Dead Souls

by Nikolai Gogol

However, the author is quite conscience-stricken about taking up the time of his readers for so long with people of a low class, knowing by experience how unwilling they are to be introduced to the low strata of society. For that’s how the Russian is: he has an overwhelming passion for scraping up an acquaintance with him who may be but a single step above him in rank, while a nodding acquaintance with a count or a prince is for him a better thing than to be on the most intimate terms with a real friend. The author actually feels dubious about his hero, who is only a mere Collegiate Councilor, after all. There is a likelihood that court councilors, say, may condescend to know him; but as for those who have already clambered up the grades of General This and General That, these, God knows, may even bestow upon him one of those contemptuous looks which man proudly bestows upon anything that may be crawling like vermin at his feet, or, which would be still worse, will pass him by with an unconcern that would be lethal for the author.