Dead Souls (B&N) by Nikolai Gogol; Constance Garnett; Jeffrey Meyers

Author:Nikolai Gogol; Constance Garnett; Jeffrey Meyers
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Classics
ISBN: 9781593080921
Publisher: Barnes & Noble
Published: 1841-12-31T10:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

When they met at the house of the police-master, already known to the reader as the father and benefactor of the town, the officials had the opportunity of observing of each other that they had actually grown thin through all these worries and anxieties. And, indeed, the appointment of a new governor-general, and the two documents of so serious a character, and these extraordinary rumours, had, all taken together, left a perceptible imprint on their faces, and the dress-coats of some of them had become noticeably looser. Everything was changed for the worse: the president was thinner, and the inspector of the medical board was thinner, and the prosecutor was thinner, and one Semyon Ivanovitch, who was never called by his surname, and wore on his first finger a ring which he used to show to ladies—even he was thinner. Of course there were some bold spirits, as there always are, who did not lose their presence of mind; but they were not many; in fact the post master was the only one. He alone was unchanged in his invariable composure, and always when such things happened was in the habit of saying: “We know all about you governor-generals! You may be changed three or four times over, but I have been for thirty years in the same place, my good sir.” To this the other officials usually answered: “It’s all very well for you, Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Ivan Andre itch: the post office is your job—receiving and dispatching the mails; the worst you can do is to close the post office an hour too early if you are in a bad temper, or to accept a late letter from some merchant at the wrong hour, or to send off some parcel which ought not to be sent off—any one would be a saint, of course, in your place. But suppose you had the devil at your elbow every day, so that even what you don’t want to take he thrusts upon you. You have not much to fear, to be sure; you have only one son; while God has been so bountiful to Praskovya Fyodorovna, my boy, that not a year passes but she presents me with a little Praskovya or a little Petrushka; in our place, you’d sing a different tune, my boy.” So said the officials, but whether it is really possible to resist the devil it is not for the author to decide. In the council assembled on this occasion, there was a conspicuous absence of that essential thing which among the common people is called good sense. We seem somehow not made for representative institutions. In all our assemblies, from the meetings of the peasants up to all kinds of learned and other committees, there is a pretty thorough muddle, unless there is some one at the head who is managing it all. It is hard to say why it is. Apparently the nature of the Russian people is such, that the only successful

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