Dead Souls

The next day, Chichikov oversleeps and finds nothing is ready for his departure. He curses the coachman upon learning that the barouche needs serious repair, and his horses need new shoes. When they finally leave, their path is slowed by the prosecutor’s funeral procession.

The narrator muses about his relationship to his home country, wondering why he loves it so, and whether its empty spaces signify a special destiny: “Will it not be here, in you, that the unlimited idea will arise, since you yourself are without end? Is this not where the legendary hero must be found, since here he will have space to spread his wings and move?” (4144-46). The narrator waxes poetic about the wonders of travel, the roadways, the stretching landscape, and travel by moonlight—the road inspires deep contemplation. When Chichikov falls asleep, the narrator launches into a defense of his morally flawed, middle aged, not conventionally attractive hero. Despite the fact that he has just been lyrically extolling the rise of a “legendary hero,” now the narrator argues that morally irreproachable heroes have been written about to excess.

He then chronicles Chichikov’s origins. The only child of a strict father, Chichikov attended a city school. His father advised to him to make sure authority figures liked him, to befriend only his richer classmates, to make sure others buy things for him, and to never return favors. His father insisted that money is worth more than any friendship or relationship. Chichikov took these lessons to heart. As a child, he made money: selling food to hungry classmates at high prices; training and selling a mouse. His cruel teacher had favorites and was abusive, so Chichikov curried favor by always remaining silent and still. When his father died, Chichikov sold his estate, and refused to donate money to help his former teacher in his old age.

Chichikov eventually found a civil service post in a small town, unable to find a more lucrative one because of his lack of social connections. He worked constantly at his new post, distinguishing himself from his co-workers with his sobriety and neat appearance. His chief clerk, however, was almost impossible to impress, until Chichikov learned his head clerk had a daughter, whom he took pains to court. Soon after, he moved into the family home and there was talk of a wedding. But, once he was promoted, Chichikov broke off the relationship.

Chichikov set up a clever bribery business, refusing to take any payments himself, but ensuring that frustrated clients who needed civil service documents would eventually pay large sums to his underlings. This meant that only lower functionaries had bad reputations, while superiors like him preserved the appearance of honesty. Soon Chichikov misappropriated funds and pursued a more lavish lifestyle, dressing better and employing a chef. When his corruption scheme was exposed, he got his record expunged and left.

He finally achieved his life’s ambition of a post in the state customs service, which offered prime opportunities for the extortion and theft of imported goods. He quickly became an expert in searching for smuggled goods. However, he did not use his position to earn any personal profits. His real scheme was to receive many promotions and ally with a massively successful smuggling operation—his high post meant that he would receive a greater cut of the proceeds. Another smuggler exposed his crimes, but Chichikov escaped with money and no criminal record.

He was left with a small fortune of ten thousand rubles, his servants, and the barouche, but he decided against the prudent route of a quiet retirement. Instead, he pursued wealth by becoming a landowner’s agent. In trying to mortgage one estate, he met an official who told him that dead peasants listed as alive in the last census, were part of the property before the next. Chichikov realizes he can take out mortgages on them: Most landowners should be happy to sell, as this saves them on taxes. The narrator decides that Chichikov is not entirely a villain: He is “an owner, an acquirer. Acquisition is the root of all evil: acquisitiveness has led to dealings which society qualifies as somewhat murky” (4521-23). The narrator decides that most humans are subject to impulses they cannot control.

The narrator then rejects the idea that ignoring hard truths is in any way helpful, telling a parable of a landowner who denies any reports of his situation, and then dies in disgrace because he spent money on distractions rather than improvements. Telling the truth about moral failings is not besmirching the national character. He tells another parable, about a father who is too concerned about his reputation to discipline a son who injures others through not knowing his own strength. This concern with reputation more than actually performing virtuous deeds or refraining from bad ones is the real problem. The narrator worries that few readers will admit that Chichikov has things in common with them.

At this point, Chichikov awakens, having heard his name spoken in a metafictional moment, and urges Selifan the coachman to go faster. The narrator compares Chichikov’s vehicle to Russia constantly careening through history: “Russia, where are you hurtling to? Give an answer! There is no answer. […] everything that exists on earth flies past, and other nations and empires look askance and stand back to make way for the troika” (4626-28).