“How soon will you be relieved?”
“Three hours, sir!”
“I shall need you. I’ll tell the officer to detail someone else instead.”
“Yes, sir!”
And, going home, without delaying a moment, to avoid mixing with anyone and to have all ends buried, he dressed himself up as a gendarme, tricked out in mustache and side-whiskers—the devil himself could not have recognized him. Going to the house where Chichikov was, he seized the first wench he found there, handed her over to two daredevil officials, also in the know, and himself went straight to the sentinels, with mustache and rifle all in order:
“Go, the officer sent me to replace you.” He exchanged places with the sentinel and stood there with his rifle.
This was just what was needed. Instead of the former woman, another was found there who knew and understood nothing. The former one was tucked away somewhere, so that afterwards nobody knew what had become of her. Meanwhile, as Samosvistov was pursuing his role as warrior, the lawyer was working wonders in the civilian area: he informed the governor indirectly that the prosecutor was writing a denunciation of him; he informed the police official that another official, living under cover, was writing denunciations of him; he assured the official living under cover that there was a still more undercover official who was informing on him—and drove them all into a situation where they had to turn to him for advice. A muddle of the following sort occurred: denunciation rode upon denunciation, and such things began to be discovered as the sun had never looked upon, and such as even did not exist at all. Everything was employed and made use of: who was an illegitimate son, and who had a mistress of what family and origin, and whose wife was dangling after whom. Scandals, temptations, and it all got so mixed up and intertwined with the story of Chichikov and the dead souls that it was quite impossible to grasp which of these affairs was the chief nonsense: both seemed of equal worth. When the documents finally began to reach the governor-general, the poor prince could not understand a thing. The rather intelligent and efficient clerk who was charged with making an abstract almost lost his mind: it was quite impossible to grasp the threads of the affair. The prince was at that time preoccupied with a number of other matters, one more unpleasant than another. In one part of the province there was famine. The officials who were sent to distribute grain managed it somehow improperly. In another part of the province, the Old Believers were astir. Someone had spread it among them that an Antichrist had been born who would not leave even the dead alone and was buying up dead souls. People repented and sinned and, under the pretext of catching the Antichrist, bumped off some non-Antichrists. In another place, the muzhiks had rebelled against the landowners and police captains. Some tramps had spread rumors among them that a time was coming when peasants must be landowners and dress themselves up in tailcoats, and landowners must dress in simple caftans and be muzhiks—and the whole region, without considering that there would then be too many landowners and police captains, had refused to pay any taxes. There was need to resort to strong measures. The poor prince was in a very upset state of mind. At this moment it was announced to him that the tax farmer had come.
“Show him in,” said the prince.
The old man came in …
“Here’s your Chichikov! You stood up for him and defended him. Now he’s been caught in such an affair as the worst thief wouldn’t venture upon.”
“Allow me to tell you, Your Excellency, that I do not quite understand this affair.”
“A forged will, and such a one! … It’s public flogging for a thing like that!”
“Your Excellency, I say this not to defend Chichikov. But the affair has not yet been proved: there has been no investigation.”
“There is evidence: the woman who was dressed up in place of the deceased has been seized. I want to question her purposely in your presence.” The prince rang and ordered the woman brought.
Murazov fell silent.
“A most dishonest affair! And, to their disgrace, the foremost officials of the town are mixed up in it, the governor himself. He ought not to turn up together with thieves and wastrels!” the prince said hotly.
“But the governor is one of the heirs, he has the right to make a claim; and if others are latching on to it from all sides, well, Your Excellency, that is a human thing. A rich woman died, sir, without making intelligent and just arrangements; so those eager to profit by it flew down from all sides—it’s a human thing …”
“But why such abominations? … The scoundrels!” the prince said with a feeling of indignation. “I don’t have one good official: they are all scoundrels!”
“Your Excellency! who among us is as good as he ought to be? The officials of our town are all human, they have merits and many are quite knowledgeable, and no one is far removed from sin.”
“Listen, Afanasy Vassilyevich, tell me, I know that you alone are an honest man, what is this passion of yours for defending all sorts of scoundrels?”
“Your Excellency,” said Murazov, “whoever the man may be whom you call a scoundrel, he is still a human being. How not defend a man if you know that he does half his evil out of coarseness and ignorance? For we do unjust things at every step, and at every moment are the cause of another’s misfortune, and not even with any bad intention. You, Your Excellency, have also committed a great injustice.”
“What!” the prince exclaimed in amazement, completely struck by such an unexpected turn in the talk.
Murazov paused, fell silent, as if pondering something, and finally said:
“Well, let’s say for instance in the Derpennikov* case.”
“Afanasy Vassilyevich! A crime against the fundamental laws of the state, tantamount to the betrayal of one’s country!”
“I am not justifying him. But is it fair when a youth who in his inexperience was seduced and lured by others is judged on a par with someone who was one of the instigators? The same lot fell to Derpennikov as to some Voronoy-Dryannoy;10 but their crimes are not the same.”
“For God’s sake …” the prince said with visible agitation, “tell me, do you know anything about it? I just recently wrote directly to Petersburg about alleviating his lot.”
“No, Your Excellency, I’m not saying it because I know something that you don’t know. Though there is indeed one circumstance that might serve in his favor, he himself would not consent because another man would suffer by it. But what I think is only that you were perhaps pleased to be in too great a hurry then. Forgive me, Your Excellency, I am judging according to my weak understanding. You have ordered me several times to speak frankly. When I was still a superior, sir, I had many workers, both bad and good … One also has to take a man’s earlier life into account, because if you don’t consider everything with equanimity, but start by yelling at him—you’ll merely frighten him, and never obtain a real confession: but if you question him sympathetically, as brother to brother—he himself will speak it all out and won’t even ask for leniency, and there won’t be any bitterness against anyone, because he will see clearly that it is not I who am punishing him, but the law.”
The prince lapsed into thought. At that moment a young official came in and stood deferentially, a portfolio in his hand. Care and travail showed on his young and still fresh face. One could see it was not for nothing that he served as a special agent. He belonged to the number of those few who do their clerical work con amore. Burning neither with ambition, nor with the desire for gain, nor with the imitation of others, he worked only because he was convinced that he had to be there and nowhere else, that life had been given him for that. To pursue, to analyze, and, having grasped all the threads of the most complicated case, to explain it—this was the thing for him. The labors, the efforts, the sleepless nights were abundantly rewarded if the case finally began to clarify itself before him, and the hidden causes revealed themselves, so that he felt he could convey the whole of it in a few words, clearly and distinctly, in such fashion that it would be obvious and under
standable to anyone. It could be said that a student does not rejoice so much when some very difficult phrase and the true meaning of a great writer’s thought are revealed to him, as he rejoiced when a very tangled case untangled itself before him. And yet …*
“… by grain in those places where there is famine; I know these things better than the officials do: I’ll look personally into who needs what. And, with Your Excellency’s permission, I’ll also talk a bit with the Old Believers. They’ll be more willing to speak with their own kind, with simple folk. So, God knows, maybe I can help settle things peaceably with them. And I won’t take any money from you, by God, it’s shameful to think of one’s own gain at a time like this, when people are dying of hunger. I have supplies of ready grain; I’ve just sent to Siberia, and by next summer they’ll deliver more.”
“God alone can reward you for such service, Afanasy Vassilyevich. And I will not say a single word, because—as you can feel yourself—no word is adequate here. But let me say one thing about your request. Tell me yourself: do I have the right to overlook this affair, and will it be just, will it be honest on my part to forgive the scoundrels?”
“Your Excellency, by God, you can’t call them that, the less so as there are some quite worthy people among them. Man’s circumstances are very difficult, Your Excellency, very, very difficult. It may so happen that a man seems thoroughly guilty; but once you go into it—it wasn’t him at all.”
“But what will they themselves say if I overlook it? Some of them will turn up their noses still more, and even say that they scared me. They’ll be the first not to respect …”
“Your Excellency, allow me to give you my opinion: gather them all together, let them know that you are informed of everything and present to them your own position exactly as you have just now been pleased to present it to me, and ask their advice: what would each of them do in your place?”
“Do you really think they will understand the noblest impulses better than chicanery and opportunism? Believe me, they’ll laugh at me.”
“I don’t think so, Your Excellency. The Russian man, even one who is worse than others, still has a sense of justice. Unless he’s some sort of Jew, and not a Russian. No, Your Excellency, you have nothing to hide. Tell them exactly as you told me. For they denounce you as an ambitious and proud man who won’t even listen to anything, so self-confident you are—so let them see it all as it is. What do you care? Your cause is right. Tell it to them as if you were bringing your confession not to them, but to God Himself.”
“Afanasy Vassilyevich,” the prince said, reflecting, “I’ll think about it, and meanwhile I thank you very much for your advice.”
“And order Chichikov’s release, Your Excellency.”
“Tell this Chichikov to take himself away from here as soon as possible, and the further the better. Him I can never forgive.”
Murazov bowed and went straight from the prince to Chichikov. He found Chichikov already in good spirits, quite calmly occupied with a rather decent dinner that had been brought to him in covered dishes from some quite decent kitchen. From the first phrases of their conversation, the old man understood at once that Chichikov had already managed to talk with one or two of the pettifogging officials. He even understood that the invisible participation of the expert lawyer had interfered here.
“Listen, Pavel Ivanovich, sir,” he said, “I am bringing you freedom, on condition that you leave town at once. Get all your belongings ready—and go with God, don’t put it off for a moment, because things are worse than you think. I know, sir, that there’s a man here who is inciting you; I tell you in secret that yet another case is developing here, and that no powers will save him. He is glad, of course, to drag others down, so as not to be bored, but things are getting sorted out. I left you in a good state of mind—better than you’re in now. My advice is not offered lightly. By God, the point is not in this property, on account of which people argue and stab each other, as if one could have well-being in this life without thinking about the next. Believe me, Pavel Ivanovich, sir, until people abandon all that they wrangle over and eat each other for on earth, and think about the well-being of their spiritual property, there won’t be any well-being of earthly property. There will be times of hunger and poverty, as much for all the people as for each one separately … That is clear, sir. Whatever you say, the body does depend on the soul. How then can you want things to go properly? Think not about dead souls, but about your living soul, and God help you on a different path! I, too, am leaving tomorrow. Hurry! or without me there will be trouble.”
Having said this, the old man left. Chichikov fell to thinking. The meaning of life again seemed of no small importance. “Murazov is right,” he said, “it’s time for a different path!” Having said this, he left the prison. One sentry lugged the chest, another the suitcase with linen. Selifan and Petrushka were as glad of their master’s deliverance as of God knows what.
“Well, my gentles,” said Chichikov, addressing them benignly, “we must pack up and go.”
“We’ll get rolling, Pavel Ivanovich,” said Selifan. “The road must have settled: there’s been enough snow. It’s time, truly, that we quit this town. I’m so sick of it I don’t even want to look at it.”
“Go to the carriage maker and have the carriage put on runners,” said Chichikov, and he himself went to town, though he had no wish to pay farewell calls on anyone. It was awkward after all these happenings—the more so as there were many highly unfavorable stories about him going around town. He avoided meeting anyone and only stopped on the quiet to see that merchant from whom he had bought the cloth of the color of the flames and smoke of Navarino, bought another three yards for a tailcoat and trousers, and went to the same tailor. For double the price, the master undertook to increase his zeal, and kept the whole sewing populace sitting up all night working by candlelight with needles, irons, and teeth, so that the tailcoat was ready the next day, albeit a little late. The horses were all harnessed. Chichikov did try the tailcoat on, however. It was fine, the same as the previous one. But, alas! he noticed some smooth patches showing pale on his head and remarked ruefully: “Why did I give myself over to such contrition? And, what’s more, tear my hair out!” Having paid the tailor, he finally drove out of town in some strange disposition. This was not the old Chichikov. This was some wreckage of the old Chichikov. The inner state of his soul might be compared to a demolished building, which has been demolished so that from it a new one could be built; but the new one has not been started yet, because the definitive plan has not yet come from the architect and the workers are left in perplexity. An hour before him, old Murazov set out in a burlap kibitka with Potapych, and an hour after Chichikov’s departure an order was issued that the prince, on the occasion of his departure for Petersburg, wished to see all his officials to a man.
In the great hall of the governor-general’s house, all the official ranks of the town assembled, from governor down to titular councillor: the heads of offices and departments, councillors, assessors, Kisloyedov, Krasnonosov, Samosvistov, those who took bribes, those who did not take bribes, those who were false, those who were half false, and those who were not false at all—all waited with a certain not entirely calm expectancy for the governor-general to appear. The prince came out neither gloomy nor bright: his look was firm, as was his step … The whole official assembly bowed—many quite low. Responding with a slight bow, the prince began:
“As I am leaving for Petersburg, I considered it proper to meet with all of you and even partly to explain the reason to you. A very tempting affair sprang up among us. I suppose that many of those present know to what I am referring. This affair led to the uncovering of other no less dishonest affairs, which finally involved such people as I had hitherto considered honest. I am also informed of a hidden aim to get everything so tangled that it would prove utterly impossible to resolve it with any formal propriety. I even know who is the mainspring and through whose hidden … * though he c
oncealed his participation very skillfully. But the point is that I intend to deal with it not through a formal investigation of documents, but through a speedy court-martial, as in time of war, and I hope that the soverign will give me this right, once I have explained the affair to him. On those occasions when it is not possible to conduct a case in civil fashion, when whole shelves of documents get burned, and when, finally, by a superfluity of false and unrelated evidence, and false denunciations, people try to obscure a case that is obscure to begin with—I consider court-martial the sole method, and I should like to know your opinion.”
The prince paused, as if awaiting a response. All stood staring at the ground. Many were pale.
“Still another affair is known to me, though those who did it are quite sure that it cannot be known to anyone. Its investigation will not proceed on paper, because I myself shall be plaintiff and petitioner and bring forth self-evident proofs.”
Some one among the officials gave a start; certain of the more timorous ones were also disconcerted.
“It goes without saying that the main instigators will be stripped of rank and property; the rest will be removed from their posts. Naturally, many innocent people will suffer among this number. It cannot be helped. The affair is too dishonest and cries out for justice. I know that it will not even be a lesson to others, because to replace those who are thrown out, others will come, and the very people who hitherto were honest will become dishonest, and the very ones who are found worthy of trust will deceive and sell out—but in spite of all that, I must deal cruelly, for justice cries out. I know I shall be accused of harsh cruelty, but I know that those will also …* the same ones will accuse me …* I must now turn myself into a mere instrument of justice, an axe that must fall upon heads.”
A shudder involuntarily passed over all faces.
The prince was calm. His face expressed neither wrath nor inner turmoil.
“Now the same man in whose hands the fate of so many lies, and whom no entreaties can sway, this same man now throws himself at your feet, he pleads with you all. Everything will be forgotten, smoothed over, forgiven; I myself will intercede for you, if you fulfill my request. And my request is this. I know that no methods, no fears, no punishments can eradicate falsity: it is too deeply rooted. The dishonest practice of accepting bribes has become a need and a necessity even for people who were not born to dishonesty. I know that for many it is even no longer possible to go against the general current. But now, as at a decisive and sacred moment, when there is need to save the fatherland, when every citizen brings everything and sacrifices everything—I must call out at least to those in whose breast there beats a Russian heart, and to whom the word ‘nobility’ still means something. Why talk about which of us is more to blame! I am perhaps more to blame than anyone; perhaps I received you too sternly in the beginning; perhaps, by excessive suspiciousness, I repulsed those of you who sincerely wished to be of use to me, though I, for my part, could also reproach them. If they indeed loved justice and the good of their country, they ought not to have been offended by the haughtiness of my treatment, they ought to have suppressed their own ambition and sacrificed themselves. It cannot be that I would have failed to notice their selflessness and lofty love of the good and not finally have accepted their useful and intelligent advice. After all, the subordinate ought rather to adjust to the character of his superior, than the superior to the character of his subordinate. That is at least more rightful, and easier, since the subordinates have one superior, while the superior has hundreds of subordinates. But let us leave aside who is the more to blame. The point is that it is time for us to save our country; that our country is perishing, not now from an invasion of twenty foreign nations, but from ourselves; that beyond the rightful administration, another administration has been formed, much stronger than the rightful one. They have set their own conditions; everything has been evaluated, and the prices have even become common knowledge. And no ruler, be he wiser even than all other lawgivers and rulers, has enough power to correct the evil, however much he may restrict the actions of bad officials by appointing other officials to watch over them. Nothing will be successful until each one of us feels that, just as in the epoch when people took arms and rose up against the enemy, so he must rise up against falsity. As a Russian, as one bound to you by ties of blood, of one and the same blood, I now address you. I address those of you who have at least some notion of what nobility of mind is. I invite you to remember the duty each man faces in any place. I invite you to consider your duty more closely, and the obligation of your earthly service, because we all have only a dim idea of it now, and we hardly …*
Dead Souls: A Novel Page 46