You can't say better than Korolenko. In the second volume of the poem "Dead Souls" one can see the "folded wings of Gogol's laughter". But, reading carefully, peering into the surviving pages, as if from a flame, one thinks intensely about the word of the great writer, now really completely different, unusual, in places painfully humble, in places to tears (not to tears through laughter?) sad , in places to the point of intolerance from the point of view of today's literature pathetic, and in places frankly, almost insanely, impudent. Isn’t it impudent, isn’t it with unheard-of denunciation, for example, the prince’s speech that tragically breaks off the second volume: “I know that by no means ... it is impossible to eradicate untruth: it is already too deeply rooted. The dishonorable business of taking bribes has become a necessity and a need ... The fact is that it has come to us to save our land; that our land is already perishing not from the invasion of twenty foreign languages, but from ourselves; that already past the lawful administration, another government was formed, much stronger than any lawful one ... ".
"The Tale of Captain Kopeikin", in all its editions, is just an open protest against that "other government". It is obvious. However, the strong internal connection of the inserted short story with the second volume of the poem has yet to be comprehended, perhaps. The story about “some sort of, that is, Captain Kopeikin” was extremely important for Gogol, not just as a separate episode, interrupting the plot of the main action, but, above all, as part of a large-scale plan. “Whoever is an artist at heart,” wrote Gogol Nikitenko, sharing with him his thoughts about Captain Kopeikin, “will understand that without him there is a strong gap.”
The image of an invalid of the war of the twelfth year, who dared to seek justice, and found “a bitter dish called tomorrow”, and, in addition, was escorted to his place of residence by a three-foot courier, of course, gives the whole poem a depth of historical perspective. Gogol creates a new hero for himself. “Captain Kopeikin is not timid and humiliated Akaki Akakievich,” N.L., a deep connoisseur of Gogol’s work, authoritatively concludes. Stepanov.
I wonder if Kopeikin, about whom the reader learns from the words of a stammering and yet very sharp-tongued postmaster, would fit Kopeikin, a desperately spacious Pugachev sheepskin coat? Hard to say. However, the Russian literature of that time was certainly not cramped until the gray cloth of Gogol's "Overcoat", and the britzka of Chichikov, Chichikov's "sharp" (remember the sincere bewilderment of Shukshin's hero?), Still easily covered Russian roads and off-roads. And that's what I would like to pay attention to here. Many "damned questions", invisibly lurking for everyone as yet only a small seed in the soil of great doubts, were seen by Gogol as already mighty, with a tree that had grown to its crown.
Under it go inaudibly
foot
Shelves of centuries - and fall
powers,
And the tribes are replaced by a succession
In the shadow of his blessed
glory.
And the corpses of the kingdoms underneath
lie without strength
And new ones grow for new ones
goals,
And a million mourned
graves,
And a million funny
cradles.
Stepan Shevyrev's brilliant verses would definitely illustrate the visionary power of Gogol's gaze. Gogol always saw, or rather, foresaw the outcome of any undertakings, their final line. However, what is beyond the line was revealed to Gogol, the only one, perhaps, among Russian writers. Who knows, is it not for this reason that the continuation of the poem arose, is it not for this reason that it was destined to be on fire? “The very life of Gogol,” the most intelligent critic Ivan Aksakov wrote shrewdly, “burned out ... from futile efforts to find the bright side he promised.”
So who is Captain Kopeikin? The hero of that very "bright side" or another shadow of Gogol's purgatory, a great rebel who dared to protest "in the very heart of Russian empire", or another brother of a short kind? Compare at least the illustrations: what different Kopeikins the artists got - right up to the figurine performed by S. Brodsky, as it were, merged with the gray St. Petersburg background!
“Gogol's influence on Russian literature was enormous. Not only all young talents rushed to the path indicated by him, but also some writers who had already gained fame, went along the same path ... ". It is difficult to argue with Belinsky's classical assessment. Gogol really was always ahead of his followers. Take, for example, the problem of crime, which is destined to take one of the central places in the register of the most important problems of domestic novelism, but which is only just beginning to be mastered in the forties. XIX years century. Raskolnikov's question about law was not even in the air yet, and the newspaper "Voice", from the opening of which in the mid-sixties the "extremely sharp, short-handled" ax of Gerasim Chistov would flash before Dostoevsky's eyes, had not even begun to be published.
Nevertheless, it was Gogol who was one of the first in Russian literature to raise the issue of crime - with all its sharpness and tragedy. And how interesting it would be with high school students to compare exactly the phenomenon of crime among two great writers! It goes without saying that Nozdrev’s buffoonery or Chichikov’s dexterity has nothing to do with it, although, by the way, in the second volume of the poem, Pavel Ivanovich exclaims desperately: “Save me! lead to prison, to death!..” No, of course, the ghost of the state house, which, together with Murazov’s sermons, shocked the protagonist so much that he almost embarked on the path of true correction, the problem outlined by the author is not exhausted.
Let's look (for the umpteenth time!) at the Box. And for the umpteenth time we note: a good hostess, caring, compassionate. Her peasant houses are “properly maintained”, she has no back thoughts in her conversation with Chichikov, the impression in the reader's memory is the most favorable, if not cheerful. But “merry,” as Gogol writes, “will instantly turn into sadness, if you only stand in front of it for a long time ...”. So a slightly more attentive look at the Box leads to the fact that the hair begins to move in horror.
“Yes, how? - the collegiate secretary cannot understand Chichikov's intentions regarding the dead peasants. “Really, I won’t take it for granted. Do you want to dig them out of the ground?” But these are not the most terrible words of Nastasya Petrovna. When Chichikov promises her fifteen rubles in addition if she agrees, Korobochka, with some even coquetry, remarks: “Really, I don’t know ... After all, I have never sold the dead before.” Amazing self-characteristic, just killer! At this moment, a real monster peeps out from behind the stooped back of the harmless Box.
And yet the Box is no monster. She is not a heartless, cruel person, and even more so she does not look like a violator of any law, human or higher. She is, as they say, in her right. She is supremely law-abiding, but the whole horror lies in the fact that the law, which she obeys and lives by, is fundamentally lawless. In other words, Gogol finds crime where no one was going to break the boundaries of the law, to break the legal framework. The very combination "serfdom" in this context shows its oxymoronic sound. The habit of trading in people, for the time being, however, only alive, but yes, the trouble is the beginning (“How do you buy, for clean ones?” Plyushkin asked with unnatural liveliness for himself), turns out to be as natural and legitimate for landowners as the desire to wash in the morning or talk about the improvement of some regular Manilovka.
And against such and such foundations, against such and such habits, against such and such laws that have determined the life of society for centuries, “some kind of ... Captain Kopeikin” dares to speak out. It is this circumstance that quite possibly explains the breadth of social and historical context, which inevitably arises when one of the most mysterious Gogol's images is examined at least in some detail.
But the centrifugal orientation of the image gives rise to its centripetal gravity. An interesting formula through which Yu.M. Lotman defined the essence of Chichikov: "the hero of a penny." (“Hero of a penny” - an original theme for the essay emerges!) That is, the connection is obvious, and the connection is reciprocal, between Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov and the rebellious captain. But what if the moral rebirth of Chichikov, fragmentarily reflected in the surviving chapters of the second volume of the poem, his complication psychological portrait, the well-known inconsistency of his thoughts and behavior is implicitly connected with the desperate step of Captain Kopeikin, with his small and yet great rebellion? Chichikov, in the end, also decides to rebel - against his former self, against himself, against his Chichikov nature!
“It seemed that nature, with its dark instinct, began to hear that there is some kind of duty that a person needs to fulfill on earth ... despite all sorts of circumstances, confusion and movements ...”. And further. “I begin to feel, I hear that it’s not right, I’m going wrong and that I’ve strayed far from the straight path ... My father repeated moralizing to me ... and he himself stole the forest from my neighbors in front of me and still forced me to help him. Tied up with me the wrong litigation ... ". But isn’t Gogol talking about the law again, isn’t it about the right, only about another - legal law, and another - the right right, according to which every person should live?
In the second volume of Dead Souls, Gogol almost openly sets up the pulpit of preaching. The speech of his characters is sometimes simply overflowing with the author's intention. Well, isn’t Gogol saying, for example, through the mouth of Costanjoglo: “Yes, for me, it’s just that if a carpenter is good with an ax, I’m ready to stand in front of him for two hours: work makes me so happy. And if you also see that all this is being done for what purpose ... yes, I can’t tell you what is happening in you then ... but how the ice breaks, let the rivers pass, let everything dry out and the earth starts to explode - a spade works in the gardens and orchards, plow fields and harrows ... Do you understand?
The intonation with which Gogol addresses the reader almost directly contradicts the voice of the stammering postmaster talking about Captain Kopeikin. And yet we have a single artistic tonality.
The grain has already been thrown into the soil. The question has been raised. Gogol foresaw the answer to it, he heard the noise of the forest where there was a plain. But he could also discern blackened stumps in the future in the place of a noisy forest. And the teacher in school class together with the guys, it is necessary not only, perhaps, to guess what awaits us tomorrow, but also to change this very tomorrow for the better. The image of Captain Kopeikin appeals to conscience, to justice. It is especially relevant in our time, when between what is legal and what is fair, it is necessary once and for all to put an equal sign.
0 / 5. 0
“After the campaign of the twelfth year, my sir,” the postmaster began, despite the fact that not one sir, but six of them were sitting in the room, “after the campaign of the twelfth year, Captain Kopeikin was sent along with the wounded. Under Red, or under Leipzig, just, you can imagine, his arm and leg were torn off. Well, at that time, no, you know, such orders had yet been made about the wounded; this kind of disabled capital had already been wound up, you can imagine, in some way much later. Captain Kopeikin sees: he needs to work, only his hand, you understand, is left. He was about to visit his father; his father says: "I have nothing to feed you, I, you can imagine, I can barely get bread myself." Here is my captain Kopeikin decided to go, my sir, to Petersburg, to ask the sovereign if there would be some kind of royal mercy: “what, de, so and so, in a certain way, so to speak, he sacrificed his life, shed his blood ...” Well, how - something there, you know, with convoys or state-owned wagons - in a word, my sir, he somehow dragged himself to Petersburg. Well, you can imagine: some kind of, that is, Captain Kopeikin suddenly found himself in the capital, which, so to speak, is not like it in the world! Suddenly there is a light in front of him, so to speak, a certain field of life, the fabulous Scheherazade. Suddenly some sort of, you can imagine, Nevsky Prospekt, or there, you know, some kind of Gorokhovaya, damn it! or there some kind of Foundry; there is some kind of spitz in the air; bridges hang there like a devil, you can imagine, without any, that is, touch, - in a word, Semiramis, sir, and it’s full! I came across to rent an apartment, only all this bites terribly: curtains, curtains, such devilry, you understand, carpets - Persia as a whole; with your foot, so to speak, you trample on capital. Well, simply, that is, you walk down the street, and your nose can hear that it smells of thousands; and my captain Kopeikin's entire banknotes, you understand, consist of some ten bruises. Well, somehow I took shelter in a Revel tavern for a ruble a day; lunch - cabbage soup, a piece of beaten beef. He sees: there is nothing to live on. Asked where to go. They say that there is, in a certain way, a higher commission, a board, you understand, something like that, and the chief is General-in-Chief such and such. And 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 early, scratched his beard with his left hand, because paying the barber would be, in a way, a bill, pulled on his uniform and on his piece of wood, you can imagine, went to the boss himself, to the nobleman. I asked about the apartment. "Get out," they say, pointing to the house on the Palace Embankment. The hut, you understand, is a peasant’s: glass in the windows, you can imagine, one and a half full length mirrors, so that the vases and everything that is there in the rooms seem to be outside - you could, in a way, get it from the street with your hand; precious marbles on the walls, metal haberdashery, some kind of handle at the door, so you need, you know, run ahead to a petty shop, and buy soap for a penny, and rub your hands with it for about two hours, and then you already decide to grab it - in a word: varnishes on everything are like that - in some way, the mind is bewildered. One porter is already looking like a generalissimo: a gilded mace, a count's physiognomy, like some fat pug of some sort; batiste collars, canals!.. My Kopeikin somehow got up with his piece of wood into the waiting room, pressed himself into a corner there so as not to nudge him with his elbow, you can imagine, some kind of America or India - gilded, you understand, a kind of porcelain vase. Well, of course, that he insisted there a lot, because, you can imagine, he came back at a time when the general, in a way, barely got out of bed and the valet, perhaps, brought him some kind of silver tub for different, you know, such washings. My Kopeikin is waiting for four hours, when the adjutant finally enters, or there is another official on duty. "The general, he says, will now go to the waiting room." And in the waiting room, people are like beans on a plate. All this is not that our brother is a serf, all of the fourth or fifth grade, colonels, but in some places even thick pasta glitters on the epaulette - the generals, in a word, are like that. Suddenly, in the room, you understand, a barely perceptible fuss swept through, like some thin ether. It was heard here and there: "shu, shu", and finally there was a terrible silence. The nobleman enters. Well ... you can imagine: a statesman! In the face, so to speak ... well, in accordance with the rank, you understand ... with a high rank ... such an expression, you understand. Everything that was in the front, of course, at that very moment, waiting, trembling, waiting for a decision, in some way, fate. A minister, or a nobleman, goes up to one, to another: "Why are you? Why are you? What do you want? What is your business?" Finally, my sir, to Kopeikin. Kopeikin, gathering his courage: "So and so, Your Excellency: 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 an empty right sleeve fastened to his uniform: "All right, he says, visit 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-class nobleman; and the other thing is that now, at last, a decision will be made, in some way, about the pension. In the spirit, you know, like that, jumping up and down the sidewalk. I went to the Palkinsky tavern to drink a glass of vodka, dined, my sir, in London, ordered a cutlet with capers, asked for poulard with various Finterleys; he asked for a bottle of wine, in the evening he went to the theater - in a word, you understand, he drank. On the pavement, he sees some kind of slender Englishwoman walking like a swan, you can imagine, something like that. My Kopeikin - the blood, you know, broke out in him - ran after her on his piece of wood, swipe-sweep followed - "no, I thought, let me later, when I get a pension, now I'm too much at odds." Here, my sir, in some three or four days my Kopeikin appears again to the minister, he waited for the exit. "So and so, he says, he came, he says, to hear the order of your excellency for obsessed diseases and for wounds ...", - and the like, you understand, in official style. The nobleman, you can imagine, immediately recognized him: “Ah, he says, it’s good, he says, this time I can’t tell you anything more than that you will need to wait for the arrival of the sovereign; then, no doubt, orders will be made about the wounded , and without monarchs, so to speak, the will, I can’t do anything.” Bow, you understand, and - farewell. Kopeikin, you can imagine, came out in the most uncertain position. He was already thinking that tomorrow they would give him money like that: "On you, my dear, drink and be merry"; but instead he was ordered to wait, and the time was not appointed. Here he came out of the porch like an owl, like a poodle, you understand, whom the cook poured water over: and his tail between his legs, and his ears hung. “Well, no,” he thinks to himself, “I’ll go another time, I’ll explain that I’m eating the last piece, don’t help, I must die, in some way, from hunger.” In a word, he comes, my sir, again to the Palace Embankment; they say: "It is impossible, does not accept, come tomorrow." The next day - the same; and the doorman just doesn't want to look at him. And meanwhile, he has only one of the bruises, you know, in his pocket. He used to eat cabbage soup, a piece of beef, and now in a shop he will take some herring or pickled cucumber and bread for two pennies - in a word, the poor fellow is starving, but meanwhile the appetite is simply wolfish. He passes by some kind of restaurant - a cook there, you can imagine, a foreigner, a Frenchman of some kind with an open physiognomy, Dutch linen on him, an apron as white as snow, a fenserve works there, some cutlets with truffles - in a word, rassupe - a delicacy such that it would simply eat itself, that is, from appetite. Will it pass by the Milyutian shops, there, in a certain way, looks out of the window, some kind of salmon, cherries - five rubles each, a huge watermelon, a kind of stagecoach, leaned 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, saliva flows, and meanwhile he hears everything "tomorrow". So you can imagine what his position is: here, on the one hand, so to speak, salmon and watermelon, and on the other, they all bring him the same dish: "tomorrow." Finally, the poor fellow became, in a way, unbearable, he decided to climb through by storm at all costs, you understand. I waited at the entrance to see if some other petitioner would pass, and there with some general, you understand, he slipped with his piece of wood into the waiting room. The grandee, as usual, comes out: "Why are you? Why are you? Ah!" he says, seeing Kopeikin, "after all, I have already announced to you that you should expect a decision." - "Forgive me, Your Excellency, I do not have, so to speak, a piece of bread ..." - "What to do? I can do nothing for you; try to help yourself for the time being, look for the means yourself." "But, Your Excellency, you yourself can, in a certain way, judge what means I can find without having either 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 grace will not leave you." - "But, Your Excellency, I can't wait," says Kopeikin, and speaks, in some respects, rudely. The nobleman, you understand, was already annoyed. In fact: here from all sides the generals are waiting for decisions, orders; affairs, so to speak, important, state, demanding self-speedy execution - a minute of omission can be important - and then an obsessive devil attached himself to the side. "Sorry, he says, I have no time ... I have things more important than yours waiting for me." Reminds in a way, in a 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: answering in this way to a nobleman, who only needs a word - and so the tarts flew up, so that the devil will not find you ... Here, if an official, one rank less, tells our brother, like that, so and rudeness. Well, and there is the size, what size: the general-in-chief and some captain Kopeikin! Ninety rubles and zero! General, you understand, nothing more, as soon as he looked, and the look - firearms: there is no longer a soul - she has already gone to the heels. And my Kopeikin, you can imagine, from a place, stands rooted to the spot. "What are you?" - says the general and took him, as they say, in the shoulder blades. However, to tell the truth, he was still rather merciful: another would have frightened him so that for three days the street would have turned upside down after that, and he only said: “Very well, he says, if it is dear to you to live here and you decision of your fate, so I will send you to the state account. Call the courier! escort him to your place of residence! " And the courier is already there, you understand, and is standing: some three-arshin peasant, with his hands, you can imagine, by nature arranged for coachmen - in a word, a dentist of sorts ... Here he, a servant of God, was seized, my sir, but in cart, with a courier. "Well, - Kopeikin thinks, - at least you don't have to pay runs, thanks for that too." Here he is, my sir, riding a courier, yes, riding a courier, in a certain way, so to speak, he argues to himself: "When the general says that I should look for means to help myself, - well, he says, I, he says, facilities!" Well, as soon as he was delivered to the place and where exactly they were brought, none of this is known. So, you understand, and the rumors about Captain Kopeikin have sunk into the river of oblivion, into some sort 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 two months had not passed, you can imagine, when a gang of robbers appeared in the Ryazan forests, and the ataman of this gang was, my sir, no one else ... "
* (Fenzerv - spicy sauce; here: cook.)
Just let me, Ivan Apdreevich, - the police chief said suddenly, interrupting him, - after all, Captain Kopeikin, you yourself said, without an arm and a leg, but Chichikov ...
Here the postmaster cried out and slapped his forehead with all his might, calling himself publicly in front of everyone a veal. He could not understand how such a circumstance did not come to him at the very beginning of the story, and he confessed that the saying was absolutely true: "A Russian man is strong in hindsight." However, a minute later he immediately began to cunning and tried to wriggle out, saying that, however, in England the mechanics were very improved, which can be seen from the newspapers, how one invented wooden legs in such a way that at one touch of an inconspicuous spring, these legs of a person were carried away God knows what places, so that after that it was impossible to find him anywhere.
But everyone doubted very much that Chichikov was Captain Kopeikin, and they found that the postmaster had already gone too far. However, they, for their part, also did not lose face and, induced by the postmaster's witty guess, wandered almost further. Of the many ingenious assumptions of its kind, there was finally one thing - it’s even strange to say: is it not Chichikov Napoleon in disguise, that the Englishman has long been jealous that, they say, Russia is so great and vast that even several times there were cartoons where Russian depicted talking to an Englishman. The Englishman is standing and holding a dog on a rope behind, and under the dog Napoleon is understood: "Look, they say, if something is wrong, then I will release this dog on you now!" - and now they may have released him from the island of Helena, and now he is sneaking into 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 himself, found that Chichikov's face, if he turns and becomes sideways, is very handy for a portrait of Napoleon. The police chief, who served in the campaign of the twelfth year and personally saw Napoleon, also could not help confessing that he would in no way be taller than Chichikov, and that Napoleon, too, could not 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 all the 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 took place shortly after the glorious expulsion of the French. At this time, all our landowners, officials, merchants, inmates and every literate and even illiterate people became, at least for eight whole years, sworn politicians. Moskovskiye Vedomosti and Son of the Fatherland were read mercilessly and reached the last reader in bits that were not fit for any use. Instead of questions: "How much, father, did you sell a measure of oats? How did you use yesterday's powder?" - they said: "And what do they write in the newspapers, have they let Napoleon out of 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 already; the prophet came from nowhere in bast shoes and an unsheathed sheepskin coat, terribly reeking of rotten fish, and announced that Napoleon was the Antichrist and kept on a stone chain, behind six walls and seven seas, but after that he would break the chain and take possession of the whole world. The prophet, for the prediction, got, as it should be, into prison, but nevertheless he did his job and completely embarrassed 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 the 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, there is nothing surprising that officials involuntarily thought about this point; soon, however, they caught on, noticing that their imagination was already too trotting and that all this was not right. They thought, thought, explained, and finally decided that it would not be a bad thing to ask Nozdryov a good deal more. 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, he knows some of the circumstances of his life, then try what Nozdryov says.
* (Apocalyptic figures - that is, the mystical number 666, which in the "Apocalypse" denoted the name of the Antichrist.)
Strange people, these gentlemen officials, and behind them all other titles: after all, they knew very well that Nozdryov was a liar, that he could not be trusted in a single word, not in the trifle itself, and yet they resorted to him. Come and get along with the man! does not believe in God, but believes that if the bridge of the nose itches, then he will certainly die; let the creation of a poet pass by, clear as day, all imbued with harmony and the lofty wisdom of simplicity, and rush exactly where some daring confuses, twists, breaks, twists nature, and it will get better for him, and he will begin to shout: "Here it is Here is the true knowledge of the mysteries of the heart!" All his life he does not put a penny on doctors, but ends up turning to a woman who heals with whispers and spitting, or, even better, he himself invents some kind of dekocht out of God knows what rubbish, which, God knows why, will be imagined to him as a means against his illness. Of course, the gentlemen of the officials can be partly excused by their really difficult situation. A drowning man, they say, grabs even a small chip, and at that time he has no reason to think that a fly can ride on a chip, and in it the weight is almost four pounds, if not even as much as five; but no thought comes to his mind at that time, and he grabs a piece of wood. And so our gentlemen finally seized on Nozdryov. The police chief at the same moment wrote a note to him to welcome him to the evening, and the quarterly, in over-the-knee boots, with an attractive blush on his cheeks, ran at that very moment, holding his sword, rushing 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 dinner at the window - in a word, he even grew thin and turned green. The case required great care: it consisted in picking up from several dozen dozen cards of the same waist, but with the most accurate mark, which one could rely on as a true friend. There was still work to do for at least two weeks; during all this time, Porfiry had to clean the navel of the Medelyan puppy with a special brush and wash it three times a day in soap. Nozdryov was very angry that his solitude was disturbed; first of all, he sent the district to hell, but when he read in the note of the mayor that a fortune might happen, because some newcomer was expected for the evening, he relented at that very moment, hastily locked the room with a key, dressed haphazardly and went to them. Nozdryov's testimonies, testimonies and assumptions presented such a sharp contrast to those of gentlemen of the officials that even their last guesses were confused. This was decidedly a man for whom there was no doubt at all; and how much shakyness and timidity in their assumptions was noticeable, so much firmness and confidence in him. He answered all the points without even a hint, announced that Chichikov had bought several thousand worth of dead souls and that he himself had sold it to him, because he saw no reason why not to sell it; to the question whether 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, he was called a fiscal, and what kind of comrades, including him , they tampered with him a little, so that later he had to put two hundred and forty leeches to one temple - that is, he wanted to say forty, but two hundred showed up somehow by itself. When asked if he was a counterfeit banknote maker, he replied that he was, and on this occasion he told an anecdote about Chichikov’s extraordinary dexterity: how, having learned that there were two million counterfeit banknotes 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 they were all real banknotes. To the question whether Chichikov really intended to take away the governor's daughter and whether it was true that he himself undertook to help and participate in this matter, Nozdryov replied that he helped and that if it weren't for him, nothing would have happened - then he caught himself , seeing that he had lied in vain and could thus invite trouble on 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: even the name of the village was named after the parish church in which it was supposed to get married, namely the village of Trukhmachevka, priest - father Sidor, for the wedding - seventy-five rubles, and he would not have agreed if he had not frightened him, promising to inform him that he had married the storekeeper Mikhail to his godfather, that he had even given up his carriage and prepared alternate horses at all stations. The details reached the point where he was already beginning to call the coachmen by their names. They tried to hint at Napoleon, but they themselves were not glad that they tried, because Nozdryov carried such nonsense, which not only had no semblance of truth, but even simply had no semblance to anything, so that the officials, sighing, all walked away away; only the chief of police listened for a long time, wondering if there would be at least something further, but finally he waved his hand, saying: “The devil knows what! And everyone agreed that no matter how you fight with a bull, you won’t get all the milk from him. 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 what Chichikov was. And it turned out to be clear what kind of creature a person is: he is wise, smart and intelligent in everything that concerns others, and not himself; what prudent, firm advice he will provide in difficult situations of life! the crowd shouts. “What an unshakable character!” And if some kind of misfortune struck this quick head and happened to be placed in difficult situations of life, where did the character go, the unshakable husband was completely confused, and a miserable coward, an insignificant, weak child, came out of him, or simply fetyuk, as Nozdrev calls it.
"Dead Souls". Hood. A. Laptev
All these rumors, opinions and rumors, for some unknown reason, had the greatest effect on the poor prosecutor. They affected him to such an extent that, having come home, he began to think, think, and suddenly, as they say, he died for no reason at all. Whether he was paralyzed or something else, he just sat and slammed back from his chair. They cried out, 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. Then only with condolences did they learn that the deceased had, for sure, a soul, although, due to his modesty, he never showed it. Meanwhile, the appearance of death was just as terrifying in small things as it is terrifying in a great man: the one who not so long ago walked, moved, played whist, signed various papers and was so often seen between officials with his thick eyebrows and blinking eye, now lying on the table, the left eye no longer blinked at all, but one eyebrow was still raised with some sort of questioning expression. What the deceased asked, why he died or why he lived, only God knows about this.
But this, however, is inconsistent! it doesn't agree with anything! it is impossible that the officials could scare themselves like that; create such nonsense, so far from the truth, when even a child can see what the matter is! Many readers will say so and reproach the author for inconsistencies or call the 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. It is enough to have one stupid party out of ten to be recognized as a fool by nine good ones. It is easy for readers to judge, looking from their quiet corner and top, from where the entire horizon is open to everything that is happening below, where only a close object is visible to a person. And in the world annals of mankind there are many whole centuries, which, it would seem, were crossed out and destroyed as unnecessary. Many errors have taken place in the world, which it would seem that even a child would not do now. What crooked, deaf, narrow, impassable, drifting roads humanity has chosen, striving to reach the eternal truth, while the whole straight path was open before it, similar to the path leading to the magnificent temple appointed by the king to the palaces! It is wider and more luxurious than all other paths, illuminated by the sun and illuminated by lights all night, but people flowed past it in the dead darkness. And how many times already induced by the meaning descending from heaven, they knew how to stagger back and stray to the side, they knew how in broad daylight to fall again into impenetrable backwoods, they knew how to throw a blind fog into each other’s eyes again and, dragging after the marsh lights, they still knew how get to the abyss, so that later they ask each other with horror: where is the exit, where is the road? Now the current generation sees everything clearly, marvels at the delusions, laughs at the foolishness of its ancestors, it is not in vain that this chronicle is scribbled with heavenly fire, that every letter screams in it, that a piercing finger is directed from everywhere at him, at him, at the current generation; but the current generation laughs and arrogantly, proudly begins a series of new delusions, which will also be laughed at by descendants later.
Chichikov knew absolutely nothing about all this. As if on purpose, at that time he got a slight cold - a flux and a slight inflammation in the throat, in the distribution of which the climate of many of our provincial cities is extremely generous. In order not to stop, God save, somehow life without descendants, he decided better to sit in a room for three days. During these days he constantly gargled milk with figs, which he then ate, and wore a small pillow of chamomile and camphor tied to his cheek. Wishing to occupy his time with something, he made several new and detailed lists of all the peasants who had bought himself, even read some volume of the Duchess of Lavalier * found in a suitcase, reviewed various objects and notes in the casket, re-read something and another time and all this bored him greatly. He could not understand at all what it meant that not a single city official had come to visit him at least once to check on his health, whereas until recently the droshky stood in front of the hotel - now the postmaster's, now the prosecutor's, then the chairman's. He just shrugged his shoulders as he paced the room. At last he felt better and was glad, God knows how, when he saw the opportunity to go out into the fresh air. Without delay, he immediately set to the toilet, unlocked his box, poured hot water into a glass, took out a brush and soap, and settled down to shave, which, however, was long overdue and time, because, having felt his beard with his hand and looked in the mirror, he already said: "Ek what forests went to write!" And in fact, the forests are not forests, but rather dense sowing poured out all over the cheek and chin. Having shaved off, he began to dress quickly and quickly, so that he almost jumped out of his trousers. At last he was dressed, sprinkled with cologne, and, bundled up warmly, he got out into the street, bandaging his cheek as a precaution. His exit, like any recovered person, was like a festive one. Everything that came across to him took on the appearance of a laugh: both the houses and the peasants passing by, quite serious, however, some of whom had already managed to drive his brother in the ear. He intended to make his first visit to the governor. On the way, many thoughts came to his mind; the blonde was spinning in his head, his imagination even began to play pranks a little, 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 porter struck him with completely unexpected words:
* ("Duchess Lavaliere" - a novel by the French writer S.-F. Genlis (1746-1830).)
Not ordered to take!
How, what are you, you, apparently, did not recognize me? Take a good look at your face! Chichikov told him.
How not to recognize, because I don’t see you for the first time, ”said the porter. - Yes, it’s just you alone and it’s not ordered to let in, everyone else is allowed.
Here's to you! from what? Why?
Such an order, apparently, follows, - said the porter and added the word: "yes" to it. After that, he stood in front of him completely at ease, without retaining that affectionate air with which he had previously hurried to take off his overcoat. It seemed that he was thinking, looking at him: "Hey! if the bars are chasing you from the porch, then you, apparently, are so-so, some kind of riff-raff!"
"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 connect two words, and uttered such rubbish that even they both felt ashamed. Leaving him, no matter how hard Chichikov tried to explain on the way and find out what the chairman meant and what his words could refer to, he could not understand anything. Then he went to the others: to the police chief, to the vice-governor, to the postmaster, but everyone either did not receive him, or received him in such a strange way, they carried on such a forced and incomprehensible conversation, they were so confused, and such stupidity 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, and did not get any reason. Like half asleep, he wandered aimlessly around the city, not being able to decide whether he had lost his mind, whether the officials had lost their heads, whether all this was being done in a dream, or in reality, nonsense cleaner than a dream was brewed. Late already, almost at dusk, he returned to his hotel, from which he left in such a good mood, and out of boredom ordered tea to be served to him. Thoughtful and in some kind of senseless discussion about the strangeness of his position, he began to pour tea, when suddenly the door of his room opened and Nozdryov appeared in an unexpected way.
Here says the proverb: "For a friend, seven miles is not a village!" he said, taking off his cap. - I pass by, I see a light in the window, let me think to myself, I’ll go in, right, I’m not sleeping. A! it’s good that you have tea on the table, I’ll drink a cup with pleasure: today at dinner I overate all sorts of rubbish, I feel that fuss is already beginning in the stomach. Tell me to fill the pipe! Where is your pipe?
Why, I don't smoke pipes,' said Chichikov dryly.
Empty like I don't know you're a chicken. Hey! What, I mean, is your man's name? Hey, Vakhramey, listen!
Yes, not Vakhramei, but Petrushka.
How? Yes, you had Vakhramey before.
I didn't have any Vahramei.
Yes, exactly, this is from Derebin Vakhramei. Imagine how happy Derebin is: his aunt quarreled with her son for marrying a serf, and now she has written down all the estate to him. I think to myself, if only I could have such an aunt for further! What are you, brother, so far away from everyone, do not go anywhere? Of course, I know that you are sometimes busy with scientific subjects, that you like to read (why Nozdryov concluded that our hero is engaged in scientific subjects and loves to read, we admit that we cannot say this, and Chichikov even less). Ah, brother Chichikov, if only you could see... surely there would be food for your satirical mind (why Chichikov had a satirical mind is also unknown). Imagine, brother, they were playing uphill at the merchant Likhachev's, that's where the laughter was! Perependev, who was with me: "Here, he says, if it were Chichikov now, he would surely be! .." (meanwhile, Chichikov had never known any Perependev from his childhood). But admit it, brother, you really did meanly to me then, remember how they played checkers, because I won ... Yes, brother, you just screwed me. But, god knows, I can't get angry. The other day with the chairman ... Oh, yes! I must tell you that everyone in the city is against you; they think that you are making fake papers, stuck to me, but I am for you a mountain, told them that I studied with you and knew my father; well, there’s nothing to say, he poured a decent bullet into them.
Am I making fake papers? cried Chichikov, rising from his chair.
Why did you, however, frighten them so? - continued Nozdrev. - They, the devil knows, went crazy with fear: they dressed you up as robbers and spies ... And the prosecutor died of fright, tomorrow there will be a burial. You will not? They, to tell the truth, are afraid of the new governor-general, so that something will not work out because of you; and I have such an opinion about the governor-general that if he raises his nose and puts on airs, then he will definitely not do anything with the nobility. The nobility demands cordiality, doesn't it? Of course, you can hide in your office and not give a single ball, but what about that? After all, you won't gain anything by doing this. But you, however, Chichikov, started a risky business.
What is a risky business? Chichikov asked uneasily.
Yes, take away the governor's daughter. I confess, I was waiting for this, by God, I was waiting! For the first time, as soon as I saw you together at the ball, well, I think to myself, Chichikov, it’s true, not without reason ... However, you shouldn’t have made such a choice, 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! we can say: miracle calico!
What are you, what are you confusing? How to take away the governor's daughter, what are you? said Chichikov, bulging his eyes.
Well, that's enough, brother, what a secretive person! I confess that 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 variable horses will be mine, only with the agreement: you must lend me three thousand. Need, brother, at least slaughter!
In the course of all Nozdryov'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 counterfeit 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 decent fright to him. “Well, if it comes to that,” he thought to himself, “there’s nothing more to delay, we need to get out of here as soon as possible.”
He tried to sell Nozdryov as soon as possible, summoned Selifan to him at the same hour and ordered 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 reviewed, the britzka would be greased, and so on and so forth. Selifan said: "I'm listening, Pavel Ivanovich!" - and stopped, however, for some time at the door, without moving from his place. The master immediately ordered Petrushka to pull out the suitcase from under the bed, which was already covered with a fair amount of dust, and began to pack with it, indiscriminately, stockings, shirts, washed and unwashed linen, shoe lasts, a calendar ... All this fit in any way; he wanted to be sure to be ready in the evening, so that there could be no delay the next day. Selifan, after standing for two minutes at the door, finally very slowly left the room. Slowly, as slowly as one can imagine, he descended the stairs, making footprints with his wet boots on the battered steps descending, and for a long time scratched the back of his head with his hand. What did this scratching mean? and what does it mean anyway? Is it annoyance that the meeting planned for the next day with his brother in an unsightly sheepskin coat, girded with a sash, somewhere in the Tsar's tavern, somewhere in the Tsar's tavern, has not succeeded, or what kind of sweetheart has already begun in a new place, and you have to leave the evening standing at the gate and political holding on to white pens at the hour when twilight is pressing down on the city, a fellow in a red shirt is strumming a balalaika in front of the servants of the yard and weaving quiet speeches by the raznochinny spent people? Or is it just a pity to leave the already warmed place in the people's kitchen under a sheepskin coat, near the stove, giving cabbage soup with a city soft pie, in order to drag again through the rain, and slush, and all sorts of road misfortunes? God knows, don't guess. Scratching in the back of the head means many different things among the Russian people.
Captain Kopeikin - the hero of a plug-in short story about an officer, a hero Patriotic War 1812, who lost his leg and arm on it and leaned into robbers from lack of money. In the versions of the Tale, K. K. was supposed to flee to America, from where he sent a letter to Alexander I about the fate of the wounded and received a gracious rescript from the sovereign. The short story (in his "fantastic", comically wordy style) is told in the 10th chapter of the poem by the postmaster Ivan Andreevich.
The reason for the story is simple. City officials, puzzled by the rumors about Chichikov, the buyer of dead souls, are discussing who he might be. Suddenly, after a long general bickering, the Postmaster exclaims with inspiration: “This, gentlemen, you are my sir, none other than Captain Kopeikin!” - and offers to listen to a story about him, which, "in a way, is a whole poem." Gogol's novel is also called a poem; so that the Postmaster unwittingly parodies the author of Dead Souls himself, and his Tale of Captain Kopeikin is a novel as a whole. But this is a special parody, funny and serious at the same time; it links into a single literary knot all the topics discussed by officials - about the murder, about the "counterfeiter, about the runaway robber - and in many ways serves as the key to the entire text of" Dead Souls ".
It turns out that K. K. was wounded near Krasnoye or near Leipzig (that is, in one of the key battles of the great war) and became disabled before the post-war orders of Alexander I about the fate of the wounded. Father cannot feed K.K.; he goes to seek royal mercy in St. Petersburg, which, in the description of the Postmaster, acquires semi-fairylike features - “fairytale Scheherazade”, “Semiramide”. In the description of the royal luxury of St. Petersburg, shown through the eyes of the hero who saw it for the first time (“a noticeable fuss rushes by, like some thin ether”), and especially in the description of the government building on the Palace Embankment, the image of St. Petersburg and the Palace, as Vakula the blacksmith sees them in story "The Night Before Christmas". But if there truly fabulous luck accompanied the hero, then here a visit to the "minister or nobleman", in which the features of Count Arakcheev are easily guessed, gives K. K. only false hope.
To celebrate, having dined in a tavern, as if “in London” (vodka, cutlets with capers, poulard) and having spent almost all the money, K.K. again comes to the Palace for the promised help - to hear what he will hear every day from now on: wait . With one "blue" in his pocket, desperate, humiliated, as only a beggar in the midst of general luxury can be humiliated, K.K. "repeated devil" breaks through to the Grandee-Minister and impudently demands to be rendered help. In response to this, “he, a servant of God, was seized, my sir, and in a cart” - and sent out of the capital with a courier. Delivered to his distant province, K. K., according to the Postmaster, exclaimed: “I will find means!” - and sunk into "a kind of oblivion." And two months later, a gang of robbers appeared in the Ryazan forests, whose chieftain was none other ... - and then the narrator is reminded that Chichikov has both arms and legs in place. The postmaster claps his hand on his forehead, calls himself a veal, unsuccessfully tries to wriggle out (in England the mechanics are so perfect that wooden legs can do it) - all in vain. The story of K. K., as it were, sinks into the sand, clarifying nothing on the question of who Chichikov is.
But the image of K.K. only seems random, “lawless”, inserted, and the legend about him is not plot-motivated in any way.
The theme of a poor nobleman, a penniless captain, who “hell knows where” came from, already arises in the 6th chapter, where the greedy Plyushkin complains to Chichikov about a neighbor-captain who likes to run into guests. “A relative says: “There is probably nothing at home, and so he staggers.” But even earlier, Chichikov himself, leaving Nozdryov, mentally "finishes" him, as a rogue-coachman is finished by "some kind of rider, experienced captain." Later, in Chapter 10, during an illness, Chichikov will grow a beard, like K. K., in Chapter 11, the name of K. K. as if by accident "backfires" in the life order of Chichikov's father: "save a penny." As for the image of the “robber,” as early as Chapter 9, “a simply pleasant lady” and “a lady pleasant in all respects” suggest in Chichikov someone “like Rinald Rinaldin,” the famous hero of X. robber.
The military rank of captain according to the table of ranks corresponded to the civilian rank of a titular adviser, and this simultaneously unites the unfortunate K.K. with other "humiliated and insulted" characters in Gogol's social fiction stories, titular advisers Poprishchin ("Notes of a Madman") and Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin ("Overcoat"), and contrasts it with them. At least - "Bash-machkin. For in the civil service this rank did not give nobility, and in the military nobility was already provided with the first chief officer rank. The fact of the matter is that, unlike its folklore prototype, the hero songs about the "thief Kopeikin", and from numerous disabled characters of Russian post-war prose and poetry, and from their common literary predecessor - the Soldier from S. Gesner's idyll "Wooden Leg" - K. K. nobleman, officer. If he is a robber, this detail sharply enhances the tragedy of his story, it connects the image of K.K. common denominator the whole multitude of literary associations that surround Chichikov's novelistic image.
In the story about K. K., as in a focus, too diverse rumors about Chichikov converge; but new, even more incredible versions of what happened are radiating from it. Officials wonder if Chichikov is Napoleon, purposely released by the British from the island of St. Helena in order to anger Russia. (Again, the Postmaster, who served in the campaign of 1812 and “saw” the French emperor, assures his interlocutors that Napoleon is “no taller than Chichikov” and does not differ from him in his figure.) From Chichikov-Napoleon, a natural semantic projection follows to the theme of Chichikov-Antichrist; the officials stop there and, realizing that they have lied, they send for Nozdryov.
And the more ridiculous their comparisons become, the more unthinkable their assumptions and "historical parallels", the more clearly the key author's idea of the 1st volume of "Dead Souls" is exposed. The Napoleonic era was the time of the last triumph of romantic, powerful, impressive evil; the new, "monetary", "penny" evil of unrighteous acquisitiveness, embodied in the emphatically average, "no" person Chichikov, may ultimately turn out to be invisible to the shredding world, and therefore a particularly dangerous phenomenon of the Antichrist of the bourgeois era. And this will certainly happen if the moral rebirth of each person individually and of humanity as a whole is not accomplished.
The story "The Tale of Captain Kopeikin" by Gogol is an insert episode in the poem Dead Souls. It should be noted that this story is not related to the main storyline poem, and is an independent work, thanks to which the author managed to reveal the soullessness of the bureaucratic apparatus.
For better preparation for the literature lesson, we recommend reading the online summary of The Tale of Captain Kopeikin. Also, the retelling will be useful for the reader's diary.
Main characters
Captain Kopeikin- a brave soldier, a participant in the battles with the Napoleonic army, an invalid, persistent and savvy man.
Other characters
Postmaster- a storyteller who tells the officials the story of Captain Kopeikin.
General-in-chief- the head of the temporary commission, a dry, businesslike person.
City officials gather at the governor's house to decide at a meeting who Chichikov really is and why he needs dead souls. The postmaster puts forward an interesting hypothesis, according to which Chichikov is none other than Captain Kopeikin, and takes up a fascinating story about this man.
Captain Kopeikin happened to take part in the campaign of 1812, and in one of the battles he "torn off his arm and leg." He is well aware that “it would be necessary to work, only his hand, you see, is left”, and it is also impossible to remain dependent on the old father - he himself barely makes ends meet.
The crippled soldier decides to go to Petersburg, "to bother with the authorities, if there will be any help." The city on the Neva impresses Kopeikin to the depths of his soul with its beauty, but renting a corner in the capital is very expensive, and he understands that "there is nothing to live on."
The soldier learns that “there is no higher authority now in the capital”, and he needs to turn to the temporary commission for help. In a beautiful mansion, where the authorities receive petitioners, a lot of people gather - like beans on a plate. After waiting four hours, Kopeikin finally gets the opportunity to tell the chief general about his misfortune. He sees that “a man on a piece of wood and an empty right sleeve is fastened to his uniform” and offers to appear after a few days.
There is no limit to Kopeikin's joy - "well, he thinks the job is done." In high spirits, he goes to have dinner and "drink a glass of vodka", and in the evening he goes to the theater - "in a word, he drank at full speed."
A few days later, the soldier again comes to the head of the commission. He recalls his petition, but he cannot resolve his issue "without the permission of the higher authorities." It is necessary to wait for the arrival of Mr. Minister from abroad, because only then the commission will receive clear instructions regarding the wounded in the war. The chief gives some money to the soldier so that he can hold out in the capital, but he did not count on such a meager amount.
Kopeikin leaves the department in a depressed mood, feeling "like a poodle that the cook has poured over with water." He is running out of money, there is nothing to live on, but temptations in big city incredible multitude. Every time, passing by a trendy restaurant or a delicatessen shop, he experiences the strongest torment - "drooling, but he wait."
Out of bitter hopelessness, Kopeikin comes to the commission for the third time. He insistently demands a solution to his question, to which the general advises to wait for the arrival of the minister. An enraged Kopeikin raises a real rebellion in the department, and the chief is forced to “resort, so to speak, to strict measures” - the soldier is sent to his place of residence.
Accompanied by a courier, Kopeikin is taken away in an unknown direction. On the way, the unfortunate cripple thinks about how to earn a piece of bread for himself, since the sovereign and the fatherland no longer need him.
The news about Captain Kopeikin could have sunk into oblivion, if two months later rumors had not spread in the district about the appearance of a band of robbers, whose chieftain was the main character ...
Conclusion
At the center of Gogol's work is the relationship between the "little man" and the soulless bureaucratic machine that has crippled many destinies. Wanting to live honestly and receive a well-deserved pension, the hero is forced to embark on a criminal path so as not to die of hunger.
After getting acquainted with brief retelling"The Tale of Captain Kopeikin" we recommend reading Gogol's work in full.
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CAPTAIN KOPEIKIN
CAPTAIN KOPEIKIN - the hero of "The Tale of Captain Kopeikin" in N.V. Gogol's poem "Dead Souls" (the first volume of 1842 under the qualification, called "The Adventures of Chichikov, or Dead Souls"; second, volume 1842-1845). The Tale of Captain Kopeikin exists in three main editions; in modern editions, the second is printed, uncensored. The folklore source of the image of KK is a cycle of robber songs about the thief Kopeikin, in particular “Kopeikin with Stepan on the Volga”. Possible literary sources are "Vadim" by M.Yu. Lermontov, "Dubrovsky" and "The Captain's Daughter" by A.S. Pushkin. The metaphorical meaning of the image of K.K. is enclosed in a name that implements the proverb: “life is a penny” (cf. in the original version: “everything is used, you know, to dissolute life, everyone’s life is a penny, you will forget it everywhere, even if the grass does not grow ...”). Although K.K. formally not connected with other characters of the poem, nevertheless, the associative image of K.K. addressed to Chichikov (“knight of a penny”) - also a robber, robbing the treasury. The postmaster's story about K.K. caused by the confusion of the "fathers of the city" before Chichikov's scam and rumors about his robbery past. With Chichikov K.K. also connects the spirit of adventurism and the general desire to gain well-being in life with "unrighteous wealth." Finally, the main symbol of the poem is the "penny". (Compare the testament of Father Chichikov, brought to life by his son: “Most of all, take care and save a penny: this thing is the most reliable thing in the world. A comrade or friend will cheat you and in trouble the first one will get you out, but the penny will not give out<...>You will do everything and break everything in the world with a penny.”) K.K. - participant in the war of 1812, invalid; near Krasny or Leipzig, his arm and leg were torn off. K.K. comes to St. Petersburg with the aim of obtaining a pension, because, in his words, "he sacrificed his life, shed blood." The minister, the "general-in-chief", promised to resolve his issue the other day. K.K. counting on a quick receipt of money, tempted by the temptations of St. Petersburg, the "fabulous Scheherazade", arranges a revelry. Meanwhile, in the minister's waiting room they don't assign him a pension, "they all bring the same dish: "tomorrow"". K.K. rebels, as a result of which, by order of the minister, he is sent at public expense to his place of residence. Then K.K. becomes chieftain of a gang of robbers in the Ryazan forests (second and third editions). In the original version of The Tale, moreover, K.K. robs exclusively state property, makes capital and flees to the United States, from where he writes a letter of repentance to the sovereign with a request to pardon his comrades. The sovereign turns out to be magnanimous: he orders that the perpetrators not be prosecuted and, correcting the omission of his officials, establishes an invalid capital that guarantees an improvement in the life of the wounded.
The image of K.K. dual in Gogol. On the one hand, bureaucratic-police Russia, soulless bureaucratic Petersburg intend to destroy K.K. without pity, as they crushed Bashmachkin, Piskarev, Poprishchin; “the criminal indifference of the capital turned the defender of the motherland into the ataman of a band of robbers” (V. Markovich). Petersburg is approaching the biblical Babylon, mired in sins, idolatry, forgetting the commandments (E. Smirnova), the theme of the coming retribution sounds (compare with Bashmachkin tearing off his greatcoats in the epilogue). At the same time, K.K. by no means passive: like Poprishchin, he demands instant fulfillment of his egoistic claim. But if in such a situation Bashmachkin ends up dead, and Poprishchin madness, then K.K. chooses rebellion against the state as a way out of the social impasse. Robbery K.K. seeks to achieve social justice. A sharp opponent of rebellion, Gogol reduces the image of K.K., highlighting the Khlestakov-Nozdrev element in it. K.K. obsessed with the passions of envy and anger: he eats “salted cucumber and bread for two pennies”, and in the restaurant “cutlets with truffles”, a huge watermelon, a stagecoach of sorts, is looking for a fool who would pay a hundred rubles (cf. Khlestakov’s “seven hundred rubles watermelon"). These passions are generated by the main passion - to a penny, the hero of 1812 is powerless before it. Passions destroy the soul of K.K. Chaotic, rebellious, world-shattering K.K. opposes the utopian image of a wise and merciful sovereign peacemaker, as Gogol would like to see him, writing in Selected passages from correspondence with friends: “The sovereign’s power is a meaningless phenomenon if he does not feel that he should be the image of God on earth.”
Lit. Smirnova-Chikina E. Comments on N.V. Gogol's poem "Dead Souls". L., 1934; Stepanov N. Gogolevskaya "The Tale of Captain Kopeikin" and its source
// Izvestia OLYA AN USSR. Issue. 1. T.XVIII. M, 1959; Mann Yu. Courage of invention. Features artistic world Gogol. M., 1979; Smirnova E.A. On the ambiguity of "Dead Souls"
//Context-1982. M., 1983; Markovich V. Petersburg stories of N.V. Gogol. L., 1989; see also
Lit .: to the article "Chichikov".
A.B.Galkin
literary heroes. - Academician. 2009 .
See what "CAPTAIN KOPEIKIN" is in other dictionaries:
Captain Kopeikin ("Dead Souls")- See also, Captain... Dictionary of literary types
Kopeikin, Captain ("Dead Souls")- See also... Dictionary of literary types
Screenplay based on the poem of the same name (1842-1852) by Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol (1809-1852). During Bulgakov's lifetime it was not filmed or published. Directed by Ivan Aleksandrovich Pyryev (1901 1968) (co-authored with Bulgakov) ... ... Encyclopedia Bulgakov
Creativity Gogol - … Dictionary of literary types
Dramatization of the poem of the same name (1842 1852) by Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol (1809 1852). The premiere at the Moscow Art Theater took place on November 28, 1932. It was not published during Bulgakov's lifetime. For the first time: Bulgakov M. Plays. M .: Soviet writer, 1986 Work on ... Encyclopedia Bulgakov
- (about tasty, tasty) pleasure! Wed Slivyanochki, if you don’t order, or here are Polyannikovka! A delicacy, I can report! P.I. Melnikov. Birthday cake. Wed The cook... works some kind of fenserver, cutlets with truffles, in a word, rassupede delicacy...
- (inosk.) fool Cf. Here the postmaster (who said that Captain Kopeikin, armless and legless, became the chieftain of robbers) screamed and slapped his forehead with all his might, calling himself publicly in front of everyone a veal. Gogol. Dead Souls … Michelson's Big Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary
You can eat someone else's sadness with bread, but your own will not go down your throat with a roll. Wed It's good for you, auntie, to laugh. We know that I will sort out someone else's misfortune with my hands, but I won't apply my mind to my own. Pisemsky. Hypochondriac. 4, 8. Cf. A person is wise, smart and intelligent in everything that ... ... Michelson's Big Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary
1. To nail (inosk.) to beat (on the head), to bake. Wed (Baton) rushed at the snake and nailed it On the heads and sleeping and not sleeping. Zhukovsky. Ivan Tsarevich. Wed He fluffed everyone ... he began to chip and nail everyone. Gogol. Dead souls... ... Michelson's Big Explanatory Phraseological Dictionary (original spelling)