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- Николай Гоголь
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- Стр. 148/232
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Happy
,
therefore
,
the
man
who
may
choose
from
among
the
gamut
of
human
passions
one
which
is
noble
!
Hour
by
hour
will
that
instinct
grow
and
multiply
in
its
measureless
beneficence
;
hour
by
hour
will
it
sink
deeper
and
deeper
into
the
infinite
paradise
of
his
soul
.
But
there
are
passions
of
which
a
man
can
not
rid
himself
,
seeing
that
they
are
born
with
him
at
his
birth
,
and
he
has
no
power
to
abjure
them
.
Higher
powers
govern
those
passions
,
and
in
them
is
something
which
will
call
to
him
,
and
refuse
to
be
silenced
,
to
the
end
of
his
life
.
Yes
,
whether
in
a
guise
of
darkness
,
or
whether
in
a
guise
which
will
become
converted
into
a
light
to
lighten
the
world
,
they
will
and
must
attain
their
consummation
on
life
's
field
:
and
in
either
case
they
have
been
evoked
for
man
's
good
.
In
the
same
way
may
the
passion
which
drew
our
Chichikov
onwards
have
been
one
that
was
independent
of
himself
;
in
the
same
way
may
there
have
lurked
even
in
his
cold
essence
something
which
will
one
day
cause
men
to
humble
themselves
in
the
dust
before
the
infinite
wisdom
of
God
.
Yet
that
folk
should
be
dissatisfied
with
my
hero
matters
nothing
.
What
matters
is
the
fact
that
,
under
different
circumstances
,
their
approval
could
have
been
taken
as
a
foregone
conclusion
.
That
is
to
say
,
had
not
the
author
pried
over-deeply
into
Chichikov
's
soul
,
nor
stirred
up
in
its
depths
what
shunned
and
lay
hidden
from
the
light
,
nor
disclosed
those
of
his
hero
's
thoughts
which
that
hero
would
have
not
have
disclosed
even
to
his
most
intimate
friend
;
had
the
author
,
indeed
,
exhibited
Chichikov
just
as
he
exhibited
himself
to
the
townsmen
of
N.
and
Manilov
and
the
rest
;
well
,
then
we
may
rest
assured
that
every
reader
would
have
been
delighted
with
him
,
and
have
voted
him
a
most
interesting
person
.
For
it
is
not
nearly
so
necessary
that
Chichikov
should
figure
before
the
reader
as
though
his
form
and
person
were
actually
present
to
the
eye
as
that
,
on
concluding
a
perusal
of
this
work
,
the
reader
should
be
able
to
return
,
unharrowed
in
soul
,
to
that
cult
of
the
card-table
which
is
the
solace
and
delight
of
all
good
Russians
.
Yes
,
readers
of
this
book
,
none
of
you
really
care
to
see
humanity
revealed
in
its
nakedness
.
"
Why
should
we
do
so
?
"
you
say
.
"
What
would
be
the
use
of
it
?
Do
we
not
know
for
ourselves
that
human
life
contains
much
that
is
gross
and
contemptible
?
Do
we
not
with
our
own
eyes
have
to
look
upon
much
that
is
anything
but
comforting
?
Far
better
would
it
be
if
you
would
put
before
us
what
is
comely
and
attractive
,
so
that
we
might
forget
ourselves
a
little
.
"
In
the
same
fashion
does
a
landowner
say
to
his
bailiff
:
"
Why
do
you
come
and
tell
me
that
the
affairs
of
my
estate
are
in
a
bad
way
?
I
know
that
without
YOUR
help
.
Have
you
nothing
else
to
tell
me
?
Kindly
allow
me
to
forget
the
fact
,
or
else
to
remain
in
ignorance
of
it
,
and
I
shall
be
much
obliged
to
you
.
"
Whereafter
the
said
landowner
probably
proceeds
to
spend
on
his
diversion
the
money
which
ought
to
have
gone
towards
the
rehabilitation
of
his
affairs
.
Possibly
the
author
may
also
incur
censure
at
the
hands
of
those
so-called
"
patriots
"
who
sit
quietly
in
corners
,
and
become
capitalists
through
making
fortunes
at
the
expense
of
others
.
Yes
,
let
but
something
which
they
conceive
to
be
derogatory
to
their
country
occur
--
for
instance
,
let
there
be
published
some
book
which
voices
the
bitter
truth
--
and
out
they
will
come
from
their
hiding-places
like
a
spider
which
perceives
a
fly
to
be
caught
in
its
web
.
"
Is
it
well
to
proclaim
this
to
the
world
,
and
to
set
folk
talking
about
it
?
"
they
will
cry
.
"
What
you
have
described
touches
US
,
is
OUR
affair
.
Is
conduct
of
that
kind
right
?
What
will
foreigners
say
?
Does
any
one
care
calmly
to
sit
by
and
hear
himself
traduced
?
Why
should
you
lead
foreigners
to
suppose
that
all
is
not
well
with
us
,
and
that
we
are
not
patriotic
?
"
Well
,
to
these
sage
remarks
no
answer
can
really
be
returned
,
especially
to
such
of
the
above
as
refer
to
foreign
opinion
.
But
see
here
.
There
once
lived
in
a
remote
corner
of
Russia
two
natives
of
the
region
indicated
.
One
of
those
natives
was
a
good
man
named
Kifa
Mokievitch
,
and
a
man
of
kindly
disposition
;
a
man
who
went
through
life
in
a
dressing-gown
,
and
paid
no
heed
to
his
household
,
for
the
reason
that
his
whole
being
was
centred
upon
the
province
of
speculation
,
and
that
,
in
particular
,
he
was
preoccupied
with
a
philosophical
problem
usually
stated
by
him
thus
:
"
A
beast
,
"
he
would
say
,
"
is
born
naked
.
Now
,
why
should
that
be
?
Why
should
not
a
beast
be
born
as
a
bird
is
born
--
that
is
to
say
,
through
the
process
of
being
hatched
from
an
egg
?
Nature
is
beyond
the
understanding
,
however
much
one
may
probe
her
.
"
This
was
the
substance
of
Kifa
Mokievitch
's
reflections
.
But
herein
is
not
the
chief
point
.
The
other
of
the
pair
was
a
fellow
named
Mofi
Kifovitch
,
and
son
to
the
first
named
.
He
was
what
we
Russians
call
a
"
hero
,
"
and
while
his
father
was
pondering
the
parturition
of
beasts
,
his
,
the
son
's
,
lusty
,
twenty-year-old
temperament
was
violently
struggling
for
development
.
Yet
that
son
could
tackle
nothing
without
some
accident
occurring
.
At
one
moment
would
he
crack
some
one
's
fingers
in
half
,
and
at
another
would
he
raise
a
bump
on
somebody
's
nose
;
so
that
both
at
home
and
abroad
every
one
and
everything
--
from
the
serving-maid
to
the
yard-dog
--
fled
on
his
approach
,
and
even
the
bed
in
his
bedroom
became
shattered
to
splinters
.
Such
was
Mofi
Kifovitch
;
and
with
it
all
he
had
a
kindly
soul
.
But
herein
is
not
the
chief
point
.
"
Good
sir
,
good
Kifa
Mokievitch
,
"
servants
and
neighbours
would
come
and
say
to
the
father
,
"
what
are
you
going
to
do
about
your
Moki
Kifovitch
?
We
get
no
rest
from
him
,
he
is
so
above
himself
.
"
"
That
is
only
his
play
,
that
is
only
his
play
,
"
the
father
would
reply
.
"
What
else
can
you
expect
?
It
is
too
late
now
to
start
a
quarrel
with
him
,
and
,
moreover
,
every
one
would
accuse
me
of
harshness
.
True
,
he
is
a
little
conceited
;
but
,
were
I
to
reprove
him
in
public
,
the
whole
thing
would
become
common
talk
,
and
folk
would
begin
giving
him
a
dog
's
name
.
And
if
they
did
that
,
would
not
their
opinion
touch
me
also
,
seeing
that
I
am
his
father
?
Also
,
I
am
busy
with
philosophy
,
and
have
no
time
for
such
things
.
Lastly
,
Moki
Kifovitch
is
my
son
,
and
very
dear
to
my
heart
.
"
And
,
beating
his
breast
,
Kifa
Mokievitch
again
asserted
that
,
even
though
his
son
should
elect
to
continue
his
pranks
,
it
would
not
be
for
HIM
,
for
the
father
,
to
proclaim
the
fact
,
or
to
fall
out
with
his
offspring
.
And
,
this
expression
of
paternal
feeling
uttered
,
Kifa
Mokievitch
left
Moki
Kifovitch
to
his
heroic
exploits
,
and
himself
returned
to
his
beloved
subject
of
speculation
,
which
now
included
also
the
problem
,
"
Suppose
elephants
were
to
take
to
being
hatched
from
eggs
,
would
not
the
shell
of
such
eggs
be
of
a
thickness
proof
against
cannonballs
,
and
necessitate
the
invention
of
some
new
type
of
firearm
?
"
Thus
at
the
end
of
this
little
story
we
have
these
two
denizens
of
a
peaceful
corner
of
Russia
looking
thence
,
as
from
a
window
,
in
less
terror
of
doing
what
was
scandalous
than
of
having
it
SAID
of
them
that
they
were
acting
scandalously
.
Yes
,
the
feeling
animating
our
so-called
"
patriots
"
is
not
true
patriotism
at
all
.
Something
else
lies
beneath
it
.
Who
,
if
not
an
author
,
is
to
speak
aloud
the
truth
?
Men
like
you
,
my
pseudo-patriots
,
stand
in
dread
of
the
eye
which
is
able
to
discern
,
yet
shrink
from
using
your
own
,
and
prefer
,
rather
,
to
glance
at
everything
unheedingly
.
Yes
,
after
laughing
heartily
over
Chichikov
's
misadventures
,
and
perhaps
even
commending
the
author
for
his
dexterity
of
observation
and
pretty
turn
of
wit
,
you
will
look
at
yourselves
with
redoubled
pride
and
a
self-satisfied
smile
,
and
add
:
"
Well
,
we
agree
that
in
certain
parts
of
the
provinces
there
exists
strange
and
ridiculous
individuals
,
as
well
as
unconscionable
rascals
.
"
Yet
which
of
you
,
when
quiet
,
and
alone
,
and
engaged
in
solitary
self-communion
,
would
not
do
well
to
probe
YOUR
OWN
souls
,
and
to
put
to
YOURSELVES
the
solemn
question
,
"
Is
there
not
in
ME
an
element
of
Chichikov
?
"
For
how
should
there
not
be
?
Which
of
you
is
not
liable
at
any
moment
to
be
passed
in
the
street
by
an
acquaintance
who
,
nudging
his
neighbour
,
may
say
of
you
,
with
a
barely
suppressed
sneer
:
"
Look
!
there
goes
Chichikov
!
That
is
Chichikov
who
has
just
gone
by
!
"
But
here
are
we
talking
at
the
top
of
our
voices
whilst
all
the
time
our
hero
lies
slumbering
in
his
britchka
!
Indeed
,
his
name
has
been
repeated
so
often
during
the
recital
of
his
life
's
history
that
he
must
almost
have
heard
us
!
And
at
any
time
he
is
an
irritable
,
irascible
fellow
when
spoken
of
with
disrespect
.
True
,
to
the
reader
Chichikov
's
displeasure
can
not
matter
a
jot
;
but
for
the
author
it
would
mean
ruin
to
quarrel
with
his
hero
,
seeing
that
,
arm
in
arm
,
Chichikov
and
he
have
yet
far
to
go
.
