Authors: Nikolai Gogol
Touching a bell, the Prince ordered her to be sent for.
"It is a most disgraceful affair," he went on; "and, ashamed though I
am to have to say it, some of our leading tchinovniks, including the
local Governor himself, have become implicated in the matter. Yet you
tell me that this Chichikov ought not to be confined among thieves and
rascals!" Clearly the Governor-General's wrath was very great indeed.
"Your Highness," said Murazov, "the Governor of the town is one of the
heirs under the will: wherefore he has a certain right to intervene.
Also, the fact that extraneous persons have meddled in the matter is
only what is to be expected from human nature. A rich woman dies, and
no exact, regular disposition of her property is made. Hence there
comes flocking from every side a cloud of fortune hunters. What else
could one expect? Such is human nature."
"Yes, but why should such persons go and commit fraud?" asked the
Prince irritably. "I feel as though not a single honest tchinovnik
were available—as though every one of them were a rogue."
"Your Highness, which of us is altogether beyond reproach? The
tchinovniks of our town are human beings, and no more. Some of them
are men of worth, and nearly all of them men skilled in
business—though also, unfortunately, largely inter-related."
"Now, tell me this, Athanasi Vassilievitch," said the Prince, "for you
are about the only honest man of my acquaintance. What has inspired in
you such a penchant for defending rascals?"
"This," replied Murazov. "Take any man you like of the persons whom
you thus term rascals. That man none the less remains a human being.
That being so, how can one refuse to defend him when all the time one
knows that half his errors have been committed through ignorance and
stupidity? Each of us commits faults with every step that we take;
each of us entails unhappiness upon others with every breath that we
draw—and that although we may have no evil intention whatever in our
minds. Your Highness himself has, before now, committed an injustice
of the gravest nature."
"
I
have?" cried the Prince, taken aback by this unexpected turn
given to the conversation.
Murazov remained silent for a moment, as though he were debating
something in his thoughts. Then he said:
"Nevertheless it is as I say. You committed the injustice in the case
of the lad Dierpiennikov."
"What, Athanasi Vassilievitch? The fellow had infringed one of the
Fundamental Laws! He had been found guilty of treason!"
"I am not seeking to justify him; I am only asking you whether you
think it right that an inexperienced youth who had been tempted and
led away by others should have received the same sentence as the man
who had taken the chief part in the affair. That is to say, although
Dierpiennikov and the man Voron-Drianni received an equal measure of
punishment, their CRIMINALITY was not equal."
"If," exclaimed the Prince excitedly, "you know anything further
concerning the case, for God's sake tell it me at once. Only the other
day did I forward a recommendation that St. Petersburg should remit a
portion of the sentence."
"Your Highness," replied Murazov, "I do not mean that I know of
anything which does not lie also within your own cognisance, though
one circumstance there was which might have told in the lad's favour
had he not refused to admit it, lest another should suffer injury. All
that I have in my mind is this. On that occasion were you not a little
over-hasty in coming to a conclusion? You will understand, of course,
that I am judging only according to my own poor lights, and for the
reason that on more than one occasion you have urged me to be frank.
In the days when I myself acted as a chief of gendarmery I came in
contact with a great number of accused—some of them bad, some of them
good; and in each case I found it well also to consider a man's past
career, for the reason that, unless one views things calmly, instead
of at once decrying a man, he is apt to take alarm, and to make it
impossible thereafter to get any real confession from him. If, on the
other hand, you question a man as friend might question friend, the
result will be that straightway he will tell you everything, nor ask
for mitigation of his penalty, nor bear you the least malice, in that
he will understand that it is not you who have punished him, but the
law."
The Prince relapsed into thought; until presently there entered a
young tchinovnik. Portfolio in hand, this official stood waiting
respectfully. Care and hard work had already imprinted their insignia
upon his fresh young face; for evidently he had not been in the
Service for nothing. As a matter of fact, his greatest joy was to
labour at a tangled case, and successfully to unravel it.
(At this point a long hiatus occurs in the original.)
"I will send corn to the localities where famine is worst," said
Murazov, "for I understand that sort of work better than do the
tchinovniks, and will personally see to the needs of each person.
Also, if you will allow me, your Highness, I will go and have a talk
with the Raskolniki. They are more likely to listen to a plain man
than to an official. God knows whether I shall succeed in calming
them, but at least no tchinovnik could do so, for officials of the
kind merely draw up reports and lose their way among their own
documents—with the result that nothing comes of it. Nor will I accept
from you any money for these purposes, since I am ashamed to devote as
much as a thought to my own pocket at a time when men are dying of
hunger. I have a large stock of grain lying in my granaries; in
addition to which, I have sent orders to Siberia that a new
consignment shall be forwarded me before the coming summer."
"Of a surety will God reward you for your services, Athanasi
Vassilievitch! Not another word will I say to you on the subject, for
you yourself feel that any words from me would be inadequate. Yet tell
me one thing: I refer to the case of which you know. Have I the right
to pass over the case? Also, would it be just and honourable on my
part to let the offending tchinovniks go unpunished?"
"Your Highness, it is impossible to return a definite answer to those
two questions: and the more so because many rascals are at heart men
of rectitude. Human problems are difficult things to solve. Sometimes
a man may be drawn into a vicious circle, so that, having once entered
it, he ceases to be himself."
"But what would the tchinovniks say if I allowed the case to be passed
over? Would not some of them turn up their noses at me, and declare
that they have effected my intimidation? Surely they would be the last
persons in the world to respect me for my action?"
"Your Highness, I think this: that your best course would be to call
them together, and to inform them that you know everything, and to
explain to them your personal attitude (exactly as you have explained
it to me), and to end by at once requesting their advice and asking
them what each of them would have done had he been placed in similar
circumstances."
"What? You think that those tchinovniks would be so accessible to
lofty motives that they would cease thereafter to be venal and
meticulous? I should be laughed at for my pains."
"I think not, your Highness. Even the baser section of humanity
possesses a certain sense of equity. Your wisest plan, your Highness,
would be to conceal nothing and to speak to them as you have just
spoken to me. If, at present, they imagine you to be ambitious and
proud and unapproachable and self-assured, your action would afford
them an opportunity of seeing how the case really stands. Why should
you hesitate? You would but be exercising your undoubted right. Speak
to them as though delivering not a message of your own, but a message
from God."
"I will think it over," the Prince said musingly, "and meanwhile I
thank you from my heart for your good advice."
"Also, I should order Chichikov to leave the town," suggested Murazov.
"Yes, I will do so. Tell him from me that he is to depart hence as
quickly as possible, and that the further he should remove himself,
the better it will be for him. Also, tell him that it is only owing to
your efforts that he has received a pardon at my hands."
Murazov bowed, and proceeded from the Prince's presence to that of
Chichikov. He found the prisoner cheerfully enjoying a hearty dinner
which, under hot covers, had been brought him from an exceedingly
excellent kitchen. But almost the first words which he uttered showed
Murazov that the prisoner had been having dealings with the army of
bribe-takers; as also that in those transactions his lawyer had played
the principal part.
"Listen, Paul Ivanovitch," the old man said. "I bring you your
freedom, but only on this condition—that you depart out of the town
forthwith. Therefore gather together your effects, and waste not a
moment, lest worse befall you. Also, of all that a certain person has
contrived to do on your behalf I am aware; wherefore let me tell you,
as between ourselves, that should the conspiracy come to light,
nothing on earth can save him, and in his fall he will involve others
rather then be left unaccompanied in the lurch, and not see the guilt
shared. How is it that when I left you recently you were in a better
frame of mind than you are now? I beg of you not to trifle with the
matter. Ah me! what boots that wealth for which men dispute and cut
one another's throats? Do they think that it is possible to prosper in
this world without thinking of the world to come? Believe me when I
say that, until a man shall have renounced all that leads humanity to
contend without giving a thought to the ordering of spiritual wealth,
he will never set his temporal goods either upon a satisfactory
foundation. Yes, even as times of want and scarcity may come upon
nations, so may they come upon individuals. No matter what may be said
to the contrary, the body can never dispense with the soul. Why, then,
will you not try to walk in the right way, and, by thinking no longer
of dead souls, but only of your only living one, regain, with God's
help, the better road? I too am leaving the town to-morrow. Hasten,
therefore, lest, bereft of my assistance, you meet with some dire
misfortune."
And the old man departed, leaving Chichikov plunged in thought. Once
more had the gravity of life begun to loom large before him.
"Yes, Murazov was right," he said to himself. "It is time that I were
moving."
Leaving the prison—a warder carrying his effects in his wake—he
found Selifan and Petrushka overjoyed at seeing their master once more
at liberty.
"Well, good fellows?" he said kindly. "And now we must pack and be
off."
"True, true, Paul Ivanovitch," agreed Selifan. "And by this time the
roads will have become firmer, for much snow has fallen. Yes, high
time is it that we were clear of the town. So weary of it am I that
the sight of it hurts my eyes."
"Go to the coachbuilder's," commanded Chichikov, "and have
sledge-runners fitted to the koliaska."
Chichikov then made his way into the town—though not with the object
of paying farewell visits (in view of recent events, that might have
given rise to some awkwardness), but for the purpose of paying an
unobtrusive call at the shop where he had obtained the cloth for his
latest suit. There he now purchased four more arshins of the same
smoked-grey-shot-with-flame-colour material as he had had before, with
the intention of having it made up by the tailor who had fashioned the
previous costume; and by promising double remuneration he induced the
tailor in question so to hasten the cutting out of the garments that,
through sitting up all night over the work, the man might have the
whole ready by break of day. True, the goods were delivered a trifle
after the appointed hour, yet the following morning saw the coat and
breeches completed; and while the horses were being put to, Chichikov
tried on the clothes, and found them equal to the previous creation,
even though during the process he caught sight of a bald patch on his
head, and was led mournfully to reflect: "Alas! Why did I give way to
such despair? Surely I need not have torn my hair out so freely?"
Then, when the tailor had been paid, our hero left the town. But no
longer was he the old Chichikov—he was only a ruin of what he had
been, and his frame of mind might have been compared to a building
recently pulled down to make room for a new one, while the new one had
not yet been erected owing to the non-receipt of the plans from the
architect. Murazov, too, had departed, but at an earlier hour, and in
a tilt-waggon with Ivan Potapitch.
An hour later the Governor-General issued to all and sundry officials
a notice that, on the occasion of his departure for St. Petersburg, he
would be glad to see the corps of tchinovniks at a private meeting.
Accordingly all ranks and grades of officialdom repaired to his
residence, and there awaited—not without a certain measure of
trepidation and of searching of heart—the Governor-General's entry.
When that took place he looked neither clear nor dull. Yet his bearing
was proud, and his step assured. The tchinovniks bowed—some of them
to the waist, and he answered their salutations with a slight
inclination of the head. Then he spoke as follows:
"Since I am about to pay a visit to St. Petersburg, I have thought it
right to meet you, and to explain to you privately my reasons for
doing so. An affair of a most scandalous character has taken place in
our midst. To what affair I am referring I think most of those present
will guess. Now, an automatic process has led to that affair bringing
about the discovery of other matters. Those matters are no less
dishonourable than the primary one; and to that I regret to have to
add that there stand involved in them certain persons whom I had
hitherto believed to be honourable. Of the object aimed at by those
who have complicated matters to the point of making their resolution
almost impossible by ordinary methods I am aware; as also I am aware
of the identity of the ringleader, despite the skill with which he has
sought to conceal his share in the scandal. But the principal point
is, that I propose to decide these matters, not by formal documentary
process, but by the more summary process of court-martial, and that I
hope, when the circumstances have been laid before his Imperial
Majesty, to receive from him authority to adopt the course which I
have mentioned. For I conceive that when it has become impossible to
resolve a case by civil means, and some of the necessary documents
have been burnt, and attempts have been made (both through the
adduction of an excess of false and extraneous evidence and through
the framing of fictitious reports) to cloud an already sufficiently
obscure investigation with an added measure of complexity,—when all
these circumstances have arisen, I conceive that the only possible
tribunal to deal with them is a military tribunal. But on that point I
should like your opinion."