Dead Souls

by Nikolai Gogol

And Petrushka

Selifan coming

What Petrushka and Selifan

Petrushka paused for a moment

Selifan lay himself down

enveloped in deep sleep;

only in one little window was there still light, where lived some lieutenant, come from Ryazan, a great lover of boots by the look of it, because he had already ordered four pairs made and was ceaselessly trying on a fifth. Several times he had gone over to his bed with the intention of flinging them off and lying down, but he simply could not: the boots were indeed well made, and for a long time still he kept raising his foot and examining the smart and admirable turn of the heel.

😂😂

Stepan Dmitrievich,

Alexei Ivanovich,

Chichikov’s muzhiks

Ivan Grigorievich,

Chichikov’s muzhiks are thieves

superintendent of the government

the superintendent

the magistrate

the magistrate

police chief observed

Chichikov was faced with a sacred duty,

advice to Chichikov personally,

All this gossip and discussion produced, however, as favorable a result as Chichikov could possibly have looked for. Namely, the rumor spread that he was no more nor less than a millionaire. The inhabitants of the town, as we have already seen in the first chapter, had taken a hearty liking to Chichikov even without that, but now, after such rumors, their liking became heartier still.

the postmaster, whose name was Ivan Andreevich,

the head magistrate

The postmaster delved more into philosophy and read quite diligently, even at night, in Young’s Night Thoughts and The Key to Nature’s Mysteries by Eckartshausen,37 from which he copied out quite lengthy excerpts, though of what sort no one ever knew; anyhow, he was a wit, had a florid style, and liked, as he put it, to rig out his speech. And rig it out he did, with a host of various particles, such as: “my good sir, some such one, you know, you understand, can you imagine, relatively so to speak, in a certain fashion,” and others, which he poured out by the bagful; he also rigged out his speech rather successfully with winking, or squinting one eye, all of which lent quite a caustic expression to his many satirical allusions.

😂😂😂😂

They were all the kind to whom wives, in those tender conversations which take place in private, gave such appellations as: chubsy, tubsy, tumsy, blackie, kiki, zhuzhu, and so on. But generally they were kindly folk, full of hospitality, and the man who sat down to table with them or spent an evening at whist was already an intimate, all the more so Chichikov, with his enchanting qualities and ways, who did indeed know the great secret of being liked.

😂😂😂

But incomparably more remarkable was the impression (altogether an object of amazement!) that Chichikov made on the ladies. To begin to explain it, one would have to say a lot about the ladies themselves, about their society, to describe in vivid colors, so to speak, their qualities of soul; but for the author that is very difficult. On the one hand, he is prevented by his boundless respect for the wives of the dignitaries, and on the other hand … on the other hand—it is simply difficult. The ladies of the town of N. were … no, it is in no way possible for me: I really feel timid. The most remarkable thing about the ladies of the town of N. was … It is even strange, I cannot lift the pen at all, as if there were some kind of lead inside it.

😂😂😂

ladies of the town of N. were what is called presentable, and in this respect they may boldly be held up as an example to all others. As for knowing how to behave themselves, keeping tone, observing etiquette, a host of proprieties of the subtlest sort, and above all following fashion down to the least detail, in this they surpassed even the ladies of Petersburg and Moscow. They dressed with great taste, went for drives around town in carriages, as the latest fashion dictated, with lackey and gold-braided livery swaying behind.

And how hard their husbands and relatives tried to reconcile them afterwards, but no, it turned out that while anything in the world might be done, only one thing could not be done: to reconcile two ladies who had quarreled over a neglected visit.

😂😂😂

In morals the ladies of the town of N. were strict, filled with noble indignation against all vice and any temptation, and they punished any weaknesses without any mercy. And if there did occur among them something of what is known as this-or-that, it occurred in secret, so that there was no sign of its having occurred; full dignity was preserved, and the husband himself was so prepared that even if he saw this-or-that or heard about it, he would respond briefly with a proverb: “It’s always fair weather when friends get together.”

😂😂😂

To ennoble the Russian language still more, almost half of its words were banished from conversation altogether, and therefore it was quite often necessary to have recourse to the French language, although there, in French, it was a different matter: there such words were allowed as were much coarser than those aforementioned. And so, that is what can be told about the ladies of the town of N., speaking superficially. But if one were to look more deeply, then, of course, many other things would be discovered; but it is quite dangerous to look more deeply into ladies’ hearts. And so, confining ourselves to the superficial, we shall continue.

Use of Russian vs. French language in Russia

However, the ladies were not self-seeking in the least; the word “millionaire” was to blame for it all—not the millionaire himself, but precisely the word alone; for the sound of this word alone, aside from any bag of money, contains something that affects people who are scoundrels, and people who are neither this nor that, and people who are good—in short, it affects everyone. The millionaire has this advantage, that he is able to observe meanness, a perfectly disinterested, pure meanness, not based on any calculations: many know very well that they will not get anything from him and have no right to get anything, but they want to be sure at least to run ahead for him, at least to laugh, at least to doff their hats, at least to wangle themselves an invitation to dinner where they know the millionaire has been invited.

How people flatter the rich 😂😂😂😂

There was crowding in the shopping district, almost a crush; a fête even formed itself from all the carriages driving through. The merchants were amazed to see several lengths of cloth they had brought back from the fair and could not get rid of because the price seemed too high, suddenly come into demand and get snatched up.

Even Chichikov himself could not fail partly to notice such extraordinary attention. Once, on returning home, he found a letter on his table; of whence and by whom it had been brought, nothing could be learned; the tavern servant replied that it had been brought with an order not to say whom it was from.

Chichikov

This greatly intrigued him. The anonymity had so much that was alluring and arousing of curiosity in it, that he read it over again and then a third time, and finally said: “It would be curious, however, to know who the writer might be!” In short, it looked as if the matter was turning serious; for more than an hour he kept thinking about it, and at last, spreading his arms and inclining his head, he said: “The letter is very, very fancily written!”

All unrelated things were instantly ended and suspended, and everything was focused on preparing for the ball: for there were, in fact, many stimulating and provoking causes. And perhaps not since the very creation of the world has so much time been spent on toilet. A whole hour was devoted merely to studying his face in the mirror. Attempts were made to impart to it a multitude of different expressions: now dignified and grave, now deferential but with a certain smile, now simply deferential without the smile; several bows were delivered to the mirror, accompanied by vague sounds somewhat resembling French ones, though Chichikov knew no French at all. He even gave himself a multitude of pleasant surprises, winked with his eyebrow and lips, and even did something with his tongue; in short, one does all sorts of things when one is left alone, feels oneself a fine fellow besides, and is also certain that no one is peeking through a crack.

The vanity we display in person 😂😂😲

circuit court’s answer

Pavel Ivanovich!

Pavel Ivanovich!

Chichikov felt himself simultaneously in several embraces. Before he had quite managed to scramble out of the magistrate’s embrace, he found himself in the police chief’s embrace; the police chief handed him on to the inspector of the board of health; the inspector of the board of health to the tax farmer, the tax farmer to the architect

😂😂😂 obsequiousness

finally some policeman standing way off by the door, by the very exit, who from the day he was born has never laughed in his whole life, and who a moment before was shaking his fist at the people, even he, by the immutable laws of reflection, puts some sort of smile on his face, though this smile is more like the look of someone about to sneeze after a pinch of strong snuff.

Nice description of laughter 😂😂👏

The ladies surrounded him at once in a sparkling garland and brought with them whole clouds of varied fragrances; one breathed roses, another gave off a whiff of spring and violets, a third was perfumed throughout with mignonette; Chichikov just kept lifting his nose and sniffing. Their attire evinced no end of taste: the muslins, satins, cambrics were of such pale fashionable shades as could not even be matched with any names (taste had reached such a degree of fineness).

The fineness of women

Waists were tight-fitting and formed in a way most firm and pleasing to the eye (it should be noted that generally the ladies of the town of N. were all a bit plump, but they laced themselves up so artfully and were of such pleasing comportment that the fatness simply could not be noticed). Everything about them had been designed and foreseen with extraordinary circumspection; neck and shoulders were revealed precisely as far as necessary, and no further; each one bared her possessions to the point to which she felt convinced in herself that they could be the ruin of a man; the rest was all secreted away with extraordinary taste: either some light little ribbon tie, or a scarf lighter than the pastry known by the name of “kiss,”39 ethereally embraced her neck, or else there peeked out around her shoulders, from under the dress, those little serrated trimmings of light cambric known by the name of “modesties.”

😂😂😂 The delicate art of choosing a dress

Long gloves were worn not up to the sleeves, but deliberately leaving bare the arousing parts of the arms above the elbow, which in many ladies breathed an enviable plumpness: some kid gloves even burst in their striving to move further up—in short, everything seemed to have written on it: No, this is no province, this is a capital, this is Paris itself!

Chichikov was thinking,

the captain of police,

“No,” Chichikov said to himself, “women are such a subject …” (here he even waved his hand) “there’s simply no point in talking! Go on, try telling or conveying all that flits across their faces, all those little curves and allusions—you simply won’t convey a thing. Their eyes alone are such an endless country, a man gets into it—and that’s the last you hear of him! You won’t pull him out of there with hooks or anything.

Women 😂😂

Anyway, if a word from the street has got into a book, it is not the writer’s fault, the fault is with the readers, high-society readers most of all: they are the first not to use a single decent Russian word, but French, German, and English they gladly dispense in greater quantity than one might wish, and dispense even preserving all possible pronunciations: French through the nose and with a burr, English they pronounce in the manner of a bird, and even assume a bird’s physiognomy, and they will even laugh at anyone who cannot assume a bird’s physiognomy; and they will only not dispense anything Russian, unless perhaps out of patriotism they build themselves a Russian-style cottage as a country house.

The Prejudice of Russian elite against the Russian language

And Chichikov meanwhile was getting thoroughly perplexed deciding which of the ladies was the writer of the letter. Trying to aim an attentive glance at them, he saw that on the ladies’ part there was also the expression of a certain something that sent down both hope and sweet torment at once into the heart of a poor mortal, so that he finally said: “No, it’s simply impossible to guess!” That, however, in no way diminished the merry mood he was in.

Before him stood not only the governor’s wife: on her arm she had a young girl of sixteen, a fresh blonde with fine and trim features, a sharp chin, a charmingly rounded face, the sort an artist would choose as a model for a Madonna, a sort rarely occurring in Russia, where everything likes to be on a vast scale, whatever there is—mountains and forests and steppes, and faces and lips and feet; the same blonde he had met on the road,

Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyai