Writing a pimple in the history of one city of Saltykov-Shchedrin. Characteristics of the image of a pimple by ivan panteleich - any essay on the topic Ivan panteleevich pimple appearance and character traits
the image of the main character, the chief in the story of a city by Saltykov-Shchedrin and received the best answer
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Borodavsky - Foolov's mayor?
Do you need to write an essay about him?
Answer from R_M_N[active]
The work of Saltykov-Shchedrin, a democrat for whom the autocratic-serf system prevailing in Russia was absolutely unacceptable, had a satirical orientation. The writer was outraged by the Russian society of "slaves and masters", the outrage of the landowners, the submissiveness of the people, and in all his works he denounced the "ulcers" of society, cruelly ridiculed its vices and imperfections.
Thus, starting to write The History of a City, Saltykov-Shchedrin set himself the goal of exposing the ugliness, impossibility of the existence of autocracy with its social vices, laws, morals, and ridicule all of its realities.
Thus, “The History of a City” is a satirical work, the dominant artistic means in depicting the history of the city of Foolov, its inhabitants and mayors is grotesque, a method of combining the fantastic and the real, creating absurd situations, comic inconsistencies. In fact, all the events taking place in the city are grotesque. Its inhabitants, the Foolovites, “descended from the ancient tribe of bunglers,” who did not know how to live in self-government and decided to find a ruler for themselves, are unusually “bossy”. “Experiencing unaccountable fear”, unable to live independently, they “feel like orphans” without city governors and consider the “salutary severity” of the excesses of Organchik, who had a mechanism in his head and knew only two words - “I will not tolerate” and “I will ruin”. Quite “common” in Foolov are such mayors as Pimple with a stuffed head or the Frenchman Du-Mario, “on closer inspection, it turned out to be a girl”. However, absurdity reaches its culmination with the appearance of Gloom-Grumblev, "a scoundrel who has decided to embrace the entire universe." In an effort to realize his "systematic delirium", Gloom-Grumblev is trying to equalize everything in nature, to arrange society so that everyone in Foolov would live according to his own plan, so that the entire arrangement of the city would be created anew according to his design, which leads to the destruction of Foolov by his own residents who unquestioningly carry out the orders of the "scoundrel", and further - to the death of Gloom-Grumblev and all the Foolovites, consequently, the disappearance of the order established by him, as an unnatural phenomenon, unacceptable by nature itself.
So, using the grotesque, Saltykov-Shchedrin creates a logical, on the one hand, and on the other hand, a comically absurd picture, but for all its absurdity and fantastic nature, The History of One City is a realistic work that touches on many pressing problems. The images of the city of Foolov and its mayors are allegorical, they symbolize autocratic serf Russia, the power that reigns in it, Russian society. Therefore, the grotesque used by Saltykov-Shchedrin in the narrative is also a way to expose the ugly, disgusting for the writer, the realities of contemporary life, as well as a means of revealing the author's position, the attitude of Saltykov-Shchedrin to what is happening in Russia.
Describing the fantastically comic life of the Foolovites, their constant fear, their all-forgiving love for their bosses, Saltykov-Shchedrin expresses his contempt for the people, apathetic and obediently slave, as the writer believes, by their nature. The only time in the work the Foolovites were free was with the mayor with a stuffed head. By creating this grotesque situation, Saltykov-Shchedrin shows that under the existing socio-political system, the people cannot be free. The absurdity of the behavior of the "strong" (symbolizing real power) of this world in the work embodies the lawlessness and arbitrariness perpetrated in Russia by high-ranking officials. The grotesque image of Gloom-Burcheev, his “systematic delirium” (a kind of dystopia), which the mayor decided to implement at all costs, and the fantastic end of his reign - the realization of Saltykov-Shchedrin's idea of inhumanity, the unnaturalness of absolute power, bordering on tyranny, about the impossibility of its existence.
Answer from Ђanyusha Dunaeva (Narovenkova)[master]
Answer from Valeria Zhuravleva[newbie]
Wartkin Vasilisk Semenovich - Foolov's mayor, appears in the chapter "Warriors for Enlightenment". He was distinguished by "unheard-of administrative causticity", loudness and quickness. "Even with only one eye" and had a watchful eye. B. thought big: he dreamed of campaigns of conquest. But, since there was no such opportunity yet, he limited himself to "wars for enlightenment." There were four such wars in total, they were fought against the Foolovites and always ended in B.'s victory. It could not have been otherwise: with the help of tin soldiers, filled with blood, the mayor destroyed everything in his path. Therefore, it was easier for the Foolovites to agree to use mustard and Provencal oil, to put houses on stone foundations, to plant Persian chamomile, or even to send their children to the Foolov's academy.
The wars of enlightenment were abruptly replaced by campaigns against the enlightenment in connection with the French Revolution. But the Foolovites did not notice much of a difference. Also B. "burned down the dung settlement, ... ravaged the Wretch, ... lavished the Swamp." He was about to set the whole city on fire when he suddenly died.
Dvoekurov Semyon Konstantinich - sent to Foolov after the story with Organchik and the turmoil caused by him. He considered himself an enlightened reformer. The most important of D.'s transformations was the decree on the compulsory use of mustard and bay leaves. In order to introduce his decree into Foolov's heads, D. "spared no rod." This hero was bothering to establish an academy in Foolov — not for the dissemination of sciences, but for their "consideration." More D. did not become famous for anything, except that he will serve as an inspiring example for Wartkin. He died a natural death, the only one of all the mayors, as he was the most harmless of them.
Organchik (Brudasty Dementy Varlamovich) - one of the mayors in Foolov. At his first appearance, he “crossed a lot of drivers” and stunned Foolov's officials with an exclamation: “I will not tolerate it! »During his further reign, O. limited himself only to this phrase. With this, he horrified the whole city.
The mysterious behavior of the mayor was explained in the most unexpected way: an organ was found in his head, which performed only two plays - “I’ll take it out! "And" I will not tolerate! “Once this organ broke. The local master, no matter how hard he tried, could not fix it. Then, under a terrible secret, a new head of the mayor was ordered in St. Petersburg.
On the way back, O.'s head fell and was badly wrinkled. Meanwhile, in Foolov, seeing that O. had disappeared somewhere, the people began to worry and demand to show him the mayor. They decided that they would put on O.'s old head and take him out to the Foolovites.
As a result, two O. appeared before the people - with a new head and with an old one. As a result, confusion began in Foolov.
Pimple Ivan Panteleich is the next mayor of Foolov. Lieutenant Colonel: "I have not been in battles, sir, but I have been tempered in parades even beyond proportion." P. himself said that he was "in a fair state," because he was "in command, sir; therefore, he did not waste, but multiplied, sir. "
P. arrived in Foolov with one goal - “to have a rest, sir! Therefore, at first he did not interfere in any Foolov's affairs. By this P. led the city to an abundance unheard of for him: "so much bread was produced that, apart from the sale, there was even left for his own use." However, the Foolovites, unaccustomed to such a "good" life, began to suspect in P. that something was amiss. And, indeed, he “goes to sleep on the glacier every night,” for example. As a result, it turned out that P. had a stuffed head that had been eaten.
Characteristics of a literary hero
Pimple Ivan Panteleich is the next mayor of Foolov. Lieutenant Colonel: "I have not been in battles, sir, but I have been tempered in parades even beyond proportion." P. himself said that he was “in a good state,” because he was “in command, sir; therefore, he did not waste, but multiplied, sir. "
P. arrived in Foolov with one goal - "to have a rest, sir!" Therefore, at first he did not interfere in any Foolov's affairs. By this, P. led the city to an abundance unheard of for him: "so much bread was produced that, apart from the sale, there was even left for his own use." However, the Foolovites, unaccustomed to such a “good” life, began to suspect something was amiss in P.. And, indeed, he “goes to sleep on the glacier every night,” for example. As a result, it turned out that P. had a stuffed head that had been eaten.
Essay on literature on the topic: Pimple (History of one city Saltykov-Shchedrin)
Other compositions:
- History of one city This story is the “true” chronicle of the city of Foolov, “The Foolov Chronicler”, embracing the period from 1731 to 1825, which was “successively composed” by four Foolov's archivists. In the chapter “From the Publisher,” the author insists on the authenticity of the “Chronicler” and invites the reader to “catch Read More ......
- Wartkin Description of the literary hero Wartkin Vasilisk Semenovich - Foolov's mayor, appears in the chapter "Warriors for Enlightenment". He was distinguished by "unheard-of administrative causticity", loudness and quickness. “Even with only one eye” and had a watchful eye. B. thought big: he dreamed of campaigns of conquest. Read More ......
- Organchik Characteristics of the literary hero Organchik (Brudasty Dementy Varlamovich) is one of the mayors in Foolov. At his first appearance, he “crossed a lot of drivers” and stunned Foolov's officials with an exclamation: “I will not tolerate it!” During his subsequent reign, O. limited himself only to this phrase. With this Read More ......
- Dvoekurov Characteristics of the literary hero Dvoekurov Semyon Konstantinich - sent to Foolov after the story with Organchik and the turmoil caused by him. He considered himself an enlightened reformer. The most important of D.'s transformations was the decree on the compulsory use of mustard and bay leaves. To implement your Read More ......
- Ferdyshchenko Characteristics of the literary hero Ferdyshchenko Petr Petrovich - the mayor of Foolov. Brigadier, former orderly of Prince Potemkin. At first he allowed the Foolovites to “behold the light”, since in his simplicity he did not interfere in the affairs of the government for 6 years. But then F. “became active”: he began to satisfy his Read More ......
- Gloom-Burcheev Characteristics of the literary hero Gloom-Burcheev is the last mayor of Foolov. Appears in the chapter “Confirmation of Repentance. Conclusion". The image is very exaggerated, in many ways it is a parody of Arakcheev. W.-B. there was a “grim idiot” who could not see beyond his nose. But in this radius everything should Read More ......
- Pimple Ivan Panteleich - Lieutenant Colonel. In his own words, "I've never been in battles, sir, but I've been tempered in parades even beyond proportion." The fortunes of "a fair amount" ("He commanded, sir; therefore, he did not squander, but multiplied, sir"), arrived in Foolov with a "campaign plan": "rest, sir!" From any interference with Read More ......
- The work of Saltykov-Shchedrin, a democrat, for whom the autocratic-serf system prevailing in Russia was absolutely unacceptable, had a satirical orientation. The writer was outraged by the Russian society of "slaves and masters", the outrage of the landowners, the submissiveness of the people, and in all his works he denounced the "ulcers" of society, cruelly ridiculed its vices Read More ......
Mayor Pimple. Artist Kukryniksy
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch is one of the mayors of the city of Fools in the novel "The History of a City" by Saltykov-Shchedrin. A detailed story about the Pimple can be found in the chapter "The Age of Leaving the Wars". This article presents a quotation image and characterization of Pimples in the "History of a City".
The image and characteristics of a pimple in the "History of one city" (Ivan Panteleevich Pimple)
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch has been the mayor of the city of Foolov since 1811 for several years.
The mayor of Pimple wears the military rank of major (according to other sources - lieutenant colonel):
"... Pimple, Major, Ivan Panteleich." "... Lieutenant Colonel Pimple has appeared ..."
At the same time, Officer Pimple has never been in battles, but he participated in parades:
"For myself, I can say one thing: I have never been in battles, sir, but I have been tempered in parades even beyond proportion."
A pimple is a wealthy person:
"Thanks to God, I have a good fortune. He commanded, sir; therefore, he did not squander, but multiplied, sir."
The Mayor of Pimple is a middle-aged man:
"The pimple was no longer young ..."
The following is known about the appearance of Pimples:
“The pimple was no longer young, but it was preserved unusually.
He seemed to say with all his figure:
Don't look at the fact that I have a gray mustache: I can! I can still very much!
He was blush, had red and luscious lips, because of which he could see a row of white teeth;
His gait was active and vigorous, a quick gesture.
And all this was adorned with brilliant staff-officer's epaulettes, which played on his shoulders at the slightest movement. "
A pimple is a stupid person, according to one chronicler:
"Pimple and Ivanov were stupid ..."
Pimple himself considers himself a simple person:
"I am a simple man, sir," he said to one ... "
"... but I'm a simple person and I don't see any consolation in attacks, sir!"
Having become the mayor of Foolov, Pimple does not issue new laws:
"... I didn't come here to make laws, sir. It is my duty to see that the laws are intact and not scattered on the tables, sir."
"Consequently, I know what laws there are about this, but I don't want to publish new ones."
"Dismiss the new, I say, laws, I hope to fulfill the rest exactly!"
Pimple guides Foolov according to a very simplified control system. His plan is to "rest":
"Lieutenant Colonel Pryshch came to replace Benevolensky and brought with him an even more simplified administration system."
"Of course, I also have a campaign plan, but this plan is this: rest, sir!"
The pimple gives the Foolovites complete freedom and asks them for only one thing - to be careful with fire:
“Well, old people,” he said to the townsfolk, “let's live peacefully.
Do not touch me, and I will not touch you.
Plant and sow, eat and drink, start factories and plants - what then!
All this is for your benefit, sir!
For me, even erect monuments - I will not interfere with this!
Only with fire, for Christ's sake, handle with care, because there is not long before sin.
Set fire to your property, burn it yourself - what good is it! "
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch leads Foolov in the spirit of "boundless liberalism":
"... liberalism so boundless made them ponder: is there a catch?"
"... liberalism still continued to give the tone of life ..."
The mayor of Pimple does not interfere at all in the life of the Foolovites:
"... the mayor not only refuses to interfere in philistine affairs, but even claims that this non-interference is the essence of the administration."
The pimple does not deal with the affairs of the city and instead walks around the guests, arranges balls and goes hunting:
“But Pimple was completely sincere in his statements and was determined to follow the chosen path.
Having stopped all business, he went to the guests, hosted dinners and balls, and even got a flock of greyhounds and hounds, with which he hunted hares and foxes on the city pasture ... "
Under Pimple, the Foolovites live happily, as under the two previous mayors, Mikaladze and Benevolensky:
"But the happiness of the Foolovites, apparently, did not have an early end yet."
Fools like Pimple's inaction:
"Listening to the stories of Major Pimple's benevolent inaction, he was seduced by a picture of general jubilation, the former result this inaction. "
With a pimple, the Foolovites become 4 times richer:
"... they did not even have time to look back, as everything they had was against the previous two and three times."
"In this way another year passed, during which the Foolovites had all good things, not twice or three times, but four times."
During the reign of Pimple, abundance ensues in the city. Pimple itself grows so rich that its chests are bursting with gold and silver:
"The pimple looked at this well-being and rejoiced.
Yes, and it was impossible not to rejoice in him, because the general abundance reflected on him.
His barns were bursting with offerings made in kind;
The chests did not hold silver and gold, and the banknotes were just scattered on the floor. "
Under the Pimple, the city of Foolov produces a lot of honey, leather and bread:
"The bee swarmed unusually, so that honey and wax were sent to Byzantium almost as much as under the Grand Duke Oleg."
".... the skins were sent to Byzantium completely and for everything they received clean banknotes."
"... so much bread was produced that, apart from the sale, there was even left over for our own consumption ..."
Thanks to the Pimple, the city of Fools reaches the highest level welfare in its entire history:
"But no one guessed that thanks to this very circumstance the city was brought to such a prosperity, to which the chronicles had not seen anything like it since its foundation."
Having become rich, the Foolovites do not believe their happiness. They begin to attribute their well-being to some kind of evil spirits, "devilry" on the part of the mayor:
“... the Foolovites began to attribute this phenomenon to the mediation of some unknown force.
And since in their language the unknown force was called devilry, they began to think that it was not entirely clean here and that, therefore, the devil's participation in this matter could not be doubted. "
The Foolovites begin to follow Pimple and find out that he is sleeping in the glacier, surrounded by mousetraps. (The foolish people do not yet know that Pimple thus protects its stuffed head from heat and mice.):
"We began to look after Pimple and found something questionable in his behavior.
It was said, for example, that once someone found him sleeping on a sofa, as if his body was surrounded by mousetraps. "
In the end, the leader of the nobility exposes the Pimple. The mayor dies. As a result, the Foolovites learn that Pimple had a stuffed head:
"He ended up with a stuffed head, which was caught by the local leader of the nobility."
"The next day the Foolovites learned that their town governor had a stuffed head ..."
After the death of Pimple, the city of Foolov lives for some time by inertia, calmly and safely:
"... The unexpected beheading of Major Pimple had almost no effect on the well-being of the townsfolk. For some time, after the impoverishment of mayors, the city was ruled by the district ..."
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch is one of the mayors of the city of Fools in the novel "The History of a City" by Saltykov-Shchedrin. A detailed story about the Pimple can be found in the chapter "The Age of Leaving the Wars". This article presents a quotation image and characterization of Pimples in the "History of a City".
The image and characteristics of a pimple in the "History of one city" (Ivan Panteleevich Pimple)
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch has been the mayor of the city of Foolov since 1811 for several years.
The mayor of Pimple wears the military rank of major (according to other sources - lieutenant colonel):
"... Pimple, Major, Ivan Panteleich." "... Lieutenant Colonel Pimple has appeared ..."
At the same time, Officer Pimple has never been in battles, but he participated in parades:
"I can say one thing about myself: I have never been in battles, sir, but I have been tempered in parades even beyond proportion."
A pimple is a wealthy person:
"Thanks to God, I have a good fortune. He commanded, sir; therefore, he did not squander, but multiplied, sir."
The Mayor of Pimple is a middle-aged man:
"The pimple was no longer young ..."
The following is known about the appearance of Pimples:
“The pimple was no longer young, but it was preserved unusually.
He seemed to say with all his figure:
do not look at the fact that I have a gray mustache: I can! I can still very much!
He was blush, had red and luscious lips, because of which he could see a row of white teeth;
his gait was active and vigorous, a quick gesture.
And all this was adorned with brilliant staff-officer's epaulettes, which played on his shoulders at the slightest movement. "
A pimple is a stupid person, according to one chronicler:
"Pimple and Ivanov were stupid ..."
Pimple himself considers himself a simple person:
"I am a simple man, sir," he said to one ... "
"... but I'm a simple person and I don't see any consolation in attacks, sir!"
Having become the mayor of Foolov, Pimple does not issue new laws:
"... I didn't come here to make laws, sir. It is my duty to see that the laws are intact and not scattered on tables, sir."
"Consequently, I know what laws there are about this, but I don't want to publish new ones."
"I say, dismiss the new laws, I hope to fulfill the rest exactly!"
Pimple guides Foolov according to a very simplified control system. His plan is to "rest":
"Lieutenant Colonel Pryshch came to replace Benevolensky and brought with him an even more simplified administration system."
"Of course, I also have a campaign plan, but this plan is this: rest, sir!"
The pimple gives the Foolovites complete freedom and asks them for only one thing - to be careful with fire:
“Well, old people,” he said to the townsfolk, “let's live peacefully.
Do not touch me, and I will not touch you.
Plant and sow, eat and drink, start factories and plants - what then!
All this is good for you, sir!
For me, even erect monuments - I will not interfere with this!
Only with fire, for Christ's sake, handle with caution, because there is not long before sin.
Burn your property, burn it yourself - what good is it! "
Ivan Panteleevich Pryshch leads Foolov in the spirit of "boundless liberalism":
"... liberalism so boundless made them ponder: is there a catch?"
"... liberalism still continued to give the tone of life ..."
The mayor of Pimple does not interfere at all in the life of the Foolovites:
"... the mayor not only refuses to interfere in philistine affairs, but even claims that this non-interference is the essence of the administration."
The pimple does not deal with the affairs of the city and instead walks around the guests, arranges balls and goes hunting:
“But Pimple was completely sincere in his statements and was determined to follow the chosen path.
Having stopped all business, he went to the guests, hosted dinners and balls, and even got a flock of greyhounds and hounds, with which he hunted hares and foxes on the city pasture ... "
Under Pimple, the Foolovites live happily, as under the two previous mayors, Mikaladze and Benevolensky:
"But the happiness of the Foolovites, apparently, did not have an early end yet."
Fools like Pimple's inaction:
"As he listened to tales of Major Pimple's benevolent inaction, he was seduced by the picture of general glee that resulted from that inaction."
With a pimple, the Foolovites become 4 times richer:
"... they did not even have time to look back, as everything they had was against the previous two and three times."
"In this way another year passed, during which the Foolovites had all good things, not twice or three times, but four times."
During the reign of Pimple, abundance ensues in the city. Pimple itself grows so rich that its chests are bursting with gold and silver:
"The pimple looked at this well-being and rejoiced.
Yes, and it was impossible not to rejoice in him, because the general abundance reflected on him.
His barns were bursting with offerings made in kind;
the chests did not hold silver and gold, and the banknotes were just scattered on the floor. "
Under the Pimple, the city of Foolov produces a lot of honey, leather and bread:
"The bee swarmed unusually, so that honey and wax were sent to Byzantium almost as much as under the Grand Duke Oleg."
".... the skins were sent to Byzantium completely and for everything they received clean banknotes."
"... so much bread was produced that, apart from the sale, there was even left over for our own consumption ..."
Thanks to Pimples, the city of Foolov reaches the highest level of well-being in its entire history:
"But no one guessed that thanks to this very circumstance, the city was brought to such a prosperity, to which the chronicles had not seen anything like it since its foundation."
Having become rich, the Foolovites do not believe their happiness. They begin to attribute their well-being to some kind of evil spirits, "devilry" on the part of the mayor:
“... the Foolovites began to attribute this phenomenon to the mediation of some unknown force.
And since in their language the unknown force was called devilry, they began to think that it was not entirely clean here and that, therefore, the devil's participation in this matter could not be doubted. "
The Foolovites begin to follow Pimple and find out that he is sleeping in the glacier, surrounded by mousetraps. (The foolish people do not yet know that Pimple thus protects its stuffed head from heat and mice.):
"We began to look after Pimple and found something questionable in his behavior.
It was said, for example, that once someone found him sleeping on a sofa, as if his body was surrounded by mousetraps. "
In the end, the leader of the nobility exposes the Pimple. The mayor dies. As a result, the Foolovites learn that Pimple had a stuffed head:
"He ended up with a stuffed head, which was caught by the local leader of the nobility."
"The next day the Foolovites learned that their town governor had a stuffed head ..."
After the death of Pimple, the city of Foolov lives for some time by inertia, calmly and safely:
"... The unexpected beheading of Major Pimple had almost no effect on the well-being of the townsfolk. For some time, after the impoverishment of mayors, the city was ruled by the district ..."
But Pimple was completely sincere in his statements and firmly decided to follow the chosen path. Having stopped all business, he went to the guests, hosted dinners and balls, and even got a flock of greyhounds and hounds, with which he hunted hares and foxes on the city pasture, and once he took to a very pretty bourgeois girl. Not without irony he spoke about his predecessor, who was languishing in captivity at that time.
- Filat Irinarkhovich, - he said, - more on paper promised that the townsfolk would supposedly rest safely in their houses with him, but in practice I would provide this ... yes, sir!
And for sure: in spite of the fact that the first steps of Pimple were greeted by the Foolovites with distrust, they did not even have time to look back, as everything turned out to be twice and three times as against the previous one. The bee swarmed unusually, so that honey and wax were sent to Byzantium almost as much as under Grand Duke Oleg. Although there were no bestial deaths, there were many skins, and since the Foolovites were more agile for all that to flaunt in bast shoes than in boots, the skins were sent off to Byzantium in full, and for everything they received clean banknotes. And since everyone began to produce manure freely, so much grain was produced that, in addition to selling it, there was even left for their own use. “Not like in other cities,” the chronicler says bitterly, “where the railways18 do not have time to transport the gifts of the earth, assigned for sale, but the inhabitants come from starvation to starvation. every hireling ate real bread, and it was not uncommon to find some with welds. "
The pimple looked at this well-being and rejoiced. Yes, and it was impossible not to rejoice in him, because the general abundance reflected on him. His barns were bursting with offerings made in kind; the chests did not move the silver and gold, and the banknotes simply lay on the floor.
In this way another year passed, during which the Foolovites showed up not twice or three times, but four times. But as freedom developed, its primordial enemy, analysis, was born. With the increase in material well-being, leisure was acquired, and with the acquisition of leisure, the ability to explore and experience the nature of things appeared. This always happens, but the Foolovites used this "newfound ability" not to strengthen their well-being, but to undermine it.
Fragile in self-government, the Foolovites began to attribute this phenomenon to the mediation of some unknown force. And since in their language the unknown force was called devilry, they began to think that it was not entirely clean here and that, therefore, the devil's participation in this matter could not be doubted. They began to look after Pimple and found something dubious in his behavior. It was said, for example, that one day someone found him sleeping on a sofa, as if his body was surrounded by mousetraps. Others went further and argued that Pimple goes to sleep on the glacier every night. All this revealed something mysterious, and although no one asked himself what to do with the fact that the mayor sleeps on the glacier, and not in an ordinary bedroom, but everyone was anxious. General suspicions increased even more when they noticed that the local leader of the nobility had been in some unnaturally agitated state for some time and every time he met with the mayor, he began to circle and make ridiculous gestures.
It cannot be said that the leader was distinguished by special qualities of mind and heart; but he had a stomach in which, as in a grave, all sorts of pieces disappeared. This not very intricate gift of nature became for him a source of lively pleasures. Every day, from early morning, he went on a hike around the city and sniffed the smells flying out of the philistine kitchens. In a short time, his sense of smell was so sophisticated that he could accurately guess the components of the most complex minced meat.
Already at the first meeting with the town governor, the leader felt that something not quite ordinary lurked in this dignitary, namely, that he smelled of truffles. For a long time he fought with his guess, mistaking it for the dream of an imagination inflamed with food, but the more often the meetings were repeated, the more painful the doubts became. Finally, he could not resist and reported his suspicions to the clerk of the noble guardianship Polovinkin.
- Smells from him! - he said to his astonished confidant, - it smells! Exactly in the sausage shop!
- Maybe they smear their head with truffle lipstick, sir? - Polovinkin doubted.
- Well, this, brother, pipes! After that, each pig will lie in your eyes that he is not a pig, but only sprinkles with pig perfume!
At the first time, the conversation had no other consequences, but the thought of pig spirits sunk deeply into the leader's soul. Falling into a gastronomic melancholy, he wandered around the city like a lover, and when he saw a pimple somewhere, he licked his lips in the most absurd way. Once, during a joint meeting, which was the subject of an intensified gastronomic celebration during Shrovetide, the leader, driven to a frenzy by the pungent smell spread by the mayor, jumped up from his seat beside himself and shouted: "Vinegar and mustard!" And then, leaning against the mayor's head, he began to sniff it.
The amazement of the persons present at this mysterious scene was boundless. It also seemed strange that the mayor, albeit through clenched teeth, but rather incautiously said:
- You guessed it, canalya!
And then, recollecting himself, with ease, obviously pretentious, he added:
- It seems that our most worthy leader mistook my head for stuffed ... ha, ha!
Alas! This indirect confession contained the most bitter truth!
The leader fainted and suffered a fever, but forgot nothing and learned nothing. There were several scenes, almost indecent. The leader whirled, whirled, and finally, finding himself once with an eye-to-eye Pimple, he made up his mind.
- Slice! - he moaned in front of the mayor, vigilantly following the expression in the eyes of his chosen victim.
At the first sound of such a clearly formulated request, the mayor wavered. His position was immediately outlined with that irrevocable clarity, in which all agreements become useless. He looked timidly at his offender and, meeting his gaze full of determination, suddenly fell into a state of boundless melancholy.
Nevertheless, he still made a feeble attempt to fight back. A struggle ensued; but the leader was already furious and did not remember himself. His eyes sparkled, his belly ached sweetly. He gasped, groaned, called the town governor "darling", "dear" and other names unusual for this rank; licked it, smelled it, etc. Finally, with unheard of fury, the leader rushed at his victim, cut off a chunk of his head with a knife and immediately swallowed ...
The first slice was followed by another, then a third, until there was not a crumb left ...
Then the mayor suddenly jumped up and began to wipe with his paws those parts of his body that the leader had poured with vinegar. Then he whirled in one place and suddenly his whole body crashed to the floor.
The next day the Foolovites learned that their town governor had a stuffed head ...
But no one guessed that, thanks to this very circumstance, the city was brought to such a prosperity, to which the chronicles had not seen anything like it since its foundation.
MAMON'S WORSHIP AND REPENTANCE
Human life is a dream, say the spiritualist philosophers, and if they were completely logical, they would add: history is also a dream. Of course, taken absolutely, both of these comparisons are equally absurd, but one cannot but admit that in history they really meet in places like failures, before which human thought stops, not without bewilderment. The stream of life, as it were, stops its natural flow and forms a whirlpool that swirls in one place, splashes and becomes covered with a muddy scale, through which it is impossible to distinguish neither clear typical features, nor even any isolated phenomena. Confused and unintelligible events incoherently follow one after the other, and people, apparently, have no other goals than the protection of the present day. Alternately, they either tremble or triumph, and the more they feel humiliated, the more severe and vindictive the triumph. The source from which this anxiety arose is already muddied; the principles in whose name the struggle arose were fading away; what remains is struggle for struggle, art for art, inventing the rack, walking on knitting needles, etc.
Of course, this anxiety is mainly concentrated on the surface; however, it is hardly possible to assert that even at the bottom at this time the situation is good. What happens in those layers of the abyss that immediately follow the top layer and further, to the very bottom? Are they calm, or is the anxiety found in the upper layer exerting pressure on them? - it is impossible to determine this with complete certainty, since in general we do not yet have the habit of looking closely at what goes far into the depths. But we can hardly be mistaken in saying that the pressure is felt there too. In part, it is expressed in the form of material damage and loss, but mainly in the form of a more or less prolonged delay in social development. And although the results of these losses are expressed with particular bitterness only later, one can guess that contemporaries do not take much pleasure in the pressures that gravitate over them.
One of such difficult historical epochs was probably experienced by Foolov in the time described by the chronicler. The city's own inner life hid to the bottom, while some malicious emanations appeared on the surface, which took over the entire arena of history. Artificial impurities entangled Foolov from top to bottom, and if it can be said that this artificiality was not useless in the general economy of his existence, then with no less truth it can be argued that people living under her oppression are not very happy people. To endure Wartkin in order to learn the benefits of eating certain cereals; to endure Urus-Kugush-Kildibaev in order to get acquainted with real courage - as you wish, and such a lot cannot be called either truly normal or especially flattering, although, on the other hand, it cannot be denied that some cereals are really useful, and the courage used in its time and place does not harm either.
Under such conditions, it is impossible to expect the townsfolk to show any feats in terms of improvement and deanery, or especially succeed in terms of sciences and arts. For them, such historical eras are years of learning, during which they test themselves in one thing: to what extent they can endure. This is precisely how the chronicler presents his fellow citizens to us. From his story it is clear that the Foolovites unquestioningly obey the whims of history and do not present any data by which one could judge the degree of their maturity, in the sense of self-government; that, on the contrary, they rush from side to side, without any plan, as if driven by unaccountable fear. No one will deny that this picture is not flattering, but it cannot be otherwise, because the material for it is a person who is hammered with amazing constancy and who, of course, cannot come to any other result than stunned. The chronicler reveals the history of these stuns to us with that artlessness and truth, which always distinguish the stories of everyday life writers-archivists. In my opinion, this is all that we have the right to demand from him. No deliberate mockery is noticed in his story: on the contrary, in many places even sympathy for the poor stunned is noticeable. The mere fact that, in spite of the mortal battle, the Foolovites nevertheless continue to live, is sufficient evidence in favor of their stability and deserves serious attention from the historian.
Let us not forget that the chronicler is mainly talking about the so-called rabble, which is still considered to stand, as it were, outside the boundaries of history. On the one hand, his mental gaze sees a force that crept up from afar and managed to organize and get stronger, on the other - people and orphans scattered in the corners and always taken by surprise. Is it possible any doubt about the nature of the relationship that has arisen from the comparison of the elements so opposite?
That the power in question is by no means invented is proved by the fact that the idea of it even laid the foundation for an entire historical school. Representatives of this school quite sincerely preach that the more the inhabitants are destroyed, the more prosperous they will be and the more brilliant the history itself will be. Of course, this opinion is not very clever, but how to prove it to people who are so confident in themselves that they do not listen to or accept any evidence? Before starting to prove, one must also force oneself to listen, but how can this be done when the complainant cannot convince himself enough that he should not be exterminated?
- I told him: what reason do you, sir, have to fight? but he just clicks in the teeth: here's a reason for you! Here's a reason for you!
This is the only clear formula for mutual relations that is possible under such conditions. There is no reason to fight, but there is no reason not to fight; as a result, only a sad tautology is seen, in which a slap in the face is declared a slap in the face. Of course, this tautology rests on a thread, on only one thread, but how to break this thread? - that's the whole question. And now the opinion is expressed by itself: is it not better to put hope in the future? This opinion is also not very smart, but what to do if no other opinions have been worked out yet? And it seems that the Foolovites were holding on to him.
Having likened themselves to debtors who are in the power of eternal creditors, they reasoned that there are all kinds of creditors in the world: both reasonable and unreasonable. A reasonable creditor helps the debtor to get out of constrained circumstances and receives his debt as a reward for his reasonableness. An unreasonable creditor puts the debtor in prison or continuously whips him up and receives nothing in compensation. Having reasoned in this way, the Foolovites began to wait to see if all creditors would become reasonable. And they are waiting to this day.
Therefore, I do not see anything in the stories of the chronicler that would infringe on the dignity of the inhabitants of the city of Foolov. These are people, like all others, with the only proviso that their natural properties were overgrown with a mass of superficial atoms, behind which almost nothing can be seen. Therefore, there is no question of the actual "properties", but there is only talk about the superficial atoms. Would it be better or even more pleasant if the chronicler, instead of describing discordant movements, depicted in Foolov the ideal center of legality and law? For example, at a moment when Wartkin demands the widespread distribution of mustard, would it be more pleasant for readers if the chronicler made the inhabitants not tremble before him, but successfully prove the untimely and inappropriateness of his undertakings?
In all honesty, I affirm that such a perversion of Foolov's customs would not only be unhelpful, but even positively unpleasant. And the reason for this is very simple: the story of the chronicler in this form would have turned out to disagree with the truth.
The unexpected beheading of Major Pimple had little or no effect on the well-being of the townsfolk. For some time, after the impoverishment of town governors, the city was ruled by the quarter; but since liberalism still continued to give the tone of life, they did not rush at the inhabitants, but politely walked through the bazaar and tenderly examined which piece was fatter. But even these modest campaigns were not always accompanied by good luck for them, because the townsfolk dared so much that they willingly gave only tripe.
The consequence of such prosperity was that for a whole year in Foolov there was only one conspiracy, but even then not on the part of the townsfolk against the quarter ones (as is usually the case), but on the contrary, on the part of the quarter ones against the townsfolk (which never happens). Namely: the quarterly, tormented by hunger, decided to poison all the dogs in the courtyard in order to have an unhindered entrance to the shops at night. Fortunately, the assassination attempt was spotted in time, and the conspiracy was resolved by the fact that the conspirators themselves were deprived of their entrails for the time being.
After that, State Councilor Ivanov arrived in Foolov, but he turned out to be so small that he could not contain anything lengthy. As if on purpose, this happened at the very time when the passion for legislation assumed in our fatherland almost dangerous proportions; Chanceries seethed with statutes, as fabulous rivers never boiled with milk and honey, and each statute weighed no less than a pound. It was this very circumstance that caused Ivanov's death, the story of which, however, exists in two completely different versions. One version says that Ivanov died of fright, having received a too extensive Senate decree, which he did not hope to understand. Another version claims that Ivanov did not die at all, but was dismissed because his head, due to the gradual drying out of his brains (from the uselessness in their use), passed into an embryonic state. After that, he allegedly lived for a long time on his own estate, where he managed to lay the foundation for a whole individual of short-headed (microcephals), which exist to this day.
Which of these two options is more credible is difficult to decide; but it is fair to say that the atrophy of such an important organ as the head could hardly have happened in such a short time. However, on the other hand, there is no doubt that microcephals really exist and that the legend calls them the ancestor of the state councilor Ivanov. However, for us this is a secondary issue; what is important is that the Foolovites, even in the time of Ivanov, continued to be prosperous and that, consequently, the flaw he possessed served the inhabitants not to harm, but to benefit.
In 1815, the Viscount du Chariot, a French native, came to replace Ivanov. Paris was taken; the enemy of humanity is permanently installed on the island of St. Helena; Moskovskie vedomosti announced that with the shame of the enemy their task was over, and promised to cease to exist; but the next day they took their promise back and gave another, which they pledged to cease to exist only when Paris was taken a second time. There was general jubilation, and Foolov was jubilant with everyone. They remembered the merchant Raspopova, how she, together with Benevolensky, intrigued in favor of Napoleon, dragged her out into the street and allowed the boys to tease. The whole day the little scoundrels pursued the unfortunate widow, called her Bonaparte, the antichrist concubine, etc., until finally she fell into a frenzy and began to divine. The meaning of these prophecies was explained only later, when Gloom-Grumblev arrived in Foolov and left no stone unturned in the city.
Du Chariot was cheerful. First, his émigré heart was glad that Paris was taken; secondly, he had not eaten in a real manner for so long that the stuffed Foolov's pies seemed to him to be heavenly food. Having eaten his fill, he demanded that they immediately show him a place where it would be possible to passer son temps a faire des be ^ tises19, and was extremely pleased when he learned that in Soldatskaya Sloboda there was just such a house as he wanted. Then he began to chat and did not stop until he was escorted from Foolov abroad by order of his superiors. But since he was, after all, a son of the eighteenth century, a spirit of inquiry often broke through his chatter, which could have yielded very bitter fruits if it had not been largely mitigated by a spirit of frivolity. For example, once he began to explain human rights to the Foolovites; but luckily he ended up explaining the rights of the Bourbons. On another occasion, he began by persuading the townsfolk to believe in the Goddess of Reason, and ended by asking them to acknowledge the infallibility of the Pope. All these were, however, one facons de parler; and in essence the viscount was ready to take the side of any belief or dogma, if he meant that for this he would get an extra quarter.
He enjoyed himself tirelessly, arranged masquerades almost every day, dressed as a debarder, danced the cancan, and especially loved to intrigue men. He sang masterfully maneuver songs and assured him that Count d "Artois (later the French King Charles X) taught him these songs during his stay in Riga. At first he ate everything he could get, but when he had eaten, he began to use mainly the so-called not" clean, between which he preferred pressure and frogs. But he did not do business and did not interfere with the administration.
This last circumstance promised to prolong the well-being of the Foolovites without end; but they themselves were exhausted under the burden of their happiness. They forgot themselves. Spoiled by five successive city governors, driven almost to the point of bitterness by the gross flattery of the district officials, they dreamed that happiness was theirs by right and that no one could take it away from them. The victory over Napoleon even more confirmed them in this opinion, and almost in this very era the famous proverb was formed: we will throw our hats! - which subsequently served for a long time as the motto of Foolov's exploits on the battlefield.
And then a whole series of unfortunate events followed, which the chronicler calls "shameless Foolov's frenzy," but which is much more fitting to call the passing Foolov's pampering.
They began by throwing bread under the table and being baptized in a frantic custom. The denunciations of that time are full of the most bitter indications of this sad fact. “There was a time,” the accusers thundered, “when the Foolovites put the ancient Platons and Socrates to shame with piety; a fashionable idea that commands to do ". But the Foolovites did not heed the accusers, and insolently said: "Let the pigs eat bread, but we will eat the pigs - the same bread will be!" And du Chariot not only did not oppose such answers, but even saw in them the emergence of some kind of spirit of inquiry.
Feeling themselves at liberty, the Foolovites with a kind of fury rushed along the slope that found themselves under their feet. Now they decided to build a tower so that its upper end would certainly rest against the heavens. But since they had no architects, and the carpenters were not scientists and not always sober, they brought the tower to half and abandoned it, and only, perhaps, thanks to this circumstance, they avoided confusion of languages.
But even this seemed not enough. The Foolovites forgot the true God and clung to idols. They remembered that even during the reign of Vladimir the Red Sun, some of the disused gods were handed over to the archives, rushed there and pulled out two: Perun and Volos. Idols, who had not known repairs for several centuries, were in terrible neglect, and Perun even had a mustache painted with coal. Nevertheless, the Foolovites seemed so amiable that they immediately gathered a gathering and decided this: to the noble of both sexes to bow to Perun, and to the peasants - to make sacrifices to Volos. They also called the clerks and demanded that they become magicians; but they did not give an answer, and in embarrassment they only trembled with exclamations. Then they remembered that there was someone in Streletskaya Sloboda called "Kuzma defrocked" (the one who, if the reader remembers, planned to go into schism under Wartkin), and they sent for him. By this time Kuzma was already completely deaf and blind, but as soon as they gave him a sniff of a ruble coin, he immediately agreed to everything and began to shout something incomprehensible in Averkiev's verses from the opera Rogneda.
Du Chariot looked out of the window at the whole ceremony and, holding his sides, shouted: "Sont-ils be ^ tes! Dieux des dieux! Sont-ils be ^ tes, ces moujiks de Gloupoff!" 22.
The corruption of morals developed by leaps and bounds. Cocottes and cocodes appeared; the men brought on vests with unheard-of cutouts that completely bare their breasts; women arranged elevations behind them, which had a representative meaning and aroused free thoughts in passers-by. A new language was formed, half-human, half-monkey, but in any case, completely unsuitable for the expression of any abstract thoughts. Noble persons walked the streets and sang: "A moi l" pompon ", or" La Venus aux carottes "23, the smerds wandered around the taverns and bawled the Kamarinskaya. Respect for elders disappeared; the question was agitated whether, when people reached certain years of age, they should not be eliminated from life, but self-interest prevailed, and they decided to sell old men and women into slavery. arena and staged "The Beautiful Helena" in it, inviting, as a performer, the damsel Blanche Gandon.
And for all this, they continued to consider themselves the wisest people in the world.
The state councilor Erast Andreevich Grustilov found Foolov's affairs in such a situation. He was a sensitive person, and when he talked about the mutual relations of the two sexes, he blushed. Just before that, he had composed a story entitled “Saturn Stopping His Run in the Arms of Venus,” which, according to critics of that time, happily combined the tenderness of Apuleius with the playfulness of Parni. Under the name of Saturn, he portrayed himself, under the name of Venus - the then famous beauty Natalia Kirillovna de Pompadour. "Saturn," he wrote, "was burdened by years and had a stooped appearance, but he could still accomplish something. It is necessary that Venus, noticing this peculiarity in him, should fix her favorable gaze on him" ...
But the melancholic appearance (the forerunner of the future mysticism) covered up in him many inclinations of undoubtedly vicious. So, for example, it was known that, being a food master with the active army, he rather easily disposed of state property and relieved himself from the complaints of his own conscience only by the fact that, looking at the soldiers who ate musty bread, he shed abundant tears. It was also known that he got to Madame de Pompadour not with the help of some kind of "peculiarity", but simply with the help of monetary offerings, and through her he got rid of the court and even received a higher appointment against the previous appointment. When Pompadursha was, "for weak keeping some secrecy", was exiled to a monastery and tonsured under the name of the nun Nymphodora, he was the first to throw a stone at her and wrote "The Tale of a certain many-loving wife," in which he made very clear allusions to his former benefactor ... Moreover, although he was shy and blushed in the presence of women, under this shyness lurked that heightened voluptuousness, which loves to irritate himself first and then steadily strives towards the outlined goal. Numerous examples of this secret but burning voluptuousness have been told. Thus, one day, dressed as a swan, he swam to a bathing girl, the daughter of noble parents, who had only a dowry that was beauty, and while she stroked him on the head, he made her unhappy for the rest of her life. In a word, he thoroughly studied mythology, and although he liked to pretend to be pious, in essence he was the worst idolater.
Foolish promiscuity was to his taste. At the very entrance to the city, he met a procession, which immediately interested him. Six girls, dressed in transparent tunics, carried the blockhead Perun on a stretcher; in front, in an ecstatic state, galloped the leader, covered with only ostrich feathers; behind was a crowd of noblemen and noblewomen, among whom could be seen the most honorable representatives of Foolov's merchants (the muzhiks, bourgeois and the Red Riders bowed poorer at this time to Volos). When they reached the square, the crowd stopped. Perun was put on a dais, the leader knelt down and in a loud voice began to read "The Evening Sacrifice" by Mr. Boborykin.
- What? - asked Melancholov, leaning out of the carriage and surreptitiously squinting at the outfit of the leader.
- Perunov's name-day celebrates, your honor! - answered with one voice the quarter.
- And girls ... girls ... are there? - somehow languidly asked Melancholy.
- All synclite, sir! - answered the quarter, looking at each other sympathetically.
Melancholyov sighed and ordered to follow on.
Stopping at the town governor's house and inquiring from the clerk that there were no arrears, that trade was flourishing, and agriculture was improving every year, he thought for a minute, then hesitated in one place, as if he found it difficult to express the cherished thought, but finally in some uncertain voice asked :
- Do you have black grouse?
- Exactly so, sir, your honor!
- I, you know, most respectable, sometimes like ... It's good sometimes to see how they ... how such exultation happens in nature ...
And he blushed. The clerk, too, was embarrassed for a minute, but immediately after that he was found.
- What's better, sir! - he answered, - I will only dare to report to your Highness: in our country you can see even better spectacle on this score, sir!
- Um ... huh? ..
- With us, your highness, under your predecessor, cocottes started up, so they have a real current in the folk theater, sir. Every evening they gather, sir, whistle, sir, kick with their feet ...
- Curious to see! - said Melancholov and thought sweetly.
At that time, there was an opinion that the mayor is the owner of the city, while the inhabitants are, as it were, his guests. The only difference between "master" in the conventional sense of the word and "master of the city" was that. that the latter had the right to whip his guests, which was not allowed with respect to the usual owner by decency. Melancholyov remembered this right and thought even sweeter.
- How often do you get flogged? he asked the clerk without looking up at him.
- With us, your highness, this fashion has been abandoned, sir. Since the time of Onufriy Ivanovich, Mr. Negodyaev, there have not even been examples. All caress, sir.
- Well, and I'll whip ... girls! .. - he added, suddenly blushing.
Thus, the nature of domestic policy was clearly defined. It was supposed to continue the actions of the last five city governors, exacerbating only the element of maneuver introduced by the Viscount du Chariot, and spicing it up, for the species, with a well-known flavor of sentimentality. The influence of a short stay in Paris was everywhere. The victors, who in a hurry took the hydra of despotism for the hydra of the revolution and conquered it, were, in turn, conquered by the vanquished. The dignified savagery of the old days disappeared without a trace; instead of giants, bending horseshoes and breaking rubles, there were effeminate people who had only cute obscenities on their minds. There was a special language for these obscenities. The date of love between a man and a woman was called "a ride to the island of love". The rough terminology of anatomy was replaced by a more refined one; expressions like: "playful misanthrope", "sweet hermit", etc. appeared.
Nevertheless, comparatively speaking, it was still easy to live, and this ease was especially in the nature of the so-called smerds. Having struck polytheism, complicated by their manneredness, the representatives of Foolov's intelligentsia became indifferent to everything that happened outside the closed sphere of "driving to the island of love." They felt happy and contented and, as such, did not want to hinder the happiness and contentment of others. At the time of the Wartkins, Negodyayevs and others. it seemed, for example, an unforgivable impudence if the stinker poured butter on its porridge. Not because it was impudence that it caused damage to someone, but because people like Negodyaev are always desperate theorists and assume in the stink one ability: to be firm in adversity. Therefore, they took the porridge from the smerd and threw it to the dogs. Now this view has changed significantly, which, of course, was not insignificantly facilitated by the softening of the brain - the then fashionable disease. Smerds took advantage of this and filled their stomachs with greasy porridge to the extreme. They still did not know the truth that a person does not live on porridge alone, and therefore they thought that if their stomachs were full, it meant that they themselves were quite safe. For the same reason, they so willingly adhered to polytheism: it seemed to them more handy than monotheism. They were more willing to bow before Volos or Yarilo, but at the same time they shook themselves on their mustache that if they did not rain for a long time or if the rains were too long, then they could whip their favorite gods, smear them with filth and generally frustrate them. And although it is obvious that materialism so crude could not feed society for a long time, but as a novelty, it was pleasant and even intoxicating.
Everything was in a hurry to live and enjoy; Gustilov was also in a hurry. He completely abandoned the city administration and limited his administrative activities to the fact that he doubled the salaries established by his predecessors and demanded that they receive incomeless payments on time. The rest of the time he devoted to the worship of Cypriot in those unheard-of-varied forms that were developed by the civilization of that time. This careless attitude towards official duties was, however, a big mistake on the part of Melancholy.
Despite the fact that when he was a food-master Melancholyov rather cleverly concealed state money, his administrative experience was neither deep nor versatile. Many people think that if a person knows how to unnoticeably pull a handkerchief out of the pocket of his neighbor, then this seems to be enough to strengthen his reputation as a politician or heart-bearer. However, this is a mistake. Heart thieves are extremely rare; more often it happens that a swindler, even the most grandiose only in this area, is a wonderful figure, but outside of its limits he does not show any abilities. In order to steal successfully, you only need to be agile and greedy. Greed is especially necessary because petty theft can lead to prosecution. But no matter what names the robbery uses to cover itself, nevertheless the sphere of the robber will remain completely different from the sphere of the heart-bearer, for the latter catches people, while the former catches only the wallets and handkerchiefs belonging to them. Consequently, if a person who made alienation in his favor in the amount of several million rubles later becomes even a philanthropist and builds a marble palazzo, in which he will concentrate all the wonders of science and art, then he still cannot be called skillful public figure, but should be called only a skillful swindler.
But at that time these truths were still unknown, and the reputation of a heart-bearer was firmly established for Melancholyov without hindrance. In essence, however, this was not the case. If Melancholov really stood at the height of his position, he would understand that his predecessors, who elevated parasitism to an administrative principle, were very bitterly mistaken and that parasitism, as a life-giving principle, can only consider itself achieving useful goals when it is concentrated within certain limits. ... If parasitism exists, then it is assumed by itself that along with it there is also industriousness - the whole science of political economy is based on this. Diligence feeds parasitism, parasitism fertilizes industriousness - this is the only formula that, from the point of view of science, can be freely applied to all phenomena of life. Melancholyov did not understand any of this. He thought that everyone without exception could parasitize and that the country's productive forces would not only not run out of it, but would even increase. This was his first gross delusion.
The second delusion was that he was too carried away by the brilliant side of the domestic politics of his predecessors. As he listened to tales of Major Pimple's benevolent inaction, he was seduced by the picture of general exultation that resulted from this inaction. But he overlooked, firstly, that even the most mature peoples cannot prosper for too long without risking falling into rough materialism, and, secondly, that in fact, in Foolov, thanks to the spirit of free-thinking taken out of Paris, prosperity is considerable. degree was complicated by mischief. There is no dispute that it is possible and even should give the peoples a chance to partake of the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, but one must hold this fruit with a firm hand and, moreover, so that it can be taken away from lips that are too tasty at any time.
The consequences of these delusions showed themselves very quickly. Already in 1815 in Foolov there was a sensitive crop failure, and the next year nothing was born at all, because the townsfolk, corrupted by the constant gulba, hoped so much for their happiness that, without plowing the land, they scattered grain on the virgin soil in vain.
- And so, rogue, will give birth! - they said in a daze of pride.
But their hopes did not come true, and when the fields were freed of snow in the spring, the Foolovites saw, not without amazement, that they were completely naked. As usual, this phenomenon was attributed to the action of hostile forces and blamed the gods for not providing the inhabitants with sufficient protection. They began to flog Volos, who withstood the punishment stoically, then they set to work on Yarilu, and they say that tears appeared in his eyes. The Foolovites fled in horror to the taverns and began to wait for what would happen. But nothing special happened. It was raining and there was a bucket, but no useful cereals appeared in the unseeded fields.
Melancholov was present at a fancy-dress ball (at that time the Foolovites had Shrovetide every day), when the news of the disaster threatening Foolov reached him. Apparently, he suspected nothing. Cheerfully joking with the leader, he told her that soon such a pattern of ladies' dresses was expected that it would be possible to see the parquet floor on which the woman was standing in a straight line. Then he started talking about the delights of a secluded life and said in passing that he himself hoped to find some rest within the walls of the monastery.
- Of course, female? - asked the leader, smiling slyly.
- If you deign to be the abbess in it, then at least now I am ready to take a vow of obedience, - Melancholy answered Melancholy.
But this evening was destined to draw a deep demarcation line in Melnikov's domestic policy. The ball was flaring up; the dancers whirled furiously, white, naked, fragrant shoulders flashed in a whirlwind of fluttering dresses and curls. Gradually playing out, Melancholyov's fantasy finally rushed off into the over-the-star world, where he, in turn, moved with him all these half-naked goddesses, whose busts so deeply stung his heart. Soon, however, it became stuffy in the world beyond the stars; then he retired to a secluded room and, sitting down among the greenery of oranges and myrtle, fell into oblivion.
At that very moment a mask appeared in front of him and laid its hand on his shoulder. He immediately realized that it was her. She approached him so quietly, as if under a satin domino, which quite clearly, however clearly exposed her airy forms, was not hiding a woman, but a sylph. Light-brown, almost ashy curls scattered over the shoulders, blue eyes peeped out from under the mask, and a bare chin revealed the existence of a dimple in which cupid seemed to have coiled his nest. Everything about her was full of some modest and at the same time not indiscriminate grace, from the violettes de Parme24 perfume, which was sprinkled on her handkerchief, to a dandy glove that wrapped around her small, aristocratic hand. It is obvious, however, that she was in agitation, because her chest was rising tremblingly, and her voice, reminiscent of heavenly music, trembled slightly.
- Wake up, fallen brother! - she said to Melancholy.
Melancholov did not understand; he thought she imagined he was asleep, and to prove that it was a mistake, he stretched out his hands.
- I'm not talking about the body, but about the soul! - the mask continued sadly, - not the body, but the soul sleeps ... deeply sleeps!
Only then Melancholyov understood what the matter was, but since his soul had become rigid in idolatry, the word of truth, of course, could not immediately penetrate it. He even suspected at the first minute that the holy fool Aksinyushka was hiding under the mask, the one who, even under Ferdyshchenka, predicted the great Foolovite fire and who, during the fall of the Foolovites into idolatry, alone remained true to the true God.
“No, I’m not the one you suspect of me,” the mysterious stranger continued, as if guessing his thoughts, “I’m not Aksinyushka, for I am unworthy to kiss even the ashes of her feet. I'm just as much a sinner as you are!
With these words, she removed the mask from her face.
Melancholyov was amazed. Before him was the most charming female face he had ever seen. True, it happened to him to meet something similar in the free city of Hamburg, but it was so long ago that the past seemed like a veil. Yes; these are the very ashy curls, the same matte whiteness of the face, those very blue eyes; that full and fluttering bust; but how all this was transformed in the new environment, how it came forward with its best, most interesting sides! But Melancholyov amazed even more that the stranger with such perspicacity guessed his assumption about Aksinyushka ...
- I am your inner word! and sent to declare to you the light of Tabor, which you are looking for, without knowing it! - continued meanwhile the stranger, - but do not ask who sent me, because I myself am not able to announce this!
- But who are you! cried the alarmed Melancholyov.
- I am the same holy fool that you saw with an extinguished lamp in the free city of Hamburg! For a long time I was in a state of languor, for a long time I unsuccessfully strove for the light, but the prince of darkness is too skillful to let go of his victim at once! However, my path was already inscribed there! The local pharmacist Pfeifer appeared and, having married me, took me to Foolov; here I met Aksinyushka - and the task of enlightenment became so clear to me that delight took possession of my whole being. But if you only knew how cruel the struggle was!
She stopped, overwhelmed by sorrowful memories; he greedily stretched out his hands, as if wishing to touch this incomprehensible creature.
- Take your hands! she said meekly.
"But wouldn't it be better if we retire to a more secluded room?" he asked timidly, as if doubting the decency of his question.
However, she agreed, and they retired to one of those charming orphanages that, since Mikaladze's time, had been arranged for mayors in all the more or less decent houses in the city of Foolov. What happened between them - it remained a secret for everyone; but he left the orphanage upset and with tear-stained eyes. The inner word worked so strongly that he did not even deign to the dancers with a glance and went straight home.
This incident produced strong impression on the Foolovites. They began to look for where Pfeifersha had come from. Some said that she was nothing more than an intriguer who, with the knowledge of her husband, conceived of taking over Meltsilov in order to oust the pharmacist Salzfisch from the city, who made Pfeiffer strong competition. Others argued that Pfeifersha, while still in the free city of Hamburg, fell in love with Melancholy for his melancholic appearance and married Pfeifer solely in order to unite with Melancholy and concentrate on himself the sensitivity that he wasted uselessly on such empty spectacles as the toying of black grouses and cocotoks.
Be that as it may, it cannot be denied that this was a far from ordinary woman. From the correspondence that remained after her, it is clear that she was in touch with all the most famous mystics and pietists of that time and that Labzin, for example, dedicated to her those selected of his works that were not intended for publication. Moreover, she wrote several novels, of which in one, called "Wanderer Dorothea," she portrayed herself in the best possible light. “She was attractive in appearance,” it was written in this novel about the heroine, “but although many men wanted her caresses, she remained cold and mysterious. (as she called Pfeiffer), then she clung to him endlessly. But at the first earthly sensation, she realized that her thirst was not satisfied "... and so on.
Returning home, Melancholyov cried all night. His imagination painted a sinful abyss, at the bottom of which devils darted. There were cocottes, cocodesses, and even a black grouse — and all of them fiery. One of the devils climbed out of the abyss and offered him his favorite food, but as soon as he touched it with his mouth, a stench spread through the room. But what terrified him most was the bitter conviction that he was not alone, but that the whole Foolov was mired in his face.
- Answer for everyone or save everyone! - he shouted, numb with fear, - and, of course, decided to save.
The next day, early in the morning, the Foolovites were amazed to hear the regular ringing of the bell, calling the inhabitants to matins. This ringing had not been heard for a long time, so that the Foolovites even forgot about it. Many thought it was burning somewhere; but instead of a fire, they saw a more touching sight. Without a hat, in a torn uniform, with his head lowered down and beating himself in a Persian, Melancholov walked in front of the procession, which, however, consisted only of the ranks of the police and fire brigade. Behind the procession followed Pfeifersha, without the crinoline; on the one hand she was escorted by Aksinyushka, on the other - the famous holy fool Paramosha, who replaced the no less famous Archipushka in love with the Foolovites, who burned down in such a tragic way in a general fire (see "The Straw City").
Having listened to the Matins, Melancholyov left the church reassured and, pointing out to Pfeifershe the firefighters and police soldiers who were stretched out to the ears ("who were secretly faithful to the true God during Foolov's debauchery," adds the chronicler), said:
- Seeing the sudden zeal of these people, I knew exactly how quick this thing has an effect, which you, my madam, justly call with your inner word.
And then, referring to the quarterly, he added:
- Give these people, for their diligence, a dime!
- We are glad to try, your highness! - the police barked in one voice and quickly headed to the tavern.
This was the first act of Grustilov after his sudden renewal. Then he went to Aksinyushka, since it was impossible to expect any success in the further course of the case without her moral support. Aksinyushka lived on the very edge of the city, in some kind of dugout, which looked more like a wormhole than a human dwelling. Blessed Paramosha was with her, in moral coexistence. Accompanied by Pfeifersha, Melancholov groped down the dark stairs and could barely feel for the door. The sight that presented itself to his eyes was amazing. On the dirty bare floor lay two half-naked human skeletons (these were the blessed ones themselves, who had already returned from the pilgrims), which muttered and shouted some incoherent words and at the same time shuddered, grimaced and writhed, as if in a fever. A dim light passed into the hole through a single tiny window covered with dust and cobwebs; damp and mold exfoliated on the walls. The smell was so disgusting that at the first minute Melancholyov was embarrassed and pinched his nose. The shrewd old woman noticed this.
- Royal spirits! perfume of heaven! - she sang in a piercing voice, - doesn't anyone need perfume?
And at the same time she made such a movement that Melancholy would probably have hesitated if Pfeifersha had not supported him.
- Your soul is asleep ... asleep deeply! - she said sternly, - and so recently you boasted of your cheerfulness!
- My darling sleeps on a pillow ... my darling sleeps on a perinushka ... and my god is knock-knock! knock knock on the head! Yes, knock-knock on the head! - shrieked the blessed one, throwing chips, earth and litter at Melancholov.
Paramosha barked like a dog and shouted like a cock.
- Shoot, Satan! the rooster has started singing! he muttered at intervals.
