Dead Souls

by Nikolai Gogol

We will, at the drop of a hat and with all the consistency of a weather-vane, launch societies for philanthropic purposes, for the encouragement of this and that, and for Heaven alone knows what else. The purpose will, every time, be splendid and beautiful, but with all that, nothing will come of it. Perhaps this is due to the fact that we become quickly satisfied at the very beginning and consider that everything has already been accomplished. For instance, having got up some society for the benefit of the poor and duly contributed considerable sums, we will immediately, to mark the occasion of so praiseworthy a deed, launch a banquet for all the leading dignitaries of the town, which banquet, in the nature of things, will eat up half the sums received; with the remaining funds, magnificent quarters will be promptly rented for the committee, complete with the latest heating arrangements and all sorts of attendants. And, in the upshot, there remains for the poor all of five rubles and a half, but even then the members of the committee aren’t in full accord as to the disposition of this sum, and each one proposes as the recipient some worthy person who had been godmother to his child.