows, or anywhere else so soon; and the careful old lady generally leaves the cut up silken cloak for some smiling niece or widow-sister, together with her little bags containing the collection of all these precious coins as well as her night-caps, sacks and cottons.
Tchichikoff apologised, and begged to be excused for arriving so late at night.
"Never mind, never mind," said the old lady; "in what wretched weather Heaven has brought you here! After such fatigues it would certainly be desirable to eat and drink something warm, but it is so very late that it will be quite impossible to prepare anything."
The last words of the matron were interrupted by such a strange, hissing noise that her guest could not help feeling frightened; this peculiar alarming sound resembled the hissing of serpents, which seemed to have made a sudden appearance in the room; but on looking upwards, Tchichikoff felt tranquilized, for he discovered that the antique dock hanging on the wall was on the point of making an attempt to strike. After this strange hissing, immediately a rattling, and at last, after mustering all its mechanical strength, the clock succeeded in striking two; but with such a sound, that it seemed as if some one was striking with a stick against a broken saucepan. After this effort of the time-piece, the pendulum again continued its usual monotonous tick-tack as before mentioned.
Tchichikoff bowed courteously and thanked the old lady for what she said, and begged to assure her that he wanted nothing so much as a bed, and was only anxious to know in what part of the country he was, and how distant the estate of his friend Sobakevitch might be from her estate. Upon this inquiry, the old lady replied, that she had never heard of such a name, and that she was of opinion that such a person was not to be found anywhere around in her neighbourhood.
"The name of the landowner Maniloff is perhaps better known to you?" Tchichikoff remarked.
"And who is Maniloff?"
"An owner of some extensive estates, my good Madam."
"No, I have not heard of such a name either—he does not live here about."
"And pray, what country gentlemen have you in your neighbourhood?"
"We have Bobroff, Svinin, Kanapatieff, Harpakin, Trepakin, Pleschakoff, Senunoff—" "And pray, Madam," Tchichikoff interrupted her quickly, anxious to avoid the recitation of a catalogue of names, "are they rich and wealthy?"
"No, my dear Sir, there are but few rich or wealthy among them. Some of them have about twenty to thirty, others again from forty to fifty serfs; but of those who possess about four hundred peasants there are very few."
Tchichikoff perceived at once that he had arrived into a quite out-of-the-way neighbourhood.
"How far am I from town my good lady?"
"About sixty wersts. How sorry I am, to be sure, that I have nothing eatable to lay before you; would you perhaps like to take a cup of tea?"
"I am very much obliged to you indeed, but at the present moment I wish for nothing else but a bed."
"You are right, after such an unpleasant journey, nothing could be more desirable, I therefore invite you, my good Sir, to make yourself as comfortable as possible upon this sofa. Fetinia, bring a feather mattress, a pillow, and some blankets. In what awful weather providence has been pleased to send you to me! What a thunder-storm! I have kept my candle burning all night long before the image of my patron-saint. But, my good Sir, you are covered with mud like a wild hoar all over your back and left side! Where have you been pray, to appear in such a disorderly state?"
"Thank heaven that I am only besmeared and that my sides are whole."
"Oh ye, my good saints, what horrors! But do you not want something to rub your back with?"
"I thank you, my good lady, I thank you very much indeed; but pray do not incommode yourself any further on my account, I shall only ask you to tell your maid to dry and clean my coat to-morrow."
"Do you hear, Fetinia?" said the old lady, turning to the younger woman, who entered the room that moment with a candle in her hand, and who had already previously brought in the things her mistress had ordered. She was now in the act of heating up with both hands an enormous feather-bed, which, in consequence of being thus handled, sent forth a cloud of down, which instantly filled the room. "You must take that gentleman's clothes to-morrow morning, and dry them well before the fire, as you did with those of your late master, and then rub the mud out carefully, and clean them properly."
"Very well, my lady!" answered Fetinia, whilst spreading the blankets over the mattress, and pulling the pillow on the bed.
"Now, Sir, your bed is ready," said the old matron, after having cast a careful glance over it. "Farewell, my good Sir, I wish you a pleasant night and rest. But is there, perhaps, anything you would wish for yet? You might perhaps be accustomed, my good gentleman, or like to have your feet scratched by somebody. My late husband would never go to deep unless this was done to him."
But her guest was so rude as to decline having his feet tickled. The old lady retired, and Tchichikoff began to undress himself immediately, handing over to Fetinia all that he stripped himself of, and it consisted of every article of clothing; Fetinia, after having wished him a good night's rest in her turn, took the wet paraphernalia of our hero and retired also, closing the door after her.
When Tchichikoff was thus left alone, he looked, not without a great deal of satisfaction, upon his couch, which nearly reached to the ceiling; Fetinia seemed to be a clever hand at beating up a feather mattress. He approached his bed and got upon a chair close to it, from this he precipitated himself into it, and felt descending to the floor; the sudden pressure of his body upon the mattress had the effect of sending forth again a new volley of down, which filled every corner of the small room.
After having blown out his candle, Tchichikoff rolled himself up in his blankets like a newborn child is wrapped up in its linen, and fell immediately fast asleep. He awoke the next morning at a very late hour; the sun was shining through his window straight into his face, and the flies, which the previous night had slept quietly in their corners on the walls and ceiling, now began to turn all their attention upon our hero; one of them took its seat upon his lips, another upon his ear, and a third Seemed to study how it could manage to gain footing upon his eye, but those which had had the imprudence to come too close to his nose, became the victims of their own folly, for he inhaled them whilst taking breath, unconsciously, in his somnolent state, and this operation upon the flies made him sneeze; this circumstance was also the cause of his suddenly awaking.
On casting a glance around the room, he now observed, that all the paintings did not represent birds as he thought on the previous evening; among them was a portrait of Prince Paskievitch, and another oil-painting representing an old man, in a military frock-coat with red sleeves; a costume as worn during the reign of the late eccentric Emperor, Paul the First. The dock began again its unpleasant serpentine clatter and struck ten broken kettle strokes; a woman's face peeped through the half-opened door, but withdrew immediately, for it seemed that Tchichikoff had thrown off his blankets during the night, in the hope of sleeping better no doubt. It seemed to him as if the head that had been just peeping into the room was familiar to him. He began to collect his thoughts; on asking himself the question, who it might have been, at last he recollected that it must have been the old lady and proprietress of the house. He put on his shirt, his clothes were already dried and cleaned, and were lying close to his bed. When he was dressed, he stepped before the looking-glass and sneezed again so loudly, that a turkey-cock, which was just then passing under his window, which was very low, on the ground-floor, began to roll his voice like a drummer, as is customary among these original birds, no doubt wishing Tchichikoff a good morning in his own fashion, upon which the poor animal was called a fool by our hero.
This salutation, however, brought Tchichikoff close to the window, and he began to examine the scene before him. The window opened to all appearance upon nothing else but a poultry-yard; at least, what he beheld before his sight was a narrow court, filled with a numerous variety of domestic birds. Turkey-cocks and fowls seemed numberless; in the midst of them a common house-cock was walking proudly up and down with measured steps, shaking his comb fiercely and leaning his head on one side, as if he was listening to something, a pig and her offspring also made themselves conspicuous; they were all digging with their snouts in a heap of cinders, meanwhile, the mother caught hold of a young chicken and ate it up quite accidentally whilst grunting with a degree of satisfaction at the tender morsel; then she continued to dig on again as before, and as if nothing at all unusual had happened.
This narrow court or poultry-yard, was separated by a wooden wall, beyond which extended some large fields, where cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, and many other household vegetables were growing in great abundance. In the midst of this orchard and in a great confusion, grew scattered here and there some apple, cherry, plum, and other fruit trees and shrubs, all covered over with nets, to protect them from the depredations of sparrows and other birds. There was a swarm of the former flying about from one spot to another. To keep these daring enemies of the orchard more effectually from plundering the fruit trees and vegetables, there were several guys in different places with outstretched arms; upon the head of one of them and in order to make him the more frightful-looking, a nightcap of the old lady had been placed.
Beyond the orchard, were several corn-fields, flanked by the huts of her ladyship's peasants, which, although built irregularly, and not in straight lines or streets, seemed, nevertheless, to confirm Tchichikoff's opinion that the old lady was rather comfortably circumstanced, because they were kept in good repair. The usual straw roofs appeared all to have been recovered with fresh materials; the gates and doors had their hinges in good repair, and such of the stables and stalls which were open to his inspection, showed some new and well-made carts and sledges. In some of them he could count two and even three of each description.
"Well, I am sure, who would have thought that the village is not so unimportant as one would believe it at first sight," murmured Tchichikoff to himself, and thereupon he made up his mind to have a conversation with the old lady, and try to make a better acquaintance with her upon his all-engrossing subject.
Our hero now, in his turn, peeped through an aperture of the door through which the old lady had popped her head a quarter of an hour before, and perceiving her sitting before a small tea table, he entered the room in a cheerful and flattering manner.
"Good morning, my dear Sir; how have you passed the night?" said the old lady whilst slightly rising from her seat. She was better dressed than on the previous night; she wore a black silk dress, and no longer had the nightcap on her head, but still there was something twisted round her neck.
"Very well, very well indeed," answered Tchichikoff, seating himself in an arm-chair. "And how did you sleep, my dear Madam?"
"Not at all, my good Sir."
"And pray, what was the reason?"
"Indeed, I passed a sleepless night. My back and spine cause me great pain, and my foot all above the ancle, the higher up the leg, the more I suffer."
"It will pass over, I am sure it will, my dear good lady. Do not take so much notice."
"I pray to God, it would pass over. I continually use some bears' grease, as well as friction, with turpentine. But allow me to ask you, what would you like to take with your tea? I have some very good cherry-brandy in this small decanter."
"That will be very nice, my good lady, for I am very fond of cherry-brandy."
My intelligent reader will already have observed, that Tchichikoff, though polite, spoke nevertheless, with a rather civil familiarity, when compared to his manners at Maniloff's house, in fact he stood on no ceremony with the old lady, and made himself comfortable. Here I might also be allowed to make the observation, that we other Russians, though we might not, and cannot in many things rival our more western friends, yet in what term the good manners and behaviour, we have outdone by far the most civilized nations. It is quite impossible to enumerate all the numerous shades and finesses of our good manners. An Englishman or a Frenchman can impossibly form an idea or understand all the peculiarities and differences in our Russian conduct. Englishmen or Frenchmen will speak with pretty nearly the same tone of voice and courtesy to a millionaire as they would employ to a greengrocer, though within themselves they would or might give a decided preference to the former.
But with us it is not so. We can boast of many clever persons who would speak quite differently to a landed proprietor possessing two hundred serfs than to one who owns three hundred peasants; and with him who owns three hundred they would again not talk in the same tone of voice as with the owner of five hundred; and with the proprietor who owns five hundred again not so as with the owner of eight hundred; in a word, you may increase by degrees the ownership to a million, and you may yet depend upon still meeting with shades of differences in their tone of voice as well as manners.
Let us suppose for a moment that we enter one of the numerous imperial offices established for the administration of law and justice in any of the more important towns of the Empire, and that such an imperial office is presided over by a person called the Manager of the Chancellerie. I would beg my courteous reader to muster courage and look at that person at the moment when he is sitting in his place surrounded by all his inferiors; you will be assailed by something more than respect or fear, nay, I venture to say that you will be incapable of pronouncing a syllable; for what pride or dignity does not his face express? You could not do better than take up a brush and paint a Prometheus—a real Prometheus! His glance is like that of an eagle! his walk is easy and regular. And that very same proud eagle, as soon as he leaves that same seat of his greatness to approach the cabinet of his superior, becomes as alert as a long-legged snipe, and hurries with his documents under his arm as if he was pursued by a hawk.
In society, and especially at evening parties, though Prometheus is not of an exalted rank, yet he remains the same proud and conceited man; but as soon as he happens to meet with some one higher in dignity, such a metamorphosis takes place with our Prometheus, that even Ovid would have had the greatest difficulty in describing him properly. He has become a fly—no, even less than a fly—he has reduced himself to a grain of sand!
But this is not my friend Ivan Petrovitch, you would say in looking at him. Ivan Petrovitch is taller, and this is a little, sickly-looking person; the other speaks in a loud bass voice, and is never wont to smile, but this person warbles like a bird, and laughs continually. And yet, if you go near and examine him closer, you will find it is your friend Ivan Petrovitch. Aha! oho! will be your exclamation. However it is time for us to return again to our dramatis persona.
Tchichikoff, as we have already perceived, had come to the resolution of standing on no ceremony with the old lady, and, therefore, took up a cup of tea, poured some of the cherry-brandy into it, and began the following conversation with his hostess:
"You have a fine estate and village, my good lady. Pray, how many serfs do you possess?"
"Well, my dear Sir, I have about eighty souls living in yonder village," the matron answered; "but oh, misery! the times are bad, and besides, I had a bad harvest last year; may the Lord have mercy upon us!"
"However, to judge from appearances, your peasants look healthy, and their huts are in good repair. But allow me to inquire your name? Pardon me, I am so very absent—I arrived so very late at night—"
"My name is Korobotchka, I am the widow of the late Secretary of the Manor."
"I am very much obliged to you for the information. And pray, what are your Christian names?"
"Anastasia Petrovna, if you please."
"Anastasia Petrovna? a very fine name that of Anastasia Petrovna. I have an aunt, a sister of my mother's, whose name is also Anastasia Petrovna."
"And pray, what is your name?" inquired the widow of the late Secretary. "You are, no doubt, as far as I can guess, one of our district judges?"
"No, my good lady," replied Tchichikoff, smiling. "You have not guessed rightly, for I am not a judge, but I travel for my own little affairs."
"Ah! then you must be a public contractor. How very much I regret now that I sold my honey so cheap to those merchants; I am sure, my good Sir, you would have bought the honey of me."
"Pardon me, but I think I should not have bought your honey."
"What else? Perhaps some flax? But alas! I have very little at the present moment, perhaps not more than half a pud."
"No, my good lady, but I might buy perhaps some other kind of goods; tell me, if you please, have many of your peasants died lately?"
"Oh, my dear Sir, I lost eighteen men!" said the matron, with a deep sigh. "And it was a severe loss to me, for those who died were such healthy and hard-working peasants. It is true, since they died others again have been born; but what good are they as yet? they are all too young. I had but recently a visit from the judge, who came to claim the imperial capitation tax. Those eighteen are dead, and yet I have to pay the tax upon them all the same till the next census is taken. Last week a fire destroyed my smith, and that is again a severe loss, he was such an ingenious artisan, for he could even do locksmith's work."
"So you have suffered from a fire? this is sad indeed, my good lady."
"May God preserve me from such a calamity! for a real fire would be worse still; the smith burned himself to death, my good Sir. Somehow, a fire took place within his own body; he had been drinking too much, for a blue flame seemed to consume him, he smouldered, and became as black as a coal; but you can have no idea what an ingenious workman he was; and now I shall not be able to drive out at all, for I have no one to shoe my horses."
"All calamities are the decrees of Providence, my dear lady," said Tchichikoff, with a sigh; "the wisdom of God is beyond our understanding. You had better let me have them, my excellent Anastasia Petrovna?"
"Whom, my dear Sir?"
"Well, all those that are dead."
"But how am I to let you have them?"
"My good lady, that is quite simple. Or, if you like it better, sell them to me. I am even willing to pay you some money for them." "But how is this? I really cannot understand you. Could you really intend to dig them up again out of their graves?"
Tchichikoff now perceived that the matron had gone too far, and that it became necessary to explain to her in what his proposal and business were to consist. In a few words, he made her understand, that the transfer, or sale, would only exist upon paper, and that her dead serfs would be noted down in that document as existing, or, more properly speaking, living.
"But pray, what do you want them for?" said the old lady, in opening her eyes as wide as surprise would allow it.
"That is my business," replied Tchichikoff, drily.
"But they are positively dead, my good Sir!"
"And who says that they are living? Your loss consists in their being dead; you have still to pay the capitation tax for them as regularly as before, is it not so? Very well, then; I am ready to deliver you from all further trouble and payment on their account. Do you comprehend me now? I offer, not only to take them off your hands, but I am even willing to pay you the amount of fifteen roubles. Now, I hope the matter will be dear to you?"
"Really, I don't know," the old lady said, hesitatingly. "Because, I never in my life sold any dead serfs before."
"What next, pray! This would be rather a wonder if you had sold any to anybody before. Or do you imagine, perhaps, that there is really any advantage to be derived from dead serfs?"
"No, that I do not believe. Of what use would they be? certainly of none whatever. The only thing that embarrasses me is, that they are really dead."
"Well, I am sure, this old woman seems to be of an obstinate disposition," thought Tchichikoff. "Listen, my excellent lady. Pray, reflect upon it seriously; you are ruining yourself. You have to pay a tax for them as if they, were positively living."
"Oh, pray, my good Sir, do not mention it, even!" interrupted the widow. "Only last week I took more than one hundred and fifty roubles to the office of the Receiver-General And I had to bribe the judge besides."
"There, then, don't you see it, my dear, good lady. Now, I beg you will take into consideration and imagine that you will have no more occasion to bribe either of the tax-gatherers, because I shall undertake to pay for them; I, not you; I take all and every responsibility upon myself. I am even disposed to defray the expense of the necessary contract of sale; do you understand that?"
The old lady began to make her reflections. The proposed transaction seemed to her to be a profitable one, with the exception, however, that this was quite a novel and unheard-of business; and for that reason she began to feel considerable apprehension lest this strange purchaser might take some undue advantage of her. He arrived at her house without a formal introduction, and Heaven only knew whence he came; besides, he had made his appearance at so very late an hour of the night.
"Well, my good lady, does the offer suit you?" demanded Tchichikoff.
"Truly, my good Sir, but it has never happened to me to sell deceased people. I have been in the habit of selling some of my living serfs, and I remember now that I sold two pretty little girls, about three years ago, to our pope, and he has been exceedingly pleased with them ever since, for they have become very clever maids; they can weave napkins and towels now most beautifully."
"There is no question about the living between us, God bless them. I want your dead." "Really, I am rather fearful at my first trial in such a business, lest I might suffer some severe loss in the transaction. Pardon my candour, but you might wish to impose upon me, my good Sir, and they—yes, they might be worth something more."
"Listen, good mother—how strange you are to be sure! can you think them to be worth anything? Just oblige me by reflecting for a moment; they are nothing else but dust. Do you understand me? they are simply dust! Take for example the most trifling or the most worthless thing, suppose even a dirty rag, and yet you will find that rag worth something; that article will at least be bought at some paper-mills, whilst what I want of you cannot be made use of in any way; now then, pray tell me, of what use could they be to you?"
"My good Sir, you are right enough, they are of no value to me whatever, and the only reason that makes me hesitate, is that they are already dead."
"Oh, the blockhead of an old woman!" said Tchichikoff to himself, whilst beginning to lose, by degrees, his wonted patience and forbearance, "the devil may come to an understanding with her! I feel the perspiration already running down my back, thanks to the old she-dragon!" Whereupon he produced his pocket-handkerchief and began to dry his forehead, which was really covered with heavy drops of perspiration. However, Tchichikoff was wrong in getting into a passion, for many another respectable and imperial person is as dull in the comprehension of business matters as Lady Korobotchka appeared to be, and may prove themselves and their heads as empty as a band-box; whenever they take to an opinion, they will stick to it with an obstinacy from which no argument, no proofs will ever dissuade them; though they may be as bright as noon-day, they continue to recoil from it, like an india-rubber ball will rebound when thrown against the wall.
After having wiped away the heavy dew-drops from his forehead, Tchichikoff determined to try if he could not bring her upon the right path by another way.
"My good lady," he said, "either you do not wish to understand me, or you speak thus for the sake of speaking. I offer you money—fifteen roubles in bank notes. Do you now understand me? This is a sum which you will not pick up in the open street. Oblige me, and tell me candidly, at what price did you sell your honey to those merchants?"
"At twelve roubles the pud."
"I fancy, my good lady, you are burthening your conscience with a light sin; you could not have sold it at twelve roubles the pud."
"My patron saint is my witness that I did so."
"Very well then, I believe you, but mark me now! for that money you had to give your honey; you perhaps spent a whole year in gathering it, and perhaps with much care, trouble, and anxiety too; you have been watching your bee-hives during the summer and have been obliged to nurse them throughout our long winter months, whilst your dead serfs are neither goods nor chatties of this world. With them you had no cares, no troubles nor anxieties, and if they have left this wicked world for a better one, it was by a decree of Providence that you have sustained a loss in your household. Therefore, and as I have said before, there you received those twelve roubles for your troubles, whilst I am now offering you money for a mere nothing, and if you please not twelve roubles but fifteen, and not in silver, but in three beautiful new imperial bank notes."
After such strong arguments as those with which we concluded the last chapter, Tchichikoff could not doubt any longer that the old lady would give way and consent to his proposal.
"Truly," replied the old matron, with an air of simplicity, "and considering that I am a poor and inexperienced widow, who have no regular insight into business matters, I think it will be better for me not to be in a hurry in this bargain; I shall wait a little time, some other purchaser may come, and, meanwhile I should be able to obtain some information about the prices."
"For shame, for shame, my good lady! It's really a shame. What are you speaking now, pray consider? Who ever will come upon the idea of buying your dead serfs? What benefit could possibly be derived from them?"
"They might perhaps be turned to some account in a household—" replied the old woman, but did not finish her phrase, but looked him into the face as if frightened at the idea herself, and yet anxious to know what he would say in reply.
"Turn the dead to account in a household! Wherever have you heard of that before? Would you perhaps use them as guys in your orchards to frighten the sparrows away?"
"The holy powers be with us! What strange language you douse to be sure!" exclaimed the widow whilst crossing herself.
"Where else would you like to put them? however, I will leave you their skeletons as well as their graves; I only want you to transfer them to me on paper. Well then, what do you say? Will you agree? pray give me an answer at least!"
The old lady began to reflect again.
"What are you thinking about, Anastasia Petrovna?"
"I really do not know what to decide upon, you had better buy some flax of me."
"What am I to do with your flax? I am really surprised at you; I speak to you of quite a different matter, and you want to stuff me with flax! Everything in proper time, I will call at some other time, and then I shall have no objection to deal with you for your flax. Now, then, Anastasia Petrovna, how is it to be?"
"By my saints, the goods you want, are so very strange, so very unusual!"
Here Tchichikoff outstepped the bounds of patience, and rising from his chair, he upset it in his fury, and wished the old woman to the devil.
At the name of the devil, the old woman became unusually alarmed.
"Oh, pray do not mention him! the Lord preserve us!" she exclaimed, whilst trembling violently with a pale face. "It is only three nights ago since I dreamt of the evil one all night long. I happened to come upon the idea of wishing to tell my own fortune by a pack of cards, just shortly after I had said my evening prayers, and it seems that the Lord has sent him out against me to punish me for my wickedness. Oh, he was so frightfully ugly; and his horns seemed by far larger than those of my oxen."
"I am only surprised that you don't dream of them by scores. Prompted by a feeling of Christian humanity, I intended, on seeing a poor and lonely widow striving against difficulties—no, I will not do it now, and may what will become of you and of your whole village!"
"Oh, how you do swear, to be sure!" said the widow, whilst looking terrified.
"But it is quite impossible to keep my temper with you. Without wishing to give you offence, I cannot help quoting an old proverb, and compare you to a farm-yard animal,—the species of which, out of respect for you, I will forbear mentioning—lying on a hay-stack, not eating itself, and preventing others from doing so. I should have liked to purchase even some of your household produce, because I am in the habit of contracting also for imperial supplies."
In saying this he slightly imposed upon the old lady; however, it seemed to slip quite accidentally from his tongue, without any premeditation; it served, however, to further his views, quite unexpectedly. Contractors for the supply of the imperial army, the sense which these words conveyed, had a very strong effect upon the nervous system of Anastasia Petrovna, at least, it made her articulate the following words in almost a nearly supplicating voice:
"But, my good Sir, what is the cause of your great anger and impatience? If I had known beforehand that you were a gentleman of such a hot temper, I would, of course, not have given you the slightest provocation."
"I too have a reason to be angry with you? Bah, you are mistaken, the thing is not worth an egg-shell, and wherefore should I lose my good temper?"
"Very well, then, my good Sir, I am ready to let you have them for fifteen roubles, in bank notes; but pray remember me in your contracts of supply; if you should want to purchase some rye-flour, oatmeal, or some wheat, and some cattle, then please do not forget to treat me as a friend."
"I shall not take any advantage over you, my worthy woman," said Tchichikoff; meanwhile he used his hand to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead, which was running down his face in three large streams. He inquired of her, if she had perchance, an agent in town, or a friend whom she could intrust with the signature of the contract of sale in her name, and any other authorization that might be deemed necessary in the completion of the document.
"To be sure I have, the proto-pope's father, Kirilla's son, serves in the very government office in which you will have to sign the papers," answered the widow. Tchichikoff asked her to address him a letter of authorization, and in order to avoid her any further trouble, offered to compose and write it out for her.
"It would be a good thing," thought Lady Korobotchka, "if he would contract for some of my grains and cattle, I must try to please him now: let me see? yes, there is some of yesterday's paste still left. I'll go and tell Fetinia to make him some pancakes; it would be also a good idea to bake him a sweet cake stuffed with eggs, I know they bake it well in my house, and besides it will take but little time and trouble."
The good old lady left the room with the intention of carrying out her hospitable projects about the sweet egg cakes, to which no doubt she meant to make the addition of a few more of the eatables that are generally stored up in the household of Russian families living in the country. Tchichikoff made use of this opportunity, and entered the reception-room in which he had passed the night, with the intention of taking the necessary writing materials from his dressing-case. The reception-room was already swept, and in good order, the luxurious feather-bed had been removed, a table was placed before the sofa, and covered with a white cloth. After depositing his dressing-case upon the table, Tchichikoff sat down to rest himself a little, because he felt himself as wet from perspiration as if he had been plunged into the river; every article of his dress, beginning from the shirt down to his stockings, was ringing wet.
"Ough! how mercilessly the old tiger cat has treated me to be sure!" said he, after taking breath again, and opening his dressing-case.
The author is of opinion, that there are a great many readers, who are sufficiently inquisitive to wish to know something more about the construction of the inner compartments of this dressing-case, made in the French style by some Russian mechanic. If we are right, why should we not gratify them? Here then is the interior arrangements: in the centre, you may imagine you behold the shaving apparatus, such as brushes and soap box, next to them, six or seven partitions for razors; then on either side, a square opening for ink and sand-stands, with a hollow or curved shelf for pens, pencils, sealing wax, and all such things of longitude; then again a few more partitions, with and without covers, for such articles as are of a shorter kind, and they were filled with visiting cards, invitations to christenings and funerals, playbills, and a variety of other small articles, which he secured to keep as souvenirs. All this upper division, with its various compartments could be taken out, and you would have seen a space occupied by heaps of writing paper of all sizes, then followed a small but hidden box of money, which was opened by a secret spring fixed in the side of the case. He always had the habit of opening this money-safe so hurriedly, that it was quite impossible to see how much money he carried about with him when travelling. After having produced the necessary material, Tchichikoff arranged his pen and began to write. At that moment Lady Korobotchka entered the room.
"What a pretty dressing-case you have, my good Sir," said the widow to him, whilst sitting down close to him. "No doubt you bought that pretty box in Moscow?"
"Yes, my lady, in Moscow," answered Tchichikoff, continuing to write.
"Thought as much; for everything is well made there. About three years ago, my sister bought some warm shoes for her children, and they were so well made, that they have lasted them even till now; the material is excellent in Moscow! Oh, ye saints, what a collection of stamped papers you have there!" she continued, whilst casting a look into his dressing-case.
And she was right, he had a large quantity of stamped paper.
"I wish you would make me a present, if but of a sheet! I am quite out of it for the present; it might happen that I shall have to write a petition, and have no suitable paper."
Tchichikoff explained to her that the paper was not of that description, that it could only be used for the purpose of drawing up contracts of sale, but not petitions. However, in order to quiet as well as to please her, he presented her with an old sheet of trifling value.
When he had written the letter he requested her to sign it, and demanded at the same time a list of the names of those of her dead serfs, as he was shortly about to consider as his property. It appeared, however, that Lady Korobotchka was not in the habit of keeping any accounts or lists, but could remember the name of everyone by heart; Tchichikoff was, therefore, obliged to note them down as she dictated their names in due rotation.
The names of a few of his future dependants did puzzle him considerably, but much more so their surnames, which seemed to have been given to them by their lawful mistress as distinguishing marks of their various professions. After having taken down their names with the different items, Tchichikoff stopped to take breath, and inhaled a savoury perfume, like that of melted butter.
"Will you please to come and take a little luncheon now?" said his amiable hostess.
Tchichikoff looked round, and saw the table covered with a variety of good things, such as mushrooms, fish, pies, muffins, pancakes, to which there was a variety of sweet and fat sauces, sauces mixed with sweet onions, sauces mixed with poppy-seed, cream and butter sauces, sprat and other small fish sauces.
"Pray taste this pie with egg and meat stuffing, first," said Lady Korobotchka.
Tchichikoff seated himself at once to the strongly-recommended pie with egg and meat stuffing, and after having eaten nearly the half of it, he began to praise it very much. And indeed, the pie was really very excellently prepared, and considering the bother he had to come to an understanding with the old lady, it seemed particularly delicious.
"And now some pancakes or muffins, if you please?" said she again.
In reply to this, Tchichikoff rolled up three pancakes at once, and after dipping them in the melted butter, he dispatched them into his mouth, and wiped his greasy lips and hands upon the clean napkin. After repeating this operation twice or three times, he begged his hostess to order his horses to be put to his britchka. Anastasia Petrovna immediately called her servant Fetinia, gave her the necessary instructions, and ordered her at the same time to bring a fresh supply of hot pancakes.
"Your pancakes are delicious, indeed," said Tchichikoff, whilst helping himself freely to some more of the hot ones that were put before him.
"Yes, they bake them well at my house," replied his hostess; "it is only a pity that we have such bad harvests, which makes the flour so very dear. But why do you hurry yourself so much, my dear Sir?" she said to Tchichikoff, when she saw him take up his travelling-cap, "your carriage cannot yet be ready and waiting?"
"That will soon be done, my good lady. I keep my coachman always alive to his duty."
"Well, then, pray do not forget me in your contracts for the imperial supplies."
"I shall not forget you, my excellent lady, I shall not forget you," repeated Tchichikoff, whilst walking out of the house.
"Do you by chance buy pig's grease?" inquired the widow, whilst following him from behind.
"Why should I not buy some? of course I do, but that will be at some other time."
"I shall have some pig's grease to offer to you at Christmas."
"I will buy some of you, I will, indeed, I am ready to buy anything of you later, even pig's grease."
"You may, perhaps, also like to buy some birds' feathers of all descriptions of me. I shall have a quantity at Michaelmas next."
"Very well, very well, my good lady," answered Tchichikoff.
"There, you see, my good Sir, your britchka is not yet ready," said his hostess, when they had arrived upon, the door-step.
"Oh, never mind, it will soon be ready. Pray tell me only how we shall have to drive to come upon the high road?"
"How should I explain that to you? Let me see," said the old lady after a moment's reflection; "it is rather difficult to describe because there are so many turnings; perhaps I had better give you a little girl to show you the road. I dare say you will have a small seat for her to sit upon on your carriage?"
"Yes, to be sure I have."
"Very well, then, I will intrust you with one of my little girls; she knows the road well enough, but look you here! do not decoy her, for some of the merchants have already carried one of my girls off."
Tchichikoff promised her that he would not kidnap the girl, and Lady Korobotchka, tranquillized by his assurance, began now to look around her in the court-yard of the house; she fixed her eyes, first upon the housekeeper, who was carrying across the court a large vessel with honey, and then upon a peasant who made his appearance at the gates, and by degrees the old lady was soon completely devoted to her household concerns.
"Ah, here is my britchka at last," exclaimed Tchichikoff, as be saw his carriage driving up. "Well, you idiot, what the deuce has kept you so long? It seems the fumes of yesterday have not yet quite evaporated."
Selifan made no reply to this observation.
"Farewell, my excellent lady! But stop, where is your little girl?"
"Come here, Pelagey," said the widow addressing herself to a little girl of about eleven years, who was standing close by, dressed in a home-woven woollen frock, and with bare feet, which, at a distance might have been mistaken for boots, so much they were besmeared with fresh mud. "Go with this gentleman, and lead him upon the high road."
Selifan assisted her to get upon his seat, in doing this she put one of her dirty feet upon the carriage steps, and after leaving a mark behind, she at last took her seat next to Selifan. After he had seen her safely seated, Tchichikoff in his turn put his foot upon his carriage steps, and after making it visibly incline on the right hand side—because he was rather weighty—he at last took his seat comfortably, and said: "Oh! now I am all right! farewell, my good lady!"
The horses moved on, and the carriage left the court-yard. Selifan was sulky during the whole journey, but at the same time very careful and attentive in the observance of his duty as a driver, which always happened when he had been negligent or drunk. His horses were exceeding clean, as well as their harness and the britchka. The horse collar of one of the three horses, which was usually put on its neck in so dilapidated a state, that the hemp was visible under the leather, was now cleverly sewn up. During the whole time he continued to be speechless, and now and then only lifted his whip, but without addressing any lecture to his tiger-spotted idler, who stood as much as ever in want of a correction; however, the usually talkative driver, held his reins loosely in his hand, and used the whip only occasionally, and then only passed it across their backs as a matter of form. Yet from his sulkily-compressed lips were heard at intervals monosyllables of an ill-tempered meaning, such as, "Now then, now, you raven! take care! speed on!" but nothing else.
Even the other side horse, as well as the leader seemed to feel some discontent, when they heard nothing of that to which they had been accustomed: either words of reproof or approbation. The tiger-spotted idler seemed rather disgusted, because he felt the most unpleasant touches tickling his fat sides.
"Now then, now then, what the deuce is the matter with him! he is harder at me than ever!" thought the idler to himself, whilst pointing his ears. "He knows where to hit, and no mistake! He won't beat me in a straight-forward manner upon the back, but picks and chooses the most sensible parts, he hits my ears, and keeps annoying my flanks."
"Is it to the right?" was the dry question which Selifan addressed to the little girl sitting next to him, whilst pointing with his whip towards a dark road, looming in the distance among some verdoyant com fields.
"No, no, I will show you where," answered the little girl.
"Where is it?" demanded Selifan, after having driven for some distance.
"That is the road," replied the child, whilst pointing with her hand.
"Eh, you little stupid!" said Selifan; "that is to the right; she does not even know what right and left means."
Although the day was fair, the road was wet and heavy, and so muddy, that the wheels of the britchka were soon thickly covered with it, which considerably increased the weight of the carriage; besides, the soil was of a dayish nature and exceedingly sticky. This was the chief cause that they could not reach the high road before mid-day. Without the assistance of the little girl, they would not have been able to progress so fast, because the narrow paths and turnings were innumerable, and led in all directions, like captured lobsters when thrown out of a bag, and Selifan, if alone, might have driven heaven knows where. Soon after, the little girl pointed to some building at a distance and said, "There is the high road!"
"And what are those buildings?" inquired Selifan.
"That is an inn," answered the child.
"Now we shall be able to find the road ourselves," said Selifan, "you can be off home again." He stopped his horses, and helped her to get down from his seat, murmuring through his teeth, "Eh, you little black-leg!"
Tchichikoff gave her some coppers, the value of about a penny, and she soon disappeared in one of the next turnings. The poor little child seemed overjoyed, not so much about the trifle which she had received, as from the pleasure she had enjoyed in sitting and riding in such a beautiful carriage, drawn by such handsome horses.
On arriving at the inn, Tchichikoff ordered his coachman to halt, mainly for too reasons; on the one hand, he wished that his jaded horses should have a little rest, and on the other, that he himself should have something to eat, and recruit his exhausted strength.
The author must confess that he very much envies the appetite and the stomach of such men as his hero. He entertains the greatest indifference for all those gentlemen of the haut ton, who inhabit either St. Petersburgh or Moscow, and who waste their time in anxiously thinking about what they would like to eat to-morrow, and what dinner they could imagine for the day after, and preparing themselves for that dinner by undergoing the operation of swallowing a pill on the evening previous; who gulp down oysters and devour lobsters, together with a variety of other marine and land curiosities, and end by going on a journey for health, either to Baden Baden, or the Caucasus.
No, these gentlemen have never had the good fortune to excite my envy; but our men of the middle rank, who at one inn ask for cold ham, at another for roast pork, and at a third for a tail, or a head of a sturgeon, or a lump of smoked sausage with onions in it, and then, without any further ceremony, at any hour of the day sit down to table and eat and drink heartily, such men indeed enjoy the enviable blessings of heaven, a sound stomach and a good appetite. I remember many a gentleman belonging to, what we term in Russia, the haut ton, who would have gladly parted with the half of his numerous serfs, and the half of his mortgaged and non-mortgaged fortune, with all its foreign and domestic improvements, on one condition, namely: that he should receive in return, such a stomach and appetite as the gentlemen of the middle rank possesses; but what a pity that no monetary sacrifices, nor the gift of their estates with or without foreign improvements will ever obtain them in return such a stomach as the gentleman of the less exalted position can boast of.
The inn which received Tchichikoff under its hospitable wooden roof, had an entrance verandah which rested upon four pillars, resembling some old-fashioned church chandeliers; the aspect of the whole, was a dark, smoky-looking structure, altogether, not unlike the miserable huts of the peasantry, only in larger dimensions; the fresh workmanship of the carved cornices which ornamented the windows, and the large entrance door, formed a striking contrast with the dark walls of the gloomy house, upon the shutters of which a variety of flower-pots were painted upon, what was once, a sky-blue ground.
After ascending a narrow, dark and inconvenient staircase, Tchichikoff arrived at a spacious landing, where he opened a creaking door, and was encountered by an enormously stout old woman dressed in a yellow and flame coloured print dress, who officiously addressed the stranger with: "step in here if you please!" In this room his eye fell upon familiar objects, such as are to be met with at every small country inn, of which there are again uncountable numbers on the high roads of Russia.
Among these familiar objects we may mention, an immense hooped samovar, smoothly plained fir walls, a three legged, but large cupboard, covered with an array of tea-pots, cups and saucers standing in a corner, neatly painted china easter eggs, hanging before the images of the saints suspended by pink and blue ribbons, a large favourite cat with her new born offspring, a looking glass, which instead of reflecting two eyes showed the curious party to be in possession of four, and instead of a face something not unlike a muffin, and finally numerous small bundles of fine herbs, which had been hung up to dry close by the lamps burning before the images. Any one on approaching these simples, and inhaling their perfumes could not have resisted a sneeze in consequence.
"Have you a little bit of sucking pig?" such was the question with which Tchichikoff addressed himself to the fat old woman.
"I have some, your glory!" was the short reply.
"With cream and horse-raddish?"
"Yes, your glory! prepared with cream and horse-raddish."
"Let me have it then!"
The landlady hurried off, and soon returned again with a plate and a napkin so unmercifully stiffened, that it crackled like dried bark; she produced a knife with a bone handle, which from age and use had become of a very dark yellow colour, its blade was as thin as a penknife, a fork with two prongs only, and lastly a salt box, which it was impossible for her to make stand upright upon the table.
Our hero, begun immediately, as was his habit, to enter into conversation with the hostess, and inquired with apparent solicitude, if she kept the hotel herself, or whether it was her husband who did so; how large the income was, and whether her sons lived with her in the house; whether the eldest was a single, or married man, and what sort of wife he had got, whether she brought a large, or a small marriage portion into the family; and if the father-in-law was satisfied, or displeased that he received but trifling presents at the wedding, in a word, he omitted no question that could possibly have been put.
From these and similar inquiries, it will be obvious that he was also anxious to know what sort of landowners lived in her neighbourhood, and he was consequently informed that there existed in the vicinity a great variety of landed proprietors, for instance: the Blochins, the Potchitaeffs, the Milnoffs, Tcheprakoff, a Colonel in the army, Sobakevitch.
"Ah! you know Mr. Sobakevitch?" Tchichikoff demanded, interrupting her, and he was informed that the old woman knew, not only Sobakevitch, but also Mr. Maniloff, and that Maniloff was, in her opinion, more of a gentleman than Sobakevitch; that the former, when putting up at her inn, would always order a roast chicken, or demand some cold veal; and if she had any sheep's liver, he would even ask for that, and yet scarcely touch anything; whilst Sobakevitch was accustomed to ask for only one dish, but sit down to it, and eat it all, and even ask an addition of the same, and for the same price.
When he had thus questioned and conversed with the old landlady, whilst continuing to eat his sucking pig, of which there remained but one small piece more, the noise of carriage wheels arriving at the inn was heard. He rose and looked out of the window, and beheld a light britchka drawn by a troika, three beautiful and well-fed horses, pulled up before the inn.
Two gentlemen alighted from this carriage. The one was fair and of high stature; the other less tall and of dark complexion. The fair man was dressed in a dark cloth paletot; the other wore a simple Turkish morning coat, commonly called an archaluck. At a distance, a second miserable looking empty vehicle, drawn by four long-haired and poor looking horses, followed the first, the harness was in a wretched condition, and the horses' collars were tattered, and tied up with strings.
The fair complexioned gentleman immediately entered the house and walked up-stairs; whilst his darker companion remained below, seeking for something in his britchka, and speaking to the servant. At the same time he made signs with his hand to the driver of the other vehicle, which was now gradually approaching. The voice of the speaker below seemed familiar to Tchichikoff, and whilst he was frying to recognise him, the fair man had had already time to find the door, and entered the room.
He was a man of tall stature, with careworn or rather jaded features, and wore a pair of small Scotch-coloured moustachios. From his pallid complexion it could easily be perceived that if he had not smelled much gunpowder, he must have been perfectly familiar with the smoke of tobacco. He bowed civilly to Tchichikoff, which the other returned as civilly. In the course of a few minutes they would have infallibly spoken, and have become well acquainted one with other, because the commencement was already made, and they would have expressed at the same time, with mutual satisfaction, that the dust on the high road had been completely laid by the heavy rain of the preceding night, and that it was now cool and pleasant travelling, but at that moment the dark-complexioned traveller entered the room, threw his cap upon the table, and passed his hand through his rich black hair.
He was a man of the middle stature, well made, and of gentlemanly appearance, with a highly healthy-coloured complexion, with teeth as white as snow, and a pair of whiskers as black as ebony. He was fresh as milk and blood can possibly be; health seemed to gleam out of every one of his features.
"Bah! bah! bah!" he exclaimed suddenly, and opening his arms as he beheld Tchichikoff, "What good fortune."
Tchichikoff recognized in the speaker, Mr. Nosdrieff, the same gentleman with whom he had the pleasure of dining at the Procurator's house, and who in a very brief time indeed had placed himself on such a familiar footing with our hero, that he had called him several times thou, which is, by the bye, not unusual in Russia, though it would shock the ear of an Englishman. However, Tchichikoff on his side, had given no provocation to this familiarity.
"Where have you been?" said Nosdrieff; but without awaiting a reply, he continued: "My dear fellow, I have just returned from a fair. Congratulate me! I have nearly ruined myself by gambling. Would you believe it, I never lost so much in my life before? And the result is, that I have been obliged to travel with common post-horses. Just look through the window, and convince yourself, my dear fellow!"
Here he with his hand turned Tchichikoff's head towards the window, and nearly made him hit himself against the framework.
"Do you see what miserable looking wretches they are? I can assure you they had every difficulty in dragging themselves along the road, and I was therefore obliged to get into that fellow's britchka."
With this polite remark, he pointed with his finger towards his travelling companion.
"Are you not yet acquainted? My brother-in-law, Mr. Muschnieff. I have been speaking to him of you, my dear Tchichikoff all the morning. I told him, mind, we are sure to meet that delightful gentleman, Pavel Ivanovitch. But, my dear fellow, if you could only imagine how much I have lost by gambling! Would you believe it, I lost not only four of my finest race-horses, but also a considerable amount in bank-notes—all gone I Now I have neither my watch nor chain."
Tchichikoff looked at him, and really found it was as he said, he had neither his watch nor his chain. It even seemed to him as if one of his whiskers was less frill than the other.
"And if I had had but twenty roubles more in my pocket at the time," continued Nosdrieff, "but the trifling sum of a twenty-rouble note, I should have won back again, all, no, not merely all, but I am sure, that at this moment I should have had thirty or forty thousand roubles more in my pocket-book, this I can affirm, upon my word, as a gentleman!"
"Now then, softly, you said the same then and there," said the fair man, "and when I gave you a fifty-rouble note, you lost it in no time."
"I should not have lost it; by Heaven, I should not have lost it, without a mistake of my own, I could not have lost it. If I had only doubled my stake after the parole, I should have ruined the croupier."
"However, you did nothing of the kind," added his brother-in-law.
"Certainly not, because as I told you, I bent my corners too rashly. And you think, perhaps, that the major plays well?"
"I don't care how he plays, but the fact is, that he has won your money."
"Never mind with his infernal good luck, I could play as well. But let him come and try his chance with me at any other game, and you will soon be able to see how I shall treat him. I must confess this fair was one of the finest I have been at for some time. The tradesmen themselves agree that they never saw so many people in their town, and that seldom have they known such a run of business.
"All that I sent to the market, from my estate, has been sold at the most advantageous prices. I sincerely regret, that you, my dear fellow, were not with us. Imagine only, about three wersts from town, a regiment of dragoons was lying in their barracks. All the officers of that regiment and a few more from other places, in all, about forty men besides myself; we were always together, but when we sat down to drink—then it was, my dear fellow, that I should have liked to see you among us.
"What a nice fellow that Stabz-Capitän Pozelueff is!" Nosdrieff ran on. "We were always together. We had some excellent wine supplied to us by the celebrated merchant Ponomareff! But, by the bye, I must tell you, he is a great scoundrel, and you ought not to buy anything in his shop; he has the habit of mixing with his wines, heaven knows what stuff, he put in some sandal-wood, bad spirits, and even some of that raw Kahetian wine of the Caucasus, the rascal! but then I must confess, whenever he produces a bottle of what he calls extra fine, and which he usually keeps in a secret place, then you may depend on tasting something palateable, and fancy yourself in paradise. The champagne we had at his house was so delicious, that that with which the Lord Lieutenant treated us to the other day, was as bad as a bottle of stale ginger-beer compared with it. Only fancy, it was not Cliquot. He also produced from his usual hiding store an extra bottle of claret, which he called bonbon. Its flavour was that of a rose, or a whole bouquet if you like. Oh, we had such a spree with that fellow! and a prince, who happened to arrive after us demanded some champagne, and could not get any in the whole town, for we, I mean the officers and I, had drunk every bottle of it. Would you believe it, my dear fellow, that I for my own account drank seventeen bottles of champagne during our dinner!
"Now then, I am sure you could not have drunk seventeen bottles all by yourself," his brother-in-law interrupted him.
"On the faith of a gentleman, I did as I said, I drank them all," answered Nosdrieff.
"You may say what you like, but I tell you, that you could not even empty ten bottles of champagne."
"Very well then, will you lay a wager to that effect?"
"Why should I bet with you about it?"
"Now then, come, stake your new rifle, which you bought at the fair."
"No, I won't."
"Just lay me a wager about it!"
"I won't even try."
"It's well you won't try, else you would remain without your rifle as you now are without your cap. Oh, my dear fellow Tchichikoff, you can have no idea how much I regret that you were not with us! I know you could never have parted with my friend Lieutenant Kuvschinikoff, I am sure you would have soon become intimate. He is not such a man as our Procurator, or all the other niggards of our province, who tremble at each copek they spend. That fellow spends his fortune like a prince, and is ready to play any game. Ah, my dear Tchichikoff, why did you not come to the fair. Really you are a humbug! pardon my saying it, but I could not help it, allow me to embrace you, my dear fellow, because I like you amazingly!" and he embraced Tchichikoff, only to go on as follows.
"Muschnieff, my dear fellow, just look at us, here we are both, Providence brought us together; what is he to me and what am I to him? But my dear fellow, you have no idea, how many carriages there were at every evening party, all en gros. I joined a lottery and won two pots of pomatum, a china tea-cup and saucer, and a guitar; but I played later again and lost all, and six silver roubles besides.
"Yes, my dear fellow, we have been at some of the most delicious evening parties. I also made some purchases at the fair, fortunately I did so, whilst I had yet some money in my pockets. But by the bye, where are you driving to?"
"I am on the road to a gentleman's house in the neighbourhood," answered Tchichikoff.
"Cut him, my dear fellow! and come with me!"
"Thank you, but I cannot accept your invitation, I have some business."
"Bah, what business can you have! you only pretend that, oh, you sly old father Opodildoc Ivanovitch!"
"Really, I have some business to attend to of a very important nature too."
"I lay a wager, you are telling me a fib! now tell me at least where are you going to?"
"I have no objection to tell you that I am going to visit Sobakevitch."
Here Nosdrieff burst into a fit of laughter, with such a ringing voice as a man of perfect health only can enjoy, and at the same time displayed a range of teeth as white as sugar to the last; his cheeks became flushed and trembling, and the effect of his loud outburst could have caused a neighbour in a third room, separated by two doors, to startle from his slumbers, and exclaim: "What the deuce is the matter with that fellow?"
"What do you find so laughable in that," demanded Tchichikoff, partly vexed at the loud outburst.
But Nosdrieff continued to laugh as loudly as before, adding: "pray have mercy, or else I shall burst from laughing!"
"There is nothing laughable in that, I should think; besides I gave him a promise that I would come and visit him," said Tchichikoff.
"But, my dear fellow, allow me to assure you that you will be disgusted with your own existence, if you go to see him, he is a regular Jew killer! and I know your disposition; you are too hasty in your judgment, if you hope to meet there any playmen, or a bottle of good bonbon claret. Listen, my dear fellow! send Sobakevitch to the deuce, and come with me! I promise to give you a famous treat! I have some excellent wine from that scoundrel Ponomareff, who was immensely civil to me, and assured me that I should not be able to get any thing nearly so good as his claret and champagne, were I to search for it throughout the town and fair; for all that I believe him to be a great rogue, and that he has taken me in most unmercifully. I told him as much, and added besides; you and all the public contractors are, in my opinion, the greatest rogues on earth! At all this, my dear fellow, he used to laugh whilst stroking his carroty beard.
"But, my dear fellow, I nearly forgot to tell you; I know now you will not be able to refuse me your admiration, I am going to show you something, which I tell you beforehand, I won't part with, were you even to offer me ten thousand roubles on the spot.
"Halloa, Porphir," he shouted whilst approaching the window, and addressing his servant by this name, who was below, holding a knife and a crust of bread in one hand, and a piece of smoked sturgeon in the other, which piece he had contrived cleverly to cut off whilst fumbling about in his master's carriage.
"Halloa, Porphir," shouted Nosdrieff again, "bring me that little dog out of the carriage! You shall see, my dear fellow, what a beautiful dog that is," he said, while turning himself again towards Tchichikoff. "It is like a stolen dog, the owner would have rather liked to part with himself than with that dog. I gave him that wretched mare, which as you know, I took in exchange from Captain Hvostireff."
Tchichikoff, however, had never in his life known, or seen either the wretched mare, or the Captain Hvostireff.
"Would your glory like to take any thing?" asked the landlady civilly.
"Nothing. Oh, my dear fellow, what fun we had to be sure! However, old woman, let me have a small glass of something. What have you got?"
"Some anisette, if your glory wishes."
"Very well, let me have some anisette," said Nosdrieff.
"Give me a small glass as well!" said his fair brother-in-law.
"At the theatre, I heard an actress sing like a canary-bird; the lieutenant who sat next to me whispered his favorite motto into my ear, and said: 'this young bird would be an excellent subject for a favourable opportunity!' I fancy there were at least fifty large booths upon the Market Place. And Fenardi spun a windmill, at least four hours at a time."
Here he took a small glass of liqueur from the hands of the landlady, who bowed very low at the moment.
"Ah, give him here!" he exclaimed, as he beheld Porphir entering the room with a small dog in his hands. Porphir was, as nearly as possible, dressed like his master, namely, he wore a similar Turkish morning coat, with the only difference, that it looked greasy.
"Bring him here—put him on the floor!"
Porphir deposited the little dog upon the floor, who stretched out his fore paws and began to smell the ground.
"Here is the dog," said Nosdrieff, laying hold of his skin and holding him up in his hand. The young dog howled forth a rather plaintive tune.
"But you have not done what I told you," said Nosdrieff, turning towards Porphir, whilst minutely examining the dog's stomach; "it seems you have neglected to clean him?"
"Pardon me, Sir, I have combed him."
"Where then do those fleas come from?"
"I can't say, your glory. They must have got upon him somehow whilst he was lying in the carriage."
"Nonsense, stuff, you idle fellow, you appear to have forgotten to do as I told you, and have given him some of your own jumpers besides. Look here, my dear Tchichikoff, just examine his ears, now just feel them with your own hand."
"Never mind, I can see without feeling: he is of a good breed," answered Tchichikoff.
"Nay, oblige me, only just feel his ears!"
Tchichikoff, in order to oblige him, complied with the request, and felt the ears of the young dog, and then added: "yes, it will be a fine dog."
"And his nose, can you feel how cold it is? just try it with your hand."
Tchichikoff not wishing to offend him, even felt the dog's nose, saying: "yes, he seems to have a fine scent."
"A thorough-bred bull-dog," continued Nosdrieff, "and I must confess I longed to have a real English bull-dog, long ago. Here, Porphir, take him away again."
Porphir took the young bull-dog gently under the stomach, and carried it back again into the carriage.
"I say, Tchichikoff, you must now come as far as my house, it is only five wersts off, and we shall be there in no time, and later if you like you may proceed to Sobakevitch's."
"And why should I not," thought Tchichikoff to himself, "I'll really drive as far as Nosdrieff's estate and see what it is like. He is not worse than anybody else; he is a good a gentleman as any, and besides, he is a gambler and has lost. To judge by appearances he seems rather clever, consequently, it might easily happen that I shall easily obtain what I want."
"Very well then," he added aloud, "I will, but on the express condition that you will not detain me, because my time is precious."
"Ah, my soul, that is right! I am delighted my dear fellow, allow me to embrace you, to kiss you."
Hereupon Nosdrieff and Tchichikoff embraced and kissed one another on the cheek—as is the custom between intimate friends in Russia.
"And we shall all have a delightful journey home!"
"Pray, no, I hope you will excuse me," said his fair brother-in-law, "I must hasten homewards."
"Nonsense, stuff, my dear fellow, I shall not let you off."
"Really, I must, else my wife will be angry with me, and besides, now you will be able to take a seat in Mr. Tchichikoff's britchka."
"No, no, no, and don't you think of escaping us!"
Mushnieff, Nosdrieff's fair-complexioned brother-in-law, was one of those men whose dominant character seemed to be a spirit of contradiction. Scarcely has a person had time to open his mouth, when he will be already to contradict him, it is therefore obvious that they will never agree upon any point that is in just opposition to their different and separate opinion, they will therefore never call a foolish man a wise one, and especially such men would as a matter of course never consent to dance to another's whistle; but in the end, it will always appear that their general character is a weak disposition, and that at last they will agree upon the very thing they originally had been contradicting, namely, they will affirm the fool to be a wise man, and the next thing they will do, is to go and dance most heartily after another man's whistle, in a word, they begin roughly and end smoothly.
"Nonsense!" said Nosdrieff, in reply to some observation of his brother-in-law; he then took his travelling cap, put it on his head and the fair gentleman followed the two others.
"I hope you will excuse me, but your glories have not paid me for the liqueurs," said the old landlady.
"Ah, very well, my good woman. I say my dear brother-in-law, just pay that old woman will you. I have not a copek in my pocket," said Nosdrieff.
"How much is it?" demanded the brother-in-law.
"A rouble only, may it please your glory," said the hostess.
"Stuff! nonsense!" shouted Nosdrieff, "give her only half-a-rouble; that will be quite sufficient for the trash."
"It's rather little, your honour," said the old woman; however, she took the money with a curtsey, and hurried to open the door as fast as her bodily constitution would permit her. She had sustained no loss in taking what was given to her, because she took care to demand four times the value of her had spirits.
The travellers took their seats in their respective carriages. Tchichikoff's britchka drove in a line with that in which Nosdrieff was seated with his brother-in-law, and thus they had every facility for continuing their conversation during their journey to Nosdrieff's estate. These two carriages were followed at a slight distance behind by Nosdrieff's dilapidated conveyance. In it were seated his servant Porphir, and his new acquisition the young bull-dog.
As the conversation of the three travellers could be but of little interest to the reader, we will omit it altogether, and say a word instead about Nosdrieff, whose fate it will perhaps be to play an important part in this narrative.
Nosdrieff's face we premise to be already a little familiar to our reader. Men like him could easily be met with by everybody, who will take the trouble and travel in Russia. They are what are called men who have cut their eye teeth. Their reputation begins from their boyhood, when they were much admired by their school-fellows, but for all that never escaped a sound thrashing occasionally. In their face, there is always something open, straightforward, if not impudent, to be seen. They soon succeed in ingratiating themselves, and ere you have had time to recover from your surprise they call you already "my dear fellow." They seem to establish their friendly relations for an eternity; but it will always happen that those who have been imprudent enough to form an intimacy with them, will, on the very evening of the day, at some friendly supper or rout, fall out with them. They are always very great talkers, hard drinkers, and what is termed, jolly good fellows, and with all that, men of prepossessing appearance.
Nosdrieff, at thirty-five years of age, was in all these talents as accomplished as he was when only eighteen or twenty; exceedingly fond of dissipation. His marriage did not in the least interfere with his pleasures, nor change him, so much the less, since his wife, shortly after their marriage; quitted this world for a better one, leaving behind her two little children, which were of no earthly use or consolation to him. His infants, however, were properly taken care of by a housekeeper. He never could stay at home for more than twenty-four hours at a time. His sense of divination was so acute that he could smell at a distance of twenty or thirty miles where a fair was to be held, or a ball or rout to be given. In no time he was sure to be there, lead on a dispute, create a disturbance at the green table, because he, like other men of his description, had a passion for gambling. He was fond of card-playing, as we have seen already in the first chapter; and he did not play without a little cheating, because he knew so many different tricks and finesses, and for that very reason the game often ended in another sort of play; he either got a sound thrashing, or his full and glossy whiskers pulled about so much so, that very often he had to return home with only one of his hairy ornaments, and that even of a spare appearance.
But the constitution of his full and rosy cheeks was so excellent, that with an extraordinary fertility of growth, a new pair of whiskers soon made their appearance again, and even finer and stronger than the former.
But the strangest feature in his character was—and this could perhaps only happen in Russia—that a very short time after, he could coolly meet again the very same friends who had but recently horsewhipped him, and meet them as if nothing had been the matter between them; and as the phrase goes, he said nothing, and they said nothing about it.
Nosdrieff was in some respects also an historical personage. He never went to an evening party without there being some talk about him afterwards. Some event or another was sure to take place wherever he went; he would either be obliged to leave the room under an escort of strangers, or be forcibly led away by his own friends, who ventured to introduce him. If either of these cases did not happen, it might be depended upon that something else was sure to occur and make him notorious, and which to any other person would not happen under any circumstances; he would either get tipsy to such a degree as to do nothing else but laugh continually, or commit himself to such a degree that at last he will begin to blush at them himself.
Strange to say, he would try to impose upon persons without the least advantage to himself: he would of a sudden protest, that once he possessed a horse or a dog of a green or a blue colour, and such and similar nonsense; so that those who have been listening to him, will leave him and say, "what falsehoods that man is telling, to be sure!"
There are people, who have a passion for injuring their fellow-men frequently without any provocation. Some of us Russians, for an example, men of rank, of prepossessing appearance and with large decorations on their breasts, will often give you unquestionable assurances of friendship whilst pressing your hand warmly, speak to you about scientific things, which require deep study—and then, the very next moment, and in your presence, they will go and play you some base trick. And they will injure you as meanly as a man of the fifteenth degree of the Russian nobility—which by the bye is the lowest, though this was not at all what you could have expected from a man wearing a star or two on his breast, discussing scientific things which require deep study and serious meditation. So great will your surprise be at his conduct, that you will remain abashed, shrug your shoulders, and say nothing.
Nosdrieff had exactly such a passion, whoever was the more acquainted or befriended by him, was sure to be the chosen victim of this despicable passion of his; he launched some of his monstrous nonsense, anything more stupid could scarcely be imagined, yet he succeeded either in breaking off some promise of marriage or some contract of sale, and what not; and in doing all that, he never called himself your enemy; on the contrary, if fate would have it, that you should meet him again, he would accost you like an old friend, and even say, "halloah! here you are at last, but you are not my dear fellow, because you never come to see me."
Nosdrieff was in many respects also a multifarious man, to use a common phrase, we may call him, a man up to anything and everything. At the same instant he would propose to you, to go and drive wherever you like, If even to the end of the world, or in search of Sir John Franklin, then again he would be ready to enter into any speculation with you, exchange with you everything that could possibly be exchanged,—a rifle, a dog, a horse, not that he had any object of gain in it, not at all, it was simply another trait of his restless and foolish character.
If fate would have it so, that he might meet an inexperienced player or a flat at any of the towns or fairs which he used to visit, and that he should win of him his money in a gambling match, he would buy all and everything that would be first brought under his notice or be offered to him; he then purchased indiscriminately, horse-collars, perfumes, and neckerchiefs for the nurse of his children, a stallion, grapes, a silver mouth bason, Irish linen, buckwheat flour, tobacco, holster-pistols, Dutch herrings, oil paintings, mechanical instruments, pots and saucepans, boots, china tea-services—in fact, as long as his money lasted, he would continue his purchases.
However, it was a rare occurrence when any of this great variety of articles were ever sent to his home; it happened nearly invariably that all these goods passed the very day of their purchase into the hands of some more fortunate gambler, very frequently even he would have to make the addition of his favourite Turkish pipe, with its amber mouth-piece and other ornaments, and he had even known extreme cases, when he had to part with his carriage, horses, and coachman, so that he, the master, was left behind, possessing for the time being nothing he could call his own but his clothes, running about to find some friend to give him a place in his carriage and drive him home—and this seems very much to have been the case with him in this instance, when he met with Tchichikoff at the inn.
Meanwhile, the three carriages had arrived before the gates of Nosdrieff's house. In the house there had been no preparations made for their reception. In the centre of the dining room there was a scaffolding on which two mouzhiks were standing, and whitewashing the wall and ceiling, whilst singing the tune of some interminable song. Nosdrieff immediately gave orders that the workmen as well as the scaffoldings should quit the room, and hastened into an adjoining apartment to give the necessary instructions to that effect. His guests heard Him give his commands for the preparation of a dinner to his cook; when this was audibly heard by Tchichikoff, he began to feel an appetite, as well as the conviction that they should not be able to sit to table before five o'clock.
Nosdrieff, after returning to his guests offered to show them all and everything on his estate, and in his village; and, in little more than two hours he had positively shown them everything worth seeing, so that there remained nothing else to be looked at. First of all they went to examine his stables, where they saw two mares, the one a grey silver-coloured animal, the other a chesnut one, then a black stallion, not a showy looking horse at all, but for which Nosdrieff swore that he had paid ten thousand roubles.
"You could never have paid ten thousand roubles for that animal," his brother-in-law observed coolly. "It is not worth even a thousand."
"By Heaven, I gave ten thousand for him," said Nosdrieff.
"You may invoke Heaven as a witness as much as you like, I don't care," his fair-complexioned brother-in-law persisted.
"Very well then, let us have a wager about it," exclaimed Nosdrieff.
But his brother-in-law did not like to lay him a wager.
Nosdrieff then showed them some empty stalls, in which he used to keep excellent race-horses formerly. In the same stable they also saw a goat, who, according to a proverbial faith, was deemed indispensable in a stable near the horses, and it seemed that this goat was on excellent terms with his fellow-animals, for it walked about under their stomachs as if quite at home. After this, Nosdrieff led them away, showed them a young wolf, whom he kept tied to a pole.
"Here is a whelp," said he, "I feed him purposely with raw meat. I want to bring him up to become a perfect wild beast."
They then went to look at a pond, in which, according to Nosdrieff, there were such enormously large fish, that two men would have every difficulty in pulling out one of them.
In this, however, his brother seemed not inclined to contradict him.
"Tchichikoff, my dear fellow, come along, I'll show you a pair of beautiful dogs," said Nosdrieff, whilst leading on; "their muscular strength will amaze you, their power of scent is as sharp as—a needle!"
"Just look at that plain," said Nosdrieff, whilst pointing with his finger to a field before them, "there is such a number of hares that you can scarcely see the ground; I caught one the other day with my own hands by his hind legs."
"I venture to say, that you will never catch a hare with your hands!" observed his brother-in-law.
"But I tell you I caught one, and caught one purposely with my own hands!" answered Nosdrieff. "But now come along and I will show you, my dear fellow," he continued whilst turning towards Tchichikoff, "the frontier line of my estate."
When they had walked a considerable distance, they really arrived at the boundary mark of his estate, which consisted of a wooden post with a small board fixed to it.
"Here we are, at the frontier!" said Nosdrieff, "all, what you can possibly see on that side, is mine, and even on the other side, all that extensive forest which looms there in the distance, and that, which is beyond the forest, all is mine."
"But since when has that forest become yours?" inquired his brother-in-law. "You have bought it lately? for it was not yours some time ago?"
"Just so; I bought it quite recently," answered Nosdrieff.
"How did you manage to buy it so quickly, so suddenly?"
"It's a fact, I bought it about three days ago, and the deuce, I paid a handsome price for it."
"But, if I remember well, you were just at that time at the fair?"
"Oh, what a simpleton you are! Is it then impossible to be at the same time at a fair, whilst buying a piece of land? Well, then, I was at the fair, whilst my manager bought the forest and land."
"Ah, your manager! that is another affair," said his brother-in-law, but even then he seemed to question the matter as a fact, and shook his head.
Nosdrieff's guests were obliged to return by the same wet and muddy road on which they came. When they had arrived at the house, Nosdrieff led them into his private cabinet, in which, however, there were no traces of such articles as one would expect to see in a private study: namely, books or papers; the principal ornaments seemed to be a collection of swords, and two rifles, the one the value of about three hundred roubles, the other might have cost eight hundred. The brother-in-law looked around him, shook his head, but said nothing.
After this Nosdrieff exhibited some Turkish daggers, upon the one of them was unfortunately the name of a celebrated Russian armourer of the name of Siberiakoff. The exhibition was concluded by a grinding organ, which the owner began to turn with the intention of entertaining his guests with some music. The organ had a rather pleasing tone, but there seemed to be something wrong with it, because the Mazurka which it was just playing ended with "The Marlborough March," and "Marlborough's March" again, was suddenly superseded by a mixture of one of Strauss' waltzes.
Nosdrieff had long since left off turning the handle, yet there seemed to be an obstinate flute in the organ, which would not cease to send forth a long and plaintive tone, which continued for some considerable time to whistle all by itself. To make up for this mishap, Nosdrieff produced his collection of pipes; there was a great variety of them, some of common red and white clay, some meerschaums already coloured, and some others quite new, some of them were carefully sown into doeskin, others again had no doeskin; he also showed them some cherry tubes of great beauty and length, with amber mouth-pieces, and without any; among those with mouth-pieces there was a very valuable one which he had but recently won in a raffle, he did not fail to boast of an embroidered tobacco-pouch, which he had received from a countess, whilst on his road to Smolensk, and who had fallen head over ears in love with him, and if we are to believe still further what he said about this adventure, the lady's hands were of such a beautiful shape that he could not find better words to express his appreciation, of their perfection but by calling them "fatally superfine," which no doubt meant with him the highest degree of perfection.
After having shown all he possessed to his guests, he led them into the dining-room, where they took a small glass of liqueur to excite the appetite, and then sat down to dinner, considerably after five o'clock in the afternoon. A good dinner seemed not to be the first condition in the happy existence of Nosdrieff; a variety of dishes did not play a principal rôle upon his table; some of the eatables were too much roasted, whilst others were not sufficiently cooked. It was obvious that his chef de cuisine was accustomed to a kind of freemasonry in his art, and that he had made up the dishes with the first comestibles that came under his hands or notice; if pepper was the nearest article in his reach, he would throw some pepper into the saucepan, if cabbage was at hand, he was sure to stuff the saucepan with cabbage, add some milk, ham, peas, in a word, everything was thrown pell-mell into the boiler, provided it was hot; as for the taste, he was sure that his cookery would have plenty of that.
To make up for any deficiencies of his cook, Nosdrieff stuck to the wine; soup was not yet served, when he had already supplied his guests with some port wine in two large tumblers, and some Haut Sauterne in two others, because in small provincial towns and country places they do not keep simple Sauterne. Nosdrieff then ordered his servant, Porphir—who served at table—to bring in a bottle of Madeira, of such an exquisite taste and dry quality that the Prince Field-Marshal Paskievitch would have been proud to taste it. The Madeira wine was really of a fiery taste, because the wine merchants were too well acquainted with the taste of landed proprietors, who like a strong and dry glass of Madeira, and for that reason they mix it unmercifully with brandy, and sometimes even with the monopolised imperial raw spirit, in the hope that the excellent constitution of a Russian stomach will be able to digest it.
A little later, Nosdrieff ordered that another bottle should be brought in of some particularly good wine, which, according to his words, was both Burgundy and Champagne; this wine he poured out very freely to the right and to the left, to his brother-in-law and to Tchichikoff; Tchichikoff, however, observed with a side glance, that Nosdrieff had taken but little himself of his extra wine. This made him become very cautious, and, as soon as Nosdrieff seemed warmly engaged in conversation with his brother-in-law, he immediately took advantage of the opportunity to pour some of that extra wine into his plate.
In the course of dinner, a roast heath-cock was put upon the table, which, according to Nosdrieff, would have its mild a taste as cream, but which, to the surprise of his guests, had a positive taste of a badly cooked sea-gull. They then tasted some French beaume, a sweet liqueur with such an extraordinary name that it was quite impossible to recollect it, for the host himself, called it the second time by a different appellation.
They had finished dining long since, and had been drinking all sorts of wine, yet the host and his guests remained seated at table. Tchichikoff did not like the idea of beginning a conversation with Nosdrieff, on his all-important subject, in the presence of his brother-in-law, whom he considered a stranger, and the matter on which he intended to speak to Nosdrieff demanded a private, confidential, and friendly interview.
However, the brother-in-law did not look like a dangerous man at the moment, because he seemed to have taken a copious libation, was moving to and fro in his chair, and continually twitching his nose with his left hand. He began to feel uneasy and as if he had a presentiment of an approaching hopeless condition; he at last begun to beg to be allowed to return home, but with such an idle and heavy voice, as if, to use a Russian phrase, "he was pulling a horse-collar upon the horse's neck with a pair of pincers."
"Oh, no, no, no! I shall not allow you to go!" said Nosdrieff.
"Pray do not offend me, my good friend, by detaining me, I really must leave you," his brother-in-law said, "you will very much offend me if you insist upon my staying any longer."
"Nonsense, folly! we will presently have a small game."
"Not I, my dear fellow, you may do as you like; my wife will have all sorts of ideas, I shall have to tell her of the fair. I really must give her some pleasant surprise after my long absence. No, oblige me, and do not try to keep me here any longer."
"Send your wife to the d—l! what's the use of your going home in your present state?"
"No, brother! she is such an excellent and virtuous wife; she is full of favours for me—would you believe me, I feel the tears coming into my eyes. No, do not keep me any longer, on my honour as a gentleman, I shall leave you, and I give you this assurance like an honest man."
"Let him depart, of what good could he be?" Tchichikoff whispered slowly to Nosdrieff.
"You are right, by Jove!" said Nosdrieff, "I cannot bear the sight of these nervous fools!" and he added aloud, "well, the d—l be with you; go and make love to your better-half, you slave to gynæocracy!"
"No, brother, you ought not to call me by any of those foreign names," his brother-in-law replied, "as for my wife, I owe her my existence. She is an amiable and loving woman and is full of such tenderness—she often moves me to tears; no, the more I think of her the more I wish to return to her; she is sure to ask me what I have seen and done at the fair, and I shall have to tell her all, for she is an angel of a woman!"
"Be off then, and tell her as much as you like! there is your cap."
"Nay, brother Nosdrieff, you are wrong in wanting respect for your own sister; by committing a breach of politeness towards her, you offend me as well, and you know well what an amiable woman my wife is."
"Therefore, I cannot advise you better than to hasten into her arms as soon as you like, and sooner if possible!"
"Yes, brother, I must leave you, excuse me, but really I cannot stay any longer. My heart would be rejoiced if I could stay, but I must not tarry any longer."
Nosdrieff's brother-in-law continued yet for a considerable time to express his regrets and excuses, without noticing that he had been already seated for some time in his own carriage, that he had long since departed from Nosdrieff's house, and that nothing but open fields and the high road were before him. It might be easily imagined, that his wife heard but little of what he had seen and done at the fair.
"What a stupid fellow!" said Nosdrieff, whilst standing at the window and looking after his brother-in-law's carriage as it was gradually disappearing in the distance. "Look here how he is driving off; one of his off horses is rather a fine animal, I have long had my eye upon it. However, it is quite impossible to come to any understanding with the man. He is such an odd fellow."
After saying this, Nosdrieff and Tchichikoff entered another room. Porphir brought in some candles, and Tchichikoff observed in the hands of his host a pack of cards, for the sudden appearance of which he could not possibly account.
"What do you say, my dear fellow," Nosdrieff remarked, whilst pressing the back of the pack with his fingers in such a manner, that they got slightly bent, and the wrapper in which they were broke; "Now then, and in order to pass our time pleasantly, I propose to hold the bank with three hundred roubles in it."
But Tchichikoff pretended not to have heard the other's proposal, and said, as if suddenly recollecting something: "Ah! by the bye, and ere I forget it again; I have request to make."
"What is it?"
"Give me first your promise to fulfil it."
"But what is your request?"
"Never mind, give me your promise!"
"'Tis granted."
"Your word of honour."
"My word of honour."
"And now hear my request: you have no doubt, my dear fellow, a number of dead serfs, that have not been yet struck out from the lists of the last census?"
"Yes, I have; but why?"
"Transfer them to me, to my name."
"And for what purpose do you want them?"
"Suffice it, if I tell you I want them."
"But for what purpose?"
"As I told you before I want them; the rest is my business, in a word then, I want to have them."
"No doubt you are up to something. Come, old fellow, confess it, eh?"
"To what should I be up? how could I be up to anything with such worthless trash, as dead serfs?"
"But why should you then tell me you want to have them?"
"Oh, what a curious fellow you are! you wish to touch everything, or rather thrash with your own hands, and smell at it besides!"
"But why don't you tell me?"
"And where would be the advantage if you knew it? well then if you must know it, it is a sudden fancy I have."
"Well then, look here, my dear fellow: unless you tell me the truth, you shall not have my dead serfs!"
"And now I must confess, that this is not honourable on your part: you gave me your word of honour, and now you try to back out of it."
"As you like, my dear fellow, but you shall not have them unless you tell me of what use they could be to you, dead as they are."
"What shall I tell him," said Tchichikoff to himself, and after a moment's reflection, stated, that he wanted those dead serfs for the purpose of gaining a greater influence in society, that he did not possess a large property, and that until his fortunes changed these dead serfs would be a consolation to him.
"Stuff, nonsense!" said Nosdrieff, not giving him even proper time to finish his phrase, "bosh, my dear fellow!"
Tchichikoff could not help making the observation to himself, that his invention was far from being clever, and that the pretence was a very weak one indeed.
"Well then, I will be more explicit," said he, whilst recovering himself from his first defeat, "but pray do not betray me in letting it out. I have come to the resolution of getting married; but I must tell you that the parents of my intended are very ambitious persons. 'Tis quite a bore to me. I am sorry even that I gave my promise; they insist that the future husband of their daughter should absolutely have, at least, three hundred serfs to call his Own, and as I am short of the round sum of hundred and fifty, I thought ..."
"Bosh! bosh!" Nosdrieff shouted again.
"Now, my dear fellow," said Tchichikoff, "in telling you this much, I have spoken the truth, there is not even this much of imposition in what I told you," and here he showed the extremest point of his little finger.
"I lay my head, that you told me a falsehood."
"This is offensive in reality! what do you take me for? And why should I absolutely tell a falsehood?"
"'Tis all very fine, my dear fellow, but I know you; you are a gay deceiver. Allow me to tell you something between ourselves, and quite confidentially. If I was your commander-in-chief, I should have you hanged on the first and nearest tree."
Tchichikoff felt shocked and offended at this remark, for every observation, however slightly uncivil or offensive to propriety, was highly disagreeable to him. He avoided as much as possible allowing any familiarities to be taken with him, and in extreme cases would only permit such to be taken as might be termed the most delicate. And for that reason, he was now deeply offended, and sensibly hurt at the observation made by Nosdrieff.
"By heaven I should have you hanged," repeated Nosdrieff, "I tell you this candidly, not with the intention of offending you; oh no! but simply, friendly and confidentially."
"Every thing has its limits," said Tchichikoff, with an air of dignity. "If you like to boast in such language, I would advise you to go into a barrack;" and then he added, "if you don't like to let me have them for nothing, well then sell me them."
"Sell them! but I know you well, you are a gay deceiver. You will not offer me a fair price for them?"
"Eh! you are a fine bird too! look at them! what are they to you. Do you value them like diamonds?"
"It is as I thought, when I told you that I knew you."
"Pardon me, my dear fellow, but you have quite Jewish inclinations. You ought to let me have them for nothing."
"Now then, listen, in order to show you how far you are mistaken in me, and that I am no selfish animal, I shall take nothing for my dead serfs. Buy my stallion of me, and I'll give them to you into the bargain."
"But, my dear fellow, what am I to do with a stallion?" said Tchichikoff, quite bewildered by such a proposal.
"What to do? But remember, my dear fellow, I paid ten thousand roubles for the animal, and I'll let you have him for only four thousand."
"But of what use could a stallion be to me? I do not keep a horse-breeding institution, like his most glorious Majesty our Emperor does."
"But, my dear fellow, you seem not to understand me. I'll only take three thousand roubles of you now, and as for the remaining thousand, you may pay me later at your own convenience."
"But I do not want your stallion, nor any one else's. Heaven be with the whole race!"
"Well, will you buy my hunter, the grey mare?"
"I do not want a mare either."
"For that mare, and the other grey horse you have seen in my stables, I'll only take three thousand roubles from you."
"But I do not want any horses."
"You may sell them. You are sure to get at any fair, or sale, more than three times their present value."
"Then it would be better for you to sell them yourself, if you are convinced you could get as much as three times their value."
"I am sure, I could make as much, but I wish you to derive that benefit."
Tchichikoff thanked him for the friendly intention, but obstinately refused either to have the grey mare, or the grey horse.
"Well then, will you buy some of my dogs? I'll sell you a pair with a skin as smooth as a thirty degrees frost! a spotted pair with moustachios, and upstanding hair like a pig's bristles, the roundness of their ribs is quite incomprehensible, their paws are swiftness itself, they scarcely touch the ground."
"Of what use could dogs be to me? I am not a sportsman."
"But I wish you to have some dogs. Very well, if you won't have any of my dogs, you ought to buy my organ, it is a most wonderful instrument; on my word of honour, it has cost, me more than one thousand five hundred roubles; but you shall have it for nine hundred."
"But what am I to do with an organ? I am not a German, that I should go dragging it along, and grinding it in the streets, whilst begging the passers by for alms."
"But, my dear fellow, you are mistaken, it is not an organ like the Germans carry about, it is a regular, really musical organ; just come along and look at it, it is all of mahogany. I'll show it you once more."
Hereupon Nosdrieff seized Tchichikoff by the hand, and began to pull him into the next room, and however much the other resisted by stemming his feet against the floor, and as well by persuading him that he perfectly well recollected the organ, it was of no use, and he was obliged to listen once more to the tune of Marlborough's march, and Strauss' familiar valse.
"If you don't wish to make a bargain for all cash, then listen to what I propose to you. I'll give you this organ, and as many dead serfs as I have got, and you will give me in return your britchka, and three hundred roubles in hard cash."
"What an idea! and pray, in what am I to drive home?"
"I'll give you another britchka. Come, let us go to the coach-house, I'll show it to you! You will only have to paint it afresh and it will be an excellent carriage."
"Oh, good heaven, it seems the devil has possessed him!" thought Tchichikoff within himself, and he came to the resolution, whatever the consequences might be, to decline all descriptions of britchkas, organs, and all imaginable breeds of dogs, without regard to their incomprehensible swiftness and smell.
"And, remember," added Nosdrieff, "I offer you a britchka, an organ, and all my dead serfs, the whole in a batch!"
"I won't have them!" Tchichikoff exclaimed once more.
"Why won't you have them then?"
"Simply because I won't have them, and there is an end."
"What a curious fellow you are; it would seem it is quite impossible to live on friendly terms with you, as is customary among good comrades, you are such an obstinate fellow! It is evident you are a deceitful man!"
"But for what do you take me, surely not for a fool? just reflect for a moment: why should I make the acquisition of such things as are of no earthly use whatever to me?"
"Pray don't talk. I know you now perfectly well. You are a regular box of antiquities! However, listen to me, will you play faro? I'll stake all my dead serfs on a card, and my organ in the bargain."
"Well, to venture a game, means to expose one-self to uncertainties," spoke Tchichikoff, and meanwhile he kept glancing stealthily at the pack of cards which Nosdrieff had taken in his hands again. The cards seemed to him to be of an artificial make, and the corners looked very suspicious.
"What do you mean by uncertainties?" demanded Nosdrieff. "There cannot be the least uncertainty, provided only fortune smiles on you, you may win enormously. Look here! what luck! said he," as he commenced the game of faro, in the hope of exciting a gambling passion in his guest. "What a chance! what luck! look here: thus you might win in reality! there is the confounded nine, upon which I lost all. I had a presentiment, that this card would sell my luck, and closing my eyes, I thought to myself: I am sold if that confounded card turns up."
As Nosdrieff spoke thus, Porphir entered with a fresh bottle.
But Tchichikoff positively refused either to play or to drink.
"But why won't you play at least?" demanded Nosdrieff.
"Because I am not in the humour. And besides, I must confess I am not partial to gambling."
"Why, how is this, you are not fond of gambling?"
Tchichikoff shrugged his shoulders, and added: "just so, I am not an amateur."
"You are a precious fool!"
"I can't help that, Heaven has made me so."
"You are a regular humbug! Till now, I was under the impression that you were a reputable man in some respects, but now I plainly perceive that you have not the slightest sense of propriety and good manners. It is impossible to speak to you as one would speak to a friend. You have no candour, no straightforwardness; you are the image of Sobakevitch, you are like him, a regular sneaking fellow!"
"But why do you scold me and call me all sorts of names? Is it my fault if I don't like gambling? And if you are such a man as to value such a trash as your dead serfs are, well then, sell them to me, name your price."
"Since you are such a mean fellow, you shall not have them at all! Originally,' I intended to present them to you as a token of my friendship, gratuitously, but now you shall not have them at any price! Nay, were you even to offer me a kingdom, I would not part with them. You are a shuffler, a wretched potter! From this very moment, I won't speak another word with you. Porphir, go and tell my stable-boy not to give any oats to his horses, let them feed on dry hay."
The latter determination of Nosdrieff's, Tchichikoff was far from anticipating.
"Now I could wish I had never seen you before," added Nosdrieff.
Regardless of this altercation between them, the guest and his host nevertheless sat down and took supper together, although this time there were no wines with inexpressible names put on the table. The only bottle that passed between them was a bottle of Kahetian wine, which possessed all the peculiarities of a green and sour vinegar beverage. After a silent supper, Nosdrieff led Tchichikoff into a small adjoining room in which a bed had been prepared for him.
"Here is your bed; I do not wish you even a good night's rest!"
Tchichikoff remained after Nosdrieff's departure in the most unpleasant frame of mind. He was inwardly angry with himself; he scolded himself for having accepted Nosdrieff's invitation, and thus uselessly losing his time. But what vexed him most was that he had imprudently begun to speak of his all-important object, like a child, like a fool; because this business was not of a nature to be entrusted to Nosdrieff—Nosdrieff, a man without any worth or sense; he could compromise him, he could tell stories, make additions, and spread, heaven knows what calumnies about, and thus place him in the greatest difficulties—it was neither right nor well! "I have made a regular ass of myself," said he to himself.
He spent a very sleepless night. Some very small, but also very daring insects, kept biting him unmercifully, so much so, that he could not help scratching the wounded spots, and prompted by utter agony, adding each time, "I wish you to the devil and your master, Nosdrieff, as well!" After a very short but sound slumber, he awoke very early the next morning. The first occupation he undertook was to slip into a morning-gown and into his boots, he then went across the court-yard into the stable, and ordered Selifan to put the horses immediately in his britchka. On returning from the stable he met Nosdrieff, who made his appearance also in a long morning-gown, and with a Turkish pipe in his mouth.
Nosdrieff accosted him in a friendly manner, and inquired how he had passed the night.
"Tolerably," answered Tchichikoff, rather dryly.
"And I, my dear fellow," continued Nosdrieff, "I have passed a most wretched night, I have been victimised by an army of insects, and I now feel as if I had been sleeping in a barrack. Imagine, I dreamt that I had been regularly horsewhipped, yes, truly, and by whom do you think? This you will never guess; by my intimate friends, Colonel Pozelueff and Lieutenant Kuvschinikoff."
"Yes," thought Tchichikoff to himself, "it would be an excellent thing if you were to receive a thrashing in reality."
"By heaven, and it feels painful even now! When I awoke I really felt pains all over me, and such an unpleasant itching, no doubt the confounded fleas have again been at me. You had better go now and dress yourself, and I will be with you almost immediately. I have only to go and scold my manager, the rogue."
Tchichikoff went into his room to wash and dress himself. When he had done so, he entered the dining-room, where he found the table laid with a tea service and a bottle of brandy. In this room, his eyes also met with the remains of the dinner and supper of the preceding day; it seemed as if the broom had not made its appearance there; the floor was strewn with bread crumbs, and tobacco ashes were even still lying on the table cloth.
The host himself did not fail to make his appearance soon after; he had no other dress on him but a loose Turkish morning-gown, which rather displayed than concealed his broad chest, upon which a regular beard seemed to grow freely. Holding in one hand his long Turkish pipe and in the other a cup of tea, he would have made a characteristic subject for a painter, who hates gentlemen of propriety, with curled hair, like a hairdresser's sign-board, or a head shorn à la diable m'emporte.
"Now then, what are you thinking about?" said Nosdrieff, after a momentary silence, "will you, or will you not play for my dead serfs?"
"My dear fellow, I have already told you once for all, I won't play, but if you like I am ready to buy them."
"I won't sell them, because it would not be acting in a friendly manner towards you; but I'm still disposed to play for them as long as you like. Come, let us have a turn, if but one only!"
"As I told you before, no."
"And you won't barter, either?"
"No, I won't."
"Now, listen and don't be so obstinate, let us have a game of draughts, if you win they shall all be yours; and, I remember now that I have got a number of dead serfs, that ought to be struck out from the census list of the living. Holloa, Porphir, bring me the draught-board here."
"Tis a useless trouble, I shall not play."
"But that is not playing at cards; there can be no chance or shuffling; all depends upon ingenuity. I must even tell you beforehand, that I am no player at all, and that you might as well give me a price in advance."
Tchichikoff thought to himself, "Well, I'll venture to play a game with him! I used to play once at draughts tolerably well, besides, there is no chance for him to cheat. Very well, then, in order to oblige you I'll play you a game."
"My dead serfs against a hundred roubles."
"Why? it will be high enough, if I lay fifty against them?"
"No, fifty roubles is quite a ridiculous stake. I would rather, in order to make up a round sum, include a couple of my thorough-bred dogs, or a gold watch-guard."
"Very well," Tchichikoff answered.
"How many draughtsmen will you give me in advance?" demanded Nosdrieff.
"How did you come upon this idea? certainly none."
"At least give me the two first moves."
"No, I won't, I am a bad player myself."
"I believe you, my boy, you and a bad player!" exclaimed Nosdrieff, whilst pushing forward a draughtsman.
"I have not played draughts for a long while," said Tchichikoff, whilst also advancing a draughtsman.
"I believe you, my boy, you and a bad player," said Nosdrieff, pushing forward another draughtsman.
"I have not been playing for a very long while," Tchichikoff said, also advancing a draughtsman.
"I believe you, my boy, you and a bad player," said Nosdrieff, whilst again moving a draughtsman, and at the same time he advanced a second one with the sleeve of his Turkish morning-gown.
"'Tis long ago since I took them last in my hands—oh, eh! my dear fellow, what is this? put that back!" said Tchichikoff.
"What?"
"This draughtsman there," said Tchichikoff, but at the same time he saw another before his very nose, ready to enter and become a king, but from where it came, and how it could have so suddenly advanced, it was impossible for Tchichikoff to account. "No," said Tchichikoff, rising from table, "it is impossible to play with you! To advance three draughtsmen at once is against the rules of the game altogether."
"How do you mean, three men at once? That was a mistake. One of them might have advanced accidentally, I'll move it back if you like."
"But where does that other come from?"
"Which other?"
"This one here, ready to become a king."
"Well, I'm sure, don't you recollect it?"
"Certainly not, my dear fellow, I have noticed every move, and I remember them all; you have only just now advanced it. Its place is here."
"How, where is its place?" said Nosdrieff, blushing deeply, "but, my dear fellow, it seems to me that you would like to take me in."
"No, not I, my dear fellow, but it is evident that you want to do so with me, only you are rather unsuccessful."
"For whom do you take me?" said Nosdrieff, "do you think that I could be capable of shuffling?"
"I do not take you for anybody, but from henceforth I shall never play with you again."
"But stop, you can't back out of this game, you have began it, you must play it out," said Nosdrieff hotly.
"I have the right to refuse, because you have not been playing as it becomes a gentleman."
"You lie, for you cannot prove it!"
"No, my dear fellow, it's you who are the liar!"
"I have not been shuffling, you dare not refuse to continue, and you must finish the game."
"You cannot compel me to do that," said Tchichikoff coolly, and approaching the table, he upset the draughtsmen.
Nosdrieff jumped from his seat in a rage, and drew so close to Tchichikoff that he made him step back two paces.
"I shall oblige you to play it out. It matters little, that the draughtsmen are mixed. I remember every move. We will arrange them again as they were."
"No, my dear fellow, there is an end to it, I shall not play with you."
"Then you positively refuse to finish the game?"
"You must allow yourself that it is impossible to play with you."
"Now, you obstinate fellow, tell me once more, will you or will you not play?" spoke Nosdrieff wildly, whilst walking still closer up to Tchichikoff.
"I will not!" Tchichikoff exclaimed, but at the same time he raised his hands towards his face ready for any contingency, because the matter threatened to become rather hot. This precaution was taken in good time, because Nosdrieff in his excitement had raised his hand, and it might easily have happened, that one of the full and agreeable cheeks of our hero, would have been covered with dishonour, which could not be washed away; but he fortunately succeeded in escaping the blow, and seized the madly infuriated Nosdrieff by both hands, and held him tightly.
"Porphir! Ivan!" shouted Nosdrieff in his madness, whilst striving to liberate himself from Tchichikoff's powerful grasp.
Hearing these names, Tchichikoff, in order not to have the servants witnesses to a scandalous scene, and feeling convinced also, that to holding Nosdrieff any longer would be of no advantage to him, he let loose his hands. At that same moment, Porphir entered the room followed by Ivan, a herculean looking fellow, with whom it would not have been advisable to pick a quarrel.
"Then you refuse to finish the game?" said Nosdrieff. "Give me a positive answer quickly, you obstinate blockhead!"
"It is impossible to finish the game," answered Tchichikoff, and looked out of the window at the same time; he beheld his britchka, which was standing there quite ready, and Selifan seemed to wait but for a signal to drive up to the door; but it was impossible for Tchichikoff to leave the room, the door was guarded by two powerful slaves and tools of Nosdrieffs.
"Then you positively refuse to finish the game?" demanded again Nosdrieff, with a face as red hot as fire.
"If you had been playing as becomes a gentleman, I would have finished it, but now I cannot."
"Ah! you say you cannot, you humbug, when you see that you are likely to lose the game, then it is that you cannot play! Horsewhip him," he shouted, in a hoarse and infuriated voice, whilst turning towards Porphir and Ivan, and seizing himself a long cherry pipe tube. Tchichikoff became as pale and white as a sheet. He had evidently an intention to say something, but he felt, that his lips moved without speaking a word.
"Horsewhip him!" Nosdrieff again shouted, rushing forward, with the cherry tube uplifted in his hand, all excited and perspiring, as if he was about to storm an impregnable fortress. "Beat him!" he shouted in the same voice with which, in the heat of an onset some valorous lieutenant would address his men and say, "forward, children," and whose daring has become so well known throughout the regiment, that special orders are always given that he should be kept back with the rear guard, whenever an action of importance is undertaken.
But the fortress, against which Nosdrieff was storming, was far from being impregnable, on the contrary, its outworks betrayed her inward weakness, and its fear was so great, that the commander-in-chief—the soul—went to hide himself in his heels.
The chair with which Tchichikoff attempted to defend himself, was wrenched from his hands by Nosdrieff's serfs, and bereft of this last hope he closed his eyes and felt neither dead nor alive, yet he tried to grasp once more at the Tcherkessian pipe of his brutal host, and heaven knows, what the consequences might have been. But providence seemed to pity the position as well as the ribs, shoulders, and all the well-formed portions of our hero.
At this unexpected yet opportune moment, the sounds of post-horse bells were heard loudly ringing in the court-yard, and the wheels of a carriage rolled quickly over the stones before the entrance of the house. It was a telega, drawn by three horses, that had arrived so suddenly; shortly after, heavy footsteps were heard quickly approaching the room in which the actors of our present narrative were so dramatically collected.
They all looked involuntarily out of the window, and beheld a stranger in moustachios, dressed in a half military and half plain coat, alighting from the telega. Having taken his information in the anteroom, he entered at the very moment when Tchichikoff had not yet recovered from his stupefaction, and when he was in the most pitiable position in which a mortal man can possibly be.
"Allow me to ask which of you two gentlemen is Mr. Nosdrieff," said the stranger, looking with some astonishment at Nosdrieff, who stood there with the cherry pipe tube in his uplifted hand, and then at Tchichikoff, who had scarcely begun to recover from his disadvantageous position.
"Allow me first to ask you with whom I have the honour of speaking?" said Nosdrieff, whilst approaching the stranger.
"I am a commissioner of the military police."
"And what do you wish?"
"I come to inform you that in obedience to higher commands, I shall consider you my prisoner until proper inquiries will have been instituted into the affair in which you are compromised."
"What nonsense! What affair do you mean?" demanded Nosdrieff.
"You were inculpated in an affair, or rather a riot, in which a certain lieutenant of the guards, by name Maksimoff was insulted and even horsewhipped, whilst in a state of intoxication."
"That is perfectly false, Sir! I never saw in the whole course of my life your lieutenant Maksimoff!"
"My dear Sir, allow me to inform you that I am an officer. You may call your servants liars but not me."
Tchichikoff did not wait to hear what Nosdrieff would reply to this observation, but seized his cap, passed stealthily behind the back of the commissary of the military police, and left the room. He was soon seated in his britchka, and ordered Selifan to drive off as fast as his horses could gallop.
Our hero was still considerably terrified at the thought of his narrow escape. Although the britchka was literally flying at a fearful speed, and Nosdrieff's village nearly lost in the distance, hidden by fields, slopes and hills, yet he still continued to turn round, and cast glances of terror behind him, as if expecting to see suddenly his pursuers.
His breathing was short and interrupted, and when he laid his hand upon his broad breast to feel the beating of his heart, he felt it throbbing like that of a quail in a cage.
"Oh! what a regular shower-bath! How could I ever expect that of the fellow!" Such exclamations were followed by a variety of difficult and strong wishes for the future of Nosdrieff, and were concluded by epithets certainly not of the choicest language.
"Say what I may," Tchichikoff remarked confidentially to himself, "without the sudden appearance of the commissioner of the military police, I might at this present moment be one less among the living in this world! I should have disappeared like a bubble on the ocean, without leaving a trace behind me, no heirs or children to inherit my honourable name, my modest fortune!" Our hero seemed very anxious and concerned about his successors.
"What a nasty gentleman!" thought Selifan. "I have never seen such an ill-disposed man before. He deserves to be despised. I could rather see a man without food, but a horse must be fed because a horse likes oats. That is the proper food for his maintenance. What meat is to us, so is oats to the horse, and that is the proper food for horses."
The horses also seemed to have a bad opinion of Nosdrieff; not only the leader and the brown horse, but even the tiger-spotted idler seemed to be in bad humour. Although the idler was used to receive less good oats generally, and was also accustomed never to have them given to him by Selifan, without being previously called a rogue, yet in this instance he seemed quite disgusted; for notwithstanding the scolding he received his fair portion of oats, and not as now, common hay; he used to eat his bad oats with pleasure, and after, even put his enormous head into the crib of his comrades to see what good things they were enjoying. This he did especially when Selifan was not in the stable; but now they had had nothing else but hay, that was bad; all three were dissatisfied.
But soon after, the whole batch of malcontents were suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted in the effusion of their wrath against Nosdrieff in an unexpected manner. All, not excluding even the coachman, recovered and came to their senses again, when they felt themselves in contact with a travelling-carriage, drawn by six powerful horses, and heard the shrieks of ladies sitting inside, and the scolding and swearing of the strange coachman.
"Oh, you scoundrel! did I not shout to you as loudly as possible! Turn to the right, you crow! Are you drunk, or what else is the matter with you?"
Selifan felt at once that he was on the wrong side, but as a Russian does not like to acknowledge his error before another, he therefore shouted forth his reply with an air of importance:
"And what do you mean by driving like a madman? Have you, perhaps, left your eyes in pawn at a dram-shop?"
After having spoken thus, he endeavoured to back his britchka, trying to liberate his horses, which had become entangled with those of the other carriage; however, he only succeeded in making things worse.
The ladies sitting in the carriage looked at the scene of confusion before them with the utmost terror expressed upon their faces. The one was an elderly lady; the other, a young person about sixteen years of age, with golden ringlets, very tastefully arranged around a pretty face and head. The charming oval of her face was as evenly formed as a new-laid egg, and, like it, it possessed that peculiar transparent whiteness which is only to be seen in a new-laid egg, when held up towards the light by the gentle hand of a clever housekeeper, who is examining its freshness by allowing the rays of the sun to shine through it; her finely-shaped ears seemed also equally transparent, and were intersected by warmly-flowing veins. From the sudden fright, her rosy lips had opened to display a range of ivory teeth, and tears were sparkling in her eyes. All this was so charming in her, that our hero glanced at her for some moments quite motionless, and paying no attention whatever to the dispute which had arisen between the two coachmen and their horses.
"Will you back your horses, you Novgorodian crow?" shouted the strange coachman.
Selifan tugged at his reins; the strange driver did as much, and the horses, in obedience to the impulse, retreated a little, and then came into contact again, were anew entangled, and the confusion was greater than before.
While the confusion was thus growing worse confounded, some peasants began to gather round the carriages and horses; they came running as fast as they could from an adjoining village; and as such a sight is for a Russian peasant like a Christmas-box, or like a newspaper and a glass of stout would be to an Englishman, so but little time elapsed before the carriages were both surrounded by a few hundred gaping mouzhiks, and the village was left to the care of only old women and young children. The entangled traces were soon cut; a few heavy blows applied to the head of the tiger-spotted idler made him retreat; in a word, the horses were soon separated and led aside.
The interest and the curiosity of the gaping peasants rose to an incredible degree. Every one of them was anxious to give an advice or a suggestion:
"You go, Andrushka, and lead that front horse a little about, the one that is standing on the right-hand side from us; and Uncle Mitja would do well to mount the tiger-spotted animal! Get on his back, Mitja!"
During the time that Selifan and the strange coachman were arranging the traces of their respective horses, Tchichikoff had continued to look very attentively at the young lady stranger. He made an attempt to address her several times, but, somehow or another, he thought there was no favourable opportunity. Meanwhile, the ladies drove off, the pretty head, and face with the fine outlines, the slender figure, all disappeared like an apparition; and there remained nothing but the high-road, the britchka, the three horses already familiar to our reader, Selifan, and the level and empty fields surrounding them.
"A charming little woman!" said he, whilst opening his snuff-box, and taking a pinch of snuff. "But what is the most handsome thing about her? It is pleasant to see, that she seems just to have left a boarding-school, or some such institution, and that there is yet nothing womanly, or rather matronly about her, and that is one of the most unpleasing features in the sex. She is still like a child, all in her is still natural, she will speak what she thinks, she will laugh at every thing that pleases her. She might yet be taught any thing and every thing, she might become an accomplished and virtuous woman, and she might also turn out the very contrary. If she now happens to come under the control and advice of her mother or aunts, then farewell natural innocence! In a year they will have changed her so completely by instilling into her, what they are pleased to term the dignities of a woman, that her own father will have every difficulty to recognise, in that young person, his own daughter.
"From the elder ladies, she will derive conceitedness and affected manners, move about according to the dictates of fashion, torment her brains to know, with whom, about what, and how much she might venture to speak, and especially how to look at them; every moment she will be alarmed least she should speak more than is strictly necessary. At last, she will become confused from so much unnatural exertion, and dissimulation will become natural to her, and then—heaven knows what she may come to next!"
Having spoken thus much to himself, Tchichikoff remained silent for some moments, and then he added:
"It would be rather satisfactory to know who she is? Yes, what her father might be? Is he perhaps a rich landed proprietor of high respectability, or simply a respectable man with a large fortune acquired in serving his country? Because, let me suppose, that this pretty little girl receives but five thousand roubles as a marriage gift, she would become a most acceptable, nay a very enticing little woman. And this would constitute, so to say, the happiness of a respectable man."
The sum of five thousand roubles represented itself so attractively to his mind, that he began to scold himself inwardly for not having obtained some information about who the ladies were from their coachman, during the time that the confusion among the horses lasted. Soon after, however, the appearance of Sobakevitch's village began to distract his attention from the ladies, and he returned to his friend and more serious purposes.
The village seemed to him tolerably large, and even of importance; there were two forests, the one of birch-trees, the other of pines, the one of a gay colour, the other dark, spread out like wings on the right and left of the village; in the centre of it stood a large wooden building with a balcony, a roof with red tiles, and dark grey painted walls, the style of architecture reminding one of a barrack, or the primitive buildings of German emigrants.
It was evident that the builder of this house must have been in continual opposition to the taste of the owner. The builder was a pedant, and adhered to symmetry, the owner preferred conformity to the purpose, and, thus it seemed that in consequence of the differences of taste, the lawful lord of the mansion had blocked up the windows of the whole of one of the fronts of the house, and left only a small aperture instead, no doubt to serve as a skylight to some lumber-room.
The principal entrance to the house stood by no means in the centre, notwithstanding the good intents of the architect, because the owner of it had ordered one of the side columns to be removed and thus the principal entrance did not display as originally intended four columns, but only three. The whole of the court-yard was enclosed by a strong and unusually thick wooden wall. The proprietor seemed to have been particularly concerned about everything being of the greatest possible durability.
Upon the construction of his stables, penthouse and kitchen, he had employed full grown and heavy logs calculated to last an eternity. The houses of his peasants in the village were also of a wonderfully strong and lasting construction, they nowhere displayed any of the common gingerbread ornaments, but every one of them was a solid mass of logs of wood. Even the wall was enclosed by such large stems of fir as would only be employed as sleepers for a railway, or in the construction of ships. In a word, upon whatever kind of building Tchichikoff happened to cast a glance, his sight met with a pièce de résistance, unmistakeable, presenting a durable but clumsy appearance.
On driving up to the entrance-hall, Tchichikoff beheld two faces at once, looking out through the window: the one was a feminine face, narrow and long, like a cucumber; the other was the round face of a man, broad like a Moldavian pumpkin, out of which our Russian peasants are accustomed to make their light and two-stringed balalaikas, the charming instrument with which, some handsome cock of the village will on a fine summer's evening gather young and old around him, and sing and whistle some merry ditty to the white-bosomed maiden of his heart, who delights in the slow and melancholy strains of his music.
The two faces which had just presented themselves at the window disappeared again suddenly. A servant, dressed in a grey jacket with a blue upstanding collar, came out upon the landing and led Tchichikoff into a reception-room, in which soon after the host himself made his appearance. Perceiving and recognizing who his guest was, the host exclaimed abruptly: "Pray, enter!" and he led him into the interior of his house.
As Tchichikoff cast a side glance upon Sobakevitch, the man seemed to him very much like a bear of the middle size. To complete this resemblance, he wore a coat perfectly of the colour of a bear's skin, with large sleeves, and a pair of large inexpressibles. His walk was by starts, sideways and bent together, and he was in the continual habit of treading upon other people's feet. His complexion was of a glowing, hot colour, like that of a new penny.
Tchichikoff glanced once more and stealthily at him as they were passing the dining-room; "A bear, a complete bear!" he thought to himself. It was impossible to conceive a more striking resemblance. Knowing that he had the habit of trampling upon other persons' feet, our hero was very careful how he placed his, and allowed him to walk before him. The host seemed to feel the sin of his awkwardness and immediately turned round and said, "Have I, by any chance, hurt you?" But Tchichikoff thanked him, and said, "That as yet he had not felt any inconvenience."
On entering the reception-room, Sobakevitch pointed to an arm-chair, saying again, abruptly, "Pray be seated!" In sitting down Tchichikoff looked at the walls and the pictures that were hanging on them. The pictures all represented finely grown men, apparently the leaders of the last struggle for Hellenic independence; they were full-sized engravings; Mavrocordato in a pair of red breeches and military dress, with a pair of spectacles upon his nose; Miaouli and Kanaris.
All these heroes were represented with such enormous ties-and extraordinary moustachios, that the sight of them made Tchichikoff shudder. Among the heroic Hellenes there was also the portrait of the Russian General Bagration, memorable for his services in the year 1812, a meagre, careworn old man; heaven knows why he had been placed among these dashing heroes. Next came the portrait of the Grecian heroine, Bobelina, whose foot seemed to be larger than the whole trunk of any of the fashionables of our present drawing-rooms.
The host being a healthy and strong-built man himself, seemed to like that his rooms should also be adorned with the portraits of strong and healthy persons. Close to the Grecian heroine, Bobelina, and quite close to the window, hung a cage, from which a well-fed blackbird was peeping out, which was also very much like Sobakevitch.
The guest and host had not been silent for two minutes, when the door suddenly opened and the lady hostess made her appearance, a lady of a very high figure, in a cap profusely ornamented with ribbons, which seemed to have been dyed at home. She entered the room very ceremoniously, holding her head as straight as a palm-tree.
"This is my beloved Pheodulia Ivanovna!" said Sobakevitch.
Tchichikoff respectfully approached Pheodulia Ivanovna, and according to Russian fashion, kissed her hand, which she nearly pushed between his lips, at the same time he had an opportunity to observe, or rather smell, that her hands had been washed in salt cucumber water.
"My darling, allow me to introduce you to Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff!" continued Sobakevitch, "I had the honour of making his acquaintance at our Lord-Lieutenant's, and at the Postmaster-general's."
Pheodulia Ivanovna asked Tchichikoff to sit down, saying also very abruptly, "I beg you will be seated!" and making a peculiar movement with her head, not unlike that of an actress playing a tragedy queen. After having done this, she seated herself upon the sofa, covered herself with a merino shawl, and did not again move either her eyes or her lips.
Tchichikoff lifted up his eyes again and beheld once more the Grecian hero, Kanaris, with his enormous ties and interminable moustachios, as well as the heroine, Bobelina, and the blackbird in its cage.
For more than five minutes all three remained silent; the only sign of animation proceeded from the blackbird, who was pecking the wood of his cage with his beak, and gathering the bread crumbs on the bottom of it. Tchichikoff glanced once more around the room, and all, whatever his eyes beheld—all was solid, clumsy, and tasteless in the highest degree, and had a particular and strange resemblance to the host himself; in one of the corners of the room, there stood a large paunch-bellied nutwood bureau, upon four shapeless legs, a perfect bear. The table, the arm-chairs, the common chairs, all were of the most heavy and uncomfortable description, in a word, every article which constituted the furniture of this room seemed to speak; and I am also Sobakevitch!
"We have been thinking of you at the house of the President of the Courts of Justice, Ivan Gregorievitch," at last said Tchichikoff, perceiving that no one seemed inclined to break the silence and begin to speak, "we thought of you on Thursday last. I spent a very pleasant evening there."
"True, I was not at the President's on that evening," answered Sobakevitch.
"He is an excellent and worthy man!" exclaimed Tchichikoff.
"Whom do you mean?" said Sobakevitch, looking at the corner of his store.
"The President of the Courts of Justice, to be sure."
"Well, he might have seemed so to you; he is a freemason, and such a fool, that the world cannot produce his equal."
Tchichikoff was rather startled when he heard this cutting qualification of a person he knew, but recovering immediately from his surprise, he continued: "To be sure, every man has his foibles, but I cannot help expressing my admiration for the Governor-General."
"The Lord-Lieutenant, a man worthy of admiration?"
"Yes, and I hope you will agree with me in that opinion?"
"He is the greatest scoundrel on the face of the earth."
"What did you say? the Governor-General the greatest scoundrel?" exclaimed Tchichikoff, perfectly incapable of comprehending how the Lord-Lieutenant of the government of Smolensk could possibly have entered the ranks of scoundrels.
"I must confess, I should never have believed that," he continued. "However, allow me to observe, his actions do not at all seem such, on the contrary, I should rather say that I believe him a man who possesses many pleasant weaknesses." Here he also alluded to the knitting and embroidery talents of his Excellency the Lord-Lieutenant of the province, as an authority for his opinion of him, and expressed himself in the highest terms of the winning expression of the Governor-General's countenance.
"And his face even, is that of a scoundrel!" said Sobakevitch. "Only place a knife in his hands, and let him free upon the high road, he will cut your throat, he will murder you even for a copek! He and the Vice-Governor, also, are of the same cast, they both are Gog and Magog."
"No, I cannot be mistaken, he is not on good terms with them," thought Tchichikoff to himself. "And I think I shall do better to speak to him about the Chief of the Police force, he seems to be his friend."
"However, as far as I am personally concerned," he said, "I must confess that I like the Chief Commissioner of the Police force better than any other dignitary in Smolensk. He is such a straightforward and candid man, his face speaks in his favour, and proclaims his kindness of heart."
"He is a rogue," said Sobakevitch very coolly, "he will sell you, betray you, and then even dine with you! I know them all but too well; they are all great rogues, the whole town of Smolensk is inhabited by such men; a rogue sitting on a rogue, and driving on a batch of rogues. All are Christian sellers. To my knowledge, there is but one honest man among them, and that man is the Imperial Procurator; but even he, if we were to judge him strictly, even he is a pig."
After such laudatory, though rather short biographies, Tchichikoff perceived that it would be useless to mention any other of the dignitaries of Smolensk, and then only he recollected that Sobakevitch was not in the habit of having a good opinion of any one.
"Come, my darling, let us now go to dinner," said the worthy spouse, Lady Sobakevitch, to her husband.
"Allow me to invite you to dinner," said Sobakevitch. After saying which he advanced towards a table, upon which an introductory meal had been placed; the host and his guest each drank, as is customary, a small glass of brandy, and had a bit of salt fish, or some such appetite-stimulating foretastes, and in doing thus, they but did what is customary in every town and village throughout the vast Russian Empire; thus excited and prepared, they entered the dining-room, into which they followed the hostess, who led them on like a goose her goslings.
A small table was laid for four persons. The fourth place was soon occupied, but it was difficult to say affirmatively by whom, whether that person was a lady or a girl, relation, a guest or friend living in the house; she was not adorned with a cap, was about thirty years of age, and wore a variegated dress.
"Your cabbage-soup, my darling, is delicious to-day," said Sobakevitch to his wife, whilst cutting and helping himself to a second enormous piece of stuffing, and putting it into his soup. This stuffing, as it might be called, for want of a better denomination in the English language, is a well-known dish in every Russian household, and is always served together with the national sour cabbage-soup; it is made of the ventricles, head, and feet of a sheep, and stuffed with buck-wheat grits.
"Such stuffing," he continued, turning towards Tchichikoff, "you could not get to eat in town, where they have the habit of serving you with Heaven knows what stuff!"
"The Lord-Lieutenant's dinners, however, are not so contemptible," said Tchichikoff.
"Do you know how and of what stuff his dinners are made? If you knew it, I'm sure you would not eat them."
"I do not know how they are prepared, and therefore cannot judge; but his pork-chops and boiled flounders were delicious."
"It seemed so to you. But I know well what they buy in the market. Their cook, the impudent fellow, who seems to have learnt his art in France, is capable of buying a cat, skinning it, roasting it, and serving it up as a hare."
"Fie! what an unpleasant allusion you make," said his wife.
"And why so, my dear? it is a fact, and I am sure they do that, if not even worse. All that we would throw away in our country kitchen, the town people would put in their soup, and find it even a delicacy—yes, a delicacy. Such is their taste!"
"You are always in the habit of talking such nonsense at table," said his wife, with an evident air of displeasure.
"Why, my heart," said Sobakevitch, "if I was to do it myself, it would be a different thing; but I tell you candidly that I will never eat any of their stuff. You may cover a frog with a crust of sugar, and yet I would not take it into my mouth, nor what they call oysters; I know what oysters are like."
"Take some mutton," he continued, addressing himself to Tchichikoff; "this is a shoulder of mutton with grits. This is not a stew, as they make it in town kitchens, where they employ mutton which has been offered for sale for three or four days in the market."
Hereupon Sobakevitch shook his head angrily, whilst adding:
"When I am to have some roast or boiled pork, let me have the whole pig on the table; if some mutton, I want to look at the whole animal; if a goose, let me have the whole bird. I would rather feed on ope dish, but feed to my heart's content."
Sobakevitch confirmed this principle by the deed: he placed the half of the shoulder of mutton on his plate, ate it all, picked and licked over the bones to the last.
"Yes," thought Tchichikoff to himself, "his lips are as good as his mouth."
"It is not so with me," said Sobakevitch, whilst wiping his hands and mouth on a napkin, "it is not with me as it is with a Pluschkin; he has eight hundred serfs, but eats a worse dinner than any of my shepherds."
"Who is this Pluschkin?" inquired Tchichikoff.
"A scoundrel," answered Sobakevitch. "His avarice is so great that you cannot form an idea of it. A prisoner lives better than him. He nearly starves all his peasants."
"Really!" Tchichikoff exclaimed, with evident interest; "and you believe that many of his serfs have died from want?"
"They die like flies."
"Do they really! But allow me to ask you, how far he lives from your estate?"
"About five wersts."
"About five wersts!" Tchichikoff exclaimed again, and even felt a perceptible pulsation of the heart. "But if I was to drive out of your court-yard, would it be on the right or on the left-hand side?"
"I would not advise you even to know the road to that dog's kennel!" said Sobakevitch. "It is more excusable to visit some forbidden place, than the house of such a man as Pluschkin."
"Oh no, I did not ask that for any particular purpose; but simply because I take an interest in knowing something about places and positions of every description," was the reply of Tchichikoff.
After the shoulder of mutton followed some flounders, of which each was considerably larger than the plates; then a turkey, nearly of the size of a young calf, stuffed with all kinds of good things—with eggs, rice, liver, and a variety of other condiments, which all had been pressed into the fowl's stomach.
With the turkey, the dinner had an end; but when they rose from the table, Tchichikoff felt heavier by at least half a hundredweight. They entered the reception-room, where some sweetmeats, such as pears, cherries, strawberries and other berries, preserved in sugar or honey, were displayed on small china plates; however, neither the guest nor the host could or would touch any. The lady hostess left the room for the purpose of displaying some other kind upon other small plates, in the hope that her guest would like to taste some of them. Profiting by her momentary absence, Tchichikoff turned towards Sobakevitch, who was lying in an arm-chair, and groaning after such a more than copious dinner, and allowing some indistinct sounds to escape from his mouth, using the one hand to make the sign of the cross, and holding the other before his mouth. Tchichikoff addressed him in the following words:
"I should have liked to speak to you about a certain little business."
"Here are some more sweetmeats," said the hostess, returning with some few small plates; "these are very rare fruits, and preserved in honey."
"Very well, my darling, we'll taste them later," said Sobakevitch. "You had better now return into your own room, for Pavel Ivanovitch and myself are going to take off our coats and rest ourselves a little."
Lady Sobakevitch offered to send in some soft pillows, but her husband opposed it, and answered her, "Never mind, we will take our rest in these arm-chairs;" and the lady left the room.
Sobakevitch bent his head slightly on one side, prepared to hear what the little business consisted in.
Tchichikoff began to speak, but his argument was of a very obscure nature; he alluded in very general terms to the whole Russian Empire, and expressed himself in terms of great praise about its territorial extent, and said, that even the ancient Roman Empire was far less in extent and power, and that other nations are justly surprised at the magnitude of the largest Empire in the world.
Sobakevitch continued to listen, with his head bent on one side.
And that, according to existing statutes of this vast empire—the grandeur of which has no equal—the census population, namely, those who have to pay a capitation tax, though hundreds and thousands of them have already, since then; terminated their worldly existence, remain still upon the lists, and are taxed until the next census be taken—a period of fifty years—on a par with the living; although, and it must not be forgotten, that, as a medium of equalization, the new-born population within the space of these fifty years is not liable to any taxation before the next census be taken again; and this was done for the purpose of not over-burthening the imperial administrations with too many difficult and tedious regulations, but principally to avoid as far as possible any additional complication of the already over-complicated mechanism of the imperial administrations.
Sobakevitch still listened with his head bent on one side.
And, that notwithstanding the justice and efficiency of this measure, it yet presented but too numerous instances of heavy burthen and great expense to the majority of landed proprietors, obliging them to pay the tax for both their dead serfs as well as for their living subjects, and that he, Tchichikoff, feeling a particular and personal regard for him, Sobakevitch, was willing to undertake the payment of this burthensome capitation tax for the dead, in consequence of his unfeigned esteem and friendship for him. As regards the principal objects themselves, Tchichikoff expressed himself very carefully indeed; in alluding to them, he never called them dead serfs, but not existing, poor souls.
During the whole period of Tchichikoff's speech, Sobakevitch had continued to listen silently as before, with his head slightly inclined on one side, and not even once was there the slightest change in his countenance, or a different expression visible in his face. It seemed as if this body had no soul, or as if it was not at all where it ought to have been; like an indefatigable miser, he seemed to have hidden it in some secret corner, and covered with such an impenetrable shell, that whatever battered upon its surface could not stir or move the kernel within.
"And thus," said Tchichikoff, awaiting a reply with some degree of anxious expectation.
"You want some dead serfs?" demanded Sobakevitch, simply, without the slightest emotion or surprise, as if the question was about bread, salt, or meat.
"Yes," answered Tchichikoff; and again he softened down the expression, adding, "the non existing ones."
"I can let you have some; why not?" said Sobakevitch.
"And, since you have some, I have no doubt you will be glad to get rid of them?"
"With pleasure; I am ready to sell them," said Sobakevitch, whilst slightly raising his head, for he began to suspect that the purchaser would undoubtedly know how to derive an advantage from his speculation.
"The devil!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, "this man wants to sell them before I have made him an offer to purchase any!" and he then said aloud: "And what would your price he? although I must confess that the objects are such, that it is rather strange to speak of a price."
"Well then, and in order not to ask a high price from you, I will fix them at a hundred roubles a-piece," said Sobakevitch.
"A hundred roubles!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, opening his mouth widely, and looking him straight into the eyes, not knowing whether he had heard rightly, or whether Sobakevitch's tongue, prompted by his heavy intelligence, had tripped, and pronounced accidentally one word for another.
"Well, is that too dear for you?" articulated Sobakevitch; and then he added: "But allow me to ask, what would your price be?"
"My price! We have, no doubt, misunderstood one another; we seem to have forgotten what our subject is. As far as I am concerned, and laying my hand upon my heart, one rouble would be the fairest price I could offer you."
"Halloa! what a ridiculous price, to be sure, one rouble!"
"Why, according to my judgment, and as I think, I could not give more."
"But remember, I do not sell you any cat's-paws."
"However, you must agree; they are not any real men."
"That is your opinion; but go and find me such a fool, who would agree to sell you a census serf for a single rouble."
"But allow me to ask you, why do you call them census serfs? They are dead long since, nothing remains of them but an incomprehensible sound in their appellation. However, in order to avoid the trouble of entering more particularly in a discussion on abstract matters, I am ready to offer you one rouble and a half, but more I really could not."
"You ought to be ashamed to offer me such a price! You like to drive a bargain; well then, tell me your real price."
"I really cannot offer you more, my dear Michael Semenovitch, believe me, on my honour, I cannot. What cannot be done that might be done?' said Tchichikoff; yet, notwithstanding, he made an addition of half a rouble.
"Why are you so niggardly?" said Sobakevitch; "it is really not dear. Another scoundrel would cheat you; he would not sell you real serfs like I do, but some worthless stuff; all mine are like green hazel-nuts, all picked men; and if they are not artizans by profession, still they are strong, healthy, and fit for everything. Just let us examine them a little. There is, for an example, my former cart-maker, Micheeff; he never worked at anything less than a spring-cart. And, if you please, not such workmanship as they sell you at Moscow, which lasts for an hour, and not longer; oh no, his work was of first-rate durability, and besides, he used to do the carving and polishing work as well."
Tchichikoff opened his mouth, with the intention of making the observation, that the peasant Micheeff, the spring-cart maker, had already left this world for some time; but Sobakevitch entered suddenly, as the phrase goes, with spirit into the nature of the subject, Heaven only knows whence he derived his power of language and vigour of expression; however, he continued:
"And my Stephan, the joiner! I'd wager my head, that you cannot find me another peasant like he was. He was a regular Hercules! If he had served in the guards, he would have been one of the finest soldiers in the regiment, he was above seven feet high!"
Tchichikoff was again on the point of making the observation, that Stephan had also departed this world; but Sobakevitch, as it appeared, was carried away by his subject, his flow of language was not easily to be stopped, now was the time to listen to him.
"Milushkin, the potter, was capable of putting you a stove in any part of the house. Again, Maxim Teliatnikoff, the shoemaker; whatever he pierced with his awl, became a pair of boots, and whatever boots he made, for such I paid him the compliment of a thank you. And Germei Sorokopleokin! I can assure you that this fellow alone was worth all the others, he used to hawk about in Moscow, and paid me an annual quit-rent of five hundred roubles. Such were the people, and far from such stuff as you might buy from a fellow like Pluschkin."
"But allow me to observe," Tchichikoff at last said, quite bewildered by such an abundance of words, to which there promised now to be no end, "why do you enumerate all their former professions? all these qualities are of no use to them or others now, because all these people are dead, at this time being."
"Oh, yes, to be sure, they are dead," said Sobakevitch, as if considering and recollecting suddenly, that they were in reality all dead and gone, and then he added, "however, I must observe, what are the people now reckoned as living? yes, what are these people? flies, but not men!"
"But for all that they exist, and that is a point of imagination."
"Oh no, not at all a point of imagination! I will describe to you what a fellow my Micheeff was, and I am sure you will not be able to find many more like him; he was of such a size, that he could not have entered this room, and that is no point of imagination! And in his shoulders, he possessed such power as you will rarely meet with in a horse; I am therefore curious to know where you could find such another point of imagination?"
"No, really, I could not offer you any more than two roubles," Tchichikoff said again.
"Very well, then, and in order to be agreeable to you, and that you might not pretend that I demanded too high a price, and that I would not oblige you, you shall have them at seventy-five roubles each dead serf, but all in bank notes, and I really do it all out of friendship for you."
"Does he really take me for a fool," thought Tchichikoff to himself, and then added aloud: "All this seems very strange to me; it would appear that we are playing a comedy, else I really could not explain how—you seem to be a man of sound judgment, you can pretend to a superior education, don't you therefore see and understand, that the object in question is simply, phu, phu! what is it really worth? who could make use of it?"
"But you wish to purchase them, I think it therefore obvious that you want them."
When Tchichikoff heard this, he bit his lips, and could not find an answer. He began to mutter something about family connexions and household circumstances, but Sobakevitch interrupted him, and said simply:
"I do not want to know anything about your circumstances, I never mix in family concerns, all that is your own affair. You stand in want of serfs, I am ready to sell some, and I may add, you will be dissatisfied with yourself if you don't buy them of me."
"Well then, two roubles," said Tchichikoff.
"What a curious man you are; you seem to have fixed upon two, and now you cannot get off them. Offer me your last price."
"May the devil take him," thought Tchichikoff to himself, "I will give him half a rouble more, and make the proverb true, for the dog to buy nuts with!
"Very well then, I offer you half a rouble more."
"Now then, I will also tell you my last word; fifty roubles I really it is a loss to me, you will not buy them cheaper anywhere, especially such excellent peasants as they were!"
"What a fist that man is to be sure," said Tchichikoff to himself, and then he continued aloud with a slight degree of anger:
"Really, I must confess, it was ridiculous to treat the matter as serious, because in many another place I could get dead serfs for nothing. Many a one would be extremely glad to give them to me, and thus get rid of them as soon as possible. A fool would he be indeed, who after my offer would still persist to keep them and continue to pay the capitation tax."
"But do you know also, that purchases of this description—I say this between ourselves, and in good friendship—are not always safe and practicable; and if I, or any one else was to mention them to a third party, such a person could get himself into great difficulties, and expose himself to lose all confidence for the future, as regards trust in contracts or any other business transactions."
"Oh, the rascal, that is what he is aiming at," thought Tchichikoff, and here he spoke with an air of great unconcern, "as you like, my dear Sir, I wish to buy them, not for any particular purpose, as you seem to suppose, but simply from a fancy, an inclination of my own. If you won't accept two roubles and a half then, fare you well!"
"I shall not be able to confuse him: he is obstinate," thought Sobakevitch. "Heaven be with you! give me thirty and take them all!"
"No, I perceive you don't wish to sell them. Farewell!"
"Stop, stop! wait a little!" exclaimed Sobakevitch, holding him by the hand, and treading upon his feet, because our hero had forgotten to take care of himself, and as a punishment for it, he was obliged to limp upon one leg.
"I beg your pardon! It seems I have hurt you. Pray be seated here. I beg your pardon once more."
Hereupon he made him sit down again and rather cleverly too, as a bear would do who has been already taught to perform some evolution.
"Really, I think I am only losing my time; besides I am in a hurry."
"Pray sit down, if but for a moment. I will tell you immediately something very pleasant."
Hereupon, Sobakevitch seated himself quite close to Tchichikoff, and whispered into his ear, as if a secret:
"Will you make it a quarter?"
"That is to say, twenty-five roubles. No, no, no, I will not even give you a quarter of a quarter. I will not give you an additional copek."
Sobakevitch remained silent; Tchichikoff did the same.
This silence lasted for about two minutes. The Grecian hero Kolokotroni looked very seriously from his frame on the wall upon the bargaining parties below.
"What will really be your last price?" said Sobakevitch at last.
"Two roubles and a half."
"Really a human soul seemed to have with you no greater value than a dried beetroot. Give me at least three roubles."
"I cannot."
"Well! what am I to do with you? You shall have them. It is a loss to me, and no mistake; but such is my doggish nature, I could never refuse to be agreeable to my fellow-creatures. But I think I am right in saying that it will be requisite to draw up a contract of sale for the lawful settlement of the bargain."
"Most certainly."
"In that case, I shall have to go to Smolensk," said Sobakevitch.
Thus then the bargain for Sobakevitch's dead serfs was concluded. They agreed to meet the next day in town, and to settle all the formalities of the contract of sale at their first meeting there.
Tchichikoff now demanded a list of all the dead serfs that were to become his property. To this request Sobakevitch agreed willingly, and sat down immediately at his writing-desk, and wrote down not only the names of every one but also their laudable qualifications.
"The note is ready," Sobakevitch soon said as he turned round.
"Ready? Allow me to look at it." Tchichikoff took the paper in his hand, and whilst running his eyes over it, he was surprised to behold its neatness and accuracy; not only were profession, name, age and family estate minutely noted down, but there was even a special column in which particular annotations had been made as regarded the degree of morality and conduct of his deceased serfs; in a word, it was a real pleasure to look at the document.
"Now I hope you will have no objection to pay me a god-penny," said Sobakevitch.
"Why should I give you anything on account? You shall receive the whole amount at once, on our first meeting in town."
"You well know that such is the custom with us in the country," replied Sobakevitch.
"I really do not know how I am to manage that, for I have not much money about me. However, here is a ten-rouble note."
"What are ten roubles? Give me at least fifty."
Tchichikoff wanted to make him believe that he could not spare any more for the present; but Sobakevitch insisted so positively that he had some more money about him, that he could not help producing another bank-note, and saying:
"Very well, then, since you insist upon having some more, here are fifteen more, which makes it altogether twenty-five roubles. But allow me now to trouble you for a receipt."
"What do you want a receipt for?"
"You know well it is better to have a receipt for the payment of money. Our hours of existence are uncertain—something might happen."
"Very well, let me have the money."
"Why should you have the money first? I hold the notes here in my hand. As soon as you will have written the receipt, in that same moment you may have the money."
"Pardon me; how am I to write out a receipt? I must first see the money."
Tchichikoff allowed the bank-notes to be taken from his hand, and Sobakevitch being now in possession of them, approached the table and covering them with his left hand, began to write out with his right the receipt upon a small piece of paper, that he had received an account of twenty-five roubles in imperial bank-notes for a number of serfs sold by him to Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff. After having written and signed the receipt, he once more examined the bank-notes.
"This note is a rather old one," remarked he, slowly, whilst carefully examining one of them against the light; "a little torn also. However, we must not look upon these trifles when we deal with friends."
"Oh! you fist, you fist!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, "and a beast besides."
"By the bye, would you perhaps like to have some of my females?"
"No, I am very much obliged to you for the offer all the same."
"I should not have asked a high price; out of regard for you, I would not charge more than a rouble a-piece."
"No, I do not stand in want of any of the female sex."
"Well, if you cannot make any use of them, then it is useless to speak another word-about them. It is impossible to dispute on matter of colour and taste. 'The one likes the pope, the other his wife,' as our proverb says."
"Oh, I nearly forgot to ask you to keep this little transaction a secret between ourselves," said Tchichikoff in taking leave.
"Oh yes, this is perfectly understood. It is useless to mix a third in this matter; that which happens by common consent between intimate friends, must remain in their friendship. Farewell! I was glad to see you. Do not forget me in future. If you should have an hour to spare, come and dine and pass a little time with us. It might again happen that we could be agreeable one to another."
"Don't you believe it!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, whilst taking his seat in the britchka. "He has charged me two roubles and a half for each of his dead serfs! the man is the devil's own fist!"
When the britchka had left the court-yard of the house, Tchichikoff turned round to cast a last glance around him, and in looking back, he saw that Sobakevitch still stood upon the door-step of his house, and, as it seemed, was looking out to see what turning his guest was about to take.
"The fist, he is still on the same spot," murmured Tchichikoff between his teeth, and ordered Selifan, who had just turned in the direction of the village, to drive his carriage in such a manner that they should not be seen from the gentleman's house.
He intended calling at Pluschkin's, whose serfs, according to the words of Sobakevitch were dying like flies, but he did not wish that Sobakevitch should know about it. When the britchka had passed the last house in the village, he hailed the first peasant whom he happened to see, and who was carrying a large log of wood upon his shoulders, like an indefatigable ant towards his dwelling, and addressed him thus:
"Halloa, my bearded man! how can I drive to Pluschkin's estate, without passing your master's house?"
The mouzhik seemed 'obviously embarrassed at the question.
"Well, don't you know?"
"No, your glory, I don't."
"Eh, what a fellow you are! And with all that you wear grey hair and beard! don't you know the miser Pluschkin, who has the reputation of starving his peasants?"
"Ah, you mean the ragged one!" exclaimed the peasant. He then added another stronger surname, but as it is an expression not used in society, we will omit it, though it was a strong and harmonizing word with the first surname of the miser. It might be easily imagined that the second surname must have been a very pointed one indeed, for although the peasant had passed on, and the britchka had been long out of sight from the village, Tchichikoff was still smiling at the word whilst sitting in his britchka.
On driving up to the house, Tchichikoff soon perceived a human figure, who began to converse with the peasant who had just arrived with his telega. For a long while he could not discover to what sex this figure belonged; whether it was an old woman or a mouzhik. The dress was absolutely shapeless, but nevertheless very much like a female's garb, the head-dress was a kind of colpack, as worn by the aged village crones, yet the voice seemed to him to be too loud for a woman's.
"Oh,'tis an old woman!" he thought for a moment to himself, and immediately added: "oh, no. To be sure,'tis a woman," he said at last, after a closer examination.
The figure, on its side, also looked very attentively at Tchichikoff. A guest or a stranger seemed to be to it a wonderful apparition, because it not only looked at him alone, but also at Selifan and the horses, beginning from their tails, and ending with their heads. To judge by the keys which were hanging down its left side by a broad belt, and because it was scolding the poor peasant of the cart in a very loud voice, Tchichikoff came to the conclusion that this figure was obviously the housekeeper.
"Halloa, old mother," said he, as he got out of his britchka, "where is your master?"
"Not at home," the housekeeper interrupted him, not waiting even for the question to be finished, but a moment later she added: "and what do you want?"
"I have some business with him."
"Will you then walk into this room," said the housekeeper, turning round and showing him her back covered all over with flour, and the lower portion of her garb torn beneath.
He entered a large and dark passage, the air in which was as cold and damp as in a cellar. From the passage he emerged into a small room, also very dark, scarcely enlivened by a glimpse of light, which shone through a large crevice in the lower portion of the door opposite. On opening this broken door before him, he at last entered an apartment in which real daylight greeted him, though the disorder which prevailed in it surprised him considerably.
It seemed as if the other portions of the house were undergoing a regular scrubbing, and that this room had been chosen for the temporary reception of all the furniture. Upon one of the large tables stood an old broken chair, and, next to it lay an old clock with its silent pendulum, around which some spiders had already found time to spin their cobwebs. There also leant against the wall an old-fashioned cupboard, covered with old silver plate, decanters, glasses and china.
Upon a large writing table, inlaid with mother of pearl mosaic, which was broken out in many places, leaving but the yellow spots of the mastic behind, lay a variety of objects; a heap of written small slips of papers, upon which lay a marble letter-weight with a handle in the shape of an egg on it, an ancient looking book, bound in rough Russian leather with red edges, a lemon, dried and withered away to the size of a walnut, a piece of a broken arm-chair, a wine glass containing a dark fluid with three dead flies in it, a few letters, some sealing-wax, a small dirty rag, picked up somewhere on the road, two quills, besmeared all over with ink, which had dried upon them long since, a tooth-brush, which had become quite yellow from age and use, and with which the owner seemed to have been in the habit of cleaning his teeth ever since the French invasion of 1812.
Whilst Tchichikoff was still looking around him at the strange arrangement of this apartment, the same housekeeper entered again, through a small side door, which he had seen on his arrival in the court-yard. But now this person appeared to him rather a steward than a female housekeeper: because a woman is not likely to use a razor upon her face, and this person seemed to have the habit of shaving, though it appeared to be done but occasionally, because the whole of the lower portion of her face looked rather like a scrubbing-brush for a horse's skin made of strong iron wire.
Tchichikoff giving his face an expression of inquisitiveness, now looked anxiously forward, awaiting the steward to be the first speaker. The steward, in his turn, seemed also determined to await what Tchichikoff had to say in explanation of his presence.
At last, however, our hero getting tired of this unpleasant suspense and silence, resolved to address the strange-looking person before him.
"Well, where is your master? is he at home?"
"He is here," said the steward.
"Where is he?" repeated Tchichikoff.
"Well, my good Sir, you are perhaps shortsighted," said the steward. "I am the master whom you wish to see."
Hereupon our hero could not help stepping back a few paces and looking steadfastly at the man before him.
It had happened to him to meet with people of all bodily descriptions, even with such persons as most likely our courteous reader and ourselves never met; but such a man as he now saw before him he had never met with before.
His face did not present any particularly striking features; it was nearly like all faces of lean and old men; his chin projected to such an extent that he was obliged to cover it with his pocket-handkerchief so as not to spit upon it occasionally; his small eyes very far from being dimmed by age, on the contrary, from under their heavy eyebrows they glittered like those of a mouse, when that little animal comes forward from its hole and puts forth its little snout to smell about if there is any danger from a cat, or whether some naughty boy has not laid a trap for it.
His dress was much more characteristic and remarkable. No investigation or expedient would have availed to discover of what peculiar material his morning-gown had been patched together; the sleeves and upper body of his dress were greased and besmeared to such a degree, that they actually had the appearance if not exactly the peculiar smell of that celebrated Russian leather called "jüchte," and which is commonly used among the lower classes to make their boots of.
From his back, four skirts hung loosely down instead of two, and out of which the cotton wadding was profusely bursting forth. There was also something tied round his neck, but it was impossible to define whether it was a stocking, a garter, or a pair of braces; at all events, it was not a neckerchief.
In a word, if Tchichikoff had met this man thus attired near the portal of a church, he would have undoubtedly tendered him a few coppers, for be it said to the honour of our hero that he was of a charitable disposition, and that he could seldom resist the temptation of giving a copek to a beggar.
But before him there now stood not a beggar, but a Russian landlord of rank. A man who called more than a thousand human beings his own serfs, and it would have also been difficult for any one to find many other proprietors possessing such extensive granaries filled with such a variety and quantity of com, flour, and meal—or to behold stores and warehouses like his, stocked with equal quantities of linen, cloth, wool, in fleeces, and shorn from the skin, smoked meats, dried fish, and other products of a fertile soil.
Pluschkin had been standing for some minutes without speaking a word, but Tchichikoff was still unable to begin a conversation, for he was completely disconcerted by the singular appearance of the man before him, as well as by everything that surrounded him in the room. For a long time he could not imagine in what terms to explain the object of his visit. He was several times on the point of expressing himself in the following terms: that, having heard the praise of his benevolence and the rare qualities of his heart, he felt it to be his duty to come and pay his personal tribute at the shrine of such great virtues, but he suddenly bethought himself, and felt that this would be saying too much.
Casting another hasty glance upon everything in the room, he came to the conclusion, that the words benefactor and rare qualities of the heart, might be successfully replaced by the following terms: economy and order; after this observation, he adapted his address in consequence and spoke thus:—
"That he had heard much to the advantage of his system of economy and the wise administration of his vast estates, and that he therefore felt it his duty to seek his acquaintance and acknowledge personally his profound esteem for a man of such great reputation." We must confess, that some more plausible reason might have been brought forward, however; nothing better suggested itself to the mind of our hero at that particular moment.
To this complimentary address, Pluschkin murmured something in reply between his lips, because he had no teeth; what the exact words were it is impossible for us to tell, very likely something to the following effect: "The devil take you and your esteem!"
But, as hospitality is still in fashion with us, so much in fashion indeed, that even a miser dare not offend its laws and privileges, therefore the old niggard added immediately, and a little more audibly, "I pray you, Sir, be seated!"
"It is long since I have received company," said he, "and I must candidly confess I see no advantage in welcoming idle visitors. Some foolish people have introduced the fashion of driving about from one estate to the other, and thus neglect their own households—and if they happen to arrive, you have even to feed their horses and men as well! I have already dined some hours since, and my kitchen is so very low, badly constructed, and the chimney is crumbling, that, were I to order some fire again I might easily set the whole house on fire."
"Oh, oh, is that it!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, "it is well I made a good dinner at Sobakevitch's house, on the cabbage and shoulder of mutton."
"And a truss of hay and some bushels of oats are no joke in these hard times in any household!" continued Pluschkin, "and really, the more I think of it the more absurd this evil custom seems to me. I have but a small estate, my peasants are idle and do not like to work, but think only how to get into the dram-shop—really it is frightful to contemplate, one might easily go begging."
"However, I have been told," calmly observed Tchichikoff, "that you call more than a thousand serfs your own."
"And who has told you that? My dear Sir, you ought to have spit into the face of that person who told you this! he is a fool and wants to pass a joke upon you. All proclaim me to be the possessor of a thousand souls, but if they were to number them they would really find none. During the last three years the fever has carried off numbers of my best and healthiest peasants."
"Is it possible! and have you indeed lost many?" exclaimed Tchichikoff, with visible interest.
"Yes, the fever has carried off a great many."
"But allow me to inquire how many in number?"
"About eighty souls."
"No, is it really so many?"
"My good Sir, I have no interest to hide the truth."
"Allow me to ask you one more question. I suppose you estimate the number of your dead serfs to be eighty, since you handed in your last census?"
"If that was the case, I should thank heaven for not having lost more," said Pluschkin, "no, my good Sir, since I sent my last census to government, and paid my capitation tax, I have lost more than one hundred and twenty serfs!"
"Really, one hundred and twenty peasants!" exclaimed again Tchichikoff loudly, and even opened his mouth more than usual, in consequence of his astonishment.
"Good Sir, I am too old to tell a falsehood. I am fast advancing to my fourth score," said Pluschkin. He seemed even a little offended at the stranger's apparently joyful exclamation.
Tchichikoff also observed that he had gone too far in not observing due compassion with that which another person considers a grievous loss; and, therefore, after heaving a deep sigh, he added that he felt the greatest commiseration for him.
"'Tis all very fine talking about commiseration, but with all that you cannot put it in your pocket," replied Pluschkin. "I may quote as an example a certain colonel, who lives on an estate next to mine, and who has come heaven knows wherefrom! he says that he is a relation of mine; calls me his uncle, his dear grand uncle! and even kisses my hands; but when he begins to speak of his commiseration, he raises such a howling, that I do not know how to save my ears. He has a face all on fire; and with all that appearance pretends to like meagre fare and buck-wheat grits. No doubt that young fellow spent all his money when he served in the army, or some ballet-girl girl has cheated him out of it; and that I must suppose makes him now so full of commiseration!"
Tchichikoff endeavoured to explain to the old man, that his commiseration was quite of a different nature from that of the colonel, and that he was ready to prove it, not with empty words, but with tangible facts; and without any further arguments, he proceeded to the business at once, and informed the old miser of his readiness to undertake the payment of the capitation tax for all such of his peasants as had died since the last census, victims of a contagious fever.
This proposal seemed perfectly to bewilder Pluschkin. He opened his eyes wildly, looked for a long time steadfastly into the face of the speaker, and at last put the following question to him:
"Pardon me, my good Sir, but have you perhaps also served in the army?"
"No," answered Tchichikoff, with a pleasing air of artfulness, "I have served in the civil ranks."
"Oh! a civilian?" repeated Pluschkin, and began to move his lips, as if he was eating something. "But how do you mean it? This offer which you make to me, would be a positive expense to yourself?"
"To be agreeable to you, I am even willing to be a loser."
"Oh, my good Sir! oh, you are my benefactor!" exclaimed Pluschkin, so much overcome with joy, that he did not observe that a large drop of fluid snuff had made its appearance on the point of his nose, and that whilst raising his arms to accompany his exclamations he opened his morning-gown, and thus displayed an under-dress not at all fit for description.
"What a consolation you have brought me! oh, good Heaven! oh, my holy saints!—" and more than this Pluschkin was incapable of articulating.
But a minute had scarcely elapsed, since this joy had shown itself so suddenly upon the mummy-like face of the old man, when it again as suddenly disappeared from his features, and his face again assumed its usual expression of care and anxiety. He recovered even as far again his self-possession as to wipe his nose, and rolling his handkerchief into a ball, he began to pass it across his lips, to and fro.
"With your permission, and without wishing to offend you in the least, will you allow me to ask you, whether you will agree to undertake to pay the tax annually till the next census? and the money for it, would you like to pay it to me, or at once into the imperial treasury?"
"I would suggest that we should come to the following arrangement: we will draw up a contract of sale, in which we will agree that all the hundred-and-twenty serfs are alive, and that you have sold them to me."
"Oh, by a contract of sale," said Pluschkin, musingly, and again munching his lips. "But you see, my dear Sir, a contract of sale is an expense. And the imperial employés are so very impudent indeed! Formerly you could oblige them to do their duty by presenting them with a rouble and a sack of flour, but now-a-day one is obliged to send them nearly a cart-load of grits and a ten rouble note besides, there is such a love for money now prevalent among them. I am quite surprised how it is that nobody else has paid any attention to this real nuisance. Some one ought to have come forward and spoken words of exhortation and salvation to those rogues! Words of exhortation pierce every heart. Whatever people may say, I am of opinion that no sinner can resist words of salvation."
"I should say, you could resist them!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, and he added aloud, that he was ready—out of pure esteem for the old man—to pay the expense of the contract of sale out of his own pocket.
On hearing this offer made to him, that even the expenses of the contract of sale would not be an expense to him, Pluschkin came to the conclusion that his strange guest must be completely deranged, and that he only pretended he had been in the civil service of his country, and that there could be no doubt that he had served as an officer in the army, and had been in the habit of courting actresses and ballet-girls.
Notwithstanding this opinion, he could impossibly hide his satisfaction, and wished his guest and his children and grandchildren all the blessings of Providence, without asking him previously whether he was married, and whether he had any family. He then hurried towards the window, and thumping with his bony fingers on the glass, he shouted out:
"Holloa, Proschka."
In a minute later, hurried footsteps were heard in the passage, and soon after behind the door of the apartment in which our hero and his host were; but the person outside continued for some time making a fearful noise with his boots, at last the door was opened and Proschka entered. He was a boy of about thirteen years of age; the boots which he wore were so large, that each step which he made forwards threatened to leave his boots behind.
Why the boy, Proschka, wore such a large pair of boots we can explain immediately; Pluschkin kept for the whole of his retinue—however many—but one pair of boots, which were always to be left behind the door in the passage. Every servant who was called by his master was obliged to skip bare-footed across the court-yard, but as soon as he entered the long and dark passage leading to his lord's apartment he was obliged to step into the boots, and then only allowed to enter the room of his master.
In leaving the chamber, he had to strip himself of those boots, and return to his own quarters on his natural soles. If any one had happened to have been standing at the window of Pluschkin's mansion—especially on a freezing autumn morning—he would have witnessed the skipping and jumping of the whole of his domestic servants, who made such evolutions as can scarcely be equalled by even the cleverest clown or ballet dancer.
"But, do me the favour, my good Sir, to look at this boy's face!" said Pluschkin to Tchichikoff, whilst pointing to the face of his servant boy, Proschka, "he seems as stupid as a log of wood, but try only to leave anything lying loose, in a minute he is sure to steal it! Now then, stupid boy, what have you come here for?"
After having said this he remained silent a few moments, which was answered by a silence from Proschka as well.
"Heat the samovar, do you hear me? and then give this key to Mavra, and tell her to go into the pantry; there she will find a large fish biscuit—given to me by Lady Alexander Stepanovna—tell her to serve this cake with the tea!"
After saying this, he could not help looking with an air of suspicion even upon Tchichikoff. Such traits of unusual generosity began to appear to him quite impossible, and he thought to himself:—
"The devil knows him and where he comes from; he might be a man fond of boasting, like all those military spendthrifts; he will humbug me just to have something to boast about, drink my tea, eat my cake, and then say farewell!"
After reasoning thus with himself, he came to the conclusion that it would be better to be careful and test the honesty of his strange guest, and he therefore proposed that it would be a good thing to proceed at once to the drawing up of the contract of sale, because man was mortal; to-day alive, and to-morrow heaven knows where.
Tchichikoff assured the old miser of his readiness to conclude the contract that very minute, and only demanded a list of all the peasants that were now to become his property.
This readiness considerably tranquillized Pluschkin. It was obvious that he was trying to remember or do something, and really, after a few moments of reflection and hesitation, he approached his cupboard, produced a bunch of keys, and opened the glass doors of it, he was a considerable time in removing a number of decanters, wine glasses, and cups, and at last exclaimed: "It is impossible for me to find it now, I had some sweet liquors of cream, provided my servants have not drunk it! they are so disobedient! Ah, should this perhaps be it?"
Tchichikoff now beheld a small decanter in his hands, which was thickly covered by a coat of dust. "This was distilled by my late and much lamented wife," continued Pluschkin; "my roguish housekeeper seems to have completely mislaid it, and has not even put the cork in, the negligent old wretch! Cobwebs, spiders, and dies have fallen into the bottle, however, I have removed them, and will now pour out some for you, a nice and clean glass full."
But Tchichikoff respectfully declined to taste any of such liquor, saying that he had already been eating and drinking.
"You have already been eating and drinking;" said Pluschkin. "Yes, truly, a well-bred man may be recognised by the smallest trifles; he does not eat, and yet is fed; but when some of those hungry and dishonest run-abouts come, you may feed them as long as you like. The Captain for instance—who visits me by far too often; 'dear uncle,' he is accustomed to say, 'pray let me have first something to eat!' and after all, I am as dear an uncle to him as he is a nephew to me. I have not the least doubt, but the young fellow has nothing to eat at home, and of course keeps annoying me, and running about everywhere. But, by the bye, I think you will require a list of all these idlers? To be sure, whenever one of them died, I made it a point to note down his name, so as to have them ready for being scratched off at the approaching census."
Pluschkin while saying this, put on a pair of wretched spectacles, and began to stir about in a heap of papers. In untying various packages, he treated his guest to such a cloud of dust, that he made him sneeze. At last he produced a slip of paper, written upon on every available space. The names of the dead serfs covered it as thickly as mushrooms. There were Christian and family names of every kind and length, such as Ponomareff, Pimenoff, Semenoff, and Panteleimonoff, and even the long name of Gregory Dogeschainedogedish; in all more than a hundred-and-twenty different names.
Tchichikoff smiled with inward satisfaction at the sight of such a number. Securing this curious document, and putting it in his pocket, he made the observation to Pluschkin, that he would have to come to town in order to conclude, in a legal manner, the contract of sale of these dead serfs.
"Go to town, but how? how am I to leave my house? my servants are one and all either thieves or scoundrels, in a day they would be capable of robbing me so well, that on my return I should not be able even to find a nail to bang my coat upon."
"In that case, you have perhaps a friend in town?"
"Yes, to be sure, a friend, but to whom? All my acquaintances have died, or have forgotten me; but stop, my good Sir! I now remember one, how should I not have a friend, to be sure I have one!" exclaimed the old man suddenly. "I am on friendly terms with the President, he used to visit me often in bygone years, how should I not know him, or he me! we were like wheels of the same carriage, always together, up to any mischief! how should we not know one another? he is my best friend! would you advise me to entrust him with this business?"
"I advise you most certainly to do so," replied Tchichikoff.
"Then I will write to him, because he is a very intimate friend of mine! indeed, now I remember it, our friendship dates from our childhood, we were intimate school-fellows."
And suddenly over this wooden parchment-like face a warm flush passed, but it did not express feelings of a pleasant recollection, no, only something like a faint shadow of real feeling, an apparition similar to the unexpected appearance of a drowning man above the surface of the water, who causes a shout of joy among the crowd gathered along the shores. But unavailingly do his suddenly rejoiced brothers and sisters throw out cords and ropes to his assistance, hoping to see once more his head, or outstretched hands, trying to seize it—alas! it was his last re-appearance. All is silent, and the now silent and smooth element becomes but more ominous and terrifying. Something analogous was also visible in the expression of Pluschkin's features, after a momentary flush of sensibility, the expression of his face became but more unfeeling and repulsive.
"There was a sheet of note-paper lying on the table," he said, "but I wonder what has become of it; you have no idea how impudent my servants are!"
Hereupon he began anxiously to look about, under the table, upon the table, stirring about everything, but at last, not being able to find it, he shouted as loud as he could:
"Mavra! halloa, Mavra!"
Upon this call, a woman servant entered the room, holding a plate in her hands, upon which lay the well-known Easter-cake of his daughter Alexandra. The following conversation took place between them:
"You magpie! tell me immediately where you have put the sheet of note-paper, that was lying here upon my table?"
"Good Heavens, Sir, do not be alarmed, but I really have not seen it, excepting a small piece with which you covered a wine-glass the other day."
"I see clearly by your eyes and countenance that it is you who have surely taken it."
"For what purpose should I have done so? It could have been no use whatever to me, for I cannot read nor write."
"Tis a falsehood, you have taken it and carried it to your cousin, Karpuschka, the carpenter, I know him to be a scribbler and of course you have given it to him."
"That I have not, and besides if my cousin wanted some paper, he has the means to buy it,-for he is a good workman and can earn sufficient to pay for it. No, it is not he who has your paper."
"Mind what you are saying and doing, for on the day of judgment the demons will torment you, yes it is with iron rods that they will scourge you! you may depend upon it they will punish you for your wickedness in this world!"
"But why should they scourge me, when I never even touched your slip of paper? I may, perhaps, like other women, have my faults, but I have never been accused of theft before."
"The demons are sure to scourge you, and say besides: 'that is what you deserve you wicked woman for betraying and deceiving your lawful master, yes, it is with red-hot iron rods that they will torment you!'"
"And I shall proclaim my innocence;" added the poor woman crying, "I shall invoke Heaven and declare that I did not touch or take any of your property. And here it lies upon the table. You always scold and accuse us though we are innocent!"
Pluschkin now really beheld the note-paper before him, and for a moment he stopped short, whilst chewing with his lips, then he added:
"Well, why are you so excited? what a talkative woman you are to be sure! Scarcely have I spoken a word to you, when you are ready with ten answers! Go and fetch me a light to seal my letters with. But no, stop, you are sure to lay hold of a tallow candle, grease melts: it will be a loss; bring me a pine-torch."
Mavra left the room, Pluschkin seated himself in an arm-chair and taking a pen up, he kept turning the sheet of note-paper for a considerable time in his hand, thinking at the time, could it not be possible to save the half or a portion of the paper, but at last he felt convinced that it was an impossibility; he therefore dipped his pen into the ink-stand and into a mouldy fluid, at the bottom of which there were numerous dead flies, he began to write; his letters were very much like music-notes, he was obliged to stop at each pen stroke, for his hand shook and trembled violently over the paper, and the progress of his writing and increase of lines was very slow indeed, for he could not help thinking and regretting, that much of the paper before him would have to remain unwritten upon.
And to such a degree of meanness and degradation could a well-born man degenerate! undergo such a change! But is this like truth, like reality? All approaches truth and reality, for a human being is liable to undergo incredible changes. The youth of this day would start back horrified if the portrait of his old age could be shown to him. Oh! gather on our way—as you leave your downy pillow to start and enter into harsh and hardening manhood—gather up all the tender impressions of human nature, do not leave them behind you—do not pick them up later! Harsh and frightful is such old age when looming in the future, for it indemnifies for nothing! The grave is more merciful, upon a tombstone may be written: here lies a man! but you can read nothing upon the cold, unfeeling features of pitiless age.
"Do you perhaps know any one among your friends—" said Pluschkin, whilst folding up his letter, "who might stand in want of a few run-away serfs?"
"Ah, you have even some run-away men?" demanded Tchichikoff eagerly, but composing himself again quickly.
"Yes, unfortunately, I have some. My son-in-law has been hunting after them, but he assured me, that he has lost the trace of them notwithstanding his diligence and perseverance, however, he is a military man, accustomed to do business on horseback, if he had taken the trouble to apply to the various courts and—"
"Pardon me for interrupting you, but how many are they in number?"
"Well, as near as I can guess about seventy."
"No, is it possible?"
"By Heavens, it is as I tell you! With every new year I find that more and more of my men run away. My people are one and all awful gluttons, from good living and easy tasks they are apt to burst like the frog in the fable, whilst I have scarcely sufficient to eat myself. Really, I should feel disposed to accept any reasonable offer for them. Pray, speak to your friend about them: let us suppose he only recaptures ten of them, and his trouble will be amply rewarded. And you must not forget to tell him that our census serfs are worth five hundred silver roubles a-piece everywhere."
"No, my good old man, don't you believe it; this piece of news my friend shall not even be allowed to dream of," thought Tchichikoff to himself; and then he added aloud, "That it was a perfect impossibility to find such a friend; that the trouble and expense of recapturing run-away serfs would exceed by far their collective value; because it would be madness to apply to any court of law for assistance, for it is well known that if a man enters a court of justice in Russia, he generally has to leave, if not his own liberty behind him, at least his property, without the exception of the very coat on his back; but if he was really embarrassed for a little money, he would do himself pleasure by proving him his sincere sympathy, and that he was ready to make an offer; but as it was a mere trifle, it would be really idle even to mention a word about it."
"Pray, and how much could you offer me?" demanded Pluschkin, with the anxiety and eagerness of a real Shylock, his hands trembling like quicksilver.
"I could afford to pay you at the rate of twenty-five copeks in silver for each of your run-aways."
"And how do you propose purchasing them—will you pay ready money?"
"Yes, I am prepared to pay immediately."
"My good and dear Sir, pray don't be hard with an old man; be generous and just; pay me at least forty copeks a head."
"Most estimable man!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, "I would not only have paid you forty copeks, but even would have been glad to pay you five hundred roubles for each run-away vagabond. It would have been a gratification to me to offer you such a sum, because I see it plainly now, that you, my worthy and excellent old Sir, are suffering from the effects of your own misplaced benevolence."
"By Heavens, it is so! By Heavens, you spoke the truth!" exclaimed Pluschkin, bending down his head and shaking it sorrowfully. "All from benevolence!"
"You will agree with me, my excellent old man, that I at once knew how to appreciate your character. And why should I, therefore, not give you five hundred roubles for each of these serfs? but, the fact is, I am not possessed of a large fortune; however, to be agreeable to you, I am ready to make an addition of five copeks, so that, in this manner, every serf will cost me the round sum of thirty silver copeks."
"Make another effort, for the power lays in your hands; give me but two copeks more above the thirty."
"So I will, if you wish it, I'll give you two copeks more. How many have you of those run-away rascals? You told me, I believe, seventy in all?"
"There are a few more. In all, they number seventy-eight."
"Seventy-eight! Let me see, seventy-eight and thirty-two copeks a head, that makes—" Hereupon our hero only took one moment for consideration, and then continued deliberately: "That makes a total of twenty-four roubles ninety-six copeks." He was a clever arithmetician.
After this clever calculation, he made Pluschkin write out a receipt in form, and paid him the receipt in full upon the table, which the other took up in both hands, and carried towards his desk, with as much anxious precaution as if he was carrying some precious liquid, fearing every moment lest he might spill some of it.
When he had arrived before his desk, he once more covered his money with an ardent look, and then he laid it as carefully into one of his secret drawers, where, no doubt, it was destined to lie buried until Father Carp and Father Policarp, two worthy popes of his village, would come and have to bury the wretched man himself, to the indescribable joy of his daughter and son-in-law, and perhaps, also, to to the great satisfaction of the always hungry Captain, who had succeeded in establishing a relationship with the old miser.
After having hidden his treasure, Pluschkin returned to his arm-chair and sat down; it seemed that he now was completely at a loss of a subject for conversation.
"Do you already intend to leave me?" said he, as he happened to perceive a slight movement which Tchichikoff made, and which was only for the purpose of taking his pocket-handkerchief from his pocket.
This question reminded our hero that really there was no reason or inducement for him to stay any longer with the old miser.
"Yes, it is high time for me to depart," said he, whilst taking up his hat.
"Won't you really stay and take a cup of tea?"
"No, thank you; I think we had better leave it till the next time I have the pleasure of seeing you."
"Why, I have given orders for the tea-urn to be heated. For my own part, I must confess, I am not at all partial to tea-drinking, like the rest of our countrymen; the beverage is very dear, and besides, sugar has risen to a most unmerciful price. Froschka! I don't want the samovar; take the cake back again to Mavra, mind you understand me rightly; tell her to put it on the same shelf where she took it from; but no, stop—leave it on the table; I think I shall take it back again myself."
"Farewell, then, my dear Sir, the Almighty bless and keep you. As for the letter to the President, do not forget to give it him immediately on your return to Smolensk, as well as my kindest regards. Yes, let my dear old friend read it; I know he will be pleased to hear from me. How should he not recollect me? we used to live together, like two wheels of the same carriage."
After this, that ancient apparition, the worn-out old miser, led his guest the same road back on which he had entered his house, and saw him into the court-yard, and safe into his carriage, but as soon as the britchka had passed the gates, he ordered them to be closed immediately; he then made a turn of inspection around his extensive premises, with the view of convincing himself that the watchmen were all on their guard, for he had posted sentinels at every available corner; these poor fellows kept thumping with a large wooden spoon against the bottom of small empty casks, instead of upon iron plates.
Being satisfied that every one was doing his duty, he entered the kitchen, under the pretence that he came there to convince himself that the food of his servants was good and eatable, and thus tasting of everything, he stuffed himself with cabbage and porridge to his heart's content; he then scolded them all, down to the scullery-maid, reproached them with bad conduct, and, after having done this, he quietly returned to his own room.
When he found himself alone, he began to think how he could manage to mark his sense of gratitude to his amiable guest for an act of such unheard-of generosity.
"I think I shall present him," thought he to himself, "with my watch. It is a good one, a silver lever one, not one of those common Geneva or pinchbeck watches. I remember it is rather a little out of repair; but what does that matter? he can get it repaired himself. He seems a young man yet, and of course he wants a watch—it will help to please his sweetheart.
"But no," added he, after musing for a while, "I think I shall leave him the watch as a legacy after I am dead; then he will be sure to remember me."
Our hero, however, felt happy and in the best disposition of mind without the old man's watch. For such an unexpected acquisition of stock was in his opinion a most valuable gift, and he had really every difficulty in mastering his joy; but then it was also one of the most advantageous speculations—though certainly of an unheard-of nature—that he had ever made in his life. He got for a mere nothing, not only dead, but even run-away serfs, in all more than two hundred regular census slaves, and to him, whether dead or alive, most valuable beings.
As a matter of course, it must be acknowledged that whilst driving up to Pluschkin's mansion, he had a secret presentiment that something unusual would happen to him; but certainly he was far from guessing that such a brilliant success would actually crown his anticipations.
Twilight began to merge into darkness of the evening, when the britchka approached the town. The crepuscule was mingling with the dusk quicker and faster, and it seemed as if objects in the distance were mixed up and in confusion. The red and white-coloured turnpike gates seemed of an indefinable colour, very different from their usual gay appearance; the mustachios of the sentinel on duty seemed to be on his forehead, much above his eyes, as for his nose, it appeared as if he had none.
The sudden noise and the jolting of the wheels across the pavement were an undeniable proof that the britchka had safely entered the gates of Smolensk.
The britchka soon after sustained a few more severe joltings and shakings, until at last it made a regular jump as if into a hole; fortunately it stopped short before the gates of the inn where Tchichikoff was met by his servant Petruschka, who, with one of his hands was trying to keep together the skirts of his long surtout, not wishing perhaps that they should be open and flying about, whilst, with the other hand, he assisted his master to alight from the britchka.
The head-waiter had rushed forward to meet Tchichikoff. He held a candle in his hand and a napkin thrown over his shoulder. It is impossible for us to tell whether Petruschka was pleased or not to see his master returning safely home. However, he exchanged a familiar glance with his friend Selifan, in consequence of which, his usually sulky countenance for the nonce, seemed to undergo a change which bore some slight approach to cheerfulness.
"Your glory has been on a long excursion this time," said the head-waiter politely, as he was showing him up-stairs.
"Yes, rather," answered Tchichikoff, when he had arrived at the landing leading towards his room. "Well, and how are you?"
"Thank heavens and your glory for your kindness!" replied the head-waiter, bowing lowly in acknowledgment of the condescension. "A cornet in the Lancers arrived last night, and has taken number sixteen, the apartment next to that of your glory's."
"Who? a cornet! of what regiment?"
"I really cannot inform your glory to what regiment he belongs, but he comes from Rizan, has a splendid carriage and three beautiful horses."
"Very well, that will do; go and behave yourself well in future," said Tchichikoff. But as he crossed the ante-room, he quickly turned up his nose, and said to Petruschka, whilst hurrying along, "You ought at least to have opened the windows, you careless fellow!"
"I have had them opened, your glory," replied Petruschka; but in saying this, he told a falsehood, and though his master knew well enough that he was trying to impose upon him, he did not condescend to waste another word about it. After the fatigues of his journey and adventures, he felt exceedingly tired, and was anxious to retire. He ordered a very light supper to be brought up, which consisted of a few thin slices of tender sucking-pig, which he ate rather hastily, and then undressing himself quickly, he went to bed immediately, and tucked himself well up in his blankets, and was soon fast and sound asleep. He began to snore most wonderfully, and slept as soundly as only those happy mortals sleep who do not suffer from the attacks of gout or flies, nor from any superabundance of mental faculties.
Tchichikoff was just awaking, and stretching out his hands and legs like a man preparing for gymnastics, he also began to be aware that he had slept uncommonly well. After lying for about two minutes longer thus outstretched upon his back, he suddenly smacked his fingers in the air, for he at once distinctly remembered, and with a face radiant with satisfaction, that he now possessed nearly four hundred serfs, a stock worth about half a million of silver roubles.
After these satisfactory reflections, he jumped gaily out of bed, and did not even think of looking at his face, for which he had a particular affection, and in which, as it seemed, he thought his chin was the most attractive feature, because he had the habit of passing his hand frequently over it when in the presence of any intimate friend; he did this particularly when he had been shaving in the morning.
"Just look here," he used to say, whilst stroking it gently with his hand, "behold what a chin I have got—perfectly round and smooth!"
But this time, he examined neither his chin nor his face, but directly, such as he was, he got into his red morocco-leather morning boots, richly embroidered with silk of a variety of colours, for the manufacture of which the ancient Tartar town of Kazan is so justly celebrated; and thanks to his Russian constitution, that heeds no temperature, just as he was, with nothing but his night-shirt on, in the real Scotch fashion, he forgot for a moment his sedate character and middle age, and executed two regular jumps round his room, touching himself, very cleverly indeed, twice with the soles of his feet.
The very next moment, he immediately sat down to attend to his business: as he was thus seated before his dressing-case, he rubbed his hands cheerfully for a moment—just as they would be rubbed by a honest and incorruptible judge when he is about to sit down to a luncheon before pronouncing his judgment in court; after having done this, Tchichikoff produced at once his papers and documents.
He was anxious to settle his affairs in Smolensk as speedily as possible, and leave nothing undone which could be attended to on that very day. He determined upon drawing up the contracts of sale himself; to write down and copy everything with his own hand, so as not to have to pay a copek to any of the government employés. He was perfectly familiar with the particular style and lawful forms of such documents; and he, therefore, with a bold hand wrote down in large characters, one thousand eight hundred and forty such a year, then immediately lower, but in much smaller characters, councillor of state, gentleman, so and so; in fact, all was done and written as it ought to be, and in two hours later his work was accomplished.
When he once more cast a glance over the various documents with the names of the serfs on them, who had at one time been real slaves, working, tilling, drinking, cheating their master, and perhaps also simply honest serfs, it was then that he felt a strange and incomprehensible sensation suddenly overcome him.
Each of the lists possessed, as it were, a distinct character, and through that fact, it seemed again that each serf named upon them assumed also an individual character. The serfs who formerly belonged to the widow-lady, Korobotchka, had nearly all nicknames attached to them. The note of old Pluschkin distinguished itself by its brevity of construction; many of the names were only indicated by the first two letters of the Christian and family name, and then followed two points, or rather blots.
Sobakevitch's list attracted his special attention by its unusual fullness and minuteness; not one of the various qualifications of any one of his serfs had been omitted; one of them had been noted down as a "clever joiner," to the name of another the following was appended, "a sharp fellow, eats no tallow." Particular nota benes were also made who their father, and who their mother had been; only one individual of the name of Phedot was distinguished thus, "father unknown, but was born of a girl in the house, of the name of Capitolina, good principles and no thief."
All these particulars had a peculiar appearance of reality; it seemed to Tchichikoff himself, as if these poor dead serfs were alive yesterday. He kept looking for a long time at their names, until he felt his heart melting, as it were, to a feeling of pity, and heaving a deep sigh, he exclaimed:
"Good heavens, how many there are of you, to be sure! Poor fellows, I wish you could tell me, what you have been doing during your existence! How have you been battling your way through this world of woe?"
And his eyes rested involuntarily upon the, to us, already familiar name of Peter Savelieff Neuvaschaikorito, who once had been the property of Lady Korobotchka. And again he could not forbear making the observation:
"What a rich name to be sure, he takes a whole line all to himself;" and he then continued, "when among the living, were you a clever fellow in your profession, or simply a clumsy mouzhik; and were did you meet your death-blow? Was it in a dram-shop, or on the high road, or were you surrounded by those dear to you by the ties of nature? Stephen Korobka, joiner, a sober and steady man. Ah! here he is, Stephen Korobka, that is the fellow, who, according to Sobakevitch, would have been a giant in the Imperial Life-Guards! No doubt the poor fellow wandered about in obscurity with a hatchet on his side, and his boots across his shoulders, making his meals at the slender expense of one copek for brown bread, and two for dried fish, whilst, on returning home from his yearly work, he would bring with him a purse stuffed with silver roubles, and perhaps have some bank notes sewn up between the lining of his shirt or boots—where are you now? Have you, anxious for larger profits, been even as far as Moscow, and elevated yourself as high as the spire of Ivan Veliki, and tried to ring the changes on an Easter-night, but unsuccessfully fallen to the ground, whilst some more clever fellow than yourself standing close by would scratch himself behind the ear, and say: 'poor Stephen, can't you stand the noise?' and coolly take your place.
"Maxim Teliatnikoff, shoemaker—shoemaker. Oh, ah, a shoemaker! 'drunk like a cobbler,' says our proverb. I know you, know you well, my fine fellow; if you like, I can tell you in a few words your own history; you were brought up to your trade by a native from Germany, who fed you at the same table, and beat your shoulders with the same strap to punish you for your own neglect and carelessness, and kept you at work and strictly in doors; at that time you were really an excellent fellow, but not a cobbler, and your German master thought that he could not praise you enough in the presence of his wife or friends. But when you had finished your apprenticeship, you said to yourself: 'now I will keep a strap myself, and not have to scrape together, one by one, the copper copeks as my German master used to do.' Thinking thus, you contrived to pay your yearly impost to your lawful master, and were allowed to remain in town and set up in your profession. You succeeded so far well enough, for you happened to obtain numerous orders by way of encouragement, and you sat down to your work. Some wretched tanner supplied you with rotten leather, three times cheaper, it is true, than you could have bought a good material for; and really for a short time you even succeeded in making double profit upon each pair of boots you sold; but in about two weeks later, the boots of your manufacture were completely worn out, and you were called by your customers all sorts of names. In consequence of this mode of dealing, your shop was soon deserted by them, and by yourself; because you took to drinking and rolling about the streets, whilst in your state of intoxication you would often exclaim: 'No, really there is no consolation in life! we Russians cannot make a decent living, these foreigners push themselves forward everywhere, they positively take the very bread out of our mouths!'
"What peasant have we here? Elizabeth Vorobei. What a shame! a woman! how has she got among the men? He is a thorough cheat, that fellow Sobakevitch, even here he has tried to take advantage over me!" Tchichikoff was right, it was really a woman. How she had slipped among the men, it was quite impossible to tell, but certainly it was done very cleverly, for the woman might at a first glance have easily been taken for a man. However, he did not take the imposition in good part, and struck the name from the list at once.
"Gregory Dogeschainedogedish! What sort of a man have you been, I wonder? Were you perhaps one of those carriers by profession, driving your gallant troika from town to town, and fair to fair, bidding a long farewell to your family and friends to go and lead a wandering life in the service of some travelling tradesman between Russia and China? Did you surrender your soul to Heaven on the high road, or were you carried to your last resting-place by your village kindred, and your mourning wife and children?
"And you, my fine fellows?" he continued, as he cast a glance over the list of run-away serfs belonging to Pluschkin.
"Although you may be alive, yet where is the advantage of possessing you? you are as worthless as your dead brethren, and Heaven only knows whither your swift feet have borne you? Were you really so ill-used by old Pluschkin that you thought it better to run away, or were you naturally inclined to become vagabonds, and now plunder travellers on the high road and in the forests? Are you perhaps incarcerated in some gloomy prison, awaiting your sentence, or have you become the property of a new master, and are at this moment tilling the land of another lord?
"Jeremy Kariakin, Nikita Volokita, and Antony Volokita his son; these fellows, I presume, were excellent run-aways, if I am to judge by the first and classical syllables of their name. Some one of you, I can have no doubt, has had the misfortune to fall into the hands of what you call in the country the Capitän-Ispravnik, who, as a gentleman strictly looking after passport regulations, has no doubt cross-examined you on the subject, and perhaps in the following terms:
"'Whose serf are you?' said he, perhaps, in his imperative voice, whilst interspersing his question with a few strong and fitting terms.
"'I am the serf of such and such a nobleman,' you will have answered boldly.
"'Why are you here?' demands again the military Capitan.
"'I have received my due permission to go and search for work in town,' is again your bold reply.
"'And where is your passport?'
"'With my landlord, the citizen Pimenoff.'
"'Send for Pimenoff immediately. Are you Pimenoff?'
"'I am Pimenoff.
"'Did this man give you his passport?'
"'No, your glory, he has given me no passport of any description.'
"'How dare you tell me a falsehood?' says the Capitän-Ispravnik, adding, meanwhile a few strong and suitable terms.
"'Just so,' is your bold reply to this observation, 'I did not give it to him because I returned home late, but I gave it for safe keeping to the bell-ringer, Antip Prochoroff."
"'Send for the bell-ringer! Did he give to you his passport?'
"'No, Sir, I did not receive a passport from him.'
"'Why, that is another falsehood,' says the military Capitan, strengthening his affirmation with a few more impressive words. 'Now, can you tell me where your passport is?'
"'I am sure I had a passport,' you said quickly, 'but it seems I have lost it somewhere on the road.'
"'And how do you account for the possession of this soldier's cloak?' demands again the Capitän-Ispravnik sternly, whilst adding again a few strong and fitting terms, 'why have you robbed the imperial servant of his garb? and why have you dared to plunder the Pope's coffer of his coppers?'
"'I'm innocent,' you say boldly, 'I have never yet been convicted of theft.'
"'And how is it that they have picked you up drunk and incapable, and clad in this cloak?'
"'I really can't say; no doubt some one else has put it on me.'
"'Ah, you are a rogue and a vagabond,' speaks the Capitän-Ispravnik, shaking his head at you, and putting his hands to his sides. 'Guards, put the fellow in irons, and lead him away into the darkest dungeon.'
"'Very well, your glory, I submit myself with pleasure,' is your polite reply.
"And hereupon you produce your snuff-box, and treat with its contents, and in the most friendly manner, the two invalids who are putting the chains on your legs, asking them coolly how long ago they were discharged from their hard service in the army, and in what battles they have fought. And now you continue to live some time in prison, until due inquiries are made about you, and your case properly and leisurely investigated.
"At last, the following decision arrives: the run-away serf, Nikita Volokita, will be transferred from the prisons of Zarevo-Kokaisk to the prison of Mosaisk, from there a fresh order transfers you again to the prison in Vesegonsk, and thus you continue to be transferred from dungeon to dungeon, and you say to yourself as you inspect your new habitation:
"'I don't know, but somehow I like Vesegonsk better than any of the other places; the place is larger and cleaner, and the company here much gayer!'
"Abakum Phiroff! and what are you? where and in what part of the vast Empire could you now be met with? Have you gone down the river Volga and taken a fancy to an agitated life on the swelling waves, and joined some of the gay river men?"—
Saying this, Tchichikoff stopped short and began to muse and reflect. What might he have been thinking about? Did he try to imagine the fate of Abakum Phiroff, or did he plunge into reflections like any other Russian, whatever his age might be, no matter of what rank or fortune, when he reflects upon the broad road of human life?
And in truth where is Phiroff now? He wanders boisterously and gaily along the rich shores of the Volga; he has hired his services to some travelling merchant. Flowers and ribbons ornament his peculiarly shaped hat; he seems now as cheerful and contented as any of his comrades born and bred to that peculiar life; they are just bidding farewell to their wives and sweethearts—tall, active, and healthy women, looking as picturesque as the men, in their wide frocks and flowing tresses mixed with gay ornaments and coloured ribbons; songs with and without choruses, and again interrupted, but a solo or an accompaniment of the national guitar or balalaika is to be heard all along the piers and shores. The bustle and life among the people assembled is now at its height, for they are completing the cargo of their barges, into which they store the last sacks, containing wheat, barley, oats and other grains, which the fertile soil in that part of the country so abundantly produces.
Along the shores are yet hundreds and thousands more sacks filled with various grains, heaped in columns and towering like Egyptian pyramids into the air, and ready to be shipped as soon as the warm rays of the spring can burst the melting ice, and allow this bread-stuff arsenal to drift down the river, barge following barge like a band of swans when proudly floating down the rapid stream.
Such is the occupation of our Russian river-men on the shores of the Volga, where he has hard work, but where he leads a comparatively independent and cheerful life, and where his gay and melodious songs are heard from the source to the efflux of that magnificent river.
"Holloa, he! twelve o'clock," Tchichikoff said at last, looking at his watch, "how could I so utterly forget myself? if at least there had been any business-like result in these reflections, but as it is, it was but folly and nonsense!" Saying this, he changed his highland costume for a more becoming one, buckled tighter up his full stomach, perfumed his face and hands with some Eau de Cologne, put his warm travelling-cap in his hand, and the various documents under his arm and hurriedly left the inn, hastening towards the government offices to conclude his contracts.
He did not hasten for fear of being too late; oh, no, he was not afraid of being too late, because the President of the Council was now his intimate friend, and could prolong or shorten the sittings in the court at his own convenience; he was as powerful in his office as Homer in his classical poems, who lengthened his days and sent tempestuous nights when he wished to shorten the quarrels of his favourite heroes, or allow them to fight out their differences.
With our hero it was different, he felt an inward longing to terminate his business as quickly as possible; until he had done so, he would be sure not to feel either tranquil or comfortable, because the reflection occurred to him, that the serfs were not a positive reality though he had a point of law in his favour, and that under such peculiar circumstances it is always prudent to hasten the conclusion as quickly as possible.
But scarcely had he walked a short distance in the street, and whilst musing on the subject of his errand, covered as he was in a large coffee-coloured travelling cloak, he could not avoid running, as he was just on the point of turning round the corner, against a gentleman also dressed in a large coffee-coloured travelling cloak and huge cap to match it covering his head and ears.
This gentleman could not repress an exclamation of joyful surprise at the sight of Tchichikoff, for it proved to be his friend Maniloff. They sank at once into each other's arms, and remained in that position, firmly clasped together, for more than five minutes in the middle of the thronged pavement. The exchange of their mutual affection was so tender and strong, that both suffered for the rest of the day from pains in their fore-teeth. Maniloff's gratification was so great, that actually nothing else but his nose and lips could be seen on his face; as for his eyes, they had literally molten away for joy.
For more than a quarter of an hour he held firmly clasped between his own Tchichikoff's hand, and by his affectionate pressure heated it to a considerable degree. In the most elaborate, elegant, and chosen terms, he assured his friend that he had hastened to town to embrace his dear Pavel Ivanovitch; his address was concluded with such compliments as might perhaps only be spoken to a young lady when she is led to a country-dance.
Tchichikoff opened his mouth without knowing what he was going to say in acknowledgment of such great civilities, when Maniloff suddenly produced from under his cloak a parcel of papers, rolled up in the shape of a tube, and tied together with a pink ribbon.
"What is that?" inquired Tchichikoff.
"The dead serfs, my dear Pavel Ivanovitch," replied Maniloff, with his usual honeyed smile.
"Ah!" he immediately untied and unfolded the papers, and cast a hurried glance over the lists and was pleasantly surprised at the neatness and accuracy of the writing.
"A beautiful hand-writing," said he, "it will be quite unnecessary for me to copy it over again. And even a beautiful black line like a frame around it! pray, and who has taken the trouble to draw these accomplished lines around it?"
"Pray do not ask me," said Maniloff.
"Yourself?"
"My wife."
"By heavens! I am really ashamed to have given you and your kind lady so much trouble, I am indeed quite ashamed!"
"For our own dear Pavel Ivanovitch, nothing is a trouble!"
Tchichikoff bowed deeply and civilly an acknowledgment. When Maniloff heard that his friend was on his way to the government offices for the purpose of concluding the formalities of the contracts of sale, he immediately offered to accompany him thither. The two friends joined their arms and went away together. At each indifferent, uneven, or broken flag-stone, Maniloff immediately and civilly assisted Tchichikoff to pass over, and in his anxiety, even nearly lifted him from the ground with his arm, adding at the same time, and with a pleasant smile, that he would not suffer his dear friend to hurt his little feet against any stone whatever. Tchichikoff felt really ashamed, not knowing how he could return the attention, because he was conscious that he was rather of a heavy weight.
While continuing to exchange civilities, they arrived at last upon a large and open square, where they beheld the Imperial government offices before them; the building was a very extensive one, three stories high, and painted white, like chalk, no doubt a symbolic sign of the purity of the hearts of those who were appointed to administer justice; the other buildings in the square were altogether out of proportion with the immense white house.
The most remarkable features in it were; a sentry's box, before which a soldier with his musket was walking up and down, several droschki-stands surrounded by their idle drivers, and at last a range of wooden walls, painted grey, and with their usual inscriptions and characters drawn on them, with either chalk or charcoal; there was really nothing else worth mentioning to be seen on this desolate, or as it would be called in Russia—handsome square.
From out of the windows of the second and third stories, now and then a few heads of the unimpeachable and incorruptible administrator's assistants would make a momentary appearance and then immediately draw them back again, no doubt because their President entered the room at the moment.
The two friends now entered the large building and found themselves before a wide staircase, which they did not ascend, but rather scaled in a canter, because Tchichikoff was trying to escape the further assistance of Maniloff's arm, and therefore rushed quickly forward, whilst his friend Maniloff on the other hand, was also anxious to hasten forward in order to prevent Tchichikoff feeling tired from the ascension of the long flight of stairs. With these different objects in view, they both rushed madly as it were onward until they both met at the landing above, which, ended in a sudden collision in a dark passage.
Neither the passage nor the interior of the rooms which they entered immediately after, in any way made a pleasant impression upon their sight as regards cleanliness. It is true also, that at that particular moment, neither of them was disposed to pay any attention to the circumstance; and all that which was wanting in order and cleanliness, was therefore left to remain dirty and disorderly just as it was, assuming not the least feature of attraction. The door-keeper of the offices received his guests in a shabby and inelegant costume, and opened the door to the new corners.
It would perhaps have been deemed desirable to have a minute description of the various rooms through which our two heroes passed; but the author must confess, that he has a particular repugnance for any and all places of justice in any country, but particularly so for those in his own country. And even, though it has happened to him to pass or rather wind his way through some courts of justice decorated in the highest fashion, and covered with carpets and marqueterie, and polished tables, yet he always endeavoured to hurry his steps as much as possible, while casting down his eyes, and therefore it is quite impossible for him to give any interesting description of the inner charms and attractions of the courts of justice in the Russian Empire.
Our heroes saw numerous piles of waste paper and of white paper, many downcast heads, broad shoulders, dress-coats, and imperial shape and even some common grey cotton jackets, which contrasted very strongly with the other colours; some of these grey jacketed gentlemen had their heads bent all on one side, and nearly leaning on the paper, as if ready to fell asleep over their work, and yet they were busy scribbling, copying perhaps some brief or inventory concerning a mortgaged estate, which the Crown was about to take possession of, because the righteous owner had been ruined or banished from the country.
At intervals, short exclamations could be heard pronounced in a subdued and often unpleasant tone of voice, such as: "Mr. so and so, will you give me the application of No. 777! You are in the continual habit of mislaying the cork of the imperial ink-bottle!"
Now and then the sounds of a voice speaking in a tone of importance was also heard, no doubt proceeding from a superior officer, and consequently in a more autocratic manner:
"Here, take that and copy it off immediately, if not, I shall order your boots to be taken off your feet, and you shall have to sit for six hours without a chance of eating anything."
The noise produced by the quills in operation was very great indeed, and resembled very much the noise produced by a carriage when passing through a forest across a road strewn with dry autumnal leaves.
Tchichikoff and Maniloff approached the first table they were near, and at which two employés, rather young men, were sitting, and busying themselves in doing nothing, they addressed them in the following manner:
"Will you allow me to inquire, where the 'contract of sale' business is transacted in these offices?"
"And what is your business?" said both employés at once, whilst turning to the speaker.
"I want to hand in a petition concerning some contracts of sale."
"And what is it you have been buying?"
"Before telling that, I should have liked to know first where the contract of sale department is—is it here or in another place?"
"You must first tell us what you have been purchasing and at what price, and then we shall tell you where you will have to apply to, but without knowing this we cannot advise you." Tchichikoff saw at once that curiosity only prompted them to address these questions to him, and that like all young men or employés, they wished to gratify their curiosity and give at the same time a greater importance to themselves and to their occupations.
"My good young gentlemen," said Tchichikoff, "I am perfectly aware that all contracts of sale, no matter at what price a bargain has been concluded, are settled and legalised at one and the same place, and if you don't know what is doing at your table, then we shall at once proceed to ask some one else."
The employés made no reply whatever to this observation, but one of them pointed with his fore-finger to the corner of the room, where an elderly man was sitting behind a table and stirring about in a heap of papers.
Tchichikoff and Maniloff passed through a long range of tables straight towards the old man. He seemed to be very seriously engaged with his occupation.
"Sir, will you allow me to ask you," said Tchichikoff with a bow, "whether this is the department or section for the conclusion of contracts of sale?"
The elderly employé lifted up his eyes and spoke abruptly in reply: "contract of sale business is not transacted here."
"And pray, where then?"
"In the section for the conclusion of contracts of sale."
"But where am I to find this section?"
"It is under the superintendence of Ivan Antonovitch."
"Could you perhaps tell me where I might find Ivan Antonovitch?"
The old man pointed with his forefinger to another corner of the extensive room. Tchichikoff and Maniloff hurried towards the seat of Ivan Antonovitch, who had espied them already with one of his eyes and scrutinized them now with the other, which having done, he immediately plunged again if possible still deeper into his occupation.
"Allow me to ask if you please," spoke Tchichikoff with a civil bow, "is this the section for the contracts of sale?"
Ivan Antonovitch appeared as if he had not heard the question at all, and busied himself as completely as possible among his papers without saying a word in reply. It was evident that this person was already a man of a sedate and serious age, and not at all like those two youngsters or madcaps. Ivan Antonovitch seemed to be already at some distance beyond forty years; his hair was black and abundantly covered his head; the centre of his face seemed to rush forward towards its extremity, the nose, in a word, it was a face that would be called in ordinary Russian parlance, a muggy one.
"Allow me to ask you, Sir, if this is the department for the conclusion of contracts of sale?" Tchichikoff demanded again.
"Yes," answered Ivan Antonovitch, turning his muggy face towards the inquirer for a moment, and, then immediately beginning to write again.
"My business is the following: I have purchased of several landed proprietors in this province a number of serfs with the intention of settling them elsewhere: the contracts of sale are prepared and now only require to be lawfully legalized."
"Are the contracting parties present?"
"Some of them are in town, others have sent their powers of attorney."
"Have you brought a written petition on the subject?"
"I have done so, Sir. I should have liked, that is to say, I would be very glad indeed to terminate this business as soon as possible. Therefore, could we not, for an instance, begin at once in order to finish all this very day?"
"Oh to-day! that is quite impossible," said Ivan Antonovitch. "Due inquiries must be made in the first instance to ascertain if no objections could or would be raised in the matter."
"As regards this, and in order to speed the subject, I may inform you, Sir, that Ivan Gregorievitch, the president, is an intimate friend of mine."
"But allow me to observe to you, Sir, that Ivan Gregorievitch is not the only person who would have to attend to this matter; there are other persons as well," said Ivan Antonovitch dryly.
Tchichikoff caught at once the hint which Ivan Gregorievitch had dropped for his information, and said, "nor shall others have to complain of me, I have been in the civil service of our country myself, I know what business and promptitude means."
"Well, then I would advise you to go at once to the President," said Ivan Antonovitch, in a rather pleasanter tone of voice, "let him give his instructions to whom it concerns, and as for ourselves you may be assured that your business shall be attended to."
Tchichikoff produced a white bank-note from his pocket-book and laid it on the table before Ivan Antonovitch, which the other did not seem to see at all, but instantly covered with a large book. Tchichikoff was about drawing his attention to it, but Ivan Antonovitch with a peculiar nod of his head made him understand that it was perfectly unnecessary.
"That man will shew you into the President's private office," said Ivan Antonovitch, whilst making a sign to one of the employés to approach, who happened to be just in the way and no doubt ready to devote all his energies to the service of justice and his country, in which devotion he seemed to have even sacrificed his coat, if we were to judge by his two sleeves, which had burst at both elbows and which now displayed the lining to great advantage, and for which services and devotion of years such men are generally dismissed with a useless title or a paltry pension.
This man then joined our friends and served them like Virgil once assisted Dante, and led them through a long range of tables and rooms into the office of the President, where they saw a lonely, large and comfortable arm-chair, in which and before a table and two huge books they beheld the President, radiant like the sun.
At this sight, the modern Virgil felt an inexpressible feeling of delight overcome him suddenly, so great and powerful indeed, that he would not dare to venture a step further but turned round immediately, and thus showed the back of his coat which was completely worn out and covered all over with down and feathers. When the two friends had entered the apartment they saw that the President was not alone; behind him sat Sobakevitch, who was completely hidden by a large cheval looking-glass. The entrance of the two guests was hailed with an exclamation of joyful surprise, and the presidential chair was pushed back loudly. Sobakevitch also rose from his seat, and as he thus happened to be standing before the looking-glass, his huge figure and extensively wide and long sleeves of his coat loomed larger than ever.
The President most cordially embraced Tchichikoff, and the walls of the justice-room re-echoed their tender exchange of affection, they then civilly inquired after the respective state of their health, and it proved that they were both suffering from pains in their loins, the natural consequence of a sedentary life and occupations.
The President seemed to have been already informed by Sobakevitch of Tchichikoff's purchase, because he now begun to compliment him on the subject, which at first seemed rather to take our hero by surprise, especially when the idea occurred to him, that two of the contracting parties, namely Maniloff and Sobakevitch, with whom he had come to an understanding of mutual secrecy, were now standing opposite one another.
However, he soon recovered himself, and thanking the President for his civil inquiries, he immediately turned towards Sobakevitch and asked him politely.
"And how do you do?"
"Thank Heavens, I have no reason to complain," answered Sobakevitch. And really he had no cause of complaint; it would have been easier for a piece of pig-iron to catch a cold and begin to cough, than for this wonderfully constituted landed proprietor.
"True enough, you have always enjoyed an excellent state of health," the President observed, "and I remember your late father, was as strong and healthy a man as yourself."
"Yes, he was in the habit of going bearhunting all by himself," answered Sobakevitch.
"However, I am of opinion," said the President again, "that you could master a bear as well, if you liked to encounter one."
"No, I could not," Sobakevitch answered; "my late father was much stronger than I am;" and, after a deep sigh, he continued: "No, the men of our present day are not what they used to be formerly. Take me even for an example; what is my life and strength? I have just sufficient energy to bear my life."
"Why, what makes you complain of your life?" the President inquired again.
"It is not good or satisfactory!" exclaimed Sobakevitch, whilst shaking his head slowly. "Just judge yourself, Ivan Gregorievitch: I am at the beginning of my third score, and have not once suffered the slightest complaint or indisposition, not even from a cold. Now you will agree with me that this cannot be for the better. Some fine day will dawn when I shall have, no doubt, to pay dearly for this, my present state of health and life."
Hereupon Sobakevitch relapsed into what seemed a state of melancholy or hypochondria.
"What a strange fancy, to be sure," the President and Tchichikoff thought at the same time, "to be brooding on such a subject."
"I have a letter for you my dear President," said Tchichikoff, producing Pluschkin's letter, with the evident intention of changing the subject of their conversation.
"And pray from whom?" the President demanded, as he was breaking the seal; and, having done so, he exclaimed: "Ah! is it possible, from Pluschkin. He is still a wanderer on the surface of this world. What a strange fate, that man's is; for I must tell you, gentlemen, that he was one of the most accomplished, and wealthiest men I ever happened to know! and now—"
"A real dog," said Sobakevitch, "a rascal, who has starved the greater part of his serfs."
"Very well, and with great pleasure," said the President, when he had read the letter; "I am willing to be his representative and agent in the matter. When do you wish to sign the contracts, now or later?"
"Now, if you please," said Tchichikoff; "and I shall even beg of you to transact all the business, if possible, to-day, because I wish to leave town to-morrow on some important affairs. I have brought with me the various documents—such as the contract of sale, the petition, and the list of names; in fact everything is ready."
"All this is well and good," said the President; "do as you please; but we do not intend to part with you so easily. The contracts shall be attended to, and signed this very day, on condition that you will consent to remain with us. I will give my instructions immediately," continued the high officer of the crown, as he opened the door leading into the office, which was now crowded with employés, who, like the industrious bees, were gathered in heaps of a hundred, on the spot; if it was possible that so many of them could have found any real employment. "Ivan Antonovitch, is he there?"
"Here!" answered a voice from the interior.
"Send him to me!"
The muggy face of Ivan Antonovitch, already so familiar to us, soon after made its appearance before the President's room, and he entered with a profusion of servile bowing.
"Take these papers, Ivan Antonovitch, all these contracts of sale must be—"
"By the bye, do not forget, Ivan Gregorievitch," interrupted Sobakevitch, "that we shall require witnesses, at least two for each contracting party. I would suggest that you should send at once to the Procurator, he is a regular holiday-man, and is sure to be at home—his public business is usually managed by his lawyer, Mr. Solotucha, the greatest sharp I ever met with in this world. The Superintendent of the Medical Faculties is also a holiday-bird, and likely to be at home, if he has not already gone to play cards somewhere; however, there are a great many more besides those two, and who live even nearer, for instance, Truchatchevitch, Beguschikin, all these people live free of expense in this wide world."
"Just so, exactly, you are perfectly right!" said the President; and he immediately gave instructions to some of his messengers to go in search of the parties just mentioned by Sobakevitch.
"I will also request you," added Tchichikoff, "to send for the attorney of a widow lady, with whom I have also concluded a trifling business. Her agent is the son of the Proto-pope, Father Kyrila; I am told he holds an appointment in your offices."
"To be sure we shall have him as well," said the President. "Everything shall be done to your satisfaction, but as for my employés, I must beg, nay even insist upon, your giving them no gratuity. I never suffer any of my friends to pay for anything."
Saying this, he immediately gave all the necessary instructions to Ivan Antonovitch, who seemed not to like the arrangements at all. The contracts of sale seemed to produce a very favourable impression upon the mind of the President, especially when he had glanced over them, and found that the purchases made by Tchichikoff amounted to nearly half a million of silver roubles. He kept looking for several minutes at Tchichikoff, straight into the eyes, with a feeling of great satisfaction, and then added, smiling:
"It is thus, then! In such a manner then my dear Pavel Ivanovitch, you have made some valuable and important acquisitions indeed!"
"Yes, really, I have made some acquisitions," replied Tchichikoff, modestly.
"A good speculation, really—a capital undertaking!"
"Yes, indeed, and I must own that I am of opinion that I could not venture into a more profitable business. Whatever the opinion of the world may be, I opine that the aim of a man is never thoroughly defined, if he does not stand with a firm footing upon a solid foundation, and not upon any frivolous chimera of a youthful imagination."
Hereupon, he added in a few more strong terms, and in good time, his disapproval of the hot-headed liberalism of the present youthful generation. But it was remarkable that with all his clever reasoning, there was a slight irregularity in the usual calm and dignified tone of voice, as if he was at the same time whispering to himself, "Oh, my good fellow, how mercilessly you impose upon people!" He even did not venture to lift his eyes either to Sobakevitch or Maniloff, fearing to meet some peculiar expression in their faces or countenance.
However, his alarms were imaginary. Sobakevitch's face was perfectly devoid of any expression whatever, whilst Maniloff was perfectly captivated by his elaborate speech. He only kept nodding his head approvingly, and throwing himself into that peculiar position into which an amateur of music would plunge when his favourite prima donna has surpassed even the notes of the violin, and sent forth a tone which the throat of a bird would have been incapable of articulating.
"But why don't you mention to our friend Ivan Gregorievitch," Sobakevitch interrupted at last, "what kind of acquisition you have been making? And you, my dear President, why don't you ask him what purchases he has been making? Excellent people, as valuable as gold. I must inform you that I have even sold him my old Micheeff, the coach-builder."
"No, really, have you sold that excellent fellow Micheeff?" the President inquired. "I remember now your coach-builder, Micheeff, very well—an excellent and clever artisan. He has often mended my droschki. But stop, allow me—how is this—I remember now, you told me that he was dead."
"Who! Micheeff dead?" said Sobakevitch, and nearly betraying himself. "It was his brother who died; as for the coach-builder, he is perfectly alive and healthier than ever he was before. He finished the other day a britchka with which you might venture to travel in a canter to Moscow. I am of opinion that he ought to be appointed to work for the Emperor alone."
"Yes, truly, Micheeff is a very clever fellow indeed," said the President, "and I am even surprised that you could agree to part with him for any amount or consideration."
"Micheeff is not the only one. I have even sold Stephen Korobka, the joiner; Milushkin, the potter; Maxim Teliatnikoff, the shoemaker—they are all gone, I have got rid of every one of them."
But when the President asked him why he had thus disposed of them, as they were all such clever and indispensable workmen on a country estate, Sobakevitch answered, whilst sawing his right arm in the air:
"Bah, I was attacked by a peculiar whim of mine, and I said to myself, I am determined, and will sell all these fellows, and thus, then, I got rid of them all on account of a fancy." After this explanation; he allowed his head to hang down, as if he was addressing inward reproaches to himself, and then he added again:
"Though you see that I am already a greyhaired man, yet I must confess I am still deficient in wisdom."
"But allow me to ask you, my dear Pavel Ivanovitch," the President said again, "how did you purchase these serfs, without the land they were born upon? is it with the intention of removing them from here?"
"Just so, for emigration."
"Ah, for emigration views, that is another thing. And pray for what part of the country? if the question is not indiscreet?"
"To what part of the country—oh, ah, I shall take them into the government of Kherson."
"Oh, that is one of the finest provinces in the Empire!" exclaimed the President, and expressed his high praise of the excellency of the soil in that province, and the richness of its steppes. "And have you sufficient land for the accommodation of your newly-acquired population?"
"Just sufficient for comfortable distribution among my new serfs."
"Have you a fine flowing river, or a brook?"
"A river. However, there is also a large brook." Saying this, Tchichikoff involuntarily looked at Sobakevitch, and though the other remained as cool and indifferent as before, nevertheless it seemed to him as if the following was as it were, written in the expression of his face. "Oh, what a falsehood! for it is not likely that you will have a river and a brook as well, when, perhaps you have not even a piece of land!"
Whilst a lively conversation continued to be carried on between the parties assembled in the President's office, the witnesses began to arrive one by one: among the earlier arrivals was a man already known to our reader, the winking Procurator; he was immediately followed by the Superintendant of the Medical Faculties, then came Truchatchevitch, Beguschikin, and all those whom Sobakevitch had enumerated as uselessly walking about on the face of the earth.
Many of them were total strangers to Tchichikoff, whilst the missing witnesses were easily supplied from the ranks of the employés in the offices, in fact there was rather a superfluity of them, for not only the son of the Proto-pope, Father Kyrila was present, but even the worthy old man himself. Every one of the required witnesses now began to sign their names on the various documents, not forgetting to append their rank or title. As for each individual signature, it was an original for itself as regards the execution of the letters which formed the names, and certainly it would have been very difficult indeed to find corresponding ones in the Russian alphabet.
The well-known individual, Ivan Antonovitch displayed considerable activity, and in a very short time, all the contracts of sale were duly booked and registered in the government ledger; according to the regulations, an impost of a half per cent was calculated on the whole, including the publication of the transaction in the "Ministerial Gazetteer," and at the conclusion of the business, Tchichikoff found that his expenses were but a mere trifle. The President even gave instructions, that one half only of the half per cent impost duty should be received from his friend; as for the other half, it was carried to the account of some other indifferent petitioner.
"And now," said the President, when all the business was concluded, "now, we shall only have to sprinkle a little wine and inaugurate your excellent and important enterprise."
"I am agreeable," said Tchichikoff. "I leave it entirely to you to fix upon the place and time. It would be sinful were I not to feel most happy to be agreeable in turn to such estimable company as all those around me; yes, gentlemen, now is the time to uncork a few or more bottles of that excellent sparkling wine of our brothers in France."
"No, pardon me, you misunderstand the matter: for we will ourselves provide the sparkling entertainment," said the President, "we feel this to be an obligation, our duty. You are our guest; we are bound to regale you. Do you know, gentlemen, what I will suggest to you; whatever we do later, for the present I propose that we adjourn at once and all, just as we are, to the house of our friend the Commissioner of Police; he is a wonderful man amongst us; we need only give him a slight hint and pass the fish-market or a wine-cellar, and you may depend upon it that we shall make a luncheon equal to a feast! at the same time I may observe that we shall have an excellent opportunity for a nice game of whist or lansquenet."
Such a suggestion no one could possibly withstand. The witnesses felt a voracious appetite at the mere mention of the fish, market; they all rushed to take their hats and caps, and the sitting of the court was adjourned. When they passed through the room in which Ivan Antonovitch, the muggy-face, was sitting, he bowed politely, and whispered to Tchichikoff:
"You have purchased serfs for nearly half-a-millions' worth, but rewarded my troubles with a lonely twenty-fiver."
"But what serfs!" replied Tchichikoff to this, also in an undertone; "really useless, worthless people, not worth half the money."
Ivan Antonovitch, hearing this, felt at once convinced that the stranger was of a positive character and would give him no more.
"How much a-head did you pay for Pluschkin's serfs?" Sobakevitch whispered into his other ear.
"And why have you put on the list that Vorobieff," said Tchichikoff, in reply to his question.
"What Vorobieff?" demanded Sobakevitch.
"I mean the woman, Elizabeth Vorobieff, it seems as if you even took some pains to pass her off as a man."
"I attempted nothing of the sort," said Sobakevitch, as he went to join the other guests.
The guests proceeded all in a crowd towards the house of the Commissioner of Police. The commander of the police-force of Smolensk, was really and without flattery a wonderful man. Scarcely had he been informed of what his friends expected from him, when he immediately called one of his satellites, a fine and quick young fellow in shiny boots, to whom He seemed to whisper but two words, and then added aloud: "You understand me?" and thereupon, whilst the guests were trying to spend a little while in the next room, in playing a game of whist; the following dishes made their successive appearance upon the table: three different kinds of sturgeon called respectively: osetra, beluga, and sewruga, smoked and pickled salmon, fresh and preserved caviar, some cheese, smoked ox-tongues, and a variety of other fish dainties, made up the supplies from the fish-market.
Then were brought up additional supplies, furnished by the master of the house from his own kitchen; a large pie, containing the head, cartilage and jaws of a sturgeon that must have weighed more than three hundred pounds, besides a variety of other minced tarts, baked in sweet oils and butter.
The Commissioner of Police was in some respects considered as the father and benefactor of the town. He was perfectly at home among the majority of the citizens, and was accustomed to visit their shops and the market-places as if they were his own warehouses. He generally sat—as the phrase goes—in his right place, and did his duty accordingly.
The majority of the tradesmen courted him particularly, because he was not proud; and really, his condescension towards them was very great indeed, when we take into consideration his exalted position; he stood as godfather to all their children, and attended every one of their evening parties, and though he made them pay heavy fines, whenever he found an occasion, yet he did it so exceedingly cleverly, that they could not feel angry with him for doing his duty: he would tap them in a friendly manner, on the shoulder, and add a pleasant smile, treat them with an excellent cup of tea at his own house, promise them to call at their house of shop and play a game of draughts, inquire after everybody and everything; ask them how they were satisfied with trade, and in fact, take a lively interest in all their concerns.
If he should happen to hear that one or the other of the children had caught a cold, or was otherwise indisposed, he would immediately attend upon him personally, and suggest a variety of remedies to cure him, in a word he was a clever man! If he happened to drive about in his droschki, he was sure to make as many calls as he possibly could,.and meanwhile drop a sly word to the one or to the other, and say:
"Now then, master Micheitch, I think it high time for us two to have a hand at a game of cards, what do you say to that?"
"Yes, Ivan Alexeitch," answers Master Micheitch, good-humouredly, whilst taking off his cap, "I think it a favourable opportunity for us to have a game."
"Well, brother Elias Paramonitch, would you like to come and look at my trotter? I am ready to run a race with your horse I saw the other day; we will try them and have a trifling bet on them."
The merchant who was madly fond of race horses, but especially of trotters, smiled at the proposal with an unusual gratification, and whilst stroking his long beard he would say:
"Very well, Alexei Ivanovitch, we will try them!"
At such moments all idle bystanders would usually take off their caps and smile with inward satisfaction at each other, and appear as if they wished to say:
"Alexei Ivanovitch is an excellent, kind and good-hearted gentleman!"
In a word, he had succeeded in gaining universal esteem, and the opinion of all the merchants who knew him was, that if Alexei Ivanovitch once captivated a fellow, he never parted with him again.
The Commissioner of Police, when he perceived that the luncheon was ready on the table, suggested to his guests that they should finish their game of whist afterwards, and all entered that room from which an agreeable and inviting perfume began to titillate the nostrils and stomachs of the guests, and into which Sobakevitch had already for some time been casting longing glances at an immense sturgeon which was lying on a side table, upon a large dish.
The guests tasted as a relish to sharpen their appetite, a liqueur of that dark olive colour, which is only seen in Siberian precious stones, and which are used in Russia for valuable ornaments only; having done so they approached the table from all sides with fork in hand, and began to display their choice of taste, or if we may say so, every one his character and inclination, in attacking the one, the fresh caviar, another, the large fish pie, a third, the cheese and so forth.
Sobakevitch left all the smaller dishes unnoticed, and betook himself at once to the large dish with the sturgeon upon it, and whilst the other guests were eating, talking and drinking, he had succeeded in the short space of a quarter of an hour, and without any great exertions in eating nearly the whole fish, so that when the Police-master accidentally bethought himself of the fish, saying:
"By the bye, I wonder, gentlemen, how you will like this wonderful production of nature?" and then approaching the dish with fork in hand and followed by his guests, he found but the tail left of his wonderful production of nature.
As for Sobakevitch, he feigned not to notice it, but taking up a plate he coolly approached another dish with small fried fish upon it, and used his fork to pick up a few of them, as if he had no real appetite. After having thus quietly dispatched the sturgeon, Sobakevitch sat himself down in an easy chair, and neither ate nor drank any more, but like a cat, kept licking his lips and winking his eyes.
The first toast proposed after luncheon, was as our reader may easily and naturally imagine, to the health and prosperity of the noble landed proprietor from the government of Kherson; then, to the welfare and happy settlement on his estate of his newly acquired peasants; and last, not least, to the health of his intended spouse, the boisterous hip, hip, hurrahs, which followed the last toast, forcing a pleasant smile from the lips of our hero.
Immediately after his health had been drank, he was at once surrounded by every one present, one and all of whom begged and entreated him to prolong his sojourn in Smolensk for, at least, two weeks.
"No, no, Pavel Ivanovitch! say what you like, but give way to our persuasions, for you cannot deny our proverbs, and if you leave us you would but cool our huts—enter upon the threshold and retreat! No, no, you had better stop and spend your time with us! We will marry you if you like; what do you say to that Ivan Gregorievitch, shall we marry him?"
"We'll marry him, we'll find him a wife," his Excellency the President rejoined. "However much you might feel inclined to struggle with hands and feet against it, we are determined to marry you! No, excellent papa, there is no getting out of this, since you have fallen among us, you must not complain. We are not jesting with you."
"Well, gentlemen, why should I struggle, with hands and feet?" said Tchichikoff, smiling. "Matrimonial ties are not to be rejected thoughtlessly, provided the bride could be found."
"We'll find you a bride. How should we not? We shall find everything, all—whatever your heart may wish for."
"Ah! in such a case—"
"Bravo! he will stay!" was the general shout. "Vivat! hurra to our Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff! Hip! hip! hurrah!" And all approached him again to shake hands and touch glasses. Tchichikoff made his response to everybody. "Stop, stop, once more!" said those of a more lively disposition, and touched glasses again; they then assailed him for a third time, and touched glasses for a third time.
In a very short time afterwards they became all very gay and lively. The President, who was a most amiable man when in a cheerful disposition, embraced Tchichikoff several times and in the excess of his overflowing heart, said to him, "Oh, you are my darling—my mother!" and then he would smack his fingers at him, and begin to dance and sing around him.
After the champagne, they had some sparkling Hungarian wine, which considerably heightened the good-humour of the company. They had now entirely forgotten their game of whist; they were arguing loudly, shouting, singing and speaking of everything, not even excluding politics, nor the military preparations that were carried on already at that time with hostile intentions towards Turkey; which, as a matter of course, led them further on to express their mutual disapprobation of the Emperor's conduct, and which free expressions at any other time they would have severely resented even from their children.
In this instance, they conversed freely and decided the most important questions of state, which would have considerably embarrassed even a Menschikoff and a Nesselrode. Tchichikoff never felt so happy and well-disposed as on this occasion, and fancied himself to be really a landed proprietor of the beautiful province of Kherson; he began to speak of a variety of improvements; on the system of English and American improvements in agriculture and machinery; on the happiness and beatitude of two loving hearts, and even began to recite to Sobakevitch the verses of Werther to Charlotte, to which declamation the other could do nothing better than wink with his eyes, because, after the meal he had made of the sturgeon, he felt a great inclination for a doze.
Tchichikoff now began to feel that he was becoming rather too free and communicative, and therefore accepted the droschki of the Procurator. The coachman of the imperial gentleman proved to be a fellow of a sharp intellect, and displayed it on the road, for he did not guide his horses with both hands, but contrived to do so with his left only, whilst with his right, he managed to help the gentleman to keep his seat on the equipage. In this manner, our hero drove home in a strange carriage, whilst a thousand stranger ideas kept continually crossing his mind. A fair bride, with golden hair, rosy cheeks with a mole on both, a splendid estate and villages in the fair province of Kherson, and a large fortune to match it. Selifan even received some sundry instructions concerning his new method of administration, to call together all the recently acquired serfs, and to pass them in review one by one, and show them the land and hut allotted to them in their new settlement by their noble lord and master.
Selifan listened silently and for a long while, but then he left the room, saying to Petruschka, "Petruschka, go and undress your master." Petruschka began to take off his boots, and his master succeeded in undressing himself properly; and after turning over several times in his bed, which in consequence creaked most unmercifully, he fell asleep, under the positive impression that he was a landed proprietor of the fair province of Kherson.
Meanwhile, Petruschka carried into the lobby the pantaloons and the snuff-coloured dress-coat with the brass buttons, and having spread them across a wooden stand, he began to whip and brush so well and much that the landing of the staircase was soon filled with a cloud of dust.
As he was on the point of taking the clothes off, he happened to glance down the landing and saw Selifan, who was returning from the stable; their glances met, and they at once understood one another as if by intuition. "Our master is fast asleep, now is our time to go and look about a little." To take the dress-coat and trowsers into the room was done in an instant, and immediately after Petruschka had rejoined his friend below, and both went out together.
Not a word was said about where they intended to go, and on the road they talked of the most indifferent subjects. Their walk was not a long one; they simply crossed the street and entered the house opposite to the inn; they then approached a low smoky glass door, which led, as it were, into a cellar, where they beheld a number of strange-looking people sitting around wooden tables; some were well shaved, others again wore their beard long, according to the national custom; some were dressed in a sheep-skin with the wool inside, others again simply in shirt-sleeves, and here and there a few in a common felt cloak.
What Petruschka and Selifan did there, we cannot say, but when they left the house in about an hour after they entered it, they made their appearance in the open street, arm-in-arm, preserving a strict silence, but helping and upholding one another most carefully, and cleverly avoiding each stone and turning. Hand-in-hand and holding each other strongly, they remained for more than a quarter of an hour at the foot of the staircase; at last, being convinced that they were right, they began the ascent, in which they succeeded to their mutual satisfaction after many exertions.
They now entered the room, and Petruschka stood musingly for a few minutes before his bedstead, which, as our reader may perhaps recollect, was of the most wretched description; he was thinking how he should lie down in order to sleep with the greatest degree of comfort, at last he laid himself down perfectly across the bed, so that his feet rested upon the floor. Selifan laid himself down also upon the same bed, but so that his head rested upon the stomach of his comrade, and thus forgot completely that he had no right to sleep in this room at all, but ought to have gone down in the lower hall or in his stable to watch his horses.
In this position they both fell immediately fast asleep, and began to snore as loudly and as deeply as any Russian bear could possibly snore; their deep notes were answered from the other room by their master, in a fine, nasal, steam-pipe whistle. Soon after, the whole of the establishment had sunk as it were into a magic slumber, with the exception, however, of one lonely window, in which a light was yet glimmering; this room was occupied by the lieutenant who had arrived with his own carriage and horses. According to the head-waiter's information, he came from Rizan, and was evidently passionately fond of boots, or he had already ordered four pair of Wellingtons and was now busily engaged in trying on the fifth pair.
He had already several times approached his bed with the evident object of laying down to his rest, but it was impossible—he could not succeed; the boots were too well-made, and he continued yet for a considerable time to look at and admire his boots, which were very well made indeed; the heels especially seemed to keep his attention awake, because they were extensively high—according to the latest fashion.
The purchases made by our friend Tchichikoff became the gossip of the day, and created a great sensation in Smolensk. The whole town conversed freely on the subject, opinions were given, and conclusions arrived at, whilst questions arose whether it was a good speculation to purchase serfs in the north, with the object in view of transplanting or settling them in the south.
Animated, as the majority of persons are by a spirit of contradiction, many pronounced themselves perfectly capable of enumerating all the advantages and disadvantages on the great undertaking of the stranger.
"Certainly," said some one of them, "you are perfectly right on several points, and your argument is as dear as it is obvious, no objection can be raised against it: the soil in the southern provinces of the Empire, and especially near the Crimea, is very rich and productive; but his estate seems to be situated at some considerable distance from the Dnieper, which flows through our very town, and what is our friend Tchichikoff, and what especially are his serfs to do without a river? for you cannot deny it—he has no river."
"Well, my dear Stephan Dmitrievitch, don't excite yourself, for Heaven's sake don't, to be without a river is, after all, not so bad as you seem to imagine, allow me to tell you, that the process of emigrating and settling serfs, is by far the greatest difficulty. Is it not well-known what our serfs are? to transplant them as it were upon a fresh soil, and train them again to a foreign system of agriculture, is, in my humble opinion, a herculean task, besides you must not forget, that if the serf really arrives alive at his new destination, he generally finds nothing to shelter his head under, but has to build his own hut, though the cattle is found for him. Add to all these disadvantages, and you know it as well as I, the desperate character of those fellows, and you will come to the conclusion, that if they take it in their heads to run away, you may but whistle after them, and this argument you must allow to be as clear and conclusive as that two and two make four."
"No, no, my dear Alexei Ivanovitch, allow me, pardon me, if I disagree with you on that point, that the serfs of Tchichikoff should take it into their heads to run away. The Russian is fit for everything, and can accustom himself to any climate. Send him even to Siberia or Kamtchatka if you like, but give him only a pair of leather gloves and his hatchet, and you may depend upon it that he will clasp his fist, and build himself another hut in no time."
"Allow me to tell you, Ivan Gregorievitch, that you have lost sight of a very important fact indeed: you have forgotten to inquire of what character Tchichikoff's new serfs are? You seem to forget that a wise owner will never sell a good, industrious, and valuable serf. I am ready to lay down my head upon the block, if Tchichikoff's newly-acquired peasants are not one and all confirmed drunkards, and riotous people, and thieves and murderers in the bargain."
"Just so, exactly, I agree with you on this point; and I will allow that all Tchichikoff's slaves are confirmed drunkards, but we must also take into consideration, that in this very fact lies the moral, yes, I repeat it, in this fact lies the hidden moral, which has escaped your penetration; as you justly observed, they are all scoundrels now, but leaving their old abode, and settling in a different country, they might easily become most valuable subjects. Such instances and examples have been very frequent within our own country, as well as in other empires, nay, even history proves them."
"Never, never," said the Inspector of the the Imperial Manufactories, "believe me, such things can never happen, because Tchichikoff's serfs are now going to encounter two formidable enemies: their first antagonist will be the close proximity of the Malo-Russian provinces, where, as you all well know, spirits of wine are sold duty free. I can assure you that in less than two weeks they will become like inner-soles from pure drinking. Their other enemy is their natural disposition for idling and wandering about, which is sure to develope itself most powerfully during the progress of their emigration. Unless, indeed, Tchichikoff was to have them continually under his eyes, and was to keep them with a strong hand like a jamtchick his troika, scold them for the least trifle, not trust to anyone else but himself, be continually with and after them, and when occasion require it, treat them like our great Emperor Peter did, even with his generals, namely, give them a box in the ear, or a blow in the neck."
"But why should Tchichikoff take all the trouble to box their ears and face himself, he could easily meet with a trustworthy steward to manage his estate as well as his serfs."
"Oh, oh, find a trustworthy steward; but, my dear man, you forget that they are generally all scoundrels, and the real blood-suckers of the peasantry!"
"They are all rogues because of the indolence of the land owners, who will not take the trouble and look after their own interest."
"You are perfectly right;" re-echoed the majority. "If our proud and wealthy landowners were only to know a little of their household interests and understand how to choose their confidants, matters would stand quite different in our holy Russia, and stewards, would be honest men."
One of the gentlemen present who happened to be an imperial manager, hereupon said, that it was quite impossible to find a conscientious and honest manager for less than five thousand silver roubles a-year. But the President at once rejoined that such a virtuous man might even be met with at three thousand a-year.
But the manager boldly rejoined: "where could you find such a person? hanging about your elbows perhaps?" And the President in turn again replied: "he is not exactly hanging at my elbow's ends, but at any rate not far off from here, and if you like to know where, I can tell you that he lives in my very district, and his name is Peter Petrovitch Rasgerischin; and that is the very man that would suit our friend Tchichikoff as a manager for his estates and serfs."
Many entered feelingly into Tchichikoff's position, and the difficulties that would necessarily arise from the displacement of such a large number of serfs, began to alarm them very seriously indeed; in their apprehensions some of them went even so far as to predict the possible outbreak of a riot, especially as the thought occurred to them of what description the serfs of Tchichikoff were represented to be.
With reference to this latter contingency, the Commissioner of Police observed, "that it was foolish to anticipate a riot, because a few hundred peasants were about to emigrate, and admitting even that some slight disturbances were to happen, there existed the power of the Capitän-Ispravnik to stifle it in its very birth, and that if the Capitän-Ispravnik did not choose to attend to the matter in person, it would be quite sufficient for him to send his cap, which like the policeman in England, would be powerful enough to drive the rioters back to their duty and home in an incredibly short space of time."
Many others again offered their advice how the spirit of revolt—which in their wise opinion of the serfs of Tchichikoff, was sure to break out among them—could be repressed or prevented, especially when the poor fellows, namely the serfs, were to be torn away from their native soil, and perhaps the bosom of their families.
The opinions and suggestions on this point were numerous and original; there were some who advised rather stringent measures, all replete with military rigour, if not barbarity, at any rate of a very severe nature indeed; however, there were also a few who advised kindness and compassion. The Postmaster observed, that he was under a sacred obligation, that it lay in his power to become a father to his slaves, to use his own expression; introduce even among them the blessing of moral and physical emancipation and enlightenment, at the same time he did not forget to mention with great praise the Lancastrian system of mutual education.
It was in such a manner that the good inhabitants of Smolensk expressed, themselves on the subject of our hero's enterprise, and many of them, overpowered by their goodwill towards him, even communicated their suggestions personally to him, and even went so far as to offer him the services of an escort, for the safer conveyance of his serfs to their place of destination.
For their advice, Tchichikoff thanked them most cordially, saying, that if he should have occasion he would not fail to avail himself of their kind suggestions, but as for the preferred military escort, he declined it in the most positive terms, assuring them at the same time, that it would be perfectly unnecessary, as the peasants which he had bought were all of an extremely mild character, and that they felt a free and independent inclination to settle over in another country where they were sure to feel happy; and that as to the anticipated riot, which his friends apprehended, he assured them that under such happy auspices this was a contingency which could impossibly happen among his newly-acquired serfs.
Such and similar conversations and discussions produced, however, the most beneficial consequences for the interest of Tchichikoff, and which he was far from anticipating; namely, the news was spread about, that he was nothing more or less than a millionaire. The inhabitants of Smolensk, without this new advantage, had already taken a particular fancy for Tchichikoff, as we have seen already from the first chapter; but now, and after such a report they began to like him more than heartily if possible.
However, if we are to speak the truth, we must confess that they were all excellent people, lived in concord and unity, and behaved themselves in the most friendly and christian-like manner; whilst their daily conversation bore the stamp of a peculiar simplicity and candour quite of a primitive nature: "My dear friend Yliah Ylitsch! listen, brother Anthipator Sacharievitch! you have told a falsehood, my dear old gossip Ivan Gregorievitch!" and whenever they addressed themselves to the Postmaster, whom they called Ivan Andreievitch, they were sure to add, "sprechen sie deutsch?" in a word all lived in a very friendly and homely manner.
Many of them were hot without pretensions to a superior education; his Excellency the President of the Council, for instance, knew by heart several of the poems of Pushkin and Zoukovsky, and could recite them with due emphasis, especially the passage commencing, "The forest sleeps, the plain is silent," and the word "hush!" was so cleverly pronounced by him, that it really seemed as if the forest was actually fast asleep; in order to add more effect and truthfulness to his recitation, he used at this passage to close his eyelids immediately.
The Postmaster inclined more towards natural philosophy, and continued reading very diligently, even during the night Young's "Night Thoughts," and the "Key to the Secrets of Nature," by Eckartshausen, from which books he was even in the habit of making very long extracts, but of what description these extracts were it is impossible for us to tell; on the whole, he was sharp and acute, flowery in his language, and fond of composing original phrases, which, we regret, it is equally impossible for us to render in the English language.
The other men of importance were also, more or less, of a cultivated mind; some of them used to read translations from all languages, others again, delighted in the study of the authors of the country, or read the newspapers, whilst some even did not read at all Some individuals were also difficult of comprehension, and could not understand you unless you took the trouble, as the phrase goes, to dot their i's for them; some again were as dull as a blockhead—if we may use the expression; they would continue to stick to their prejudices and remain lying on their backs like a log of wood; it was perfectly useless to try to lift them up; they would listen to no persuasions.
As regards their general bodily appearance, it is already well-known to our readers that they were of an imposing countenance, solid and sober-minded men, there was not the least frivolity about them. They possessed all those qualities, which caused their wives in moments of tender conversation, and tête-à-têtes to address them pretty nearly in the following language: "Dear mullet; my little fat man; little fairy; pretty blacky; kiki; joujou," and so forth. And in general they were all good-natured and kind-hearted men, pervaded with a due sense of hospitality—a great and favourable characteristic trait of the whole nation. For if even a stranger had had an opportunity to taste what they call their "salt and bread," or sat with them at a game of whist, he became at once as it were dear to them.
And so much the more was it the case with Tchichikoff, who, thanks to his agreeable and gentlemanly manners, had completely ingratiated himself in their esteem and good opinion, because he had the secret gift of pleasing, whenever it was to his advantage convenient to do so. They had taken so great an affection for him, that he could not possibly imagine a scheme or pretence under which he could leave the town; all he now heard daily was, "One little week more, only one more; you must stay and live with us, our dear Pavel Ivanovitch!" in a word he was treated in the most affectionate manner, and nursed, as the phrase goes, like a child in baby linen. But incomparably remarkable was the impression (the direct road to madness) which Tchichikoff had produced upon the fair sex of Smolensk. To explain this extraordinary fact, only approximatively, it would be necessary to say a great deal of the fair ladies themselves, their society; and paint in glowing colours the qualities of their hearts. But here it is that the author feels seriously embarrassed, because the thought occurs to him that he is now writing to please the fair inhabitants of the British isles, and that he has no longer the right to be elaborate in the description of the moral and physical qualities of his own countrywomen. On the other hand, he still feels a great respect for the husbands of Smolensk, and as for a third reason—the third reason is that it is really difficult to divine, or dive into the depth of the female heart.
The ladies of Smolensk were—no, it is impossible to tell what; I feel a peculiar timidity overcoming me all of a sudden. In the ladies of Smolensk the most prominent features were—it is really strange, but my pen refuses to obey the hand, and seems as if loaded with lead. Be it so; the description of their character I will leave to one more worthy than myself; to one who knows how to paint in vivid colours and with a powerful brush, and reserve to myself, in this instance, the modest privilege of saying a few words on their personal appearance and manners; it is a very superficial glance.
The ladies of Smolensk then, were what is termed presentable, and in this respect they could be confidently placed as a model to all other ladies. As to their manners, observances of fashion, maintenance of etiquette, and great propriety in its finest shades, but especially in the due observance of the laws of fashion in its last particulars, they rivalled, nay, even surpassed, the court ladies of St. Petersburgh and Moscow. They dressed with great taste, drove about town in their own open carriages, made according to the last imported model from Vienna or London, with a seat behind in which a fat flunkey covered over with gold lace was rocking himself gallantly.
Visiting cards were as the French say de rigueur, no matter whether the name was written upon the deuce of diamonds or the ace of spades, to have them, was a sacred obligation. For the sake of a visiting card two lady friends and even near relatives, fell out for ever, because the one had omitted to send her card in return to the other, and thus found wanting in reciprocating civility. And, notwithstanding the earnest endeavours of their husbands and friends effect a reconciliation between them, it proved a total failure; and although many difficulties might be overcome in this world, yet this remained an impossibility, the reconciliation of two ladies, who fell out because the one of them committed a manque de towards her friend. Thus then these two ladies continued to live in mutual disaffection.
As regards the privilege of occupying the first seat at concerts and evening parties, there happened also numerous differences and serious scenes; inspiring their husbands, sometimes, with an extraordinary sense of chivalrous and magnanimous courage in supporting and defending their rights and claims. Duels of course were not fought between them, because they were all knighted men and imperial employés, but instead, the one tried to annoy the other as much as possible, which in many instances is really worse than fighting a duel on the most disadvantageous terms.
As regards the morale of the ladies of Smolensk, they used to be, strictly speaking, extremely severe and rigid—full of an aristocratic indignation at the lightest offence, and the least flaw or weakness in that respect was condemned and punished with the utmost rigour. And if even, something or another did happen (which we will by no means call improper) among them, they always agreed to come to some secret compromise, so that it remained impossible ever to ascertain the real cause of the scandal, in fact, they followed the wise maxim of the great Napoleon, who, on such occasions used to say: "il faut toujours laver le linge sale en famille!"
As for the present Emperor of the French, it is impossible for us to tell positively, what his opinion on such a subject would be, though we are led to believe that he is a man of considerable experience in family matters; as for the kind husbands of the ladies in Smolensk, their honour continued to remain perfectly intact, and the decorum was preserved in every instance of that kind; for they were so well prepared to meet an attack, that if even they happened to see something or another, or bear of it, they were always found ready with a dignified reply or a short proverb like the following: "whose business I ask you is it, if the cousin and her cousin chose to sit in the pit?"
We must also not forget to add, that the ladies of Smolensk, were distinguished for their elegant expressions, and in that respect resembled and reminded us of the ladies at the imperial courts of Moscow and St. Petersburg; they were extremely careful and graceful in their words and actions. They never used to say, I have snuffed my nose, I am perspiring, I spat; but they expressed themselves in nearly the following terms: I have availed myself of my pocket handkerchief, dancing and walking excites me. It was also quite impossible for them to say; this glass or plate is not clean, nor would they use any term approximating to it, but instead, expressed themselves, perhaps, thus: this glass or plate has been considerably neglected, or something very much like it.
And in order to render the Russian language more aristocratic (for in Russia one likes to ape aristocracy if not autocracy), they had the habit of omitting one half of the words in their mother tongue, and replacing them cleverly with French phraseology, which language, rich as it is in homonymes, allows of expressions much stronger and more equivocal than those we have mentioned above, completely rejected as vulgar from the memory of the fair ladies of Smolensk.
And this is nearly all we have to say about the ladies of Smolensk, speaking superficially. But if we were to glance deeper into the character of these ladies, we should, of course, discover many more of their interesting propensities; however, we will not venture to do so, because it is very dangerous to look to any depth into the heart of a lady. And thus limiting ourselves to superficial glances, we will again proceed in our observations.
Up to this time, the ladies in general had taken no very particular notice of Tchichikoff, they had rendered him, however, full justice by acknowledging him to be a perfect gentleman, and a man of extremely agreeable manners; but from the moment that the report was spread about, that he was a millionaire, they discovered in him many more hitherto hidden qualities. However, the ladies themselves were not at all selfish; the fault was lying in the word millionaire, not in the millionaire himself, but positively in the word; because in the only sound of the word, or in the bag of money, is concluded a something that acts most powerfully upon the honest as well as the dishonest man, in fine, it produced an effect upon everybody.
The wealthy man enjoys the privilege of looking with leisure upon the most creeping business, the most barefaced civility, based upon no principle whatever; many men of such character know perfectly well that they will receive nothing for degrading themselves thus far, and even that they have no right, whatever, to accept anything for doing so, but yet they will persist and rush forward to meet him, to smile when he approaches, to take off their hat when he passes, and do everything to obtain an invitation to any dinner party where they may be sure of dining with the millionaire.
We will not venture to affirm that this servile inclination was perceptible in the ladies; however, in many of the drawing-rooms in town, the observation went the round, that Tchichikoff was certainly far from being handsome, but yet, that he was such as a man ought to be, and were he to be a little stouter or a little thinner, he would have certainly not have been even good looking. At the same time, it was also whispered about and rather to the disadvantage of slender men, that they resembled more a tooth-pick than a man.
In the toilettes of the ladies, many additions became about this time visible. The bazaars were crowded with visitors and purchasers nearly to suffocation; promenades were even brought into fashion, and the number of carriages driving about were nearly innumerable. The tradesmen seemed bewildered, when they saw that several pieces of silk stuff which they had purchased in the capital, and which they had not been able to sell till now, because they were pronounced too costly, found suddenly a ready sale, and even occasioned disputes as to who should have the preference in their acquisition.
During the promenade, one of the fair ladies was observed to have something like a large ring adjusted in her dress, which would have been wide enough to cover the cupola of a church, and which very much embarrassed her in the progress of her walk, so much so indeed that the police-officer on duty ordered the common people to leave the parapet, so as not to be in the way of her Excellency.
Tchichikoff even in spite of his usual equanimity could not forbear to remark at last such unusual attention. One fine evening when he returned home to his hotel, he was surprised to find a neatly-sealed letter upon his table; where it came from, and who had brought it, it was impossible for him to ascertain; even the acute head-waiter could tell him no more but that some person brought it who had received instructions not to tell that it came from a lady.
The letter began in the following positive style: "No, I feel that I must write to thee!" Then something was said about a secret sympathy of souls; this opinion was affirmed by numerous little dots, which occupied more than half a line; then followed some thoughts very remarkable for their truthfulness, so much so, that we consider it indispensable to copy them.
"What is our life? A wilderness, covered with sorrows. What is the world? A crowd of insensible beings." After this much, the fair writer observed that she, was bathing with her tears the last lines of a tender mother, who had ceased to live for her these last twenty-five years. Tchichikoff was then invited to leave town for the solitude, because it was impossible to breathe freely in a place where the heart remained incarcerated by the chains of society. The latter part of the letter expressed real despair, and concluded in the following verse:
Two turtle-doves will show
Thee,—my cold grave,
Their mournful cooing will tell
Thee,—that I died in tears.
This is as nearly as we can give it in English, though we must confess that the original was also deficient in poetical composition. However, it was to the purpose, and quite in the spirit of the day. There was no signature at the bottom—no Christian name, nor family name, nor was the month or date mentioned. However, there was a postscript—whoever is accustomed to receive letters from ladies is of course aware they are in the habit never to post their epistles without the addition of a P.S.; and as for my fair readers they know best why they never omit it. The postscript of the fair unknown to our hero went on to say that his own heart ought to tell him who she was, and that she would be at the Lord-Lieutenant's ball the next night, and that it was there that he should behold the original.
This epistle considerably excited and pre-occupied the mind of our hero. In this anonymous communication there was so much that was mysterious and provoked curiosity, that Tchichikoff could not resist reading it a second and then again a third time, and at last said, "I am really curious to know who the fair writer might be!" In a word, the affair, to judge from appearances, promised to become a serious one. For more than an hour after he continued to think of it; at last, stretching out his arms and leaning his head on one side, he exclaimed:
"I must confess the letter has been written very feelingly indeed."
Then, and as a matter of course, the letter was carefully folded up and placed in his writing-desk, close to an old play-bill and an invitation to a wedding, which he had kept there for these last seven years in the same apartment. Half an hour later he positively received an invitation to the ball of the Governor of Smolensk, in which there was nothing unusual, for at the seat of the provincial administration, where the Lord-Lieutenant resides, there are rejoicings and balls, else he could not depend upon the powerful support of the country nobility and gently.
From the instant he received the invitation to the ball all else was set aside, and he began immediately to devote all his attention to the preparations for the evening party; because there were now many inciting and pleasant reasons. And for such reasons, perhaps, was there since the creation of the world, never so much time employed in the preparations for an evening party. More than an hour was exclusively devoted to the examination of his face in a looking-glass. He attempted to execute a variety of expressions; at first he tried to assume an air of importance and propriety, then again a proud respectfulness, mingled with a smile, and again simply an air of respectfulness without a smile; a few bows and inclinations were addressed to the looking-glass, accompanied by indistinct sounds, in some instances very much resembling the French language, though Tchichikoff did not understand French at all.
He presented himself with numerous pleasant surprises, moved his eyebrows up and down, contracted his lips, and even seemed to smack his tongue; in a word, what does a person not do when alone, especially when under the impression that he is good-looking, and convinced that there is no indiscreet person to glimpse at him through the keyhole?
At last, he pinched slightly his chin, and said, "Oh, you little rogue," and then he began to dress. It was in the best of humours that he accomplished his evening toilette. Whilst putting on his braces, or tying his cravat, he began to scratch compliments with his feet, and bow forward with unusual grace, and though he was no dancer, he nevertheless executed an entrechat. This entrechat produced a slight but innocent effect; it shook the chest of drawers, and his hair-brush fell from the sofa.
The appearance of our hero at the ball of the Governor of Smolensk created considerable sensation. Every one present turned round to receive him, some even held their playing-cards in their hands, whilst others stopped short in the most interesting part of their conversation, they deserted all and everything to rush forward and greet our hero.
"Pavel Ivanovitch! Good Heavens! here is our Pavel Ivanovitch! Amiable Pavel Ivanovitch! Most worthy Pavel Ivanovitch! Pavel Ivanovitch my soul! Here you are at last, excellent Pavel Ivanovitch! Allow me to embrace you my dear Pavel Ivanovitch! Give him up to me, let me embrace him most passionately, my own dear Pavel Ivanovitch!"
Tchichikoff felt himself suddenly embraced on all sides, without the least chance of preventing it. He had not quite liberated himself from the affectionate embrace of the President, when he found himself already in the arms of the clever Commissioner of Police; the police-master passed him over to the hands of the Inspector of the Medical Institutions; the Inspector of Hospitals gave him up to the arms of the Imperial Contractor, the Contractor to the Architect.
The Lord-Lieutenant, who was standing at that moment and conversing with several ladies and presenting them with some bonbons, left them hurriedly to go and greet his guest, nearly crushing the favourite lap-dog of his lady; in a word, Tchichikoff spread joy and pleasure all around him. There was not a face present that did not express satisfaction, or at least reflect the general gratification that suddenly prevailed over the company assembled. Our hero returned thanks and compliments to every one individually, and felt unusually versatile and cheerful; bowed right and left, as was his habit, slightly inclining towards on side, but with perfect ease, so that he charmed everybody.
The ladies, too, surrounded him like a garland of flowers, and spread as it were a cloud of a thousand perfumes over him: the one was scented like a rose, another like a violet, a third was strongly perfumed with patchouli.
Tchichikoff at first, did nothing else but raise his nose and smell about him. In their dresses there was immense taste; the muslin, satin, and other silk dresses were of such pale and fashionable colours, that it was impossible to find them a proper name, to such a degree had the perfection of taste risen. Ribbon-favours and artificial bouquets, were strewn in great profusion and in the most picturesque disorder all over their dresses, though this disorder must have cost some weary hours to some intelligent dressmaker. The light and graceful headdresses only rested on the tips of the ears, and they seemed to say: "oh, I am flying away, a pity it is that I cannot carry off my fairy herself!" Their waists were exceedingly well laced, and presented to the eye the most solid and well-proportioned forms (we must not forget to observe here, that the ladies of Smolensk were generally inclined to embonpoint, but used to lace so tightly and ingeniously, and were of so very agreeable manners that it was perfectly impossible to notice their fulness of body.)
All was with them, studied and preconcerted with unusual carefulness; their neck and shoulders were uncovered as much as was absolutely necessary, and not a hair's-breadth farther; every one of them displayed her powerful charms so long until she felt perfectly convinced they had succeeded to ruin the peace of a man; as for their other treasures they remained hidden with much ingenuity; either under a light silken fichu or some Brussels lace surrounding their graceful neck, and called by the ladies "modesties."
These modesties, wound before and behind, all that which was not calculated to effect the perdition of their admirer, but they allowed him to guess that it was really there that his perdition was hidden. Their long white kid gloves were not drawn up as high as the elbow, but were allowed to remain carelessly wrinkled a little above the hand, which thus displayed to greater advantage the fulness of a charming arm; the long gloves of some of the ladies had even become torn, in consequence of the charming roundness of their arms; in a word, all seemed to be impressed with the idea: no, this is not a provincial town in Russia, it is the capital itself, it is a second Paris.
Nevertheless, here and there an old-fashioned head-dress, never seen before on earth, or an extravagant plume would suddenly appear in the midst of fashion, as it were, to keep up contrast, and follow its own inclination. However, this could not be otherwise, such occurrences are inevitable in provincial towns, they will make their appearance in spite of any precautions. Tchichikoff thus standing and admiring, thought: "I wonder which of them is the mysterious composer of that interesting letter?" and would have dearly liked to stretch forth his neck and nose; but before his very nose he beheld a long range of curls, headdresses, feathers, necks, ribbons, perfumed modesties, and dresses.
A polka-mazurka was just beginning: the Postmaster's lady, the Capitän-Ispravnik, a lady in a blue plume, a lady in a white plume, the Tcherkessian Prince Chiphaihilidseff, officers, from the guards of St. Petersburg, and imperial employés from Moscow, foreigners and Russians—all started off in a mad dance.
"The whole province is whirling round," said Tchichikoff, as he retreated into the background; but as soon as the ladies took their seats again after the dance was over, he immediately began to look about in all directions to try if possible, to discover by the expression of their faces or the sparkling of their eyes, who the authoress of the letter might be. Everywhere his eyes met with glances that betrayed a nearly imperceptible expression of captivating attraction, so very imperceptible.
"No," said Tchichikoff to himself, "women are such subjects, that—" Here he could not help moving about his right arm in the air, and then he continued; "it is perfectly useless to speak of them. If anyone was to attempt to describe or define all that which flushes their faces, the serpentine movements of their muscles, the insinuating glances, all this, and much more, the result would be, that he could define nothing whatever. Their eyes alone, are in themselves an unlimited empire, in which to venture decides the fate of man. From those boundaries he is sure never to return, nor will any mechanical instrument, however cleverly contrived, hook him out of it again. Were I to venture, for an example, to give an idea of their glance: so dewy, velvety. Heaven knows what else their expression and colour conveys to the human mind; there are some looks full of harshness, and others again full of tenderness; some full of longing, or as some say, full of effeminacy, or devoid of this peculiar softness, but what is more dangerous than all these expressions, is to be caught and captivated by such looks, when they pierce the heart, and when you find yourself utterly enthralled. No, it is really impossible to find the right term: the half of the human race devote their lives to gallantry, and to nothing else but that."
Meanwhile Tchichikoff became more and more bewildered, and incapable of deciding who the fair authoress of the letter might be. As he was trying to give a greater effect to the piercing glance of his eyes, he seemed to discover that the ladies on their part had also increased the expression of their glances, in which he fancied he beheld hope mingled with sweet torments, all calculated to destroy the peace of his tormented heart, so acutely did he seem to feel it, that he at last exclaimed: "No, tis of no use, I cannot guess which it is."
This, however, did not completely destroy the excellent humour he was in. Unconstrained and with perfect freedom, he proceeded to exchange complimentary remarks with several ladies, approached them with a firm and easy step, or, as they say, he paced it gallantly, as old bachelor-fashionables do in their high-heeled boots, when they have all the appearance of racing mice, running and hopping in turn. Pacing thus gallantly, with graceful inclinations towards the right and towards the left, he executed at the same time with his foot, something like the tail of a shooting star, or uncommonly like a comma.
The ladies were, of course, not only delighted with him, but discovered a variety of more pleasing and fashionable manners in him, and they even thought they perceived in his face the undeniable signs of a high mind and something aristocratic and martial in his countenance, which qualities, as is well known, please ladies exceedingly. On his account there arose nearly a little scandal: it had been observed that Tchichikoff chose to take his position more generally close to the entrance door; some of the ladies having noticed this, hastened immediately a dance was over, to secure a seat in that part of the salon, and if one of them had been more successful than the others, there arose immediately a sensation among them, which threatened to become really serious, for such pushing conduct was pronounced by those who were too late, and of course disappointed, to be highly improper and importunate.
It is thus that Tchichikoff entertained the ladies, or rather, and better, it is thus that the ladies entertained and surrounded him on all sides with their chit-chat, interspersing it with endless insinuations and fine allegories, which were left for him to guess and interpret to the best of his intelligence, which, however, caused the perspiration to appear in large drops on his forehead; he was so captivated by their amiability that he had entirely forgotten to pay his tribute of respect in the first instance to the lady of the house. He only bethought himself of his forgetfulness, when her ladyship had been already standing for a few moments before him.
Her Excellency, the wife of the Lord-Lieutenant, said in a more than flattering tone of voice, and with a graceful movement of the head; "Ah, Pavel Ivanovitch, at last I have the pleasure to meet you!" I cannot exactly remember the words her Excellency spoke on that occasion, but they were full of that peculiar affability, which is used in modern novels, describing the fashions in high circles. Our hero turned round, and was just on the point of returning the compliment of her ladyship, and perhaps with as much good taste as any other hero of a novel, when suddenly raising his eyes, he stopped short, as if from the effects of an electric stroke.
Before him stood her ladyship, but not alone. She gave her arm to a charming blondine, with fine and regular features, with a round yet pointed chin, a bewitching oval face, such a head as an artiste would have chosen as a model for his Madonna, and which faces are indeed very rare appearances in Russia, where a taste for strongly developed forms is prevalent in everything, in mountains, in forests, and in steppes, in faces, in lips and in feet; it was the same fair blonde with whom he met on his road when leaving Nosdrieff's estate, and when, through the inadvertence of the coachmen, or the fault of the horses, their carriages had come into collision, and given so much trouble to the peasants to separate and bring them in order again. Tchichikoff became so much confused at seeing her that he could not utter a sensible phrase, and therefore stammered a few words, Heaven knows what, but something which a hero of a modern novel would never have ventured.
"You do not know my daughter?" said her Excellency; "she has just left, her Majesty's institute at St. Petersburg."
He answered, that he had had already the good fortune of making her acquaintance, accidentally; he then made an attempt to add something more, but that something more, would not pass his lips. Her ladyship, addressed a few more words to him, and then left him in leading away her daughter to the other end of the saloon, to introduce her child to her other guests; but Tchichikoff continued to remain on the same spot, as if riveted to it, like a man, who had left his house in the best humour, and gone into the street with the intention of taking a pleasant walk, with his eyes disposed to look at everything, but suddenly stops short and still, recollecting that he has forgotten something.
No one can look so foolish as a man in such a position; in an instant his careless thoughts desert his countenance, he tries to remember what it is he has forgotten; is it perhaps his handkerchief, but no, his handkerchief is in his pocket; perhaps his purse, but no, it is also in pocket; it seems to him that he has everything about him, and yet something whispers secretly, that he has positively forgotten something. And he will immediately look dull and distractedly upon the passing crowd around him, at the hurrying equipages, at the glittering helmets and arms of the passing soldiery, upon the gaily coloured sign-boards, but all will have lost its former charms for him.
Tchichikoff became at once a stranger to everything that passed around him. At that particular moment, also, numerous insinuations and questions full of a charming curiosity were addressed to him by the fair ladies.
"Are poor mortals of this world permitted to be so curious as to inquire a little, the subject of your meditations?"
"Where are those happy spots on which your thoughts seem to dwell?"
"Would you tell me the names of the one who has plunged you into these sweet meditations?"
Tchichikoff replied to all these phrases with the utmost indifference, and the pleasant phrases fell as it were into the water. He was even to such a degree uncivil, that he soon after left them and went away to the other end of the saloon, wishing to see in what direction her ladyship and daughter had gone. But the ladies seemed not inclined to part with him so soon; everyone of them resolved inwardly to use the most powerful means of aggression upon him, so dangerous to our hearts.
It must be observed that some ladies, I wish it to be understood, that some ladies, only, not all of them, possess a few foibles; if they are conscious that they have any high perfections about their persons, be it a fine forehead, a charming mouth, small hands, they will immediately fancy, that the handsomest part of their person is the first to attract general attention, and that all around on beholding it, will exclaim in one outburst of admiration: "Look here, behold, what a classic Grecian nose she has, or what a marble-like resplendent forehead!" Whoever of them has fine shoulders, is persuaded at first starting, that all the young men will feel perfectly bewitched by her charms, and whisper as she passes them! "heavens, what charming shoulders that lady has!" but as for her face, hair, nose, forehead, they will forget to look at all, and if they should happen to do so, it would be with indifference, as if upon something not forming parts of the same person.
Such were the thoughts of some ladies. Every lady vowed to be as charming as possible during the evening and the dancing, and to expose in all its glory that corporeal perfection, which was perfection itself. The wife of the Postmaster, as she was valsing round, bent her head so longingly on one side, that it was really unmistakeably charming. Another very amiable lady—who had arrived with the intention of not dancing at all, because the reason was the sudden apparition of a small pea-like exuberance on her left toe, in consequence of which she had been obliged to put on a pair of very easy boots—could not resist the temptation to valse once round in her easy boots, to stop as it were the foolish pretentions of the Postmaster's wife.
But all these well laid out plans and manoeuvres did not produce the desired effect upon Tchichikoff. He even did not notice the circle they had been forming round him, but endeavoured to raise himself on tip-toes and look out if he could discover what had become of the fair blondine; he also tried his fortune in discovering by sitting down and looking across shoulders and heads. At last he was successful, and discovered her, sitting close by her mother's side, upon whose head a plume fixed to a kind of Turkish turban, was balancing most majestically.
It seemed now, as if Tchichikoff wanted to take them by assault; was it sudden gratification at having found what he had been searching for that acted upon him, or did some careless person push him from behind, but he literally rushed madly forward, heeding no one. The Public Contractor received such a push from him, that the poor man shook, and nearly lost his equilibrium, which might have caused the downfall of a whole range of guests; the Postmaster also stepped back a few paces and kept looking after him with the utmost astonishment, mingled with a smile full of irony, he took no notice of either of them, but rushed quickly forward; he saw but the fair blondine in the distance, who was just putting her white and long kid gloves on, no doubt in preparation for the following dance.
As he passed along, he cast a hasty glance upon four couples who were delighting, as it seemed, in a mazurka; the gentleman's heels dashed noisily against the floor; a cavalry colonel was dancing with body and soul, and hands and feet, and making such pas as no one perhaps ever executed even in a dream. Tchichikoff glided cleverly through the mazurka and between the high-heels of the dancers, and advanced straight towards the place where the Lord-Lieutenant's lady was sitting with her daughter beside her. However, he approached them rather timidly, not pacing it so easily as before, nor tripping gallantly and fashionably; he even seemed confused, and a decided embarrassment was undeniably perceptible in all his movements.
It is impossible for us to affirm whether sensations of love had really taken possession, or had been awakened in the bosom of our hero, because it is a matter of some doubt whether gentlemen of his description, namely: not so very stout, and yet not too thin, are still susceptible of the impressions of love; but with all that, there was in his case something so very unusual indeed—a feeling for which he could not account for to himself. It seemed to him, and as he confessed it at a later period, that the whole ball, with all its noisy conversation and boisterous music, seemed for a few minutes to have been removed to some considerable distance from him; the violins and comets-a-piston seemed to be played behind a mountain, and, in fact, all appeared to be covered with a dim mist, not unlike that seen in an unartistic production of an extensive field in a Dutch landscape; and in the midst of this misty and carelessly painted field, appeared prominently, and distinctly, and beautifully finished the fine features of the enchanting blondine.
Her oval pretty face, her graceful and svelt stature, of which only a young girl that has just left the imperial institution may boast, after a short sojourn in the world of fashion, her white, almost too simple, muslin dress, encircling easily and freely her lovely form, which was defined in a peculiarly regular outline. It seemed to him that she resembled a pretty little puppet or plaything artistically carved in ivory; she shone alone, and appeared luminous and bright in the midst of this dismal and impenetrable crowd.
Such seems to be the course of life in this world, and therefore it appears also that Tchichikoff, for a few minutes of his existence, suddenly became a poet, but the appellation of poet seems to be rather a strong term; at any rate, he felt within himself the sudden sensations of a lively youth, if not those of a dashing hussar. Perceiving an unoccupied chair near the two ladies he immediately sat down in it. His conversation was not very lively in the beginning, but after a while he felt more at home, and began to feel even a peculiar confidence gradually taking possession of him.
Here, and to our great discomfiture, we must observe that sedate people and persons occupying high positions in life, are generally rather heavy in their conversation with ladies; but, as masters past in this adroitness, we must proclaim our young officers, beginning from a comet, but not passing, on any account, the rank of colonel. How they manage to be so amiable and gallant, heaven only knows; they do not seem to speak very scientifically, nevertheless, you see their fair listeners laugh most heartily and move about their seats; as for the civil men of the Empire, heaven also knows, what they have to say for themselves; no doubt they extol the vastness of the Russias and the importance of their functions as public servants, or utter some complimentary phrases, which, though not devoid of imagination, smell horribly of books; if a civilian has positively the good fortune to say anything amusing, he is sure to laugh at it much more heartily than any one else.
We have made these observations on the two distinct avocations of men in Russia, in order to show on which side lies the preference, and that our readers should understand at once, why the fair blonde began to yawn during her conversation with our hero. Our hero, however, did not notice the circumstance at all, and continued to relate a thousand pleasing incidents, which he had repeated in many other places before now, and under the same circumstances; namely, in the government of Simbirsk, in the family of Lady Sophia Bespetchna, whilst paying his attentions to her daughter Adelaide; in the house of Fodor Fedorovitch Perekrojeff in the government of Rizan; at the country seat of Phrole Vassilievitch Pobedonosnoi, in the government of Pensa; in the government of Viatka, during his sojourn with Colonel Peter Varsonovitch, where he also had paid considerable attention to the fair sex.
All the ladies appeared now to be utterly displeased with the conduct of Tchichikoff. One of them passed him purposely to make him feel her displeasure, and touched even, as if inadvertently, the fair blondine with the hem of her dress, and as for the long scarf which graced her shoulders, she even contrived to touch with its silken tassels the face of the fair girl; at the same moment he heard behind him an observation made by some fair lips, mingled with the perfumes of violets, which were far from being agreeable; but, on the contrary, stung him to the quick. But, he either did not hear the remarks distinctly, or pretended not to have heard them, besides they were far from being in his favour; he, therefore, thought it best to respect their opinion and remain silent, though he regretted it immediately after, but then it had become too late.
A general dissatisfaction, and in many respects very justifiable one, indeed, became visible on many faces. However important the weight of Tchichikoff might have been in that society, and though he was considered a millionaire, and though his face betrayed a high amount of talent, and his countenance even something martial, yet there are trifles for which a lady forgives no one; were he even the Emperor of Russia himself of gallant memory, he might consider himself a lost man. There are instances, when a woman, however weak and feeble in comparison with a man, becomes suddenly not only stronger than a man, but even more powerful than anything on the face of the earth.
The sudden change in Tchichikoff's conduct towards the other ladies, which they considered unheard of before, determined them on forming a league among themselves against him, and which they concluded for his ruin, behind the chair on which he was sitting. The fact was, that they thought they had discovered in a few of the observations he addressed to his fair partner, though they were dry and commonplace enough, remarks that concerned them personally. To complete his disgrace with them, he had the misfortune to relate to her an anecdote about an event that had happened at a ball in another province, on which occasion some young fool had composed a whole poem in honour of the ridiculous persons who had happened to be present at that particular ball, and from which poem he recited a few passages on the dancing assembly.
These verses were at once, and blindly, supposed to be the composition of Tchichikoff himself. The general dissatisfaction with him rose, if possible, to a still higher degree, and the ladies began to speak of him in various corners in the most disadvantageous terms indeed; as for the fair blondine, she was completely annihilated, and her doom was sealed at once.
Meanwhile, a most unexpected and unpleasant catastrophe threatened the laurels of our hero; at the time, when the fair blonde was yawning, and he exerting himself to relate to her the most pleasant of his reminiscences, and trying even to imitate the Greek philosopher Diogenes; at that moment, and at the extremest end of the saloon, who should make his appearance but Nosdrieff. But where did he come from, was it from the refreshment-room, or from the small green room where gambling was carried on without limit. Did he enter freely of his own accord, or was he thrust forward by some one, or by fatality herself?
Whatever brought him there is impossible for us to tell, but the fact is that he made his appearance quite suddenly and in the best humour of the world; he seemed exceedingly pleased and gay, and held the arm of the Procurator firmly in his own, which caused the other to frown repeatedly with his thick and heavy eyebrows, as if trying to hit upon a scheme by which to escape from this strong grasp and this too friendly arm-in-arm promenade.
The position of the Procurator appeared to be perfectly unbearable. Nosdrieff, who seemed to have imbibed considerable courage from two cups of tea, which of course he had not swallowed without a considerable addition of rum, began as usual to tell the most incredible stories. On perceiving him at a distance, Tchichikoff determined at once, though with great regret, to give up his enviable seat, and hasten away as quickly as possible; because an internal feeling told him that this encounter would have fatal consequences.
But as if to confirm his presentiment, in that very instant his Excellency the Lord-Lieutenant prevented him carrying out his intention as he turned towards him and remarked good-humouredly, that he was very glad to meet his friend Pavel Ivanovitch, whom he wished to be a judge between himself and two ladies, to decide the question, whether woman's love was permanent or not; at that same moment Nosdrieff also caught sight of our hero, and came straight up to him.
"Ah, the gentleman from Kherson, the Chersonese slave-owner!" he exclaimed, as he approached and burst out into a fit of laughter which made his fresh, rosy-coloured cheeks tremble, "Well, how many more dead men have you acquired? But your Excellency does not perhaps know," he continued, in the same strain, as he turned towards the Governor of Smolensk, "that our worthy friend here deals in dead serfs! By Heavens, listen to me, Tchichikoff! I tell you as a friend, and all here present are your friends, and even his Excellency is present, if I could do it, I would hang thee; by Heavens, I could hang thee!"
Tchichikoff seemed really not to know where he was.
"Would your Excellency believe," continued Nosdrieff, "that when he said to me: 'sell me your dead serfs,' I nearly burst with laughter. I arrive here, and am told that he has been purchasing serfs to the amount of three millions worth, with the purpose of emigrating with them into the Government of Kherson; but how is he to settle them over? he has been bargaining with me for my dead serfs. Listen, Tchichikoff, I tell you candidly, and I proclaim it even in the presence of all, you are the devil's own favourite, his Excellency is present; and what do you say, Procurator?"
But the Imperial Procurator, and Tchichikoff, and the Governor of Smolensk himself, became so very much confused, that they did not know where to seek for countenance and what to reply, meanwhile; Nosdrieff, without paying the least attention to them, continued to address himself to our hero in a half-inebriated state and most insulting language.
"Ah, my fine fellow, you, you—I shall not leave you, before you have told me for what purposes you have purchased these dead serfs. Listen to me, Tchichikoff, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, for you know but too well that you have not a better and a more candid friend than myself. His Excellency is even present, and what do you say, Procurator? Your Excellency would not believe how much attached we are to each other, if you were to say, now, here you are both, and ask me the question: 'Nosdrieff, upon your honour, who is dearer to you—your own father, or Tchichikoff?' I would answer unhesitatingly, 'Tchichikoff;' by Heavens I would. Allow me, my darling friend, to impress a kiss upon you. I hope your Excellency will allow me to embrace him. Yes, my dear Tchichikoff, pray do not resist me, allow me to impress but one friendly kiss upon your tender snow-white cheek!"
Nosdrieff was so harshly repulsed with his intended kiss, that he nearly rolled to the ground. Everyone stepped back, and nobody would listen to him any more; nevertheless, the words he had spoken about the purchase of dead serfs were uttered in so loud a tone by him, that every person present, even those in the farthest corners of the room had heard them, and their attention was awakened.
This news seemed to be so very strange, that all present remained as if rivetted to the spot, and kept looking at each other for some moments with a peculiarly statue-like, stupidly curious countenance. Tchichikoff observed that several ladies exchanged glances full of a malicious expression, and in the faces of several of them he thought he perceived undeniable signs of insinuation which considerably increased his embarrassment.
It was well known to every one that Nosdrieff was a merciless story-teller, and that it was nothing unusual with him to advance the greatest absurdities; but a mortal—it is really difficult to define the composition of a mortal—whatever the news may be, provided it is news, he is sure to communicate it immediately to some other mortal, and if it should be only for the sake of adding, "look ye, what a falsehood they are speaking about!" and the other mortal inclines with gratification his ear to listen to it, although he will observe after having heard it, "Yes, really, it is a shameless falsehood, and not worth the least credence;" but immediately after he will hasten to meet a third mortal, to tell everything about it, and exclaim together with a noble indignation, "what a mean falsehood."
And such news soon makes the round of the town; and all the mortals, however many there might be living in it, are sure to discuss on it to satiety, and then acknowledge that it was really too base a falsehood and not worth attention, nor the trouble of speaking about any more.
This apparently absurd occurrence seemed nevertheless to annoy our hero considerably. However stupid the words of a fool might be, yet sometimes they are powerful, enough to disconcert a wise man. He began to feel uncomfortable and ill-at-ease, like a man who might have accidentally stepped with a pair of patent leather boots into a neglected London sewer. In a word, he felt very uncomfortable. He tried not to think of it any more, attempted to cheer himself up again. In order to distract himself he sat down to play a game of whist; nevertheless, all went like a wheel out of repair. He played twice the wrong colour, and forgetting the rule that you don't cut the third time, but leave the chance to your partner, he did so to the great annoyance of his vis-à-vis.
The President could not understand at all how his friend, Pavel Ivanovitch, who understood the rules of the game so well, and who was even an acute player, could make all these blunders, and put a trump upon his king of spades, upon which card he had reckoned as upon a wall of stone.
The President and the Postmaster, and even the Commissioner of Police, as a matter of course, passed their friendly jokes upon our hero at these occurrences, and insinuated that Pavel Ivanovitch must be, nay was, in love, and that they nearly guessed who had caused all his absence of mind, and drawing attention from the game. But all these observations made no impression upon him, and do what they like, they could not succeed in making him even smile or return their jokes.
At supper he was still in the same disposition of mind, and could not even then rally, notwithstanding that he was placed in very good company, and that the hateful Nosdrieff had been obliged to leave the house, because the ladies themselves could not help expressing themselves scandalised with his conduct. The supper was very excellent, and seasoned with general gaiety; all the faces which appeared as it were from under the three branched candelabra, flowers, tarts and bottles, were illuminated with the most unfeigned pleasure. Military men and civilians, ladies, dress-coats, all became most amiable, even to affectation. The gentlemen deserted their chairs and hastened to take the dishes from the hands of the overburthened servants, with the intention to present them themselves to their fair partners at table. A dashing colonel presented a plate with liquid sweets to his lady on the point of his unsheathed sword. Some gentlemen of a sedate and serious age, among whom Tchichikoff happened to sit, were discussing politics most earnestly, whilst eating at the same time some fish and meat unmercifully seasoned with vinegar and mustard. They were conversing on a subject in which he generally liked to take a lively part; nevertheless, he remained silent, and like a man who seemed to be much fatigued or annoyed from a long journey, who feels a peculiar dulness of spirit, and who is incapable of taking any interest in anything. He even did not wait for the end of the supper, but left the company suddenly, and returned to his hotel much earlier than he was wont to do.
In that small apartment, so well known to to the reader, with the door barricaded with a chest of drawers, and with the beetles looking out from the corners occasionally, the disposition of his mind and soul was so full of uneasiness, in fact as uneasy as the chair upon which he was sitting. His heart felt sick and oppressed as if from a tiresome void that was left within it. "I wish the devil had those who imagined and brought into fashion those infernal balls!" said he, passionately, within his own heart. "Where-ever did they pick up the silly idea of dancing and feasting? the whole province has been visited, for three years running, by bad harvests and general dearth, and they give balls and festivals! What an ill-timed fancy; to dress themselves up in gaudy paraphernalia! And as if I had not seen that some of the silly women had wrapped themselves up in shawls worth, a thousand roubles! And all that at the expense of their poor serfs, or, what is still worse, at the expense of men like ourselves. It is but too well known, why a man takes advantage of his position, and injures his soul and conscience; simply for the purpose of offering to his wife a shawl or some such gaudiness for the name of which I do not care a fig.
"And why is this so? for the important reason, that some other gossiping body should not have occasion to say that the wife of the Postmaster or Procurator had a handsome dress on, and for such pretentions you have to pay down often more than a thousand roubles in hard cash. The hue and cry, is; 'a ball, a ball, let us rejoice!' balls are really a nuisance, not at all suitable for the Russian genius, not at all to the taste of our Russian nature, the devil knows for whom balls are fit; an adult, a perfectly grown up person will suddenly take it in his head to appear all in black, laced and dressed up like a young fiend, and begin to fight about with his legs like a madman. Another again, though standing near his partner, will turn round to his friend and pretend to speak of things of importance, and still continue to cut capers like a goat, right and left.
"All this is pure monkeyism, nothing but monkeyism! Because a Frenchman of forty is as childish as he was in his youth, we Russians ought to be ashamed to imitate him! No, really, after each ball I cannot help feeling as if I had committed a sin; and I would fain not even think of it. My head feels absolutely as empty as after a tedious conversation with a fashionable, who speaks of everything, touches slightly on a hundred subjects at the time, he will make use of all that he has been successful enough to pick up in books, be showy, brilliant; but as for his own imagination, it is incapable of producing anything original, and it is then we find, that the simple conversation of a common tradesman, who knows his business well, is more useful; it is then we find how empty and foolish the conversation of the man of fashion is.
"And as for their balls? What good can possibly be derived from a ball? Let us even suppose for an instance that an author was to undertake to describe all the scenes and occurrences of the ball room, such as they really are? Even in his book, it would appear as insipid and foolish as it is in reality. And pray, what is a ball? Is it moral or is it immoral? The devil take me if I know what to call it! It is with utter disgust, that one would throw away the book even, that speaks of, or describes a ball!"
It was thus unfavourably that Tchichikoff expressed himself on balls in general; but it seemed that another cause of displeasure was deeply involved in these expressions. His great displeasure was not principally directed against the ball itself, but rather the occurrence that took place there, and his sudden breaking down from his enviable position, which made him appear, Heavens knows in what light in the opinion of the guests assembled, and that he had been playing a peculiar, strange, and equivocal rôle.
Of course, looking at the matter in the light of a man of the world, he saw at a glance, that the whole affair was bosh and nonsense, that the word of a fool could not harm him, especially now, that the business itself was completely, satisfactorily and legally terminated. But man is strange: he was exceedingly provoked by the ill feeling of those, for whom he had no condescension himself, and of whom he had even spoken in very strong and cutting terms, ridiculing their vanity and follies.
This aggravated him so much the more, because, after having seriously reflected upon the subject, he could not deny that he had in a great measure been the cause of their ill-feeling himself. However, with himself he was not angry at all, and in this he was right, as a matter of course. We possess all the indulging weakness to be less severe with ourselves, and vent our anger in preference upon our neighbour or servants. And thus it was also with Tchichikoff, who soon managed to find a fellow-creature who had to talk and bear upon his shoulders all that his angry mood inspired him with. This victim fellow-creature, was Nosdrieff, and we must confess, that the poor fellow was unmercifully abused for his interference and indiscretion; the expressions which our hero used at the time of his anger, was so very strong indeed that this English paper—we are convinced—could not bear them, and for this excellent reason we beg to omit them. Yet we may add that the whole race of the Nosdrieff's was wished at the bottom of the sea, in which even his most distant relations were included.
Tchichikoff continued for some considerable time to remain seated in his uncomfortable chair, tormented by unpleasant recollections, cursing heartily, Nosdrieff, his ancestors and descendants, whilst the tallow-candle before him was melting rapidly down, because the wick was long since covered with a large black cap, and the light threatened every moment to expire altogether; a dark and gloomy night stared at him through the window, and was preparing to give precedence to the break of day, in the distance the hoarse crowing of a few early cocks became also audible, and in the yet soundly somnolent town, many a poor and homeless sheep-skin-wearer, might have been seen wandering about hopelessly and heaving sighs of despair, which unfortunately for old Russia are threatening to become more and more innumerable.
At this particular time, too, there happened also something unusual at the other end of the town, and which occurrence threatened to increase the already very unpleasant position of our hero: namely, through the distant and narrow streets of Smolensk a peculiarly shaped and antique-looking carriage was ricketting over the pavement in its approach to the centre of the town; the name and description of this carriage would have bewildered the cleverest coach-builder of England.
It was not like any of the carriages we are now accustomed to see in the streets of large towns; it was neither what we call a britchka nor a tarantas, nor was it anything like a barouche or a cart, but the nearest resemblance it presented, was to an immense hollowed water-melon, placed upon four wheels. The sides of this water-melon, or rather its cheeks, since they were to represent the doors of that carriage, still bore a trace of yellow colour about them, opened and shut very indifferently, because the handles and locks were in a dilapidated condition, and were not fastened with screws or nails, but common string. The water-melon (which reminds us forcibly of the carriage built in five minutes by the clowns at the Haymarket) was filled up with a variety of pillows of all sizes, bags containing bread, cakes and pastry. The stand behind was occupied by a sitting servile creature, in a short grey home-spun cloak, with unshaved beard, intersected here and there by silvery grey; this servile servant was known by the name of young Safran.
The noise and creaking of the iron hinges and rusty screws was so loud, that it awakened a sleeping policeman at the other end of the town, who, suddenly aroused, seized his halberd and shouted out with all his might, "Who comes there?" but, seeing that nobody was coming, he easily understood that he had taken the distant rattling noise for somebody approaching, at the same time he caught upon his coat an insect, which he at once took close to the lamp-post and executed on the spot upon his nail. After having thus punished the invader, he returned to his post, laid aside his halberd, and fell again asleep, according to the custom of the Russian police.
The horses before the water-melon kept falling on their fore-legs continually, because they had never been shod at all, and because the pavement of a town seemed to them perfectly strange ground. The old-fashioned vehicle made a few more turnings in and out of a few more narrow streets, and then turned again into a perfectly dark lane, at the end of which it passed a dilapidated old church, and then suddenly stopped before the house next to it, which was inhabited by the Proto-pope and his wife.
A young girl, with her head wrapped in a large handkerchief, was the first person that alighted from the old coach; she seized the knocker of the door with both her hands, and began to make as great a noise with it as a man (young Safran was dragged by his legs from his seat, because he had plunged himself in a death-like sleep).
The dogs of the house began barking as loud as they possibly could, and the gates were soon after thrown open, though it took considerable time to get the old vehicle through them into the court-yard, which was a very narrow one indeed, stocked with logs of wood, a poultry-yard, and other court-yard incumbrances; the second person that now alighted from out of the water-melon coach was an old lady, and this old lady was no one else than her ladyship Korobotchka.
The old lady had, soon after the departure of our hero, felt considerable uneasiness, and, in consequence, remained under the impression and apprehension that he might have taken an unwarrantable advantage over her inexperience, and, not having slept during three consecutive nights, she determined upon coming to town at once, notwithstanding that her horses were not fit for such a long journey, in order to ascertain positively what the real market value for dead serfs was, and to convince herself that she had made no mistake and sold them perhaps—which heaven forbid—for three times less than their real value.
What the further consequences of her arrival in town were, the reader will perhaps glean from a conversation between two ladies only. This conversation—but I think it will be more amusing to leave the dialogue for the following chapter.
Early in the morning, considerably earlier even than is fashionable to pay visits in the town of Smolensk, the door of an orange painted house, with balconies and sky-blue pillars was suddenly thrown open, and a lady, wrapped in a long silk cloak of a chess-board pattern, rushed hurriedly into the street, followed by a servant in livery, who wore a cloak with numerous little collars, and a large gold-laced band ornamented his round and carefully brushed hat.
The lady slipped hastily over the steps, and into the open carriage, which had been waiting for her already for some time before the principal entrance of the house. The servant in livery immediately after shut the lady up in the carriage by closing the carriage-door after her, and having put up the steps, he seized the straps, which were fixed behind the carriage, and shouted to the coachman, "drive on!"
The lady in the carriage, being the bearer of the latest news, was, of course, particularly anxious to arrive at her destination with the least possible delay. Every moment she kept peeping out of the window of her carriage, and found to her apparently great annoyance that he had still the other half of her journey to make. Every house which the carriage passed seemed to her to be unusually longer than ordinarily; the chalk coloured workhouse, with its narrow and low windows, stretched itself in the most tiresome length, so much so indeed, that the fair occupant of the carriage could no longer repress her impatience, but exclaimed, "how provoking, this miserable edifice seems to have no end at all!"
Her coachman had already twice received instructions to drive on quicker, and she herself shouted twice to him saying: "you are unbearably slow this morning, Karpuschka! for heaven's sake hasten, hasten on!"
At last she had arrived at her destination. The carriage stopped before a building of wood, only one story high, but very extensive, painted of a dark slate colour, with white plaster-work ornaments on the top frames of the windows, with a wooden railing projecting as far as the pavement, behind which a few scanty-looking poplars were growing, the leaves of which were covered with imperishable dust, heaped upon them by continual winds. In every one of the numerous windows, flower-pots with Dutch tulips, pleasantly relieved the gloomy slate-colour of the house, a parrot was balancing himself to and fro in his cage, trying to catch with his beak the ring in it; and two lap-dogs were lying on a cushion in one of the windows, enjoying the early rays of the rising sun. In this house dwelt the very intimate friend of the lady who had just arrived in her carriage.
The author feels considerably embarrassed as to the names of the two ladies, because in the Russian language it happened that the real names of the two ladies conveyed the most fitting idea of their character, and which it would be nearly impossible to render properly in English. Many an author is often embarrassed for a name, and many another not at all, as for ourselves, we must confess, we feel really considerably so. There are persons that say: "What is there in a name?" Nothing! With those persons we beg to differ considerably, because we are of the opinion, and maintain it, that there is much, if not all in a name. To wit, the name of Nicholas! does it not convey the idea of the most, barbarous, if not the most unchristian potentate of Europe? reigning over sixty-two millions, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine other unfortunate barbarians! (since we are in free England, we beg to exclude ourselves from making up the even number of sixty-three millions, at which enormous amount the faithful subjects of his Imperial Majesty have been computed, according to the latest statistics of the Empire.)
Again, the name of Victoria! does it not convey an idea of the most Christian and lovely Queen that reigns over the most enlightened, and most liberal nation in Christendom? And since the prestige of these two names cannot be denied, we feel still more confirmed in our opinion that there is much, if not all in a name.
And for this reason we will also christen in the most conscientious, and in the most fitting English expression, the two ladies we ye now about to introduce to our fair readers.
Without any further apologies and preliminaries, then, we will call the lady who received the early morning visit of her friend, simply and thus, as she was well known in Smolensk: "the in every respect amiable lady." This name she had acquired in the most legitimate manner indeed, because she stood on no sacrifices to be always amiable to the highest degree of amiability. Though, of course, her passionate feminine character made but too frequent incursions upon her reputation of perfect amiability; and though in each of her amiable qualities, and especially words, there seemed pins and needles hidden; and, good Heaven! preserve that lady who would dare to presume in anything to be the first, for such presumption was sufficient to make the blood boil in the very heart of the in every respect amiable lady.
But all these amiable qualities were hidden under the most exquisite taste and fashion. Each of her movements was impregnated and executed with much gracefulness and taste, she was even very fond of poetry, and knew also how to incline her head into a musing attitude in a word, all were of opinion that she was really and in every respect, the most amiable lady in Smolensk.
The other lady, namely, the one that had arrived in her carriage, was not of such a polyhedrical character, and for that reason we shall call her; the simply amiable lady. The arrival of the latter lady awakened at once the little lap-dogs that were lying in the sun; the longhaired Adèle that was always entangled in her own wool, and the proud Popuri upon his fine high legs. Both dogs barking, rushed with their tails in the air towards the ante-room, where the visiting lady was at once disembarrassed of her silk cloak of a chess-board pattern, and she appeared now in the reception-room, dressed in the latest fashion for a morning visit. She wore a light-coloured muslin dress, also of a fashionable colour and pattern.
Scarcely had the in every respect amiable lady heard of the arrival of her intimate friend, the simply amiable lady, when she hurried out of her bed-room to receive her. The ladies seized each other's hands, kissed one another most affectionately, and exclaimed both at the same time, like two young girls will do on meeting again after having left the imperial institution, and when their dear mamma has not yet had an opportunity to whisper to them, that the father of the one is poorer and lower in rank than the other.
The friendly kiss was a loud one, because of the renewed barking of the two dogs, who were frightened away with a shawl, and both ladies proceeded at once into the boudoir, which was of course decorated with sky-blue coloured paper-hangings, curtains and furniture, with numerous rocking chairs and easy sofas, with an oval table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a rich mantel-piece, decorated with malachite nick-nacks, relieved in bronze, while here and there stood a few sky-blue screens; the ladies were followed by the woolly Adèle and the proudly stepping legs.
"Here, here, my dear, in this snug little corner!" said the mistress of the house, whilst seating her guest into the very corner of her elegant sofa. "That is right! take this cushion to lean upon, and now I am sure you will feel comfortable!"
Saying this, she placed a cushion, embroidered in wool behind her friend's back; it represented a troubadour with a guitar slung around his neck, such as are usually embroidered upon canvass: his nose resembled a ladder, and as for his lips, they were regular squares.
"How very glad I am indeed to see that it is you. I heard a carriage stopping before the door, but could not for a moment imagine whoever could come so very early; my chambermaid thought it was the wife of our Vice-Governor, and I said immediately: how provoking, she is such an insipid woman; and I was on the point of giving orders to say that I was not at home."
Her guest was just on the point of plunging at once in medias res, and communicating to her friend the important news she had brought; but the sudden exclamation of the in every respect amiable lady, gave at once another direction to their conversation.
"What a gay-coloured muslin!" exclaimed the in every respect amiable lady, as she cast a glance upon the dress of the simply amiable lady.
"Yes, a very lively-coloured one indeed. My cousin, Praskovia Fedorovna, however, thinks, that it would have been prettier, if the checks in it were smaller, and the little dots in them blue instead of brown. By the bye, I sent the other day, a dress for my sister, which was really so very charming, that it is quite impossible to describe it in words; imagine only, my dear, small stripes, as small as human imagination can possibly fancy them, on a blue ground, and across these stripes, little eyes and paws—eyes and paws—eyes and paws. In a word, charming! incomparable! I may really say that anything similar has not yet been seen before."
"My darling love, that is too showy."
"Oh, no, my angel, it is far from being showy."
"I can assure you it is!"
We must observe here, that the in every respect amiable lady, was in many other respects also a great materialist, inclined to contradictions and doubts, and fond of questioning a great many other things in this world.
As for the simply amiable lady, she simply explained to her friend, that the dress she had sent to her sister, was far from being showy at all, and continued: "by the bye, allow me to compliment you on a change in fashion; volants are to be worn no longer!"
"Good gracious! what do you say, out of fashion?"
"Yes, indeed, and instead of them we are to wear festoons."
"Surely, that cannot be pretty, festoons?
"Festoons, all and nothing but festoons; the mantles are worn with festoons, the sleeves have festoons, the epaulettes are made of festoons, below festoons, everywhere festoons."
"Oh, I'm sure it won't be nice, my dear Sophia Ivanovna, if all and everything is to be worn with festoons."
"It is really charming, my own Anna Grigorievna, incredibly charming; they are sewn in two rows: and above—oh, really, you would be amazed if I was to describe to you all the particulars. Now then, listen to me and be astonished: imagine only, the waist is worn still longer, the body very full over the chest, and as for the corset and the whale-bones in it, it is really passing belief; the skirt is made very ample all around, as they used to wear phisms in former days, a little wadding is discreetly introduced behind so as to make of you a perfectly belle femme."
"I must confess, this is rather too much!" said the in every respect amiable lady, with a dignified movement of the head.
"I say as much; it is really going too far!" replied the simply amiable lady.
"Please yourself as to adopting this novelty; for my own part, I am determined not to submit to this ridiculous innovation."
"I thought of doing as much. Really, when you come to consider it, to what absurdities fashion may lead you; it is perfectly ridiculous to think of it! I asked my sister to send me the pattern from St. Petersburg just to look and smile at it; Mélanie, my dressmaker, however, insisted upon making me a dress like it."
"Have you really got the pattern of it, my dearest?" asked quickly the in every respect amiable lady, not without visible emotion.
"Indeed, I have, since my sister sent it me the other day."
"My darling pet, pray give it to me, I entreat you by all that is sacred."
"Alas, I have promised it already to my cousin, Paskovia Fedorovna. Would you like to have it afterwards?"
"Surely, you don't expect me to accept of it after Paskovia Fedorovna has had it? Really, that would be rather strange behaviour on your part, were you to give the preference to others but me."
"But my dear Anna Grigorievna, you seem to forget that she is my cousin."
"Heaven knows what cousin she is to you! on your husband's side perhaps. No, Sophia Ivanovna, I will not even listen, this is exceeding all bounds. You wish to slight me; it seems you are tired of me, you wish to break up our acquaintance and friendship."
Poor Sophia Ivanovna was completely at a loss what to do. She felt acutely, between what burning fires she had placed herself. How silly it was of her to have boasted of her pattern! She was now ready to prick her indiscreet tongue with a needle. Fortunately, however, the conversation was suddenly changed to an even more interesting topic, and she was relieved from her painful position.
"And pray, why have you seen or heard of our darling stranger?" meanwhile inquired the in every respect amiable lady.
"Good Heaven! why am I sitting here like a silly girl! it's really absurd; but you don't know then, my dear Anna Grigorievna, what the cause of my early morning visit is?"
Here the respiration of the fair visitor became oppressed, the words threatened to burst forth in rapid succession like a hawk pursuing his prey, and it was only possible for a person such as her intimate friend was, to be so inhuman as to stop her overflowing heart.
"Whatever intention you may have of praising and exalting him," she said, in an unusual passion, "I shall mention and even tell himself if he likes, that he is but a frivolous man, and a very, very frivolous one indeed."
"But listen only, my dear child, what I am going to confide to you—"
"They have spread the report that he was handsome, and he is nothing of the kind, he is not handsome at all, and as for his nose—it is the ugliest nose I ever beheld."
"Allow me, but allow me only to tell you, my angelic Anna Grigorievna, suffer me to tell you all about him! It is a whole history, understand me well: I came here to give you a biographical sketch of the man who has created and still creates so great a sensation in Smolensk," her guest spoke with an expression approaching despair, and in a decidedly entreating, supplicating tone of voice.
"What do you know about him?"
"Oh, my darling Anna Grigorievna, if you could only know the awful position in which I have been placed, ever since the dawn of this eventful day; only imagine, this morning, very early indeed, the wife of our Proto-pope, of our worthy Father Kyrilla, arrives at my house, and would you ever have believed it—our much praised and gentlemanly stranger—no, I'm sure you could not believe it!"
"What, has he been making love to the Proto-pope's wife?"
"Alas, Anna Grigorievna, it would have mattered little if he had been only doing that; listen now attentively to what the wife of our worthy Father Kyrilla has told me; she arrived early this morning at my house—as I told you before—she looked frightened and pale as death; she at last could open her lips and begin to speak; good Heavens, and how she spoke! Listen, dear, it is a perfect romance; suddenly, in the midst of a dark night, when all were fast asleep, a knock is heard at the gate, such a frightful knock, as it is only possible to imagine; some one shouts from outside; 'open the gates, open them, or else we shall break them down!' how do you like the beginning? And especially, how do you like after this, our fêted stranger?"
"Well, no doubt the pope's wife is young and handsome!"
"Not at all, she is an old woman!"
"Ha, ha, ha, delightful! It is then with old women that he is flirting. After this, I may compliment our ladies in their choice, they have at last found some one to fall in love with!"
"But my dearest Anna Grigorievna, it is not at all what you fancy. Represent him to yourself as armed from head to foot in the style of Fra Diavolo, demanding; 'Sell me all your souls (serfs) that are dead!' Lady Korobotchka answered very reasonably, indeed, by saying: 'I cannot sell them, because they are dead.' 'No,' says he again, 'they are not dead, it is my business to know whether they are dead or not; they are not dead, they are not dead!' he shouts in a passion; in a word, he has created the greatest scandal imaginable. The whole village was in an uproar, the children crying, all others shouting, nobody could understand anybody, really, it was horror! horror! horror! But you would scarcely believe it, my dear Anna Grigorievna, how all this has upset me, when I came to hear it.
"'Dear lady,' says my chambermaid to me, 'pray look into the looking-glass, you' are quite pale and discomfited.'
"'Never mind the looking-glass now, Maschinka,' I said to her, 'I must now hasten and tell all to my dear Anna Grigorievna.' At the same time I immediately ordered my carriage; my coachman, Karpuschka, asks me where he is to drive me to, and I felt so very much overwhelmed that I could not articulate a word, I stared him in the face quite foolishly; I think the man believed me mad at the time. Ah, my dear Anna Grigorievna, if you could only but imagine bow much frightened and distracted I feel even now."
"This is rather strange," said the in every respect amiable lady. "What can these dead souls mean? I must confess, I cannot imagine or understand anything in this really strange affair. This is already the second time that I have heard about these dead serfs; my husband assures me that Nosdrieff told another of his falsehoods; however, there must be something at the bottom of it."
"But, dearest Anna Grigorievna, can you imagine for a moment my position when I heard of all this. Listen farther!
"And now," continued Lady Korobotchka, 'I really do not know what am I to do. He obliged me,' says she, 'to sign my name to an apparently forged document, threw fifteen roubles in bank notes before me, on the table, and I,' she says, 'inexperienced and unprotected woman, took them.' This is the whole of the dreadful occurrence! But if you could but I feel, even now!
"Whatever you may say or think about it, I assert that there are no dead serfs in question; but there is something else hidden."
"I agree with you," replied the simply amiable lady, not without some surprise, and felt immediately an unconquerable desire to know what might be hidden under this strange affair. She pronounced the following words in a slow and measured tone of voice: "And what do you really think is hidden under the pretence of purchasing dead serfs?"
"Pray, tell me first what you think of it?"
"Oh, what I think of it—I—I really must confess, I feel still quite bewildered from the news."
"Nevertheless, I should have very much liked to know what your opinion upon the subject is?"
However, the simply amiable lady could find no opinion to express. She only knew how to be full of anxiety; but to imagine a complicated supposition was an impossibility to her, and for that reason, more than any other woman, she was obliged to have resource to tender friendship and suggestions.
"Well, listen then to me, and I will tell you what these dead souls mean," said the in every respect amiable lady, and her guest concentrated all her attention upon hearing; her little ears became, if possible, longer, she rose slightly from her seat, nearly not sitting nor leaning on the sofa, and regardless of her slight embonpoint, she became suddenly lighter, similar to a feather ready to fly away at the least breath.
"These dead souls are—" pronounced the in every respect amiable lady.
"What, what?" interrupted her guest, full of emotion.
"The dead serfs!"
"Oh, speak! for Heaven's sake speak."
"They are simply a pretext, but the real truth is the following; he intends to run away with the daughter of the Lord-Lieutenant of Smolensk."
This conclusion was perfectly sudden and unexpected, and in every respect very extraordinary.
Scarcely had the simply amiable lady heard the conclusion her friend had arrived at, when she stood there like a statue, grew pale, pale as death, and this time really and seriously seemed to be distracted and bewildered. "Oh, good Heavens!" she exclaimed in a faint voice, "nothing in the world could ever have suggested such an idea to me!"
"As for my part," said the in every respect amiable lady, "I must inform you, that, scarcely had you opened your lips on the subject, when I already guessed the whole affair."
"And pray, dear Anna Grigorievna, what are we to think of her Majesty's institution? This young girl has been represented as innocence personified."
"What innocence! I heard her utter such language, as, I must confess, I would never have had courage to allow to pass my lips, even if I could have pronounced the words."
"Believe me, dear Anna Gregorievna, it is really heart-rending to behold to what a degree immorality has extended."
"The men seem mad about the girl. As for me, I must acknowledge, I can find nothing attractive in her—she is unbearably conceited."
"She is a perfect statue, my dearest Anna Grigorievna, and there is not the least expression in her face."
"Oh, she is awfully conceited! Oh, how affected! Good gracious, what affectation! I don't know who her instructor was, but I don't recollect having ever seen a young woman so full of affectation as she is!"
"My own heart, Anna Grigorievna! she is nothing but a living statue, and pale as death."
"Pray don't say that, my dearest Sophia Ivanovna; she uses rouge in an unchristian-like manner."
"No, no, my charming Anna Grigorievna, you are mistaken, she is as white as chalk, chalk of the purest white."
"My dearest, let me tell you, that I sat close to her; I saw rouge, finger thick on her face, ready to fall off like plaster from a wall."
"It is her mother who has taught her, she is a flirt herself; but as for her daughter, I'm sure she will surpass her."
"Pray let me tell you, listen: I am ready to invoke any saint, or forfeit immediately my children, my husband, my whole fortune, but I must say, that there was not a particle, not a shadow of rouge on that young girl's face at the last ball!"
"Oh, how can you say so, Sophia Ivanovna," exclaimed the in every respect amiable lady, as she clapped her hands together.
"Oh, how very strange you are, my dearest Anna Grigorievna! I cannot help looking with surprise at you!" said the simply amiable lady, clapping her hands together.
It will not appear strange to our reader, that there was a difference of opinion between the two ladies on the same subject, and which they had both seen at the same time. There are really many things in this world, which have such a peculiarity; if they are looked at by one lady, they will appear as perfectly white as snow, and again, if examined by another, they will seem red, as red as even Russian cranberries.
"By the bye, I can give you another proof, that she has been using blanc instead of rouge," continued the simply amiable lady; "now I recollect distinctly the circumstance, that made me mention my assertion. I was sitting next to Mr. Maniloff, and said to him, 'Only see, Sir, how pale she looks!' really, one must be as crazy as our men are to find anything attractive in her. But how about our gay deceiver, the stranger. Oh, you have no idea how much he has displeased me! You cannot imagine, my dear Anna Grigorievna, to what degree he has displeased me."
"However, it would seem, that there are ladies to whom he has not been indifferent."
"To me, Anna Grigorievna! I'm sure, you could never say that of me. Never, never!"
"No, my dearest, I do not speak of you, but there are also other ladies."
"Never, never, Anna Grigorievna! Allow me to assure you, that I know myself very well indeed; had it perhaps been the case with one of our ladies who presume to play the rôle of unapproachables?"
"I beg your pardon, Sophia Ivanovna! And I beg leave also to tell you, that such calumnies have never been expressed to me before. He has perhaps been flirting with some one else, but not with me, certainly not with me, allow me to assure you of that."
"But, my dearest, why do you seem offended? you seem to forget that there were many other ladies besides ourselves, and even such ladies, who were the first to seize upon a chair near the door, for the purpose of sitting near him."
After such an exchange of opinions, and especially after the last remarks of the simply amiable lady, it seemed evident, that a storm would follow; however, to our utmost surprise, both ladies remained perfectly silent, and absolutely nothing followed as a consequence. The in every respect amiable lady seemed to remember, that the pattern of the new dress to be worn with festoons was not yet in her possession; and as for the simply amiable lady, she also seemed to recollect, that she had not yet obtained from her intimate friend any distinct comments upon the discovery about the stranger, which she had revealed to her, and for these excellent reasons and reflections peace soon again returned between them.
However, it is impossible to say that there was any natural disposition in the two ladies to create ill-feeling of any kind, and in general there was nothing in their character that could be really called maliciousness; nevertheless, and yet accidentally, slight differences would arise between them in the course of conversation, and inspire them with the innocent wish to pique one another slightly; it therefore did happen occasionally that the one or the other would profit by an opportunity, and gratify herself by launching an insinuation or observation against the other. The cravings of the human heart are as numerous as incomprehensible in the heart of man, as well as in the heart of a woman.
"However, I cannot understand it at all," said the simply amiable lady to her friend, "how Tchichikoff, being a stranger here and a traveller, could venture to enter upon such an expedition alone. It is impossible—I cannot believe it: he must have some accomplices."
"And did you really think he had none?"
"Whom do you suspect? Who could assist him?"
"And why should it not be Nosdrieff himself?"
"Now really, could it be Nosdrieff?"
"Why not? He is just the man for such an undertaking. Don't you know that he wanted to sell his own father, or, better still, gamble for him at cards?"
"Goodness gracious! what interesting news I am going to hear from you! I could never have imagined that Nosdrieff could have been compromised in this affair or conspiracy."
"And I imagined it from the very beginning." "When you come to think of it, it is really wonderful what happens in this world. Whoever could have anticipated it, especially when you recollect that Tchichikoff, since his arrival in Smolensk has had scarcely sufficient time to look about him, and here he is on the eve of creating a sensation in our town unequalled in the annals of the Russian Empire since Ivan Vasilievitch the Terrible. Ah, my dear Anna Grigorievna, if you could only imagine how terribly frightened and perplexed I feel now, and certainly, without your sympathy and friendship I should have been on the very brink of my grave—should indeed. Maschinka, my chambermaid, made the remark that I was as pale as death. 'Darling ladyship,' says she to me, 'you are as pale as death. 'Maschinka,' was my reply, 'that must not now be a matter of preoccupation with me.' Such then is the fact. Even Nosdrieff is implicated. Well, I'm sure, I never could have believed it."
The simply amiable lady felt an irrepressible desire to ascertain if possible all the details of Tchichikoff's conspiracy, that is to say the particular day and hour, in fact, she wished to know a very great deal indeed. The in every respect amiable lady simply declared that she knew nothing positive on the subject. She did not know how to invent a falsehood; to anticipate something was another question with her, and then it was only advanced when her suppositions were based upon intimate conviction. When, therefore, she felt inwardly convinced in her opinion, it was that she knew how to defend her argument, and daring indeed would have been the man or learned advocate who would have tried to dissuade her from her opinion once fixed, whatever cleverness or learnedness a lawyer might be possessed of; and though he be able to boast that he could defeat the opinions of any adversary, he would have stood no chance with our in every respect amiable lady, such would have been the proofs of intimate conviction which she could have exhibited to him.
Both ladies at last perfectly agreed upon the point, that that which they had at first laid down as a supposition had still remained a presupposition; and in that there is indeed nothing surprising. Men of our profession, for example, learned men, at least such we believe ourselves to be, and nearly on the same principle as these two amiable ladies; and as a proof of it we may only allude to our learned critics. In the beginning, such a learned gentleman starts with his task like a sneaking flatterer; he begins timidly, with moderation, in fact he begins with the most innocent question: is this not a quotation? or, is this not a copy from such and such a page? or, does this document not belong to such and such an age? or, are we not to trace these people as the descendants of such and such a nation?
And now they begin to refer and quote, the authority of numerous ancient authors; but scarcely have they discovered a point to rest upon, if ever so unimportant, when he already feels spirited and courageous, begins to converse freely with the ancient genius, and even addresses questions to him, which, of course, he thinks proper to answer himself immediately, forgetting altogether that he begun with a timid presupposition; it now seems to him that he sees all, that every particular is clear to him; and his review is concluded with the words—it was thus then that it happened, these people are the descendants of such and such a nation; and it is, therefore, upon this particular point that we must base our judgment, and look upon the subject. It is thus that a novelty is proclaimed, as if from the pulpit, and the new truth ushered into the world, where it is sure to find numerous followers and advocates.
At the time when the two ladies had so happily and sagaciously decided this very complication, the Imperial Procurator, with his always impassible countenance, heavy eyebrows, and winking eyes, entered the reception-room, and was immediately ushered into the presence of the two intimate friends. Both ladies, as if for a wager, endeavoured to explain to him, at the same time, all the particulars of Tchichikoff's conspiracy; they spoke to him of the sale and purchase of dead serfs, of the projected elopement with the Lord-Lieutenant's daughter, so that they completely confused his judgment; he stood there as if riveted to the spot, winking his left eye more than his right, and passing his pocket-handkerchief across his face and nose, wiping off the snuff; but he could understand absolutely nothing.
The two ladies left the Imperial Procurator thus standing, and went to carry the news, and create a revolution in the ancient town of Smolensk. This enterprise they succeeded in carrying out in no less than half-an-hour. The town was soon in a perfect uproar; every one was soon revolutionised, but nobody could understand anything about the cause. The two ladies spread such a mist over the eyes of all, that all, especially the civilians, became, as it were, petrified for some time.
Their position, in the first moments, was similar to that of a sleepy schoolboy, whose comrades, taking advantage of his somnolence, had risen earlier, and placed an hussar in his nose, namely, a small paper cornet, containing snuff. Whilst fast asleep, he inhales all the snuff through his nostrils with the ease of a snorer; he awakens suddenly, jumps from his bed, looks about like a fool, rubs his eyes repeatedly, and cannot make out where he is, and what has happened to him; he then only perceives that it is late, and that the rays of the sun are shining brightly on the wall of his room; he hears the laughter of his school-fellows, hiding themselves in the corners, the daylight entering his window, shining over the dark forest in the distance—hears the thousand voices of birds gaily humming in the garden—sees the silvery stream beneath, with its pleasant footpaths, planted on either side with their tall poplars—beholds numerous other little children playing about, and ready to plunge into the water for a bath; and then only, and at last, he feels convinced that he has had a hussar placed in his nose.
Such was exactly, at first, the position of all the inhabitants of any note in the town of Smolensk on that eventful morning. Every one of them stopped suddenly short like sheep, and opened their eyes widely. Dead serfs, the Lord-Lieutenant's daughter, and Tchichikoff were continually buzzing round them, and confusing their heads in a most extraordinary manner; and, later only, after the first stupefaction was over, they seemed to distinguish and separate the one from the other. They began to question themselves and feel angry, because they saw that they could not explain the affair to themselves any way.
"What does this parable really mean? what parable are these dead serfs? there is no logic in dead serfs, how could any one think of buying dead serfs? where could such a fool be met with, and for what speculation could he purchase them and thus invest his capital? and to what end and for what purpose could dead serfs be made available? and why is the Lord-Lieutenant's daughter mixed up in the affair? If he intended eloping with his Excellency's daughter, why can he have bought these dead serfs? and if he wanted only to purchase dead serfs, why should he want to run away with his Excellency's daughter? surely, he did not intend to present her with dead serfs at their nuptials! But what is the nonsense they have now spread all over the town? what is the meaning for all this? for scarcely has a person had time to turn and look about, when they already concoct a whole history on his account; well and good if there was any sense in it—however, they have spread the news, and certainly there must be something at the bottom of it. But what cause, what reason can there be for these dead serfs? I really cannot see any reason or cause for them whatever. It is really bewildering! maddening!"
In a word, there was a talk about it all over the town, a regular round of talking, about the dead serfs and his Excellency's daughter, about Tchichikoff and the dead serfs, about his Excellency's daughter and Tchichikoff, and all was soon in a maze. It seemed that the hitherto slumbering town rose like a buoyant whirlpool. All the old home-keeping men and women, who had not divested themselves of their morning-gowns nor had been in the streets, heaven knows for how long time, now suddenly began to stir about and swear, the one at the tailor for having made his coat too narrow, the other at the bootmaker for having made his boots too tight, a third at the neglect and drunkenness of his servants, and so forth.
All those who had long ceased to receive or go into company, and were known only accidentally to each other, now suddenly made their appearance again in the world, as if they had risen from the dead; in fact, all those who could not even be enticed with turtle soup or a sturgeon feast, or with any other dainties that melted in the mouth; in a word, it was now proved beyond a doubt that the ancient town of Smolensk was a large and well populated town. The streets were crowded with old-fashioned droschkies of every description—in a word, the porridge began to boil over.
At another time, and under different circumstances, similar reports would not have attracted the least attention; but the town of Smolensk had been, as it was for some time, deprived of any novelty. Three months had passed away without the occurrence of anything like commérage, which, as it is well-known, is to a town as necessary as supplies to an army. In the circles of the gossips of Smolensk, there arose suddenly two perfectly distinct opinions, and in consequence two perfectly distinct parties were formed; the party of the men and the party of the women.
The party of the men, the most foolish of the two, turned their attention to the dead serfs. The party of the women again, busied themselves exclusively with the elopement of the Lord-Lieutenant's daughter. In the party formed by the women, we must observe to the credit of the ladies, that there was considerably more order, regularity, and perspicuity. They seem to have been born to be excellent and careful managers. All soon assumed with them a lively and orderly appearance, presented itself in distinct and visible forms, explained itself, freed itself from every doubt; in a word, all seemed as perfect as a picture.
It was proved that Tchichikoff had already been in love with the fair girl for some time, and that they had met by appointment on several occasions at night in the garden by moonlight, and that his Excellency himself would have consented to their marriage, because Tchichikoff was as rich as a Jewish banker, if it had not been for Tchichikoff's wife, whom he had deserted (how they had managed to find out that our hero was married, no one could tell), and that his wife, who was tormented by an unreciprocated passion for him, had addressed the most entreating letter to the Lord-Lieutenant, and that Tchichikoff, finding that the father and mother would never consent to their union, determined upon an elopement.
In some other circles, the same affair was commented upon with a few slight deviations. It was said that Tchichikoff had no wife at all, but that he, as a clever man of the world, and determined to carry his object, undertook, with the object in view, of obtaining the hand of the daughter, to make the beginning with the mother, and that there existed between them a secret sentimental liaison, and after this success with the mother, he had stepped forward to demand the hand of the daughter; but the mother, fearing or alarmed lest an offence against religious principles might be committed, and feeling within her own heart the pangs of remorse, refused his demand peremptorily, and that in consequence of this refusal, Tchichikoff had determined upon an elopement. To all this, were added many explanations and improvements as the reports spread by degrees, until at last they were known and commented upon, even in the narrowest streets of Smolensk.
The lower classes of society, in Russia at least, are very fond of talking of the affairs of the more elevated classes, and for that reason, the same subject was even discussed in such houses where the inhabitants had never heard, or seen anything of Tchichikoff before, and of course they made new additions and improvements. The subject became every moment more and more embellished, and every new day added considerably to the perfections of its forms, until at last it was transmitted with all its perfections to the ears of her Excellency, the wife of the Lord-Lieutenant of Smolensk.
Her Excellency, as a mother of a family, as the first lady in the town, ultimately as a lady who never suspected or anticipated anything similar, felt perfectly insulted by these rumours, and legitimately flew into a passion.
The unhappy blondine had to submit to a very unpleasant tête-à-tête, indeed such a one as perhaps a young girl of sixteen years of age, never underwent before. Streams of questions rapidly flowed from the lips of the angry mother, followed in succession by strict examination, reproaches, threats and exhortations, so that the poor young girl began to cry bitterly without being able to understand a word of the real causes of her mother's anger and indignation.
The porter at the lodge also received positive instructions never to admit for the future, under any circumstances or pretences, the gentleman calling himself Tchichikoff.
Having, as it were, finished their affair with her Excellency, the ladies felt inclined to join the party of the gentlemen, with the view of bringing them round to their own opinion, and they continued to affirm that the alleged purchase of dead serfs was nothing else but a scheme to divert attention from his real intentions, and thus more successfully to accomplish the projected elopement.
Many of the gentlemen were even gained over, and persuaded to join the female party, notwithstanding the bitter reproaches that were addressed to them by their own party and comrades, who called them old women and petticoat worshippers, which allegations, as is well known, are very offensive to any gentleman.
But, however strong and obstinate the remaining coalition of the men was, their party was far from being so well organised as that of the ladies. With them all was somehow irregular, rough, loose, not well at all; their heads were full of confusion, partiality, contradiction; their thoughts tormented by doubts and suspicions—in a word, the, in every respect, empty nature of the men appeared to be in the greatest disorder, a naturel, at the same time rough and heavy, unfit for household matters, nor for the more tender impressions of the heart, suspicious, indolent, full of continual doubts and eternal apprehensions.
They maintained most obstinately that all was stuff and nonsense, that the elopement with his Excellency's daughter was more likely to be undertaken by a dashing hussar, but not by a peaceable civilian; and that Tchichikoff was not the man to carry out such a plan, so full of madness; that the women were all silly, and had got up a false alarm; that the real object upon which they had to turn their exclusive attention were the dead serfs themselves, for it was with them that the secret lay buried; but what this secret was, the devil alone knew, at any rate in their opinion, it was something awful. Why it was so dreadful, so awful, in' the opinion of the gentlemen, we shall know at once.
By a decree of his Majesty the Emperor Nicholas I, another Lord-Lieutenant, or Governor had been appointed for the province of Smolensk, and the present one recalled to St. Petersburgh; such an ukase causes in Russia a thorough change of administration and appointments, and for this reason it had the most alarming effect upon the nervous and moral system of the Imperial employés; Courts of Inquiries would be held in all branches of administration, many of them had the prospect before them of being dismissed, whilst others ran the risk of seeing themselves utterly stripped of their little profits under the new head of administration.
And really, some of them thought, "if the new Governor was to know all our little trespasses, it would be quite sufficient to effect our complete disgrace, and perhaps even banishment would be the consequence." The Superintendent of the Imperial Hospitals grew suddenly pale; heaven knows what thoughts flashed across his mind; did these dead serfs mean, perhaps, that all those people who died lately in great numbers from cholera and various fevers in the Imperial Hospitals and other places, for want of proper and careful sanitary measures, and was Tchichikoff, by chance, an Imperial Attorney, or Commissioner sent by the Governor-General to hold a secret Court of Inquiry.
He communicated this opinion to the President of the Council. The President answered that this supposition was absurd, and then immediately grew pale himself as he put to himself the following question:
"But if these serfs whom Tchichikoff has been purchasing were really dead, he has caused us all to legalise the transaction, and has obliged me to sign the contract of sale as Pluschkin's agent, and if the whole transaction is reported with all its particulars to the Governor-General, how then? And if the Governor-General lays all the particulars of this transaction before His Majesty the Emperor? I shudder at the thought."
He communicated these apprehensions to the one and to the other, and immediately after, the one and the other grew pale as death. Fear is like a contagious disorder; it communicates itself in an instant. All the Imperial employés suddenly discovered in themselves such transgressions as did not even exist in reality. The words "dead serfs" spread fear and terror all around, which were instantaneously communicated to all who were even in the slightest degree compromised in the transaction; they began also to suspect that it might be an allusion to some recent occurrences in which a few peasants died suddenly, and were buried hurriedly without an inquest being held on their bodies.
The first occurrence was an encounter between some tradesmen from Great Novgorod and some men of the same calling from Little or Nishni-Novogorod, who had come to visit the fair held at that time in Smolensk. After having done a good business in town, the Great Novogorodians gave a regular Russian feast to their friends the little Novogorodians, seasoned with all the foreign improvements of kitchen and cellar. The feast, however, ended in a regular fight The petty jealousies existing between these two very important towns determined the Little Novogorodians to resent an old quarrel which had been brought again on the tapis as regarded the pre-eminence of the two towns, in a commercial sense. They rushed upon the Great Novogorodians, determined to have their lives; but the result was, that they got fearfully ill-used by the Great Novogorodians, who disfigured their heads, faces and sides in a most merciless manner, and proved that the fists of some of the defunct Great Novogorodians were of an extraordinary size and hardness.
One of the defeated combatants had fared very badly indeed, and narrowly escaped losing his life; however, he had got off only after having had his nose flattened like a crumpet, so much so indeed that there remained but a vestige of a nose on his face. The merchants confessed to the authorities that they had been only jesting; but it was rumoured about that in this serious conflict, four of the Imperial peacemongers had lost their lives. However, the real loss of life was kept in the dark, and the inquiries that were held by the proper authorities went to show that the deceased Novogorodians had died from the effects of suffocation and they were at once buried as suffocated people.
The other occurrence, which happened nearly at the same time, was the following: Some crown serfs (property of the Emperor) of the not unimportant village of Vladomirsk, had joined their brethren and neighbours in the adjoining village of Volkonsk, for the purpose of taking revenge upon an imperial steward, who resided between the two villages, and who not only ill-treated them in the most barbarous manner, but even seduced by threats and intimidation, their wives and daughters. This same imperial steward, Drobriaschkin by name, had been observed to pay too frequent visits in both villages, and at unusual hours, which was thought highly improper by the peasants for an imperial manager, and head of the country police. It, therefore, seemed to them that their magistrate had too many weaknesses for their wives and daughters.
However, nothing positive could be proved against him, although the imperial serfs had stated in their depositions, that they had seen their magistrate roaming about in the neighbourhood like a cat, and that they had more than once given him fair warning, and that on one occasion they had even beaten and driven him out of the hut of one of their worthiest elders, where he had stealthily entered, Heaven knows for what purpose. The magistrate merited, of course, chastisement for the weaknesses of his heart, and ought not to have imagined, that because he was an imperial manager, he could presume to trample upon the affections of imperial serfs; on the other hand again, the peasants of the imperial villages of Vladomirsk and Volkonsk, could also not have been justified in murdering their magistrate for his weaknesses of the heart, provided the charge could have been proved against one or all of them.
However, this occurrence also remained in the dark, because all matters in which the police and people of high rank are interested, remain in Russia usually enveloped in darkness; nevertheless, the country magistrate, the imperial manager, was found murdered on the high road, his official coat was torn into rags, and as for his face and body, it was perfectly impossible to identify them as having once harboured the haughty and tyrannical soul of a Dobriaschkin.
The whole occurrence, with all its particulars, was thrown into the proper courts of justice, and ultimately transmitted to Smolensk, where the high justices of the Crown came to the following conclusion:
"Whereas it cannot be proved who of the imperial serfs are the actual murderers of the dead man, and as there are many peasants compromised in the crime, and whereas Dobriaschkin was now a dead man, there could arise not the least advantage to him, in having judgement given in his favour.
"And, whereas all the peasants compromised in the deed were still alive, it was of the greatest importance to them, that judgment should be given in their favour; it was therefore decided that the following judgment or verdict should be returned;
"That the imperial manager and magistrate, Dobriaschkin, was himself the cause of his death, in making unjustifiable pretensions upon the imperial serfs of the villages of Vladomirsk and Volkonsk, and that he died suddenly from an apoplectic stroke, whilst returning home in his sledge."
The imperial men who had thus settled these and similar occurrences, thought at the time that their decisions were just and right, but now, and it is incomprehensible why, they thought that the present dead souls had some reference to these past occurrences. To these past events which seemed to them now more serious than ever before, additional difficulties could arise, for, if it was to happen, that just at this time when all the employés of the Crown seemed so seriously embarrassed, the new Governor-General was to receive at once two more informations in the shape of the following documents.
The first, containing a report of investigations and proofs that a manufacturer of false bank-notes was residing in Smolensk, hiding himself under different assumed names, and that a strict investigation should be made at once to bring the culprit to light; the greatest discredit would be thrown at once upon the employés whose duty it would have been to prevent the occurrence.
The other document, again might contain the following communication from the Governor-General of the adjoining province; whereas a murderer has escaped the hands of justice, and taken refuge in the Government of Smolensk, It devolves upon the Imperial employés of the Province of Smolensk to take at once the necessary steps for his immediate apprehension, and stop all such persons who cannot legitimate themselves with the necessary documents and passports.
These two imaginary, or perhaps, true documents, completely bewildered all. Their former apprehensions were completely lost sight of. Of course, it was perfectly impossible for them to suspect for a moment that these documents could have any reference, whatever, to their friend Tchichikoff, however, as they at last began to reason a little each for himself, it struck them at last that they could not positively tell, who and what Tchichikoff really was, and that he had given them a very indistinct account of himself, though he had told them, that he had suffered much for the just cause whilst in active service.
All this seemed to them now, not at all dear, or explicit at all, and especially when they recollected that he had told them also, that he had many enemies ready to feed on his very life's blood, it was then that they became still more thoughtful and pre-occupied; it must therefore be that his life was in danger, consequently he must have been doing something to put himself into such a jeopardy—and now the question arose among them, who was Tchichikoff really?
Of course, he could not be a manufacturer of false bank notes, nor could he be a murderer, because his appearance was in every respect that of a gentleman; nevertheless, who and what is he? And now only it was that the imperial employés of Smolensk addressed themselves the question, which they ought to have asked immediately in the beginning of their acquaintance with our hero. It was resolved upon, that some more inquiries should be made about him, from those persons from whom he had bought those dead serfs, thus to ascertain, if possible, what the nearer particulars of these purchases were, and what they would have to understand by the term of dead serfs, to know whether he had not inadvertently perhaps allowed a few remarks, or hints to slip from his tongue, of what his real intentions were, and if some of the contracting parties did not know something more positive about him.
First of all they applied to Lady Korobotchka, but from her they did not learn much; he had purchased her dead serfs for the paltry sum of fifteen silver roubles, had promised to buy some feathers and honey from her, and had stated that he was a contractor for the supply of tallow and grease, and for that reason was no doubt an impostor, for she had had already dealings with a man, who bought feathers and honey, and contracted for the supply of tallow and grease, and that that man had taken them in one and all, and cheated the wife of the proto-pope of two hundred silver roubles. Whatever else she said on the subject, was nothing but a repetition of her first statement, and the employés came to the conclusion that Lady Korobotchka, was nothing but a stupid, gossiping old woman.
Maniloff declared, that for his friend, Pavel Ivanovitch, he was ready to be as responsible as for himself, that he would sacrifice all his property if he could but possess the hundredth part of the good qualities of his friend Pavel Ivanovitch, in fact, he spoke of him in the most flattering terms, adding a few of his opinions on friendship and intimacy; this he did of course while shutting gently his sweet eyes. These expressions, of course, convinced the employés of the tenderness of Maniloff's heart, but were not at all calculated to enlighten them on the subject in question.
Sobakevitch affirmed, that Tchichikoff was a honest man, and that the serfs he had sold him were picked men, and in every respect perfectly alive; but that he could not be held responsible for what might happen in the course of time, that if they were to die in consequence of their emigration, which would be fraught with difficulties and dangers, that this would not be his fault, but the decrees of Providence; and as for fever and other mortal diseases, they were prevalent all over the world, and he knew of instances where such diseases had devastated a whole village in three days.
The imperial gentlemen had recourse to one last resource, though, we must confess, not a very gentlemanly act; though there are instances when it is done through the medium of an acquaintance with the servants of the persons interested; they, therefore, hit upon the idea of questioning Tchichikoff's attendants, asking them indirectly what they know of the former life, habits, and fortune, of their lord and master; but even with them they found themselves disappointed.
Petruschka communicated to them only the peculiar perfume of his bed-chamber; as for Selifan, he confided to them that his master had been in the imperial service, and had done his duty in the excise; but this is all they could learn from him. This latter class of people, namely, servants, have very peculiar habits, and might, in some degrees, stand a comparison with Irishmen. If you ask them a direct question, they are sure to give an indirect answer—never recollect anything—their mind is so much confused that they will simply answer, 'that they knows nothing about anything;' but if you happen to deviate from your original question, and speak of something else, they are sure to return to the original question; and, whether you like it or not, they will give you all the desired particulars, even such as you do not care to listen to.
All the researches and inquiries of the imperial men, proved in the end, that they had no positive information about Tchichikoff; nevertheless, they came to the conclusion that he must be something. They decided, at last, upon talking the matter over once more, and settle, definitely, how to act in this very complicated affair—what measures they would have to take in order to ascertain, positively, who Tchichikoff really was; whether he was a man who ought to be apprehended at once as a malefactor, or whether he was a man who had the power and authority to seize and apprehend them as malefactors.
For this purpose it was agreed upon, that they should assemble all the next day at the house of the Commissioner of the Police, who, as is well known to our readers, was the father and benefactor of all the inhabitants of the town of Smolensk.
The next day the employés or officers of the crown, holding various appointments in the public offices of Smolensk, mustered in great numbers at the house of the Commissioner of Police, who was, as we have said before, the father and benefactor of all the inhabitants of the town. These gentlemen had now an opportunity of making the observation, that they had considerably changed in appearance since the preceding day, and that they looked pale and discomfited in consequence of their mental exertions.
And really, the appointment of a new Governor-General, the two documents containing such very serious information, coupled with the present occurrence and the widely-spread reports about those dead serfs, were sufficient in themselves to effect such changes in their countenance and bodily appearance, for the coats of some of them fitted them by far too comfortably.
All had given way: the President of the Council was changed, and the Inspector of the Imperial and other hospitals seemed no longer the same man, and the unflinching Procurator even had undergone an alteration, nor could a certain Semen Ivanovitch, whose real family name never transpired, be called the same man; he had the mania of showing off most cleverly a large finger ring which he wore on his first finger, both to ladies and gentlemen, but now he seemed not even to be aware of its being still on the same finger.
Of course, there were some few, as there always will be, stout-hearted men among them; but their number was very limited indeed. The Postmaster-General seemed the only one who had not given way to the prevalent panic, which was evident in the countenances of all the others present. He alone had not undergone the least change in his continually even character, and continued to behave as he was wont to do on similar occasions, by repeating his customary phrases.
"We know you, know you well, and what you are, you new Governor-General! Men of your description are changed and appointed three and four times in the course of a few years, but as for me Sirs, I have been sitting for these last thirty years in the same place."
To this and similar observations, the others invariably used to reply:
"'Tis all very fine for you to sprechen sie deutsch, Ivan Andreitch; your duty is a posting one; to receive and dispatch letters is your department, the only chance you have, is perhaps to close your office an hour sooner than you have a right, and extract late postages from our tradesmen, making them believe that you have a half-holiday, and that if you forward their letters, it is a favour you show them, or you send off a letter-bag which you ought to have kept back. Certainly with such easy tasks anybody could be a saint. And besides, though you are a married man, you have but one son and heir, but look upon me and my Praskovia Fedorovna, Heaven has blessed us uncommonly, for with every year our family increases, and it is either another Praskovia or another Fedor, we have to welcome to this world. No, no, Procurator, if you were in our position, you would sing another tune."
Thus the others spoke to the Postmaster-General.
In the council assembled, at the present moment, it was very remarkable that there was a total absence of that indispensable requirement which is usually called common sense and order. And here, in this instance the author feels himself called upon to pass the observation, that somehow or another, we Russians are not fit for public meetings, and have no talent for public speaking. In all our public assemblies, beginning from the peasants' peaceful gatherings, up to the most scientific and learned committees, if there is not one leading head among them to guide them all, it is sure to happen that confusion occupies the chair. It is very difficult for us to say why it is thus; no doubt, such is the character of the nation, and the only successful assemblies which we know of, are those, which are called together for the purposes of general enjoyment, such as eating, drinking, and dancing, as is customary in club-houses, and Vauxhalls—a foreign introduction.
But as for readiness and disposition, we are always ready, feel always ready for anything that is new. We are always ready, and at the first hint given, rush forward to establish benevolent institutions; institutions for the promotion of industry, agriculture, and heaven knows what description of institutions we are not ready to support. The object in view seems sublime, but there is this evil, the object remains in view, en perspective. It might perhaps be attributed to our sanguine beginning which makes us fancy that the object in view is accomplished by its beginning.
As an example we may here allude to a committee that was formed in the very town of Smolensk for the speedy relief of the peasantry suffering from famine. This committee had the laudable intention of affording considerable and immediate relief to the poor sufferers, and for that reason large subscriptions were made by the principal inhabitants. The gentlemen who had promoted this laudable undertaking resolved at once, that a grand dinner should be given to the subscribers, and in honour of the promoters, including the high notables of the town; this public dinner absorbed the half of the money subscribed for the poor sufferers; for the remainder of the money, a splendidly furnished house was hired for the exclusive use of the gentlemen forming the committee, including fire and attendance for their lordships, and the result of the munificent subscriptions showed that there were about five roubles and a half to be divided among a few hundred hungry sufferers, and in the division of this sum, there were a few of the gentlemen forming the benevolent committee who could not agree, and every one gave his reason why! The committee at present assembled had met for quite a different purpose; it was formed in consequence of unavoidable necessity. No starving sufferers were here the object. The question concerned every man present personally; the question was one threatening woe to all, it was therefore indispensable that unanimity should reign predominant.
The result was far from being satisfactory. Saying nothing about the difference of opinions, which is natural to any assembly; in the opinion of the council thus assembled, there was an undefinable inconsistency prevalent, and loudly expressed: the one said "that Tchichikoff was the manufacturer of the false bank notes," and then immediately added, "however, I might be mistaken;" another insisted upon it "that Tchichikoff was the private secretary, and the right-hand of the new Governor-General," and then concluded with the observation—"however, I could not swear to it, for it is not stamped on his forehead, that he is the man I take him to be."
As to the supposition that he might be the murderer in disguise, all pronounced unanimously their disbelief; because they found, that excepting his personal appearance, which bespoke him to be a well disposed gentleman, there had been nothing in his manners or language to justify them in suspecting him of being such a mean and criminal offender.
Suddenly, the Postmaster-General, after having remained for several minutes buried in his usual musings and reflexions, whether in consequence of a sudden inspiration that seemed to overcome him, or from any other cause, exclaimed quite unexpectedly—"do you know, gentleman, who this man is?"
The voice in which he pronounced these words had something of a terrifying tone, for it made all present startle, and shout at the same time—"who is he?"
"Gentlemen, this man is—it is nobody else but Capitan Kopeikin himself!"
And when all in one voice asked again—"but who is the Capitan Kopeikin?" the Postmaster General said:
"So you do not know who the Capitan Kopeikin is?"
All answered at once "that they did not know who the Capitan Kopeikin was, nor had they ever heard of him before."
"Capitan Kopeikin," continued the Postmaster General, as he opened his snuff-box only half-way for fear, lest one or the other of his neighbours should venture to put his fingers in it, the cleanliness of which he very much suspected. "Capitan Kopeikin," said the Postmaster, after having had already his pinch of snuff, "if I was to tell you who he is, it would be long and interesting enough for a novel."
All present expressed a wish to know the history of the Capitan, because they took it for granted it would be that of Tchichikoff himself; and the Postmaster-General announced his readiness to comply with their request, and began in the following terms;—
"Capitan Kopeikin was, at the time I am speaking of, one of the most valiant officers in the Russian service. In his last campaign against the Turks he stood, with his brave company, before the very gates of Adrianople, where he lost an arm and a leg, swearing at the same time that it was a shame on the part of the commanding generals to prevent them entering Adrianople as conquerors, and proceeding at once to Constantinople, which would have been a mere joke for them, and which they would have eventually to do. However, peace was proclaimed at Adrianople, and with one leg and one arm less he proceeded."....
"But pardon me, Ivan Andreitch," the Commissioner of Police, interrupted him, "before you proceed any farther with the history of your Capitan Kopeikin, allow me to observe to you that our stranger, Tchichikoff, boasts of very strong and healthy-looking legs and arms, and, according to your own words, Capitan Kopeikin, lost of each one, before the very gates of Adrianople."....
Here the Postmaster-General shouted out, and struck himself a violent blow at his forehead, calling himself in public, and in the presence of all assembled, "a stupid old ass." He could not explain it to himself, how a similar circumstance did not strike his attention at the very beginning, and he confessed that the old proverb was perfectly true, that a Russian was very strong in after-thoughts.
However, a few minutes later, he tried immediately to amend his blunder, and if possible to get out of the scrape in which he had placed himself, saying, that at the last Universal Exhibition in England, where mechanism had been carried to the highest perfection, a certain Mr. Brown had invented a pair of mechanical legs, which, if touched in a particular place, where an invisible spring was fixed, would carry a man, Heaven knows how far, so far indeed, that it would be perfectly impossible to find him again anywhere.
However, this explanation was not sufficient to make them believe that Capitan Kopeikin and Tchichikoff were the same person; and they agreed that the Postmaster-General's explanations were too far fetched.
After this last suggestion it will not seem surprising at all that the gentlemen assembled began to reflect more seriously on the subject; however, after a little while they began to rally again, finding that their imagination was at a loss for something more probable.
Thinking, and thinking again, and after mature reflections, they came to the conclusion, that it would be advisable to question Nosdrieff on the subject; as he had been the first to bring the dead serfs on the tapis, and as he seemed to be in every respect on very intimate terms with Tchichikoff, it was consequently clear to them, that he was the most likely person to give them some more positive information regarding Tchichikoff's past life; they therefore decided on seeing and questioning Nosdrieff without any further delay.
This resolution, the last they had come to, was a very strange one indeed, because they knew perfectly well that Nosdrieff was a professed story-teller, and it was impossible to believe a word of what he said, and that he could in no way be depended upon even in the merest trifle; nevertheless, and perhaps for that very reason, they rushed away to have recourse to him. Humanity is strange indeed! Many a man doubts Providence, but believes steadfastly that if the bridge of his nose itches, he is sure to die soon; he will leave unnoticed the creation of a genius, dear as noon-day, full of consistencies, perfect in its simplicity and truth, to throw himself upon the humbug invented or advanced by a charlatan, and believe and trust in it blindly, and exclaim at the same time, "This is the real representative of the secrets of the heart!" or, having never paid in his life a copek to a physician, he will in the extremest case apply to an old woman-quack, who cures with simples and incantations like a witch, or who boils down some drugs, which, heaven knows why, he fancies to be the very remedy for his complaint.
Of course, and in some degree the imperial employés might in many respects be excused, for they really were in one of the most unpleasant and embarrassing positions, as regarded their character and reputation. The drowning man, it is said, catches even at a straw, because at the time of his danger he has not the faculty of judging that a fly only could perhaps save its life on a straw, and that, as for himself, he weighed at least his twelve to sixteen stone, if not more; however, this reflection seems not to occur to the drowning man, and for that reason he catches at a straw.
Thus it was also with our gentlemen assembled; they at last resolved on catching at Nosdrieff. The Commissioner of Police dropped him a line instantly, inviting him to pass the evening with them, and his assistant courier in his long top-boots and rosy cheeks, rushed immediately out into the street, to take the message to Nosdrieff. Nosdrieff was engaged on very important business; for four consecutive days he had not left his room; he permitted no one to quit the house, and received his dinner through the window; in a word, he had grown feeble and emaciated.
His business demanded the most persevering attention; it consisted in the selection of from more than ten dozen packs of cards, of one select pack, upon which he might be able to depend as upon his most intimate friend. The work he had before him was sufficient to last him yet for two weeks longer; for the course of this time, Porphir had received instructions to take particular care of the young dog, and to wash him three times a day with a peculiar brush and plenty of soap.
Nosdrieff was very angry indeed that any one should have come to disturb his solitude; at first he refused to listen at all to the Commissioner's messenger, but when he read the P.S. which informed him, that it was more than likely that the evening party would be attended by a novice, and that there would be a little gambling, he dressed himself immediately, and left his solitude to comply with the invitation.
The appearance, testimony, and suppositions of Nosdrieff presented such contradictory evidence that the gentlemen of the council were completely thrown out of their latest conclusion on the subject of their important investigations. Nosdrieff was one of those men for whom suppositions and doubts did not exist, and whatever extent of indecision and timidity was perceptible in their conjectures, it was met by him with as much perseverance and conviction, and he answered every one of their inquiries without stammering even once, nor feeling in the least embarrassed.
He affirmed that Tchichikoff had bought dead serfs for a considerable amount, and that he himself had sold him some, because he could not see any harm in doing so. Upon the question, whether he did not believe him to be a spy sent from St. Petersburgh to collect secret information regarding the administration of Smolensk, Nosdrieff answered, that he was confident that his friend Tchichikoff was a spy in the pay of the government, because, said he, when we were school-fellows we used to call him the fiscal, but at the same time, he got many a sound thrashing for it from us, and from myself in particular.
"I now remember a circumstance when we had so very much ill-used him that he was obliged to go home, and have immediately two hundred and forty leeches applied to his temples"—that is to say, he intended to make it forty, but the two hundred additional slipped from his tongue in spite of himself.
When he was asked whether he did not think that Tchichikoff was the manufacturer of false bank notes, he answered in the affirmative, and at the same time told them an anecdote of the great cleverness of Tchichikoff, saying, that it once so happened that he, Tchichikoff, being positively traced as the imitator of bank notes, and that he had about two millions worth in his possession, his house was immediately surrounded by a detachment of soldiers, each of the doors being sealed and guarded by two men, but during the same night Tchichikoff managed to change the two millions worth of spurious notes into genuine imperial bank bills.
To the direct question, whether Tchichikoff had really the intention of carrying out his elopement with the Governor-General's daughter, and whether it was true that he had undertaken to assist them in their flight, Nosdrieff replied, that he must confess, that he had particularly helped and assisted him, and that without him, they would not have had the least chance of success.
Here he perceived, but too late, that he had compromised himself by this statement, without, however, being able to stop the fluency of the tongue. However, it was also difficult to stop his talkativeness, because the subject in itself was one that presented so many interesting incidents, and he could not resist the temptation of inventing them; he even gave the name of the particular village, where the church stood on a hill surrounded by a small wood, through which they had to pass in order to proceed to the nuptial ceremony, the name of the pope who had to wed them before the altar, was father Sidor; for his services and discretion he was to receive a hundred roubles, but he at first declined to accede to their request, but that he, Nosdrieff, reminded the holy father that he had married lately his peasant Michael to his cousin, Katinka, and which was an act contrary to the laws of the Greek church, and that if he refused to marry his friend and his lovely bride, he would at once inform against him, that he had put at their disposal his own carriage and horses, and that he had gone on horseback, from station to station to provide re-lay horses for the fugitives. He went even so far in his particulars as regarded the elopement, that he begun to call out the names of every one of the jamtchicks who drove the carriage.
The Imperial men remained now in a worse position than they were in the beginning of their investigations, and the meeting was broken up, after they had fully agreed upon the fact, it was impossible to them to discover who Tchichikoff was.
All these reports, conjectures and gossips on account of Tchichikoff had, for some incomprehensible reasons, had the most fatal effect upon the constitution of the poor Imperial Procurator. They had acted upon him to such a degree, that he, on his return home from the meeting, from some cause or another fell down and was found to be dead. Whether it was a paralytic stroke or any other that put a term to his existence is difficult to say, but the fact is, that when he sat down upon his chair, he had done so to rise no more.
But this is incredible, altogether inconsistent! it is impossible that the Imperial employés could so foolishly alarm themselves; imagine all such nonsense, thus deviate from the truth, when even a child could comprehend the matter. Thus will many of our readers think and reproach us with having advanced an incredible occurrence, or call the imperial employés stupid fellows, because men are liberal in words like, fool and ass, and are ready and willing to apply them even twenty times a day, if their fellow creatures give them but a chance.
It is very easy for a reader to pass a judgment, considering that he has the whole plot before him, and is seated in his snug corner, occupying thus a perfectly independent position, from which he has the whole horizon at a glance before him, and sees, as it were, what is going on below him, where the creeping men see but that which is close before them.
As for Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, he had not the slightest idea of the reports that were circulating on his account, and, as if misfortunes never come alone, it so happened, that at this very time he was suffering from a severe cold in his face, and an influenza in his throat, both indispositions to which we are very subject in our larger towns. In order to avoid any danger to his life by this indisposition, from which Heaven preserve him! and the fear that he might perhaps die in consequence without leaving any descendants behind him, he resolved upon staying at home for a few days.
During the course of these days, he kept continually using ointments, and rinsing his throat with warm milk and figs in it, the latter fruit he always used to eat when he had used the lotion, he also wore a small pillow on his face, filled with herbs and camphor. Wishing to occupy his leisure time as pleasantly as possible, he began to write over again the various lists of the dead serfs he had been purchasing, read a little of the "Wandering Jew," translated from the French, which he happened to find in his portmanteau, he reviewed and glanced over all the contents of his dressing-case, such as notes, visiting cards and invitations to weddings and funerals, some of them he even had the courage to read over twice, nevertheless, he soon got tired of continually doing the same thing.
He could not at all account for the fact, how it happened that he did not see a single visitor, when but a few days ago the droschkies and carriages of the imperial employés were continually standing and waiting in a line before the inn, among his most frequent visitors he was accustomed to see the carriage of the Postmaster General, the Procurator's, or the President of the Council.
He shrugged his shoulders at the thought of it as he was walking up and down his room, applying the poultice to his swollen cheek. At last, however, he felt considerably better, and was rejoiced, Heaven knows to what extent, when he saw a possibility before him of leaving the house and walking out into the fresh air. Without any further delay, he betook himself immediately to the process of dressing, opened his toilette case, poured some hot water into a glass, took his shaving brush and soap, and prepared to shave himself, for which process it had been long ago the highest time; because, feeling his beard with his hand, and then looking at it in the looking-glass before him, he could not help exclaiming: "What a forest-like beard I have got in a few days, to be sure." And really, though it could not have been called a forest, yet his cheeks and chin were thickly covered with what might be termed a neglected growth.
After having shaved carefully, he began to dress so quickly and lively, so that he nearly jumped out of his trowsers again. At last, he was perfectly dressed, he took up his Eau de Cologne, with which he sprinkled himself all over, and after putting on a warmer over-coat, and wrapping his cheek carefully in a silk handkerchief, he went out into the street.
His first walk out was like that of every person recovering from an indisposition; he felt cheerful and well-disposed. All that his sight met, seemed gay and pleasant to look at, the houses, the passing multitude, the carriages and horses and even the running dogs.
His first morning visit he intended to pay to his Excellency the Governor-General of Smolensk. On his road to the house of the Lord-Lieutenant, many a thought crossed his mind. The fair blondine kept continually turning about in his head; his fancy for her even began to roam, so much so that he could at last not help smiling at it himself. In such a pleasant disposition he arrived at the house of the Governor-General. He was on the point of taking off his over-coat in the hall, when the porter surprised him with the following unexpected information.
"I have orders not to receive you, Sir."
"What, how, surely you don't recognise me again. You had better look me well in the face," said Tchichikoff to the man.
"How should I not know you again, Sir? It is not the first time I have seen you in this house. But the instructions I have received are very positive indeed; they refer to you alone; all other visitors are to be admitted as before."
"You don't mean that! Why me alone? what for?"
"Such are my orders, and I dare say it must be all right," said the porter, and added finally the words, "yes." After saying this, he remained coolly standing before Tchichikoff, showing no signs of his usual servility to hasten forward and help the guest of his master to take off his over-coat. It seemed, as he looked upon the stranger, that he thought, "Oho! if my master does not wish to receive you any more under his roof, you must have behaved badly, and be an impostor."
"Incomprehensible!" thought Tchichikoff to himself, and went immediately to wait upon his friend the President; but the President became so confused at the sight of our hero, that he could not speak two words intelligibly and uttered such nonsense that both felt at last perfectly ashamed of one another.' As he left the house, Tchichikoff tried to explain to himself, on his road, what the President's words were meant to express, and especially a few insinuations that had dropped in the course of their conversation, however he could explain nothing.
He then went to pay his visits to a few more, to the Commissioner of Police, to the Vice-Governor, to the Postmaster-General, but they either did not receive him, or if they did, at least, all spoke in such a strange manner, and in such incomprehensible terms, and seemed in his opinion at such a loss for anything reasonable to say, that he left them under the impression that they were wrong in their minds. He called upon a few more on his road home, thinking that he would at last be able to find out a real cause for their unwarrantable conduct; however he could not discover any cause whatever.
Like a somnambulist he continued to wander about for some time in the streets of the town, perfectly incapable of deciding, whether it was he or the Imperial employés who had lost their senses.
It was already late in the evening when he returned to his hotel, which he had left in the early day, in such an excellent disposition, to chase away the annoyance he felt, he immediately ordered some tea. Engaged with melancholy reflections on his suddenly changed position vis-à-vis his acquaintance in town, he began to pour out his tea, when the door of his room was suddenly opened, and he beheld Nosdrieff standing unexpectedly before him.
"The proverb says, 'for a friend seven miles even are no distance,'" said Nosdrieff as he entered the room and took off his hat. "I was just passing the inn, saw a light in your room, thought to myself, I'll call upon him, he is surely not in bed yet, and here I am. Ah, delightful! you have yet your tea on the table; I shall have great pleasure to take a cup with you. I have made a very indifferent dinner to-day, and feel the consequences even now, just give orders to your servant to bring me a pipe. Where is your pipe?"
"I don't smoke," said Tchichikoff, dryly.
"Nonsense! as if I did not know that you are an inveterate smoker. Halloa! what's that fellow's name? Halloa, Vachramei, where are you?"
"His name is not Vachramei, but Petruschka."
"How is this? but you used to have a servant of the name of Vachramei formerly."
"I never had a servant of that name in my life."
"Just so, my friend Derebischkin has a Vachramei. By the bye, imagine only what a lucky fellow that Derebischkin is. An aunt of his, having quarrelled with her own son for marrying the daughter of one of her serfs, has disinherited him, and left the whole of her property to my friend Derebischkin. When I heard of it, I could not help wishing for a couple of such aunts. But what is the matter with you, my dear fellow, why have you become a stranger, and are no more seen among us? Of course I know that you are sometimes engaged on scientific subjects, and like to play the original, and read and study, (why Nosdrieff came to the conclusion that our hero was fond of reading, and studying scientific subjects, is impossible for us to tell, and still less for Tchichikoff himself). "Ah, my dear fellow Tchichikoff, if you could but have witnessed it—it would have been excellent food for your satirical wit, (why Tchichikoff was possessed of satirical wit, it was also impossible to say.) Imagine only, my dear fellow, we were gambling a little the other evening at Lichatcheff's house, we had such a lark there! My friend Perependeiff, who was with me, said what a pity that our Tchichikoff is not with us, he would have heartily enjoyed the fun—(meanwhile it must be observed that Tchichikoff never in his whole life knew a man of the name of Perependeiff.) However, I hope, my dear fellow, you will agree with me, that you acted very ungentlemanly to me on the last occasion, when we played that game of draughts, in which I was the winner. Yes, my dear fellow, I cannot help saying, you regularly did me out of it. However, the devil knows I cannot get angry on any account. It is but recently, that I and the President...."
"Halloa! and by the bye, I must tell you, my dear fellow, that the whole town is against you, they are under the impression that you are a manufacturer of spurious bank notes, they pressed hard upon me, but I defended you like a brother, I made them believe we were school-fellows, and that I knew your father; you may depend upon it, my dear fellow, I made them swallow a regular blue pill."
"What do you say, I am suspected of making false bank notes?" exclaimed Tchichikoff in a fit of amazement, as he rose from his chair.
"But what pleasure could you also find in frightening them nearly out of their senses?" continued Nosdrieff. "I can assure you, my dear fellow, they are nearly all mad from fear; they believe you also to be a highwayman, and an imperial spy. As for the Procurator, the poor fellow died in consequence of your reputation, and is to be buried to-morrow. Will you attend the funeral? To speak the truth, they are horribly alarmed at the new Governor-General, who has been appointed by the Emperor. However, my dear fellow, I cannot help making the observation; but you play a hazardous game."
"What hazardous game do you mean?" Tchichikoff again asked, rather alarmed.
"Well, I mean your projected elopement with the present Governor-General's daughter. For my part, I must confess, I expected as much of you, by heavens I thought you would do it! The first time I saw you both together at the ball, I thought to myself, I'm sure Tchichikoff is not the fellow to take so much trouble for nothing. However, allow me to tell you, that I do not exactly approve of your choice, I cannot find anything particularly attractive in that fair girl. I would have liked her cousin, Anastasia Bikousova better, she is a charming little thing!"
"But stop, stop, what nonsense are you talking there? What did you say—I was going to elope with the Lord Lieutenant's daughter?" Tchichikoff stammered, opening his eyes widely.
"Well, my dear fellow, now don't you presume to be so very mysterious about the matter. I must confess, I came here with an intention. I am ready to assist you in the speculation. Be it so: I am willing to hold the nuptial crown over your head, I am ready to place my carriage and the relay horses at your disposal, but you must lend me a sum of five thousand roubles. I want them, I want them desperately, my dear fellow!"
During the whole time the prattling of Nosdrieff lasted, Tchichikoff continued to rub his eyes, wishing to convince himself whether he was under the impression of a dream, or whether he was listening to something in reality. Manufacturer of false bank notes, the elopement with the Governor-General's daughter, the death of the Imperial Procurator, which he was given to understand was caused by him, the appointment and speedy arrival of a new Lord-Lieutenant, all this was calculated to alarm him considerably. If matters have come to this point, he thought to himself, I have no reason to tarry any longer here, and it is the highest time for me to leave town immediately.
He tried to rid himself as soon as possible of Nosdrieff's company, in which he at last succeeded, but not without some considerable difficulty. He then called in his servant Selifan, and gave him instructions to be ready by the break of day, in order that they should have no impediments in leaving Smolensk by six o'clock in the morning, everything should be packed and ready, the britchka well greased, the horses cleaned, &c., &c.
Selifan answered: "very well, Pavel Ivanovitch," but remained nevertheless for a few moments immoveable at the door. Tchichikoff ordered Petruschka to draw forward from under the bed his portmanteau, which was covered with a thick layer of dust, he began to assist his servant in the packing of all his property indiscriminately into it, such as stockings, shirts, and other clean and unwashed linen, boot-jacks, an almanack—all these effects were placed into the portmanteau as they happened to come under their hands; he intended to have everything absolutely ready in the evening, so that nothing should prevent or delay his departure in the morning.
Selifan who had, as we before said, remained silently standing at the door, when he saw the preparation for his master's departure carried on so vigorously, at last left the room in a hurry.
Hurriedly, as hurriedly as it is possible to imagine it, he descended the staircase, imprinting the marks of his wet footsteps on the stairs, on arriving below he stopped short, and began to scratch the back of his head for a considerable rime.
What this scratching of his head meant, or what it in general was meant for, is difficult to say, but it is a characteristic trait of persons in his condition. Was it the disappointment, that he would not be able to go the next evening once more with his brother servant across the street to the cellar like imperial dram-shop, or had it, perhaps, happened that he had already succeeded during their protracted sojourn in Smolensk, in forming a tender attachment of the heart with some neighbour's kitchen-maid, and that he would have to bid farewell to his fair girl, and that there would be an end to their tender conversation before the gate, where with his balalaika in his hand he used to give her an evening song.
Or, again was he simply sorry to leave a place to which he had just begun to accustom himself, and feel cozy and comfortable near the kitchen fire wrapped in his greasy sheep-skin, eating porridge and sour cabbage soup with fat meat-pies; leave all these comforts for the purpose of travelling again in rain and storm, and be tossed about on his master's britchka?
Heaven alone knows what it meant, but it has many and innumerable meanings with the Russian people, when they begin to scratch the back of their head.
Nothing, however, of all that Tchichikoff had projected on the preceding evening, so happened on the following morning. In the first instance, he awoke considerably later than he wished; this was the first annoyance. Scarcely had he risen from his couch, when he sent immediately to inquire whether the horses were harnessed and before the britchka, and whether all was ready for his departure, but he was informed that neither the horses nor the britchka, nor anything was ready for his immediate departure. This was the second annoyance.
He flew into a violent passion, and had first, the intention of treating our friend Selifan to something in the Russian fashion, for the disregard thus shown to his orders, however he preferred waiting impatiently to hear first what excuse he would come to offer. Soon after, Selifan made his appearance in the room, and his lord and master had the gratification of listening to the same language which is usually spoken by servants on similar occasions, when their masters are in a hurry to start on their journey without delay.
"Your glory, I must inform you that the horses will require to be shod."
"Oh, you pig! you stupid blockhead! and why have you hot told me of this before? Had you no time to do it?"
"As for time, I cannot complain of—But allow me also to tell you, Pavel Ivanovitch, that one of the wheels wants a new tyre very sadly indeed, the roads have become very bad during these last few rainy days. And will your glory allow me also to observe, that the driving-box of the britchka is altogether out of repair and shaky, so much so that I fear it will not hold together for more than two or three stations."
"You rascal, you!" shouted Tchichikoff, raising his arms, and clapping his hands together, and approaching Selifan so closely, that he, prompted by fear of receiving an unpleasant treat, stepped hastily backwards, and remained at a respectful distance.
"Do you want to kill me? aye? do you wish to cut my throat? Have you formed a conspiracy to slaughter me on the high road? you robber, you infernal pig you, you marine monster, you! For three weeks and more you have been sitting here at your ease, but the thought could never come into your blockhead to think of this before? ah? but now at the eleventh hour you put your nose at last upon it! how am I now to get in and drive off? eh? such is always the case with you, you rascal, and now you have let me again in a mess! ah? ah? But you ought to have known all this before? didn't you know it? ah? eh? Answer me. Did you know it? ah? eh?"
"I knew it, your glory," answered Selifan, bending down his head.
"And why didn't you tell me of it before? ah? eh?"
To this question Selifan gave no answer at all, but bending down his head still lower, he seemed to say to himself: "Look here, how strangely all this has happened, to be sure: I knew all about it but said nothing!"
"And now, Sir, you go instantly, bring me a blacksmith, and mind that everything requisite is done and attended to in two hours. Do you hear and understand me? absolutely in two hours, and if you are not ready, then you know what the result will be. I shall drive you into a bull's horn, and tie you up with a knot." Our hero's anger had risen to a considerable pitch.
Selifan turned round to the door, as if with the intention of leaving the room, and executing his master's instructions; however, he stopped short, and said:
"I have forgotten to mention to your glory, that it would be a good plan to sell the tiger-spotted horse, because he is—I can assure you, Pavel Ivanovitch, the greatest idler and rascal I ever had to do with, he is such a horse, as I would pray Heaven to deliver me from."
"Well, I'm sure! you don't mean to say, Sir, that I am going to run to the marketplace, and sell a horse to please you?"
"I invoke my patron saint as a witness, Pavel Ivanovitch, but that horse has only the appearance of a good horse, but at work he is the greatest rogue and idler. Such a horse—"
"Stupid donkey, I shall sell my horses when I choose. Do not presume to argue with me, but mind what I am telling you now; if you don't go instantly to fetch me a blacksmith, and if everything is not ready within two hours, you may depend upon such a combing—such a combing that you will have every difficulty in recognizing your own face again! Leave me! be off!"
Selifan left the room.
Tchichikoff had now lost even the slightest vestige of good temper, and kept thumping his old rusty sword on the ground, which travelled with him wherever he went, for the purpose of inspiring with due respect all those whom it concerned. He spent more than a quarter of an hour with the blacksmith before he could agree as to the terms for his job, because the blacksmith as is customary with them, was an impudent fellow, who perceiving that the gentleman was in a hurry, demanded of him six times his due.
It was of no use for Tchichikoff to reason with the man, to call him a scoundrel, robber, preying upon the unwary traveller, notwithstanding even his allusion to the day of judgment, he could produce no impression upon the hardened blacksmith; he maintained his iron character to the last; he not only insisted upon his own price, but even continued to job about his work exactly five hours and a half, instead of two hours.
During the whole of this time, Tchichikoff had the advantage of experiencing all the pleasant sensations, so very familiar to every traveller who has his portmanteaus ready packed, and useless papers and strings lying strewn about in the room, when a man does not yet deserve to be called a traveller, and when he also may not be called a fixed resident; in such a position let us imagine him standing before the window in his room, looking down into the street, where he beholds a busy crowd passing along, talking of their grievances, and with a meaningless curiosity lifting their eyes to look upon him, and then again continuing their conversation, and passing on their way, which still more annoys the disappointed, not yet journeying traveller. Whatever it may be, and whatever he may see, whether a little shop on the other side of the street, or the head of an old woman living in the opposite house, as she approaches the window, ornamented with old fashioned curtains, the sight of all this displeases and annoys him considerably, but still, and for all that, he will not leave his position. He continues to stand there fixedly, soon forgetting, then again looking steadfastly at everything before him, whether animate or inanimate; and out of pure vexation kills a poor fly, which had been already for some time buzzing and beating against the window pane.
However, there is an end to everything, and the long wished for moment has at last arrived; all was ready, the driving seat of the britchka was repaired most carefully, a new iron tyre fixed around the wheel, the horses led forward from their draining cup, and the impudent blacksmith, after receiving his pay, and counting the silver roubles, wished smilingly a pleasant journey to the traveller he had so shamelessly provoked.
At last the britchka was ready to start, and two hot cakes just brought were immediately placed into it by Petruschka, whilst Selifan stocked the leather pockets of his seat with similar eatables, at last our hero himself escorted, and received by the flourish of numerous caps, and the ever attentive head waiter, in the same demi-cotton jacket and napkin across his shoulder, made his appearance before his travelling carriage, where he was greeted by a number of waiters, coachmen and idlers, who like to be always present on similar occasions; the gentleman traveller took possession of his high seat, and the britchka, that particular travelling carriage, to which bachelors and retired Stabz-capitäns give the preference, and which had been standing under a shed for so long a time in the town of Smolensk; and whose inactivity may have already begun to fatigue our reader, at last drove out through the gates of the inn.
"I praise thee, O Lord!" said Tchichikoff to himself, while making a devout sign of the cross, which is customary among the faithful believers in the Greek church. Selifan made his whip crack, and used it immediately upon all three horses in succession; Petruschka kept running for awhile close to the carriage, and then jumping cleverly upon the wheel step, he took his seat next to his brother servant; and our hero, seating himself still more comfortably upon his small Persian carpet, and carefully placing a leather cushion behind his back, unconsciously flattened the two hot cakes, and the light carriage began to roll and shake again quickly over the wretched pavement, which had the effect of tossing the occupant considerably about.
It was with an indefinable feeling that Tchichikoff now began to look round him, at the houses, walls, gardens and streets, which on their part seemed also to be tossing about, until at last they disappeared before his sight, and which, Heaven knows he will perhaps never have the chance of seeing again during his life. At the turning of one of the streets, the britchka was suddenly obliged to stop, because of a funeral procession, which was just slowly bending its way across the street; it was headed as usual by a dozen mourners in deep black, carrying burning torches in their hands, and followed by the bearers of the military and civil orders, worn by the deceased, and then by the funeral car and its followers.
Tchichikoff leaning forward ordered Petruschka to inquire who it was whom they were thus leading to his grave, and he received the answer that it was the right honorable the Imperial Procurator. Overwhelmed with unpleasant sensations and recollections, he immediately lent back into the farthest corner of his carriage, and covered himself with the carriage apron, and drew down the leather curtains.
At the time when the britchka was thus stopped, Selifan and Petruschka took their caps off with great fervour, and made the usual sign of the cross, and began to gape about and see who were present, and how they were following the mournful and exceedingly long procession, trying to count the number of those that were walking, and those that were driving in their own carriages behind the funeral car; their master, after having cautioned them not to recognise nor salute any of the servants with whom they might have made acquaintance, also begun to look, or rather peep attentively through the small glass square fixed in the leather curtains; he beheld nearly all the Imperial employés of his acquaintance forming the majority of the chief mourners. He began to feel alarmed lest they should accidentally recognise his carriage, however this was but a false alarm, their minds were differently pre-occupied.
They were even not occupied with any worldly talk, such as is usually carried on between persons that follow a funeral. All their thoughts, at that time, were principally concentrated upon themselves; they were thinking and asking themselves the question—what kind of a man the newly-appointed Governor-general would be, with what energy he would undertake his duties, and how he would receive them.
Behind the Imperial employés, who followed all walking, came the carriages from which ladies in mourning gowns were putting out their heads to look about them. By the movements of their lips and hands, it could easily be conjectured that they were engaged in lively conversation; very likely they also spoke of the arrival of the new Governor-general, and tried to imagine what kind of balls and routs he would be likely to give on the occasion of his new appointment; and they seemed very anxious about their new dresses with the recent fashionable improvement of festoons and ornaments all over.
The private carriages were followed by a few empty droschkies, which concluded the procession, and at last the road was free and open again for our hero's britchka, which began to speed on to make up for lost time.
Opening now freely again the leather curtains of his carriages, Tchichikoff heaved a deep sigh, and pronounced, as if from the innermost of his soul:
"There he went, the Imperial Procurator; he has lived and lived until he has come to his death! and now they will advertise in the newspapers, that his existence has terminated to the unspeakable regret of his inferiors and superiors, as well as to humanity at large, a respected citizen, a rare father, a beloved husband, and much more, they will print in his memory; add perhaps, that he was followed to his grave not only by his numerous friends, but also by many widows and orphans of the town; but if we were to examine your virtues and qualities more minutely and conscientiously, we would find perhaps nothing more remarkable than your bushy and heavy eyebrows."
After having concluded this observation, our hero ordered Selifan to speed on his horses, and meanwhile thought to himself—"however, it is rather lucky that I have met with a funeral procession; it is said that it prognosticates good fortune to meet with the dead."
Meanwhile, the britchka turned and passed through the more lonely and distant streets; soon after Tchichikoff saw only the long and uniform wooden walls of gardens and enclosed building grounds, which announced the end of the town. And now there was an end to the wretched pavement; and he had passed the last military frontier of the town of Smolensk, which now remained behind him; and he was again on the free and high wide road. And again, on either side of the britchka, were woods and forests, and fields and plains, brooks and wells, military posts, and grey villages, with chatting old women, and idle peasants, looking out from their huge beards, like a bear from his den.
At first, the changing scenes around him did not make any particular impression upon his mind; but by degrees, and as he continued to turn round to convince himself, that the town of Smolensk was really behind him, and nearly hidden from his sight, he began to pay a little more attention to the high road, and to his own reflections, which begun so fully to preoccupy his mind, that Smolensk was as much out of his mind as out of his sight; and he really fancied that he had merely passed through once in his early childhood. At last, even the high road ceased to possess any attractions whatever for him, and he began slightly to incline his head upon the leather pillow, and close his eyes.
Our hero was suddenly aroused from his slumber by an approaching noise on the high road, behind his britchka. The noise approached rapidly, and seemed to be caused by the galloping of numerous horses.
"Hallo! what are you about?" said Tchichikoff, calling out to his coachman, Selifan; "why don't you drive on?"
"Yes, your glory!" answered Selifan, in a slow voice, and with a sleepy countenance, without being able to comply at once with the request, so much was he benumbed by the chilly night-air.
"How are you driving, you stupid goose? Why don't you flog the horses?"
But before Selifan had the time to comply with his master's command, the last which either he or Petruschka was to receive from him; the horses galloping behind had rejoined the britchka, and in a few moments later Tchichikoff beheld before him the Commissioner of Police from Smolensk, and another gentleman on horseback, who was introduced to him as an imperial messenger.
The imperial messenger transmitted to Tchichikoff a document, with the imperial seal beneath; after the hasty perusal of this mysterious document, our hero's countenance changed suddenly; his eyes became dim, and his face as pale as death. The imperial messenger then pointed silently to a sinister-looking carriage, called a Siberian kibitka, into which our hero was assisted, without being able to utter a syllable, and the next moment he was a dead man.
| I. | XIV. |
| II. | XV. |
| III. | XVI. |
| IV. | XVII. |
| V. | XVIII. |
| VI. | XIX. |
| VII. | XX. |
| VIII. | XXI. |
| IX. | XXII. |
| X. | XXIII. |
| XI. | XXIV. |
| XII. | XXV. |
| XIII. | XXVI. |
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