Kopeikin read dead souls. The meaning of “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” in N.V. Gogol’s poem “Dead Souls”

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” is one of the parts of N.V. Gogol’s work “Dead Souls”, namely the tenth chapter, and is a story by one of the heroes of this work about a certain soldier named Kopeikin. The postmaster came up with this story to explain to the frightened officials of the provincial town of N who Chichikov was, where he came from and for what purpose he bought dead souls. This is the story of a soldier who lost an arm and a leg in the war for his fatherland, but found himself unnecessary to his country, which led him to become the leader of a gang of robbers.

The main idea of this story is that indifference and ruthlessness sometimes know no bounds. The postmaster, telling the story of a poor soldier who gave everything to his homeland, but in return could not receive even the minimum allowance, wants to attract attention to himself and show off his education and richness of style. The officials, listening to this tragic story, do not feel the slightest sympathy for the unfortunate captain.

Picture or drawing The Tale of Captain Kopeikin

Chapter History

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” had a difficult creative fate. In the plot of “Dead Souls”, according to the author himself, she occupied a very important place and therefore could not be excluded from the work. Meanwhile, the censorship, at the first acquaintance with the text of the poem, considered the publication of the chapter unacceptable. As a result, Gogol had to adjust the content of the story about the captain twice, which emphasizes the significance of the story in the ideological content of the entire poem “Dead Souls.” According to documentary sources, the author was ready to somewhat soften the general tone of the story about Kopeikin, but not allow him to be excluded from the work.

We offer for your acquaintance the third version of the chapter, approved for publication by censorship - the original, by the way, became available to the reader only after 1917.

The history of the appearance of the chapter in “Dead Souls”: a summary

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” is a postmaster’s story, filled with a variety of embellished phrases, repetitions, sometimes even seemingly unnecessary. This conveys the narrator’s attitude towards the whole story: for him it is nothing more than a funny incident that can become the basis for a story or novel. Why postmaster? Compared to other city officials, he was more knowledgeable - he read a lot - and therefore tried to turn the main mystery (who is Chichikov?) into some kind of entertainment. He suddenly decided that the buyer of dead souls and the main character of his story, a disabled person without an arm and a leg, could well be one and the same person. Be that as it may, this story, evoked in the narrator’s memory by the reflections of the officials of the city N about the personality of Chichikov, turned into almost an independent work, which once again emphasizes their callousness - no one sympathized with the captain.

Meet the main character

According to the postmaster, everything happened shortly after the end of the national war. Captain Kopeikin went through a lot in that company, and most importantly, he received serious injuries, as a result of which he lost his leg and right hand. Since no measures to help disabled people had yet been carried out, the former soldier found himself without a livelihood and began to think about what to do next. At first he went to his father, but he replied that he himself had a hard time and had no time for parasites. There was only one thing left to do - try your luck with the officials in St. Petersburg, ask for a well-deserved pension.

Special world

Having reached the capital, Captain Kopeikin was at first amazed at its splendor. It seemed as if pictures from Scheherazade’s fairy tales had appeared before him - everything was so unusual and rich. I tried to rent an apartment, but it was too expensive. I had to be content with a ruble tavern, where they served cabbage soup with a piece of beef.

Having settled in, I began to find out where to go. They explained that the bosses were all in France, so they needed to go to the temporary commission. And they pointed to a house located on the embankment.

First trip to an official: summary

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” includes a description of “a peasant’s hut” (the definition of a postmaster). Huge glass and mirrors, marble and varnish, glitter so much that it’s scary to handle. This picture alone caused fear in a simple petitioner. The doorman on the porch was also terrifying: with cambric collars and the face of a count... The captain who entered the reception room hid in a corner, afraid of accidentally breaking some vase. Since the official had just woken up, he had to wait. About four hours later, he was finally informed that the boss would be coming out. By this time there were a lot of people in the reception area. The official began to walk around the visitors and stopped in front of Kopeikin. Their dialogue was short-lived. Let's give a brief summary of it.

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” is the story of a Russian soldier-defender. The hero immediately said that during the war he became disabled and now cannot work, and therefore asks for some kind of pension for himself. The official did not argue and asked to come back in a few days.

Holiday of the soul

This answer inspired the captain, who was convinced that his matter was already decided. Happy, he went into the tavern, where he ordered a glass of vodka, a cutlet, and then went to the theater, and upon returning to the tavern he even tried to hit an Englishwoman walking along the sidewalk, but the bone leg reminded him of his disability. As a result, in a few hours almost half of the money he had was spent. This is how Gogol ends the description of a happy day for the hero.

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” continues with the story of the official’s second visit.

Disappointment

Two or three days later, the hero again went to the house on the embankment. He was sure that now he would be given a substantial amount of money - some thousandth pension. Therefore, he again began to tell how heroically he shed blood and received injuries. But the official’s answer was short and categorical: such a matter can only be decided by the minister, and he is not there yet. And he gave us some money so that we could survive until any measures were taken. The disappointed hero went to his tavern. It seems that this is where the story of Captain Kopeikin should end.

Protest

However, the captain had already tasted the delights of metropolitan life, and therefore this outcome of the matter did not suit him at all. He walks sadly down the street. On the one hand - salmon, cutlet with truffles, cherries, watermelon, and on the other - the promised “tomorrow”. And he decides: he needs to go to the commission again and get his way. Thus, “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” receives a continuation.

The next day the hero stood in front of the same official and said that he needed to eat well, drink wine, and visit the theater. In response, he heard that he had been given money for food until the special resolution was issued, and if he wanted all sorts of excesses, then he needed to look for funds for himself. But the offended Kopeikin became so angry that he cursed all the officials on the commission. To quiet the noise, we had to apply strict measures to him: escort him to his place of residence. The captain just thought: “Thank you for the fact that you don’t have to pay for the run yourself.” Then he began to reason: “Since I have to look for funds for myself, then well, I’ll find it.”

The Tale of Captain Kopeikin ends with the hero being delivered to his place of residence, after which all rumors about him have sunk into oblivion. And a couple of months later, a band of robbers appeared in the forests in the Ryazan region, led by “none other than...”. At this point the postmaster's story is interrupted.

in the story

In “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” N. Gogol masterfully uses For example, the portrait of the doorman says a lot. He is compared to a generalissimo and at the same time a well-fed pug. Such a soulless person, looking down on those around him, certainly has no time for the problems of the captain and others like him.

Gogol describes in detail the house on the embankment and the reception room into which visitors found themselves. What was one worth? door knob. When Kopeikin saw her, the idea occurred to him that he first needed to scrub his hands with soap for two hours and only then take it up. And from the luxury and splendor there was such a coldness that it became clear to everyone: there was nothing to expect help here.

It is also noteworthy that the official is not named, and it is difficult to judge his position. And the captain only has a last name. Such a generalization significantly expands the boundaries of the narrative, turning a particular case into a typical one.

Features of the first version of “The Tale...”

As already noted, censorship allowed the publication of the third edition of the chapter. The significant difference between the different versions of the story was the ending. In the first version, Gogol focused on what happened to the hero after returning from St. Petersburg. Here is its summary.

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” told about how the main character began to take revenge. He gathered a whole group of offended soldiers and settled with them in the forests. The gang hunted down everyone whose activities were connected with the treasury. She also appeared in villages where a due date had been set for the payment of quitrents and, ordering the headman to hand over everything that had been demolished, she wrote out a receipt to the peasants that they had paid the taxes. It is quite clear that this option could not suit the authorities, and ultimately, in “The Tale...” there was only one mention of the robbers, who were led by “no one else...”.

The story about the captain ended with unexpected news. Kopeikin went to America, from where he sent letters to the emperor asking him not to touch the people he had involved in the gang. He also called for mercy to be shown to everyone who was wounded in the war. And the king actually decided not to prosecute the perpetrators.

The difference between the different versions of “The Tale...” also concerned the arrangement characters and the phrases they utter. But there have been no big changes here. In the official's final speech, words were rearranged, which, by and large, did not change the ideological meaning. What was more important was that the author somewhat changed the image of Captain Kopeikin. He portrayed the hero as a man who wanted to join the beautiful life of the capital, which was partly the cause of his troubles (meaning the demand for money for wine, delicious food, theaters).

The meaning of “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” is that N. Gogol draws the reader’s attention to the relationship between the government and the people dependent on its will. Main character, who did not receive help in the capital and was forced to look for ways to survive on his own, rebels against the oppression, cruelty and injustice that reigns in feudal Russia. It is significant that the robbers robbed only those who were related to the treasury, and did not touch people passing through for their own needs. In this way they tried to get what was rightfully due to them as defenders of the Fatherland. The described situation leads to the idea that the progressive forces of the country, albeit still spontaneously, are already preparing to enter into the fight against the prevailing tyranny. This is also reminiscent of the popular uprisings under the leadership of S. Razin and E. Pugachev, who showed the strength and power of the people.

What is “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” about? As we reflect on this issue, there is one more point to note. N. Gogol, who skillfully depicted a provincial town and its inhabitants in the story “Dead Souls,” in this chapter transfers the action to the capital and creates a contradictory image of St. Petersburg, in which the world of the noble and rich, reminiscent of the famous fairy tales of Scheherazade, is contrasted with the world of the humiliated and poor, barely making ends meet. This allowed the author to present the life of Rus' in all its fullness and diversity.

“After the campaign of the twelfth year, my sir,” the postmaster began, despite the fact that there was not just one sir in the room, but six, “after the campaign of the twelfth year, Captain Kopeikin was sent along with the wounded. Whether near Krasnoye or under Leipzig, only, you can imagine, his arm and leg were torn off. Well, at that time no, you know, such orders had yet been made regarding the wounded; this kind of invalid capital had already been established, you can imagine, in some way much later. Captain Kopeikin sees: he needs to work, only his hand, you know, is left. He went to his father’s house; his father said: “I have nothing to feed you, I,” you can imagine, “can barely get bread myself.” Here is my captain Kopeikin decided to go, my sir, to St. Petersburg to ask the sovereign if there would be some kind of royal mercy: “well, so and so, in a way, so to speak, he sacrificed his life, shed blood...” Well, how - there, you know, with carts or government wagons - in a word, my sir, he somehow dragged himself to St. Petersburg. Well, you can imagine: someone like that, that is, Captain Kopeikin, suddenly found himself in a capital city, which, so to speak, has nothing like it in the world! Suddenly there was a light in front of him, so to speak, a certain field of life, a fabulous Scheherazade. Suddenly, some kind of, you can imagine, Nevsky Prospekt, or, you know, some kind of Gorokhovaya, damn it! or there’s some kind of Foundry there; there's some kind of spitz in the air; the bridges hang there like the devil, you can imagine, without any, that is, touching - in a word, Semiramis, sir, and that’s it! I was trying to find an apartment to rent, but all this stuff is terrible: curtains, curtains, that damn thing, you know, carpets - Persia in its entirety; you are trampling capital underfoot, so to speak. Well, just, that is, you walk down the street, and your nose just hears that it smells of thousands; and my captain Kopeikin’s entire bank of banknotes, you see, consists of some ten pieces of paper. Well, somehow I found shelter in a Revel tavern for a ruble a day; lunch - cabbage soup, a piece of beaten beef. He sees: there is nothing to heal. I asked where to go. They say that there is, in some way, a high commission, a board, you know, something like that, and the chief is Chief General So-and-so. But the sovereign, you need to know, was not yet in the capital at that time; The troops, you can imagine, had not yet returned from Paris, everything was abroad. My Kopeikin, who got up earlier, scratched his beard with his left hand, because paying the barber would be, in some way, a bill, pulled on his uniform and, as you can imagine, went to the boss himself, to the nobleman. I asked around the apartment. “There,” they say, showing him a house on Palace Embankment. The hut, you see, is a peasant's: glass in the windows, you can imagine, mirrors half-length, so that the vases and everything that is in the rooms seem to be from the outside - could, in a way, be taken from the street by hand; precious marbles on the walls, metal haberdashery, some kind of handle on the door, so you need, you know, to run ahead to a small shop and buy soap for a penny, and first rub your hands with it for two hours, and then you will decide to grab it - in a word: the varnishes on everything are like that - in some way, a clouding of the mind. One doorman is already looking like a generalissimo: a gilded mace, a count's physiognomy, like some kind of well-fed fat pug; cambric collars, canals!.. My Kopeikin somehow dragged himself with his piece of wood into the reception room, pressed himself into a corner there so as not to jostle him with his elbow, you can imagine, some kind of America or India - a gilded, you know, porcelain vase of sorts. Well, of course, he stayed there for a long time, because, you can imagine, he came at a time when the general, in some way, barely got out of bed and the valet, perhaps, brought him some kind of silver basin for various, you know, these kinds of washings. My Kopeikin had been waiting for four hours, when finally the adjutant or another official on duty came in. “The general, he says, will now go to the reception.” And in the reception area there are already as many people as there are beans on a plate. All this is not that our brother is a serf, all are fourth or fifth class, colonels, and here and there a thick macaron glitters on an epaulette - generals, in a word, that’s what it is. Suddenly, you see, a barely noticeable bustle flashed through the room, like some thin ether. There was a sound here and there: “shu, shu,” and finally there was a terrible silence. The nobleman enters. Well... you can imagine: statesman! In person, so to speak... well, in accordance with the rank, you know... with high rank ... that’s the expression, you know. Everything that was in the hallway, of course, at that very moment, in order, awaits, trembles, awaits a decision, in some way, fate. A minister or nobleman approaches one, then another: “Why are you? Why are you? What do you want? What’s your business?” Finally, my sir, to Kopeikin. Kopeikin, gathering his courage: “So and so, Your Excellency: I shed blood, lost, in some way, an arm and a leg, I can’t work, I dare to ask for royal mercy.” The minister sees a man on a piece of wood and his empty right sleeve fastened to his uniform: “Okay,” he says, come see him one of these days. My Kopeikin comes out almost delighted: one thing is that he was awarded an audience, so to speak, with a first-ranking nobleman; and the other thing is that now they will finally decide, in some way, about the pension. In that spirit, you know, bouncing along the sidewalk. I went to the Palkinsky tavern to drink a glass of vodka, had lunch, my sir, in London, ordered a cutlet with capers, asked for poulard with various finterleys; I asked for a bottle of wine, went to the theater in the evening - in a word, you know, I had a blast. On the sidewalk, he sees some slender Englishwoman walking, like a swan, you can imagine, something like that. My Kopeikin - the blood, you know, was playing out in him - ran after her on his piece of wood, trick-trick after - “no, I thought, let it be later, when I get a pension, now I’m going too crazy.” So, my sir, in about three or four days my Kopeikin appears again to the minister, waiting for the exit. “So and so,” he says, “he came, he says, to hear the order of your Excellency regarding diseases and wounds…” and the like, you know, in official style. The nobleman, you can imagine, immediately recognized him: “Oh,” he says, “okay,” he says, “this time I can’t tell you anything more, except that you will need to wait for the arrival of the sovereign; then, without a doubt, orders will be made regarding the wounded , and without the monarch’s will, so to speak, I can’t do anything.” Bow, you understand, and goodbye. Kopeikin, you can imagine, left in the most uncertain position. He was already thinking that tomorrow they would give him the money: “On you, my dear, drink and have fun”; but instead he was ordered to wait, and no time was assigned. So he came out of the porch like an owl, like a poodle, you know, which the cook doused with water: his tail was between his legs and his ears hung. “Well, no,” he thinks to himself, “I’ll go another time, I’ll explain that I’m finishing the last piece, - no help, I must die, in some way, of hunger.” In a word, he comes, my sir, again to Palace Embankment; They say: “It’s impossible, he won’t accept it, come back tomorrow.” The next day - the same; but the doorman simply doesn’t want to look at him. And meanwhile, of the blues, you see, he only has one left in his pocket. Sometimes he ate cabbage soup, a piece of beef, and now in a shop he will take some herring or pickled cucumber and two pennies worth of bread - in a word, the poor fellow is starving, and yet his appetite is simply voracious. He passes by some kind of restaurant - the cook there, can you imagine, is a foreigner, a kind of Frenchman with an open physiognomy, he is wearing Dutch underwear, an apron as white as snow, a fenzer of some kind is working there, cutlets with truffles - in a word, the soup - a delicacy such that one would simply eat oneself, that is, out of appetite. If he passes by the Milyuti shops, there, in some way, some kind of salmon is looking out of the window, cherries - a piece for five rubles, a huge watermelon, a stagecoach of some kind, leaning out of the window and, so to speak, looking for a fool who would pay a hundred rubles - in a word, at every step there is such a temptation, his mouth waters, and meanwhile he keeps hearing “tomorrow.” So you can imagine what his position is: here, on the one hand, so to speak, salmon and watermelon, and on the other, he is presented with the same dish: “tomorrow.” Finally, the poor guy became, in some way, unbearable, and decided to storm through at all costs, you know. I waited at the entrance to see if another petitioner would come by, and there, with some general, you know, I slipped into the reception room with my piece of wood. The nobleman, as usual, comes out: “Why are you? Why are you? Ah!” he says, seeing Kopeikin, “after all, I have already told you that you should expect a decision.” - “For mercy, your Excellency, I don’t have, so to speak, a piece of bread...” - “What should I do? I can’t do anything for you; try to help yourself for now, look for the means yourself.” - “But, Your Excellency, you can, in a way, judge for yourself what means I can find without having an arm or a leg.” - “But,” says the dignitary, “you must agree: I cannot support you, in some way, at my own expense; I have many wounded, they all have an equal right... Arm yourself with patience. The sovereign will come, I can give you my word of honor that his royal favor will not leave you." “But, Your Excellency, I can’t wait,” says Kopeikin, and he speaks, in some respects, rudely. The nobleman, you understand, was already annoyed. In fact: here from all sides the generals are waiting for decisions and orders; affairs, so to speak, are important, state affairs, requiring the fastest execution - a minute of omission can be important - and then there’s an unobtrusive devil attached to the side. “Sorry,” he says, “I don’t have time... I have more important things to do than yours.” It reminds you in a somewhat subtle way that it’s time to finally get out. And my Kopeikin, hunger, you know, spurred him on: “As you wish, Your Excellency,” he says, I will not leave my place until you give a resolution.” Well... you can imagine: responding in this way to a nobleman, who only needs to say a word - and so the tarashka flew up, so that the devil won’t find you... Here, if an official of one less rank tells our brother something like that, so much so and rudeness. Well, and there’s the size, what the size is: the general-in-chief and some captain Kopeikin! Ninety rubles and zero! The general, you understand, nothing more, as soon as he looked, and the look - firearms: There is no soul anymore - it has already gone to the heels. And my Kopeikin, you can imagine, doesn’t move, he stands rooted to the spot. "What are you doing?" - says the general and took him, as they say, to the shoulder. However, to tell the truth, he treated him quite mercifully: another would have scared him so much that for three days after that the street would have been spinning upside down, but he only said: “Okay, he says, if it’s expensive for you to live here and you can’t wait in peace in the capital decision of your fate, then I will send you to the government account. Call the courier! escort him to his place of residence! " And the courier, you see, is standing there: some three-yard man, with arms, you can imagine, made for coachmen by nature - in a word, a kind of dentist... So he, the servant of God, was seized, my sir, and in cart, with courier. “Well,” Kopeikin thinks, “at least there’s no need to pay fees, thanks for that.” Here he is, my sir, riding on a courier, yes, riding on a courier, in a way, so to speak, reasoning to himself: “When the general says that I should look for means to help myself, well, he says, I’ll find facilities!" Well, as soon as he was delivered to the place and where exactly they were taken, none of this is known. So, you see, the rumors about Captain Kopeikin sank into the river of oblivion, into some kind of oblivion, as the poets call it. But, excuse me, gentlemen, this is where, one might say, the thread, the plot of the novel begins. So, where Kopeikin went is unknown; but, you can imagine, less than two months passed before a gang of robbers appeared in the Ryazan forests, and the ataman of this gang, my sir, was none other..."

* (Fenzerve - spicy sauce; here: cook.)

Just allow me, Ivan Apdreevich,” the police chief suddenly said, interrupting him, “after all, Captain Kopeikin, you yourself said, is missing an arm and a leg, and Chichikov has...

Here the postmaster screamed and slammed his hand as hard as he could on his forehead, publicly calling himself a veal in front of everyone. He could not understand how such a circumstance had not occurred to him at the very beginning of the story, and he admitted that the saying was absolutely true: “A Russian man is strong in his hindsight.” However, a minute later, he immediately began to be cunning and tried to wriggle out, saying that, however, in England, mechanics were very improved, as can be seen from the newspapers, how one invented wooden legs in such a way that with one touch on an imperceptible spring, these legs of a person were carried away God knows what places, so after that it was impossible to find him anywhere.

But everyone very much doubted that Chichikov was Captain Kopeikin, and found that the postmaster had gone too far. However, they, for their part, also did not lose face and, prompted by the postmaster’s witty guess, wandered almost further. Of the many clever assumptions of its kind, there was finally one - it’s strange to even say: that Chichikov is not Napoleon in disguise, that the Englishman has long been jealous, that, they say, Russia is so great and vast that even cartoons have appeared several times where the Russian depicted talking to an Englishman. The Englishman stands and holds a dog on a rope behind him, and by the dog of course Napoleon: “Look, he says, if something goes wrong, I’ll let this dog out on you now!” - and now they, perhaps, have released him from Helena Island, and now he is making his way to Russia, as if Chichikov, but in fact not Chichikov at all.

Of course, the officials did not believe this, but, however, they became thoughtful and, considering this matter each to themselves, found that Chichikov’s face, if he turned and stood sideways, looked very much like a portrait of Napoleon. The police chief, who served in the campaign of the twelfth year and personally saw Napoleon, also could not help but admit that he would in no way be taller than Chichikov, and that in terms of his figure, Napoleon, too, cannot be said to be too fat, but not so thin either. Perhaps some readers will call all this incredible; The author, too, to please them, would be ready to call all this incredible; but, unfortunately, everything happened exactly as it is told, and it is even more amazing that the city was not in the wilderness, but, on the contrary, not far from both capitals. However, it must be remembered that all this happened shortly after the glorious expulsion of the French. At this time, all our landowners, officials, merchants, farmers and every literate and even illiterate people became sworn politicians for at least eight years. "Moskovskie Vedomosti" and "Son of the Fatherland" were read mercilessly and reached the last reader in pieces unfit for any use. Instead of asking: “How much, father, did you sell the measure of oats? How did you use yesterday’s powder?” - they said: “What do they write in the newspapers, haven’t they released Napoleon from the island again?” The merchants were greatly afraid of this, for they completely believed the prediction of one prophet, who had been sitting in prison for three years; the prophet came from nowhere in bast shoes and a sheepskin coat, terribly reminiscent of rotten fish, and announced that Napoleon is the Antichrist and is held on a stone chain, behind six walls and seven seas, and after that he will break the chain and take possession of the whole world. The prophet ended up in prison for his prediction, but nevertheless he did his job and completely confused the merchants. For a long time, during even the most profitable transactions, the merchants, going to the tavern to wash them down with tea, talked about the Antichrist. Many of the officials and noble nobility also involuntarily thought about this and, infected with mysticism, which, as you know, was then in great fashion, saw in each letter from which the word “Napoleon” was composed some special meaning; many even discovered apocalyptic figures in it *. So, it is not surprising that officials involuntarily thought about this point; Soon, however, they came to their senses, noticing that their imagination was already too fast and that all this was not the same. They thought and thought, interpreted, interpreted, and finally decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question Nozdryov thoroughly. Since he was the first to bring up the story of dead souls and was, as they say, in some kind of close relationship with Chichikov, therefore, without a doubt, knows something of the circumstances of his life, then try again, whatever Nozdryov says.

* (Apocalyptic numbers - that is, the mystical number 666, which in the "Apocalypse" denoted the name of the Antichrist.)

Strange people, these gentlemen officials, and after them all the other titles: after all, they knew very well that Nozdryov was a liar, that he could not be trusted in a single word, or in the most trifle, and yet they resorted to him. Go and get along with the man! does not believe in God, but believes that if the bridge of his nose itches, he will certainly die; will pass by the poet’s creation, clear as day, all imbued with harmony and the lofty wisdom of simplicity, and will rush precisely to the place where some daredevil will confuse, weave, break, twist nature, and it will be corrected for him, and he will begin to shout: “Here it is.” , this is real knowledge of the secrets of the heart!" All his life he doesn’t think anything of doctors, but he will end up turning to a woman who heals with whispers and spittle, or, even better, he will invent some kind of decoction from God knows what kind of rubbish, which, God knows why, seems to him to be the remedy against his illness. Of course, the gentlemen officials can be partly excused by their truly difficult situation. A drowning man, they say, even grabs a small piece of wood, and at that time he does not have the sense to think that a fly could ride on top of a piece of wood, and he weighs almost four pounds, if not even five; but no thought comes to his mind at that time, and he grabs a sliver of wood. So our gentlemen finally grabbed hold of Nozdryov. The police chief at that very moment wrote a note to him inviting him to the evening, and the policeman, in jackboots, with an attractive blush on his cheeks, ran at that same moment, holding his sword, at a gallop to Nozdryov’s apartment. Nozdryov was busy with important business; For four whole days he did not leave the room, did not let anyone in and received lunch through the window - in a word, he even became thin and green. The matter required great care: it consisted of selecting from several dozen dozen cards one waist, but with the very mark that one could rely on as a most faithful friend. There was still at least two weeks of work left; During this entire time, Porfiry had to clean the Medellian puppy’s navel with a special brush and wash it three times a day in soap. Nozdryov was very angry that his privacy was disturbed; first of all, he sent the policeman to hell, but when he read in the mayor’s note that there might be some profit because they were expecting some newcomer for the evening, he softened at that very moment, hastily locked the room with a key, dressed haphazardly and went to them. Nozdryov's testimony, evidence and assumptions presented such a sharp contrast to those of the gentlemen officials that even their latest guesses were confused. This was definitely a man for whom there were no doubts at all; and as much as they were noticeably unsteady and timid in their assumptions, he had so much firmness and confidence. He answered all the points without even stuttering, announced that Chichikov had bought several thousand worth of dead souls and that he himself had sold them to him because he saw no reason why not to sell them; when asked if he was a spy and whether he was trying to find out something, Nozdryov answered that he was a spy, that even at the school where he studied with him, they called him a fiscal, and that for this his comrades, including him , they crushed him somewhat, so that he then had to put two hundred and forty leeches on one temple - that is, he wanted to say forty, but two hundred said something by itself. When asked if he was a maker of counterfeit notes, he answered that he was, and on this occasion told an anecdote about Chichikov’s extraordinary dexterity: how, having learned that there were two million worth of counterfeit notes in his house, they sealed his house and put a guard on each door had two soldiers, and how Chichikov changed them all in one night, so that the next day, when the seals were removed, they saw that all the banknotes were real. When asked whether Chichikov really had the intention of taking away the governor’s daughter and whether it was true that he himself had undertaken to help and participate in this matter, Nozdryov replied that he had helped and that if it had not been for him, nothing would have happened - that’s when he realized it , seeing that he had lied completely in vain and could thus bring trouble upon himself, but he could no longer hold his tongue. However, it was difficult, because such interesting details presented themselves that it was impossible to refuse: they even named the village where the parish church in which the wedding was supposed to be located was located, namely the village of Trukhmachevka, priest Father Sidor, for the wedding - seventy-five rubles, and even then he would not have agreed if he had not intimidated him, promising to inform on him that he married the meadowsweet Mikhail to his godfather, that he even gave up his carriage and prepared alternate horses at all stations. The details reached the point that he was already beginning to call the coachmen by name. They tried to hint about Napoleon, but they themselves were not glad that they tried, because Nozdryov spewed such nonsense that not only did not have any semblance of truth, but even simply had no resemblance to anything, so the officials, sighing, all walked away away; Only the police chief listened for a long time, wondering if at least there would be something further, but finally he waved his hand, saying: “Devil knows what it is! “And everyone agreed that no matter how you fight a bull, you can’t get milk from it. And the officials were left in an even worse position than they were before, and the matter was decided by the fact that they could not find out who Chichikov was. And it turned out to be clear what kind of creature man is: he is wise, intelligent and intelligent in everything that concerns others, and not himself; what prudent, firm advice he will provide in difficult situations in life! “What a quick head! - the crowd shouts. “What an unshakable character!” And if some misfortune happened to this quick head and he himself had to be put in difficult situations in life, where did the character go, the unshakable husband was completely at a loss, and he turned out to be a pathetic coward, an insignificant, weak child, or just a fetyuk, as Nozdryov calls it.

"Dead Souls". Hood. A. Laptev

All these rumors, opinions and rumors, for unknown reasons, had the greatest effect on the poor prosecutor. They affected him to such an extent that, when he came home, he began to think and think and suddenly, as they say, for no apparent reason he died. Whether he was suffering from paralysis or something else, he just sat there and fell backwards out of his chair. They screamed, as usual, clasping their hands: “Oh, my God!” - they sent for a doctor to draw blood, but they saw that the prosecutor was already one soulless body. Only then did they learn with condolences that the deceased definitely had a soul, although due to his modesty he never showed it. Meanwhile, the appearance of death was just as terrible in a small person, just as it is terrible in a great man: the one who not so long ago walked, moved, played whist, signed various papers and was so often visible among officials with his thick eyebrows and blinking eye, now lay on the table, the left eye no longer blinked at all, but one eyebrow was still raised with some kind of questioning expression. What the dead man asked, why he died or why he lived, only God knows.

But this, however, is incongruous! This doesn't agree with anything! it is impossible that officials could frighten themselves like that; create such nonsense, so move away from the truth, when even a child can see what’s going on! Many readers will say this and reproach the author for inconsistencies or call poor officials fools, because a person is generous with the word “fool” and is ready to serve them twenty times a day to his neighbor. Out of ten sides, it is enough to have one stupid side in order to be considered a fool over nine good ones. It is easy for readers to judge by looking from their quiet corner and the top, from where the entire horizon is open to everything that is happening below, where a person can only see a close object. And in the global chronicle of humanity there are many entire centuries that, it would seem, were crossed out and destroyed as unnecessary. Many mistakes have been made in the world that, it would seem, even a child would not do now. What crooked, deaf, narrow, impassable roads that lead far to the side have been chosen by humanity, striving to achieve eternal truth, while the straight path was open to them, like the path leading to the magnificent temple assigned to the king’s palace! Wider and more luxurious than all other paths, it was illuminated by the sun and illuminated by lights all night, but people flowed past it in the deep darkness. And how many times already induced by the meaning descending from heaven, they knew how to recoil and stray to the side, they knew how to find themselves again in impenetrable backwaters in broad daylight, they knew how to once again cast a blind fog into each other’s eyes and, trailing after the swamp lights, they knew how to get to the abyss, and then ask each other in horror: where is the exit, where is the road? The current generation now sees everything clearly, marvels at the errors, laughs at the foolishness of its ancestors, it is not in vain that this chronicle is inscribed with heavenly fire, that every letter in it screams, that a piercing finger is directed from everywhere at it, at it, at the current generation; but the current generation laughs and arrogantly, proudly begins a series of new errors, which posterity will also laugh at later.

Chichikov knew absolutely nothing about all this. As if on purpose, at that time he received a slight cold - flux and a slight inflammation in the throat, the distribution of which is extremely generous in the climate of many of our provincial cities. So that, God forbid, life without descendants would somehow end, he decided to sit in the room for three days. Throughout these days, he constantly gargled with milk and figs, which he then ate, and wore a pad of chamomile and camphor tied to his cheek. Wanting to occupy his time with something, he made several new and detailed lists of all the purchased peasants, even read some volume of the Duchess of La Vallière *, which he found in a suitcase, looked through the various objects and notes in the chest, re-read something another time , and all this bored him greatly. He could not understand what it meant that not a single one of the city officials came to see him at least once about his health, whereas just recently droshky stood every now and then in front of the hotel - now the postmaster's, now the prosecutor's, now the chairman's. He just shrugged his shoulders as he walked around the room. Finally he felt better and was delighted, God knows how, when he saw the opportunity to go out Fresh air. Without delay, he immediately set to work on the toilet, unlocked his box, and poured some water into a glass. hot water, took out a brush and soap and settled down to shave, which, however, was long overdue, because, having felt his beard with his hand and looked in the mirror, he had already said: “What forests have gone to write!” And in fact, the forests were not forests, but rather thick crops spilled out all over his cheek and chin. Having shaved, he began to dress quickly and quickly, so that he almost jumped out of his trousers. Finally he was dressed, sprayed with cologne and, wrapped up warmly, went out into the street, bandaging his cheek as a precaution. His exit, like any recovered person, was definitely festive. Everything he came across took on a laughing look: both houses and passing men, quite serious, however, some of whom had already managed to hit their brother in the ear. He intended to make his first visit to the governor. On the way, many different thoughts came to his mind; The blonde was spinning in his head, his imagination even began to go a little crazy, and he himself began to joke a little and laugh at himself. In this spirit he found himself in front of the governor's entrance. He was already in the hallway hastily throwing off his overcoat when the doorman startled him with completely unexpected words:

* ("The Duchess of La Vallière" is a novel by the French writer S.-F. Zhanlis (1746-1830).)

Not ordered to accept!

Why, apparently you didn’t recognize me? Take a good look at his face! - Chichikov told him.

“How can you not know, because this is not the first time I’ve seen you,” said the doorman. - Yes, you are the only ones who are not ordered to be allowed in, but all others are allowed.

Here you go! from what? Why?

Such an order, apparently, follows,” said the doorman and added the word: “yes.” After which he stood in front of him completely at ease, not maintaining that affectionate appearance with which he had previously hurried to take off his overcoat. It seemed as if he was thinking, looking at him: “Hey! If the bars are chasing you off the porch, then you’re obviously some kind of riffraff!”

"Unclear!" - Chichikov thought to himself and immediately went to the chairman of the chamber, but the chairman of the chamber was so embarrassed when he saw him that he could not put two words together, and said such rubbish that even they both felt ashamed. Leaving him, no matter how hard Chichikov tried to explain on the way and get to what the chairman meant and what his words could refer to, he could not understand anything. Then he went to others: the police chief, the vice-governor, the postmaster, but everyone either did not receive him, or received him so strangely, they had such a forced and incomprehensible conversation, they were so confused, and such confusion came out of everything that he doubted his health their brain. I tried to go to someone else to find out at least the reason, but I didn’t get any reason. Like a half-asleep, he wandered aimlessly around the city, not being able to decide whether he had gone crazy, whether the officials had lost their heads, whether all this was being done in a dream, or whether something worse than a dream had brewed in reality. It was late, almost at dusk, he returned to his hotel, from which he had left in such a good mood, and out of boredom he ordered some tea to be served. Lost in thought and in some senseless reasoning about the strangeness of his situation, he began to pour tea, when suddenly the door of his room opened and Nozdryov appeared in a completely unexpected way.

Here is a proverb: “For a friend, seven miles is not a suburb!” - he said, taking off his cap. - I pass by, I see the light in the window, let me, I think to myself, I’ll come in, he’s probably not sleeping. A! It’s good that you have tea on the table, I’ll drink a cup with pleasure: today at lunch I ate too much of all sorts of rubbish, I feel like a fuss is already starting in my stomach. Order me to fill the pipe! Where's your pipe?

“But I don’t smoke pipes,” Chichikov said dryly.

Empty, as if I don’t know you’re a smoker. Hey! What the hell is your man's name? Hey Vakhramey, listen!

Yes, not Vakhramey, but Petrushka.

How? Yes, you had Vakhramey before.

I didn’t have any Vakhramey.

Yes, that's right, it's Derebin Vahramey's. Imagine how lucky Derebin is: his aunt quarreled with her son because he married a serf, and now she has written down all her property to him. I think to myself, if only I had such an aunt for the future! Why are you, brother, so far away from everyone, why don’t you go anywhere? Of course, I know that you are sometimes occupied with scientific subjects and love to read (why Nozdryov concluded that our hero is engaged in scientific subjects and loves to read, we admit that we cannot say in any way, and Chichikov even less so). Ah, brother Chichikov, if only you could see... that would certainly be food for your satirical mind (why Chichikov had a satirical mind is also unknown). Imagine, brother, at the merchant Likhachev’s they were playing uphill, that’s where the laughter was! Perependev, who was with me: “Here, he says, if Chichikov were now, he would definitely be!..” (Meanwhile, Chichikov never knew any Perependev). But admit it, brother, you really treated me meanly back then, remember how they played checkers, because I won... Yes, brother, you just fooled me. But, God knows, I just can’t be angry. The other day with the chairman... Oh, yes! I have to tell you that everything in the city is against you; they think that you are making false papers, they pestered me, but I’m very supportive of you, I told them that I studied with you and knew your father; Well, needless to say, he gave them a decent bullet.

Am I making fake papers? - Chichikov cried, rising from his chair.

Why did you scare them so much, though? - Nozdryov continued. - They, God knows, went crazy with fear: they dressed you up as robbers and spies... And the prosecutor died of fright, tomorrow there will be a funeral. You will not? To tell the truth, they are afraid of the new governor-general, lest something happen because of you; and my opinion about the Governor-General is that if he turns up his nose and puts on airs, he will do absolutely nothing with the nobility. The nobility demands cordiality, doesn't it? Of course, you can hide in your office and not give a single point, but what does that mean? After all, you won't gain anything by doing this. But you, Chichikov, have started a risky business.

What a risky business? - Chichikov asked worriedly.

Yes, take away the governor's daughter. I admit, I was waiting for this, by God, I was waiting for it! The first time, as soon as I saw you together at the ball, well, I think to myself, Chichikov was probably not without reason... However, you made such a choice in vain, I don’t find anything good in her. And there is one, a relative of Bikusov, his sister’s daughter, so that’s a girl! one might say: miracle calico!

Why are you confusing? How to take away the governor's daughter, what are you saying? - Chichikov said, his eyes bulging.

Well, that's enough, brother, what a secretive man! I admit, I came to you with this: if you please, I am ready to help you. So be it: I will hold the crown for you, the carriage and the changeable horses will be mine, only with an agreement: you must lend me three thousand. We need it, brother, at least kill it!

During all of Nozdrev's chatter, Chichikov rubbed his eyes several times, wanting to make sure that he was not hearing all this in a dream. The maker of false banknotes, the abduction of the governor's daughter, the death of the prosecutor, which he allegedly caused, the arrival of the governor general - all this brought a fair amount of fear into him. “Well, if it comes to that,” he thought to himself, “there’s no point in dawdling anymore, we need to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

He tried to sell Nozdryov as quickly as possible, called Selifan to him at that very hour and told him to be ready at dawn, so that tomorrow at six o’clock in the morning he would definitely leave the city, so that everything would be reconsidered, the chaise would be greased, etc., etc. Selifan said: “I’m listening, Pavel Ivanovich!” - and stopped, however, for some time at the door, without moving. The master immediately ordered Petrushka to pull out from under the bed the suitcase, which was already covered with quite a bit of dust, and began to pack with it, indiscriminately, stockings, shirts, underwear, washed and unwashed, shoe lasts, a calendar... All this was packed at random; he wanted to be ready in the evening so that there could be no delay the next day. Selifan, after standing at the door for about two minutes, finally very slowly left the room. Slowly, as slowly as one can imagine, he descended from the stairs, leaving footprints with his wet boots on the battered steps going down, and scratched the back of his head for a long time with his hand. What did this scratching mean? and what does it even mean? Is it annoyance that the meeting planned for the next day with his brother in an unsightly sheepskin coat, belted with a sash, somewhere in the Tsar’s tavern, somewhere in the Tsar’s tavern, did not work out, or some kind of sweetheart has already started in a new place and I have to leave the evening standing at the gate and politically holding on to whites hands at that hour, as twilight falls on the city, a fellow in a red shirt strums a balalaika in front of the courtyard servants and weaves quiet speeches of the various working people? Or is it simply a pity to leave an already warmed place in a people’s kitchen under a sheepskin coat, near the stove, with cabbage soup and a city soft pie, in order to again trudge through the rain, and slush, and all sorts of road adversities? God knows, you won't guess. Scratching your head means a lot of different things to the Russian people.

The power of a sovereign is a meaningless phenomenon if he does not feel that he should be the image of God on earth. N.V. Gogol (From correspondence with friends).

At first glance, “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” has nothing to do with N.V. Gogol’s poem “Dead Souls”: there is no intertwining storylines, a different style from the poem, a fairy-tale style of narration. But from the history of writing the poem we know that N.V. Gogol refused to publish “Dead Souls” without this story. He attached great importance to this “small poem inscribed at the epicenter of the large one.” So what is the internal connection of the story with the poem “Dead Souls”, a story rewritten three times by the author under the pressure of censorship?

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” tells a dramatic story about a disabled hero Patriotic War, who arrived in St. Petersburg for “royal favor.” While defending his homeland, he lost an arm and a leg and was deprived of any means of subsistence. Captain Kopeikin finds himself in the capital, surrounded by an atmosphere of hostility to humans. We see St. Petersburg through the eyes of the hero: “I was trying to rent an apartment, but everything bites terribly...” “One doorman is already looking like a generalissimo... like some fat fat pug...” Captain Kopeikin seeks a meeting with the minister himself, and he turns out to be a callous, soulless person. Kopeikin is urged to wait and “visit one of these days.” And so, when the hero’s patience comes to an end, he comes once again to the commission with a request to resolve his issue, to which the high chief admonishes the enraged Kopeikin: “There has never been an example in Russia where, in Russia, someone who, relatively speaking, brought services to the fatherland, was left without care.” These completely parodic-sounding words are followed by arrogant advice: “Look for your own means, try to help yourself.” Kopeikin starts a “rebellion” in the presence of the entire commission, all the bosses, and he is expelled from St. Petersburg to his place of residence.

It is not for nothing that Gogol entrusts the story about the heroic captain to the postmaster. The smugly prosperous postmaster with his tongue-tied, majestically pathetic speech further emphasizes the tragedy of the story that he sets out so cheerfully and floridly. In comparing the images of the postmaster and Kopeikin, two social poles appear old Russia. From the lips of the postmaster, we learn that Kopeikin, riding on a courier, reasoned: “Okay,” he says, “here you are saying that I should look for funds for myself and help; ok, he says, I’ll find the funds!”

Saying that rumors about Captain Kopeikin, after he was expelled from St. Petersburg, have sunk into oblivion, the postmaster then adds an important, multi-valued phrase: “But excuse me, gentlemen, this is where, one might say, the plot of the novel begins.” The minister, having expelled Kopeikin from the capital, thought that was the end of the matter. But it was not there! The story is just beginning. Kopeikin will show himself and make people talk about him. Under censored conditions, Gogol could not openly talk about the adventures of his hero in the Ryazan forests, but the phrase about the beginning of the novel makes us understand that everything that has been told so far about Kopeikin is only the beginning, and the most important thing is yet to come. But the idea of retribution in “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” does not boil down to revenge for outraged justice on the part of the captain, who turned his anger on everything “official.”

The story of the heroic defender of the Fatherland, who became a victim of trampled justice, seems to crown the whole terrible picture of local-bureaucratic-police Russia painted in “Dead Souls.” The embodiment of arbitrariness and injustice is not only the provincial government, but also the capital's bureaucracy, the government itself. Through the mouth of the minister, the government renounces the defenders of the Fatherland, the true patriots, and, thereby, it exposes its anti-national essence - this is the idea in Gogol’s work.

“The Tale of Captain Kopeikin” is a cry from Gogol’s soul, it is a call to universal human values, it is a judgment on the “dead souls” of landowners, officials, higher authorities - on a world full of indifference.

And Gogol’s prophetic words “the current generation laughs and arrogantly and proudly begins a series of new errors, which posterity will also laugh at later” are the judgment of history. The despicable laughter of descendants is what will serve as retribution to this indifferent world, which cannot change anything in itself even in the face of the obvious threat of its senseless and fruitless death.