A nondescript, elderly official Akaki Akakievich Bashmachkin served in one of the St. Petersburg departments. Colleagues neglected this quiet, inconspicuous man. Young clerks often made fun of him, sometimes even throwing pieces of paper on his head. Akaki Akakievich usually endured ridicule in silence and only at the most unbearable jokes would he bitterly say: “Leave me alone, why are you offending me?” His voice sounded so pitiful that a sensitive viewer could hear something else in these words: “I am your brother” - and then for a long time remember with pain in the soul the ridiculed old man. (See description of Akaki Akakievich in the text of the work.)
For many years neither the table at which Akaki Akakievich sat nor his official rank changed. Bashmachkin’s duties consisted of copying papers in beautiful handwriting. He performed this task with soul and had no other interests. In the evenings, he returned home from work, quickly slurped up the cabbage soup prepared by his landlady, ate a piece of beef with onions, not noticing their taste, copied the papers brought to the house, went to bed, and in the morning went back to his office.
His salary of four hundred rubles a year was barely enough for the basic necessities. Therefore, Akakiy Akakievich suffered a great blow when he learned that, due to severe wear and tear, his only overcoat had to be changed. The familiar tailor Petrovich, who had repeatedly patched Bashmachka’s old overcoat, announced, having examined it once again, that the clothing could not be repaired further. There was no place to put the patches: the old cloth was spreading everywhere. Petrovich undertook to sew a new overcoat for 80 rubles.
There was almost nowhere to get this money. During his entire service, Akakiy Akakievich managed to save only half of the mentioned amount for future use. But, having resorted to strict economy, and even receiving a small encouragement from the director, he still managed to recruit it. Together with Petrovich, they went to buy fabric and fur, and soon the new overcoat was ready.
Akaki Akakievich in a new overcoat. Illustration by B. Kustodiev for Gogol’s story
All his colleagues immediately noticed the new look, ran out to the wardrobe to look at it, and then congratulated Bashmachkin. One assistant chief, who was celebrating his birthday, said that he was inviting everyone to come to him at the same time and “sprinkle” his overcoat. Akaki Akakievich, who had never visited anyone, was also invited. He happily attended the general evening and returned home from the guests already late.
There was almost no one on the snowy streets. At one point we had to cross a wide, deserted field. In the middle of it, strangers, strong people approached the poor official, grabbed him by the collar, pulled off his overcoat, and threw him into a snowdrift.
Akakiy Akakievich ran home undressed and in complete despair. The next day he went to complain to the police, but they began to drag out the case. I had to go to work in the cold in an old, thin hood.
A certain acquaintance advised Bashmachkin to contact one significant person requesting that the investigation be expedited. Akakiy Akakievich had difficulty gaining access to face, however, this general showed not participation, but discontent, scolded Bashmachkin and kicked him out. Seeing nothing around him, Akaki Akakievich wandered home through the streets in the middle of a severe blizzard, caught a severe cold and died a few days later. In his dying delirium, he remembered his overcoat.
Gogol "The Overcoat". Audiobook
Immediately after his funeral, a dead man began to appear at the Kalinkin Bridge at night in the form of an official who was looking for the stolen overcoat and, under this guise, tore off the clothes of everyone. One of the department officials, seeing the dead man, recognized him as Akaki Akakievich. The police were powerless to catch the robber for several days, until the same thing fell into the hands of the dead man. significant person, returning home at night from a friend's dinner. “It’s your overcoat that I need!” – the dead Bashmachkin shouted, grabbing him in front of the coachman’s eyes. Shaking with horror, the general hastened to throw his overcoat off his shoulders and reached the house all pale. The ghost stopped appearing after that.
The story “The Overcoat” is an illustration of the sad realities of bureaucratic Russia.
One minor official served in one of the departments of St. Petersburg - titular councilor Akaki Akakievich Bashmachkin. Small, short, reddish and bald. A wonderful story is described about why he was called by that name. At the time of Bashmachkin’s birth (March 23), the church calendar offered strange and funny name options: Mokkia, Session, Khozdazat, Trifiliy, Varakhasiy or Dula. His mother did not like any name, so it was decided to name the child in honor of his father Akaki Akakievich.
As long as he was remembered in the service, he was always in the same place and did the same job. His fellow officials laughed at him, disrespected him, and sometimes even mocked him. But Akaki Akakievich did not pay attention. He devoted himself entirely to his work - “he served with love.” He carefully and scrupulously rewrote documents. He even took work home. Bashmachkin lived and breathed work and could not imagine himself without it. Even before going to bed, all his thoughts were about work: what “will God send me to rewrite tomorrow?” And apart from “rewriting”, “nothing existed” for him.
One winter, Akakiy Akakievich felt that he was somehow especially cold. Having examined his old overcoat, he saw that it was completely worn out on the back and shoulders. The collar of the greatcoat decreased from year to year, as its fabric was used to cover defects in other parts. Taking off the old overcoat to Petrovich, the one-eyed tailor who was always not averse to a drink. From him, Bashmachkin heard a verdict that the item could not be restored - “a bad wardrobe!” And when the tailor said that a new overcoat was needed, Akaki Akakievich’s eyes “became clouded.” The cost was named - “one and a half hundred rubles”, and if with a fur collar or silk lining - “it will cost two hundred”. Very upset, Bashmachkin left the tailor and wandered in the completely opposite direction from the house. He only came to his senses when the chimney sweep stained him with soot. I decided to visit the tailor again on Sunday with a request for repairs, but he was again adamant. The only thing that made me happy was that Petrovich agreed to work for eighty rubles.
Over the past years of work, Akakiy Akakievich has accumulated some capital - forty rubles. It was necessary to get another forty somewhere so that it would be enough for a new overcoat. He decided to save money and limit himself: not to drink tea in the evenings, not to light candles in the evening, to go to the laundry less often, to walk carefully along the road so as not to wear out his soles, etc. Soon he got used to this too, he was warmed by the thought of a new, dense, strong, “without wear” overcoat. We went with a tailor to buy fabric: we chose very good cloth, calico for the lining, and bought cat fur for the collar (marten was very expensive). The tailoring took two weeks, and the tailor's work cost twelve rubles.
One fine frosty day, Petrovich brought Akakiy Akakievich the finished product. It was the most “solemn” day in the life of a simple titular councilor. The tailor himself liked his work, because while Bashmachkin was walking down the street to work, Petrovich looked at the overcoat for a long time from a distance, and then through the alley he ended up on the same street to look at the overcoat from the front.
Having reached the department, Akaki Akakievich took off his overcoat, examined it again carefully and entrusted “special supervision” to the doorman. The news quickly spread throughout the department that Bashmachkin had acquired a new overcoat. They began to congratulate him and praise him, so much so that Akaki Akakievich blushed. Then they said that it would be a good idea to wash the purchase, which made Bashmachkin completely confused. The assistant chief, who also had a name day on that day, decided to seem magnanimous and invited everyone to celebrate this event in the evening. Fellow officials readily accepted the invitation.
This whole day for Akaki Akakievich was filled with joy. And because of the new overcoat, and because of the reaction of colleagues, and because there will be a celebration in the evening, and therefore there will be a reason to walk around in the overcoat again. Bashmachkin didn’t even take the documents home for copying, but rested a little and went to the holiday. It had been a long time since he had been outside in the evenings. Everything shone, sparkled, the shop windows were beautiful. As we approached the house of the assistant chief, which was undoubtedly located in an elite part of the city, the streets became increasingly brighter, and the gentlemen became increasingly well-dressed and handsome.
Having reached the desired house. Akaki Akakievich entered a luxurious apartment on the second floor. In the hallway there was a whole row of galoshes and a whole wall of raincoats and greatcoats. Having hung up his overcoat, Akaki Akakievich entered the room where officials were eating and drinking, and also playing whist. Everyone accepted him with a joyful cry, then went to look at the overcoat again. But then they quickly returned to cards and food. Bashmachkin was bored in the unusual noisy company. After drinking two glasses of champagne and having dinner, he briefly slipped into the hallway and quietly went out into the street. It was light even at night. Akakiy Akakievich went at a trot, and with each new block it became more deserted and deserted. The long street ended in a wide square that looked like a “terrible desert.” Bashmachkin was frightened, sensing something evil. He decided to cross the square with his eyes closed, and when he opened them to see how far it was to the end, right in front of him were two healthy men with mustaches. One of them took Akakiy Akakievich’s overcoat by the collar and said that “the overcoat is mine,” and the second threatened him with his fist. As a result, the overcoat was stolen. Bashmachkin, in a panic, rushed to run to the watchman’s booth, where the light was on, began to ask for help and said that the overcoat had been stolen. To this, the half-asleep watchman replied that he did not see the robbers, and if he did, he thought that they were acquaintances of Bashmachkin, and why shout so much. Poor Akaki Akakievich spent that night in nightmares.
Everyone recommends that the unfortunate, robbed Bashmachkin turn to different people and to different authorities: now to the warden, now to a private person, now to a significant person (the author deliberately highlights this position in italics). Some in the department, even in such a situation, did not fail to laugh at Akaki Akakievich, but, fortunately, there were more sympathizers and compassionate people. They even collected some money, but, unfortunately, it did not cover the cost of the overcoat.
Akaki Akakievich first went to the private. For a long time they did not want to let him through, and then Bashmachkin, perhaps for the first time in his life, showed character, ordering the clerks to let him through “for official business.” The private one, unfortunately, did not show proper participation. Instead, he began asking strange questions like “why did you go home so late” or “did you go into some dishonest house?”
Desperate Bashmachkin decides to go directly to a significant person (further from the story it is clear that the person was male). Next, the author describes why a significant person became such (at heart he is a kind person, but his rank “was completely confusing”), how he behaves towards colleagues and subordinates (“do you know who is standing in front of you?”), and also how he tries to increase his significance. He took rigor as a basis, and considered proper fear to be the ideal mechanism for the “superior-subordinate” relationship. Among those of lower rank, a significant person is afraid to appear familiar and simple, which is why he acquires the reputation of a most boring person. A significant person does not receive Akaki Akakievich for a long time, chatting with a friend for an hour on various topics and making long pauses in the conversation, then suddenly remembers that some official is waiting for him. Bashmachkin timidly begins to talk about the theft, but the high official begins to scold him for not knowing the procedure for submitting a request. In the opinion of a significant person, the request should first go to the office, then to the clerk, then to the head of the department, then to the secretary, and only finally to him. Then the scolding began, which consisted of asking questions in a menacing tone: “Do you know and understand who you are saying this to?” and unfounded accusations of rioting “against superiors and superiors.” Frightened to death, Akaki Akakievich fainted, and the significant person reveled in this.
The unfortunate Bashmachkin did not remember how he went out into the street and wandered home. There was a strong wind and a blizzard, which is why Akaki Akakievich caught a cold (“a toad blew into his throat”). There was a fever at home. The doctor said that the sick man had “one and a half days” to live, and ordered the owner of the apartment to order a pine coffin, citing the fact that an oak one would be expensive. Before his death, Bashmachkin began to have delusions and hallucinations about his overcoat, the tailor Petrovich and a significant person, to whom he addressed “your excellency!” interspersed with obscene words.
Akaki Akakievich died without leaving an inheritance. They buried him, and Petersburg was left without Akaki Akakievich, as if there was no humble titular adviser at all. The most ordinary life, unnoticed and unwarmed by anyone, was nevertheless illuminated just before the end by a bright event in the form of an overcoat, but still ended tragically. In the department, Bashmachkin’s place was immediately taken by a new official who wrote the letters “obliquely and obliquely.”
But the story of Akaki Akakievich does not end there. In St. Petersburg, the ghost of an official suddenly appeared, who indiscriminately tore off everyone's greatcoat at the Kalinkin Bridge. One of the officials even claimed that the ghost shook his finger at him. Then the police began to receive a huge number of complaints about a “complete cold” due to “pulling off their coats at night.” The police set the task of catching the dead man - “dead or alive”, and even once the guard on Kiryushkin Lane almost succeeded. It's just a pity that snuff failed.
It is necessary to say about a significant person, or more precisely about what happened to him after the departure of Akaki Akakievich. He regretted what had happened and often began to remember the little official Bashmachkin. When I learned about his death, I even felt remorse and spent the whole day in a bad mood. In the evening, a high official gathered to have fun with a lady he knew, Karolina Ivanovna, with whom he was on friendly terms. Despite having a family - a beautiful wife and two children - a significant person sometimes liked to take a break from the bustle of the world and family. The general got into the carriage and wrapped himself in a warm overcoat. Suddenly he felt someone grab him by the collar. Looking around, he recognized with horror the deathly pale man as Akaki Akakievich. The dead man, smelling of the grave, began to demand the overcoat. The general, fearing a painful attack, took off his overcoat himself and ordered the coachman to drive home quickly, and not to Karolina Ivanovna.
It is noteworthy that after this incident, a significant person became kinder and more tolerant of his subordinates, and the ghost of Bashmachkin stopped walking around St. Petersburg. Apparently, he got exactly the overcoat he wanted.
The story that happened to Akaki Akakievich Bashmachkin begins with a story about his birth and his bizarre name and moves on to the story of his service as a titular adviser.
Many young officials, laughing, bother him, shower him with papers, push him on the arm, and only when he is completely unbearable, he says: “Leave me alone, why are you offending me?” - in a voice bowing to pity. Akakiy Akakievich, whose service consists of copying papers, performs it with love and, even having come from the presence and hastily sipped his food, takes out a jar of ink and copies the papers brought to the house, and if there are none, then he deliberately makes a copy for himself. some document with an intricate address. Entertainment and the pleasure of friendship do not exist for him, “having written to his heart’s content, he went to bed,” smilingly anticipating tomorrow’s rewriting.
However, this regularity of life is disrupted by an unforeseen incident. One morning, after repeated suggestions made by the St. Petersburg frost, Akaki Akakievich, having examined his overcoat (so lost in appearance that the department had long called it a hood), notices that it is completely see-through on the shoulders and back. He decides to take her to the tailor Petrovich, whose habits and biography are briefly, but not without detail, outlined. Petrovich examines the hood and declares that nothing can be fixed, but he will have to make a new overcoat. Shocked by the price Petrovich named, Akakiy Akakievich decides that he chose the wrong time and comes when, according to calculations, Petrovich is hungover and therefore more accommodating. But Petrovich stands his ground. Seeing that it is impossible to do without a new overcoat, Akakiy Akakievich is looking for how to get those eighty rubles, for which, in his opinion, Petrovich will get down to business. He decides to reduce “ordinary expenses”: not drink tea in the evenings, not light candles, walk on tiptoes so as not to wear out the soles prematurely, give the laundry to the laundress less often, and to avoid getting worn out, stay at home in just a robe.
His life changes completely: the dream of an overcoat accompanies him like a pleasant friend of life. Every month he visits Petrovich to talk about the overcoat. The expected reward for the holiday, contrary to expectation, turns out to be twenty rubles more, and one day Akaki Akakievich and Petrovich go to the shops. And the cloth, and the calico for the lining, and the cat for the collar, and Petrovich’s work - everything turns out to be beyond praise, and, in view of the frosts that have begun, Akaki Akakievich one day goes to the department in a new overcoat. This event does not go unnoticed, everyone praises the overcoat and demands that Akaki Akakievich set the evening for this occasion, and only the intervention of a certain official (as if on purpose the birthday boy), who invited everyone to tea, saves the embarrassed Akaki Akakievich.
After the day, which for him was like a big solemn holiday, Akaki Akakievich returns home, has a cheerful dinner and, having sat around doing nothing, goes to the official in the distant part of the city. Again everyone praises his overcoat, but soon turns to whist, dinner, champagne. Forced to do the same, Akakiy Akakievich feels unusual joy, but, remembering the late hour, he slowly goes home. Excited at first, he even rushes after some lady (“whose every part of her body was filled with extraordinary movement”), but the deserted streets that soon stretch out inspire him with involuntary fear. In the middle of a huge deserted square, some people with mustaches stop him and take off his overcoat.
The misadventures of Akaki Akakievich begin. He finds no help from a private bailiff. In the presence where he comes a day later in his old hood, they feel sorry for him and even think of making a contribution, but, having collected a mere trifle, they give advice to go to a significant person, who may contribute to a more successful search for the overcoat. The following describes the techniques and customs of a significant person who has become significant only recently, and therefore is preoccupied with how to give himself greater significance: “Severity, severity and - severity,” he usually said. Wanting to impress his friend, whom he had not seen for many years, he cruelly scolds Akaki Akakievich, who, in his opinion, addressed him inappropriately. Without feeling his feet, he reaches home and collapses with a strong fever. A few days of unconsciousness and delirium - and Akaki Akakievich dies, which the department learns about only on the fourth day after the funeral. It soon becomes known that at night a dead man appears near the Kalinkin Bridge, tearing off everyone's greatcoat, without regard to rank or rank. Someone recognizes him as Akaki Akakievich. The efforts made by the police to catch the dead man are in vain.
At that time, one significant person, who is not alien to compassion, having learned that Bashmachkin died suddenly, remains terribly shocked by this and, in order to have some fun, goes to a friend’s party, from where he goes not home, but to a familiar lady, Karolina Ivanovna, and, amid terrible bad weather, he suddenly feels that someone grabbed him by the collar. In horror, he recognizes Akaki Akakievich, who triumphantly pulls off his greatcoat. Pale and frightened, the significant person returns home and henceforth no longer scolds his subordinates with severity. The appearance of the dead official has since completely ceased, and the ghost that the Kolomna guard met a little later was already much taller and wore an enormous mustache.
From birth, the life of Akaki Akakievich Bashmachkin did not work out. The bizarre story of the naming gradually flows into a story about the service and life of the hero, who holds the position of titular adviser.
Colleagues often make fun of him. When Akakiy becomes unbearable from the mockery, he utters a single phrase: “Leave me alone, why are you offending me?” The tone of the spoken phrase inclines the mockers to pity.
Copying papers - that's all I do, the salary is correspondingly small. Bashmachkin performs it regularly, with love. Even when he comes home, after eating, Akaki takes the inkwell and gets to work. Apart from this, nothing in life exists for him, no entertainment, etc. After working, he immediately goes to bed.
One small event disturbs the calm of his life. One day, due to severe frosts in St. Petersburg, Akaki notices that his overcoat, already shabby, which his colleagues often laughed at, began to show through. The victim decides to take his item to the tailor Petrovich, who liked to drink a lot and at the same time did an excellent job at his job. The stated price for the repair plunges Akaki into shock, and he understands that he needs to come at another time, when Petrovich will be drunk and more accommodating. But the tailor does not reduce his prices, and then the main character decides to seriously start saving on his life. Six months pass, Bashmachkin and Petrovich buy materials, after some time the new overcoat is ready.
An important day is coming for Akaki. At work, everyone comes running to look at the new thing, shower Bashmachkin with compliments, one of the officials calls everyone to an evening on the occasion of his name day. The hero becomes uncomfortable at a party and he is in a hurry to leave. On the way, he is beaten and his overcoat is taken away. The adviser goes to see a private bailiff in search of justice. Having achieved nothing, he turns to a “significant person,” but the general expels Bashmachkin because of the familiarity of his request. Soon Akaki fell ill and died suddenly. His absence from service was not quickly noticed.
After a while, rumors begin to circulate in the city about the ghost of an official tearing off the greatcoats from citizens; when it comes to the general, he recognizes Bashmachkin in the ghost, and then begins to treat his subordinates with more respect.
Gogol's story teaches us to treat the little person with respect and kindness and not to divide everyone by rank and status.
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Overcoat. Picture for the story
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In the department... but it’s better not to say in which department. There is nothing angrier than all kinds of departments, regiments, offices and, in a word, all kinds of official classes. Now every private person considers the whole society insulted in his own person. They say that quite recently a request was received from one police captain, I don’t remember any city, in which he clearly states that state regulations are perishing and that his sacred name is being pronounced in vain. And as proof, he attached to the request a huge volume of some romantic work, where every ten pages the police captain appears, sometimes even completely drunk. So, in order to avoid any troubles, it is better to call the department in question one department. So, one official served in one department; the official cannot be said to be very remarkable, short in stature, somewhat pockmarked, somewhat reddish, even somewhat blind in appearance, with a small bald spot on his forehead, with wrinkles on both sides of his cheeks and a complexion that is called hemorrhoidal... What to do! The St. Petersburg climate is to blame. As for the rank (for with us, first of all, it is necessary to declare the rank), he was what is called an eternal titular adviser, over whom, as you know, various writers mocked and made jokes, having the commendable habit of leaning on those who cannot bite . The official's last name was Bashmachkin. Already from the name itself it is clear that it once came from a shoe; but when, at what time and how it came from the shoe, none of this is known. And father, and grandfather, and even brother-in-law, and all the completely Bashmachkins, walked in boots, changing the soles only three times a year. His name was Akaki Akakievich. Perhaps it will seem somewhat strange and searched out to the reader, but we can assure you that they were not looking for it in any way, but that such circumstances happened of their own accord that it was impossible to give another name, and this is exactly how it happened. Akaki Akakievich was born against the night, if memory serves, on March 23rd. The deceased mother, an official and a very good woman, arranged to properly baptize the child. Mother was still lying on the bed opposite the door, and on her right hand stood her godfather, a most excellent man, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, who served as the head of the Senate, and the godfather, the wife of a quarterly officer, a woman of rare virtues, Arina Semyonovna Belobryushkova. The mother in labor was given the choice of any of the three, which one she wanted to choose: Mokkia, Sossia, or name the child in the name of the martyr Khozdazat. “No,” thought the deceased: “the names are all like that.” To please her, they turned the calendar in a different place; Three names came out again: Triphilius, Dula and Varakhasiy. “This is the punishment,” said the old woman: “what are all the names; I really have never heard of anything like that. Let it be Varadat or Varukh, or else Triphilius and Varakhasiy.” They turned the page again and out came: Pavsikakhy and Vakhtisy. “Well, I already see,” said the old woman, “that, apparently, this is his fate. If so, it would be better for him to be called like his father. The father was Akaki, so let the son be Akaki.” This is how Akaki Akakievich came to be. The child was christened, and he began to cry and made such a grimace, as if he had a presentiment that there would be a titular councilor. So this is how all this happened. We brought this up so that the reader can see for himself that this happened entirely out of necessity and it was impossible to give another name. When and at what time he entered the department and who assigned him, no one could remember. No matter how many directors and various bosses changed, everyone saw him in the same place, in the same position, in the same position, as the same official for writing, so that later they were convinced that he had apparently been born into the world already completely ready, in uniform and with a bald spot on his head. The department showed him no respect. The guards not only did not get up from their seats when he passed, but did not even look at him, as if a simple fly had flown through the reception area. The bosses treated him somehow coldly and despotically. Some assistant to the clerk would directly shove papers under his nose, without even saying “copy it,” or “here’s an interesting, pretty little thing,” or anything pleasant, as is used in well-bred services. And he took it, looking only at the paper, without looking at who gave it to him and whether he had the right to do so. He took it and immediately set about writing it. The young officials laughed and made jokes at him, as much as their clerical wit was sufficient, and immediately told him various stories compiled about him; they said about his owner, a seventy-year-old old woman, that she was beating him, they asked when their wedding would take place, they threw pieces of paper on his head, calling it snow. But Akaki Akakievich did not answer a single word to this, as if no one was in front of him; it didn’t even have an impact on his studies: among all these worries, he didn’t make a single mistake in writing. Only if the joke was too unbearable, when they pushed him by the arm, preventing him from going about his business, he said: “Leave me alone, why are you offending me? “And there was something strange in the words and in the voice with which they were spoken. There was something in him so inclining to pity that one young man, who had recently made up his mind, who, following the example of others, had allowed himself to laugh at him, suddenly stopped, as if pierced, and from then on it was as if everything had changed before him and appeared in a different form. Some unnatural force pushed him away from the comrades with whom he met, mistaking them for decent, secular people. And for a long time later, in the midst of the most cheerful moments, a low official with a bald spot on his forehead appeared to him, with his penetrating words: “Leave me alone, why are you offending me?” - and in these penetrating words other words rang: “I am your brother.” And the poor young man covered himself with his hand, and many times later in his life he shuddered, seeing how much inhumanity there is in man, how much ferocious rudeness is hidden in refined, educated secularism, and, God! even in that person whom the world recognizes as noble and honest...
Gogol "The Overcoat". Audiobook
It is unlikely that anywhere one could find a person who would live like this in his position. It is not enough to say: he served zealously - no, he served with love. There, in this copying, he saw his own diverse and pleasant world. Pleasure was expressed on his face; He had some favorite letters, which if he got to, he was not himself: he laughed, and winked, and helped with his lips, so that in his face, it seemed, one could read every letter that his pen wrote. If rewards were given to him in proportion to his zeal, he, to his amazement, might even end up as a state councilor; but he served, as his wits, his comrades, put it, a buckle in his buttonhole and acquired hemorrhoids in the lower back. However, it cannot be said that there was no attention to him. One director, being a kind man and wanting to reward him for his long service, ordered that he be given something more important than ordinary copying; It was precisely from the already completed case that he was ordered to make some kind of connection to another public place; the only thing was to change the title title and change here and there the verbs from the first person to the third. This gave him such work that he became completely sweaty, rubbed his forehead and finally said: “No, better let me rewrite something.” Since then they left it to be rewritten forever. Outside of this rewriting, it seemed that nothing existed for him. He didn’t think at all about his dress: his uniform was not green, but some kind of reddish flour color. The collar on him was narrow, low, so that his neck, despite the fact that it was not long, coming out of the collar, seemed unusually long, like those of those plaster kittens, dangling their heads, which are carried on the heads of dozens of Russian foreigners. And there was always something stuck to his uniform: either a piece of hay, or some kind of thread; In addition, he had a special art, walking along the street, of keeping up with the window at the very time when all sorts of rubbish was being thrown out of it, and therefore he was always carrying watermelon and melon rinds and similar nonsense on his hat. Not once in his life did he pay attention to what was going on and happening every day on the street, which, as you know, his brother, a young official, who extends the insight of his glib gaze to such an extent that he even notices who on the other side of the sidewalk, the stirrup of his trousers was torn off at the bottom - which always brings a sly smile to his face.
But if Akakiy Akakievich looked at anything, he saw his clean, even handwriting lines written out on everything, and only if, out of nowhere, a horse’s muzzle was placed on his shoulder and blew a whole wind into his cheek with its nostrils, then he only noticed that he is not in the middle of the line, but rather in the middle of the street. Coming home, he immediately sat down at the table, quickly slurped up his cabbage soup and ate a piece of beef with onions, not noticing their taste at all, ate it all with flies and with everything that God had sent at that time. Noticing that his stomach was beginning to swell, he got up from the table, took out a jar of ink and copied the papers he had brought home. If such things did not happen, he made a copy on purpose, for his own pleasure, for himself, especially if the paper was remarkable not for the beauty of the style, but for its address to some new or important person.
Even in those hours when the gray sky of St. Petersburg is completely extinguished and all the official people have eaten and dined as best they could, in accordance with the salary received and their own whim - when everything has already rested after the departmental ruffling of feathers, running around, their own and other people’s necessary activities and everything what a restless person asks himself voluntarily, even more than necessary, when officials rush to devote the remaining time to pleasure: whoever is smarter rushes to the theater; some on the street, assigning him to look at some hats; some for the evening - to spend it in compliments to some pretty girl, the star of a small bureaucratic circle; who, and this happens most often, simply goes to his brother on the fourth or third floor, in two small rooms with a hallway or kitchen and some fashionable pretensions, a lamp or other little thing that cost many donations, refusals of dinners, festivities, - in a word, even at a time when all the officials are scattered in the small apartments of their friends to play storm whist, sipping tea from glasses with penny crackers, inhaling smoke from long chibouks, telling during the delivery some gossip that has come from high society, from which a Russian person can never refuse in any condition, or even when there is nothing to talk about, retelling the eternal anecdote about the commandant, who was told that the tail of the horse of the Falconet monument was cut off - in a word, even when everyone is trying to have fun , - Akaki Akakievich did not indulge in any entertainment. No one could say that they had ever seen him at any party. Having written to his heart's content, he went to bed, smiling in anticipation at the thought of tomorrow: will God send something to rewrite tomorrow? This is how the peaceful life of a man flowed, who, with a salary of four hundred, knew how to be satisfied with his lot, and would have lasted, perhaps, to a very old age, if there had not been various disasters scattered along the road of life, not only titular, but even secret, real, courtly and to all advisers, even those who do not give advice to anyone, do not take it from anyone themselves.
There is a strong enemy in St. Petersburg of everyone who receives a salary of four hundred rubles a year or so. This enemy is none other than our northern frost, although, however, they say that he is very healthy. At nine o'clock in the morning, precisely at the hour when the streets are covered with people going to the department, it begins to give such strong and prickly clicks indiscriminately on all noses that the poor officials absolutely do not know where to put them. At this time, when even those occupying the highest positions have pain in their foreheads from the frost and tears appear in their eyes, poor titular advisers are sometimes defenseless. All salvation consists in running across five or six streets as quickly as possible in a skinny overcoat and then stamping your feet thoroughly in the Swiss until all the abilities and talents for official functions that have frozen on the road thaw. For some time Akakiy Akakievich began to feel that he was somehow getting particularly hot in the back and shoulder, despite the fact that he was trying to run across the legal space as quickly as possible. He finally wondered if there were any sins in his overcoat. Having examined it carefully at home, he discovered that in two or three places, namely on the back and on the shoulders, it had become like a sickle; the cloth was so worn out that it showed through, and the lining was unraveling. You need to know that Akakiy Akakievich’s overcoat also served as a subject of ridicule for officials; Even the noble name of the overcoat was taken away from it and they called it a hood. In fact, it had some strange structure: its collar became smaller and smaller every year, for it served to undermine other parts of it. The hemming did not show the skill of the tailor and came out, for sure, baggy and ugly. Having seen what was the matter, Akaki Akakievich decided that the overcoat would need to be taken to Petrovich, a tailor who lived somewhere on the fourth floor on the back stairs, who, despite his crooked eye and pockmarks all over his face, was quite successful in repairing official and all sorts of other trousers and tailcoats - of course, when he was in a sober state and did not have any other enterprise in mind. Of course, we shouldn’t say much about this tailor, but since it’s already established that in a story the character of every person is completely defined, then there’s nothing to be done, give us Petrovich here too. At first he was simply called Gregory and was a serf to some master; He began to be called Petrovich from the time he received his vacation pay and began to drink quite heavily on all sorts of holidays, first on major ones, and then, indiscriminately, on all church holidays, wherever there was a cross on the calendar. From this side, he was faithful to his grandfather’s customs, and, arguing with his wife, he called her a worldly woman and a German. Since we have already mentioned the wife, we will need to say a few words about her; but, unfortunately, not much was known about her, except that Petrovich has a wife, she even wears a cap, not a scarf; but, as it seems, she could not boast of beauty; at least, when meeting her, only the guards soldiers looked under her cap, blinking their mustaches and emitting some kind of special voice.
Climbing the stairs leading to Petrovich, which, to be fair, was all anointed with water, slop and permeated through and through with that alcoholic smell that eats the eyes and, as you know, is inseparably present on all the black staircases of St. Petersburg houses - climbing the stairs, Akaki Akakievich was already thinking about how much Petrovich would ask for, and mentally decided not to give more than two rubles. The door was open because the hostess, while preparing some fish, released so much smoke into the kitchen that it was impossible to see even the cockroaches. Akaki Akakievich walked through the kitchen, unnoticed even by the hostess herself, and finally entered the room, where he saw Petrovich sitting on a wide, unpainted wooden table with his legs tucked under him, like a Turkish pasha. The legs, according to the custom of tailors sitting at work, were naked. And the first thing that caught my eye was the thumb, very famous to Akakiy Akakievich, with some kind of mutilated nail, thick and strong, like a turtle’s skull. Petrovich had a skein of silk and thread hanging around his neck, and some rags were on his knees. He had already been threading the thread through the needle’s ear for about three minutes, but it didn’t get in, and therefore he became very angry at the darkness and even at the thread itself, grumbling in a low voice: “It won’t fit, barbarian; You got me, you scoundrel!” It was unpleasant for Akaki Akakievich that he came precisely at the moment when Petrovich was angry: he liked to order something for Petrovich when the latter was already somewhat under the influence, or, as his wife put it, “besieged with a fusel, one-eyed devil.” In such a state, Petrovich usually very willingly gave in and agreed, every time he even bowed and thanked. Then, however, the wife came, crying that her husband was drunk and therefore took it cheaply; but sometimes you add one kopeck, and it’s in the bag. Now Petrovich seemed to be in a sober state, and therefore tough, intractable and willing to charge God knows what prices. Akaki Akakievich realized this and was about to, as they say, retreat, but the matter had already begun. Petrovich narrowed his only eye very intently at him, and Akaki Akakievich involuntarily said: “Hello, Petrovich!” “I wish you hello, sir,” said Petrovich and glanced sideways at the hands of Akaki Akakievich, wanting to see what kind of loot he was carrying.
“And here I come to you, Petrovich, that...” You need to know that Akaki Akakievich expressed himself mostly in prepositions, adverbs and, finally, particles that absolutely do not have any meaning. If the matter was very difficult, then he even had the habit of not finishing his sentences at all, so that quite often, having begun his speech with the words: “This, really, is absolutely ...” - and then nothing happened, and he himself forgot, thinking that everything has already been said.
“What is it?” - said Petrovich and at the same time examined with his only eye his entire uniform, from the collar to the sleeves, the back, tails and loops - which was all very familiar to him, because it was his own work. This is the custom among tailors: this is the first thing he will do when he meets you.
“And I have this one, Petrovich... an overcoat, a cloth... you see, everywhere in other places, it’s quite strong, it’s a little dusty, and it seems as if it’s old, but it’s new, but only in one place there’s a little bit of that... on on the back, and there’s a little wear on one shoulder, and there’s a little wear on this shoulder – you see, that’s all. And a little work..."
Petrovich took the hood, laid it out first on the table, looked at it for a long time, shook his head and reached out to the window with his hand for a round snuffbox with a portrait of some general, which one is unknown, because the place where the face was was pierced with a finger and then sealed with a quadrangular a piece of paper. Having sniffed the tobacco, Petrovich spread the hood in his hands and examined it against the light and again shook his head. Then he turned it with the lining up and shook it again, again took off the lid with the general sealed with a piece of paper, and, putting tobacco in his nose, closed it, hid the snuffbox and finally said:
“No, you can’t fix it: a bad wardrobe!”
Akaki Akakievich’s heart skipped a beat at these words. “Why not, Petrovich?” he said in an almost pleading voice of a child: “after all, everything on your shoulders has worn out, because you have some pieces...”
“Yes, you can find pieces, pieces will be found,” said Petrovich: “but you can’t sew them up: the thing is completely rotten, if you touch it with a needle, it just creeps.”
“Let him crawl, and you will immediately apply a patch.”
“Yes, there is nothing to put patches on, there is nothing to strengthen her, the support is too great. Only glory is like cloth, but if the wind blows, it will fly away.”
“Well, just attach it. How could it be that way, really!..”
“No,” said Petrovich decisively: “nothing can be done. It's really bad. You better, when the cold winter season comes, make yourself a little one out of it, because it doesn’t keep your stocking warm. The Germans invented this in order to take more money for themselves (Petrovich loved to stab the Germans on occasion); and apparently you’ll have to make a new overcoat.”
At the word “new,” Akaky Akakievich’s vision became blurred, and everything that was in the room began to get confused before him. He clearly saw only the general with his face covered with paper, who was on the lid of Petrovich’s snuffbox. “What about the new one?” he said, still as if in a dream: “after all, I don’t have money for this.”
“Yes, a new one,” Petrovich said with barbaric calm.
“Well, if I had to get a new one, how would it be…”
“So what will it cost?”
“Yes, it will take more than three fifty hundred,” said Petrovich and at the same time pursed his lips significantly. He was very fond of strong effects, he loved to suddenly somehow completely puzzle and then look sideways at the puzzled face he would make after such words.
“One hundred and fifty rubles for an overcoat!” - poor Akaki Akakievich cried out, screamed, perhaps for the first time in his life, for he was always distinguished by the quietness of his voice.
“Yes, sir,” said Petrovich, “and what a great overcoat. If you put a marten on the collar and put on a silk-lined hood, it will cost two hundred.”
“Petrovich, please,” said Akaki Akakievich in a pleading voice, without hearing and without trying to hear the words Petrovich said and all its effects: “correct it somehow, so that it will serve at least a little longer.”
“No, this will come out: killing work and wasting money,” said Petrovich, and after such words Akaki Akakievich came out completely destroyed. And Petrovich, after he left, stood for a long time, significantly pursing his lips and not getting to work, being pleased that he had not dropped himself, and had not betrayed his tailoring skills either.
Going out into the street, Akaki Akakievich was like in a dream. “This is such a thing,” he said to himself: “I really didn’t think it would turn out this way...” and then, after some silence, he added: “So that’s how it is!” Finally, this is what happened, and I really couldn’t even imagine that it would be like this.” This was followed again by a long silence, after which he said: “So and so! This is definitely a completely unexpected, this... this would be impossible... this kind of circumstance!” Having said this, instead of going home, he went in the completely opposite direction, without suspecting it. On the way, the chimney sweep touched him with his unclean side and blackened his entire shoulder; a whole cap of lime fell on him from the top of the house under construction. He didn’t notice any of this, and then, when he came across a watchman, who, having placed his halberd near him, was shaking tobacco from a horn onto his calloused fist, then he only came to his senses a little, and that’s because the watchman said: “Why are you getting into the very snout? “Don’t you have a trukhtuar?” This made him look back and turn home. Here only he began to collect his thoughts, saw his situation in a clear and present form, began to talk to himself no longer abruptly, but judiciously and frankly, as with a prudent friend with whom you can talk about the matter that is most heartfelt and close. “Well, no,” said Akaki Akakievich, “now you can’t talk to Petrovich: now he’s... his wife, apparently, beat him somehow. But I’d rather come to him on Sunday morning: after Saturday eve he’ll be cross-eyed and sleepy, so he’ll need to get over his hangover, and his wife won’t give him any money, and at that time I’ll give him a ten-kopeck piece, and that’s it, in his hand, he’ll be more accommodating and the overcoat then and that ... "So Akaki Akakievich reasoned with himself, encouraged himself and waited for the first Sunday, and, seeing from a distance that Petrovich’s wife was leaving the house somewhere, he went straight to him. Petrovich, as a matter of fact, after Saturday had severely squinted his eyes, held his head to the floor and was completely asleep; but for all that, as soon as he found out what was the matter, it was as if the devil had pushed him. “It’s impossible,” he said, “if you please, order a new one.” Akakiy Akakievich then gave him a ten-kopeck piece. “Thank you. sir, I’ll give you a little refreshment for your health,” said Petrovich: “and don’t worry about the overcoat: it’s not fit for purpose. I’ll sew you a new overcoat to perfection, we’ll leave it at that.”
Akakiy Akakievich was still talking about repairs, but Petrovich didn’t hear enough and said: “I’ll sew you a new one without precedent, if you please, we’ll put in the effort. It will even be possible the way fashion has gone: the collar will be fastened with silver paws under the appliqué.”
It was then that Akaki Akakievich saw that it was impossible to do without a new overcoat, and he completely lost heart. How, in fact, with what, with what money to make it? Of course, one could partly rely on future awards for the holiday, but this money has long been allocated and distributed in advance. It was necessary to get new trousers, to pay the shoemaker an old debt for attaching new heads to the old boots, and he had to order three shirts from the seamstress and two pieces of that linen that is indecent to name in a printed style - in a word, all the money had to completely go away; and even if the director were so merciful that instead of forty rubles the bonus would be forty-five or fifty, then all the same there would remain some kind of nonsense, which would be a drop in the ocean in the greatcoat capital. Although, of course, he knew that Petrovich had a whim to suddenly charge God knows what exorbitant price, so that it happened that the wife herself could not resist screaming: “Why are you going crazy, such a fool! Another time he’ll never take the job, but now he’s been ruined by the difficult task of asking for a price that’s not even worth it.” Although, of course, he knew that Petrovich would undertake to do it for eighty rubles; however, where will these eighty rubles come from? Another half could be found: half would be found; maybe even a little more; but where to get the other half?.. But first the reader must find out where the first half came from. Akaki Akakievich had the habit of putting a penny from every ruble he spent into a small box, locked with a key, with a hole cut in the lid for throwing money into. At the end of every six months, he reviewed the accumulated copper amount and replaced it with small silver. He continued this way for a long time, and thus, over the course of several years, the accumulated amount amounted to more than forty rubles. So, half was in hand; but where can I get the other half? Where can I get the other forty rubles? Akakiy Akakievich thought and thought and decided that it would be necessary to reduce ordinary expenses, although at least for one year: banish drinking tea in the evenings, do not light candles in the evenings, and if you need to do anything, go to the hostess’s room and work by her candle; when walking along the streets, step as lightly and carefully as possible, on stones and slabs, almost on tiptoe, so as not to wear out your soles too soon; give the laundry to the laundress to wash as little as possible, and so as not to get worn out, every time you come home, take it off and remain in only a denim dressing gown, very old and spared even by time itself. It must be told the truth that at first it was somewhat difficult for him to get used to such restrictions, but then he somehow got used to it and things got better; even he had become completely accustomed to fasting in the evenings; but on the other hand, he fed spiritually, carrying in his thoughts the eternal idea of a future overcoat. From then on, it was as if his very existence became somehow fuller, as if he had gotten married, as if some other person was present with him, as if he were not alone, but some pleasant friend of his life had agreed to go along with him life's path - and this friend was none other than the same overcoat with thick cotton wool, with a strong lining without wear and tear. He somehow became more lively, even stronger in character, like a man who had already defined and set a goal for himself. Doubt, indecision - in a word, all wavering and uncertain features - naturally disappeared from his face and from his actions. Fire sometimes appeared in his eyes, and the most daring and daring thoughts even flashed in his head: should he really put a marten on his collar? Thinking about this almost made him absent-minded. Once, while copying out a paper, he almost made a mistake, so much so that he almost screamed out loud, “Wow!” and crossed himself. Over the course of every month, he visited Petrovich at least once to talk about the overcoat, where it was better to buy cloth, and what color, and at what price, and although somewhat worried, he always returned home happy, thinking that the time would finally come, when will all this be bought and when will the overcoat be made. Things went even faster than he expected. Against all expectations, the director assigned Akaki Akakievich not forty or forty-five, but as much as sixty rubles; Whether he had a presentiment that Akaky Akakievich needed an overcoat, or whether it just happened, but through this he ended up with an extra twenty rubles. This circumstance accelerated the progress of the matter. Another two or three months of slight fasting - and Akakiy Akakievich had accumulated exactly about eighty rubles. His heart, generally quite calm, began to beat. On the very first day he went with Petrovich to the shops. We bought very good cloth - and no wonder, because we had thought about it six months before and rarely did we go to the shops for a month to check the prices; but Petrovich himself said that there is no better cloth. For the lining they chose calico, but it was so good and dense that, according to Petrovich, it was even better than silk and even more beautiful and glossy in appearance. They didn’t buy martens, because there was definitely a road; and instead they chose a cat, the best one that could be found in the shop, a cat that from a distance could always be mistaken for a marten. Petrovich spent only two weeks making the overcoat, because there was a lot of quilting, otherwise it would have been ready earlier. Petrovich charged twelve rubles for the work - it couldn’t have been less: everything was sewn on silk, with a double fine seam, and Petrovich then went along each seam with his own teeth, displacing different figures with them. It was... it’s difficult to say on what day, but probably on the most solemn day in Akaky Akakievich’s life, when Petrovich finally brought his overcoat. He brought it in the morning, just before he had to go to the department. Never at any other time would the overcoat have come in so handy, because quite severe frosts had already begun and seemed to threaten to intensify even more. Petrovich appeared with an overcoat, like a good tailor should. There appeared in his face an expression so significant that Akaki Akakievich had never seen before. He seemed to feel fully that he had done a considerable job and that he had suddenly shown in himself the abyss separating the tailors who only line and forward from those who sew again. He took the overcoat out of the handkerchief in which he had brought it; the handkerchief had just come from the washerwoman; he then folded it and put it in his pocket for use. Taking out his overcoat, he looked very proudly and, holding it in both hands, very deftly threw it over Akakiy Akakievich’s shoulders; then he pulled and pushed her down from behind with his hand; then he draped it over Akakiy Akakievich somewhat wide open. Akakiy Akakievich, like an old man, wanted to try his hand; Petrovich helped me put on the sleeves, and it turned out that she looked good in the sleeves, too. In a word, it turned out that the overcoat was perfect and just fit. Petrovich did not fail to say on this occasion that he did so only because he lived without a sign on a small street and, moreover, had known Akaki Akakievich for a long time, that’s why he took it so cheaply; and on Nevsky Prospekt they would charge him seventy-five rubles for work alone. Akaki Akakievich did not want to discuss this with Petrovich, and he was afraid of all the big sums with which Petrovich liked to throw dust. He paid him, thanked him and went out immediately in a new overcoat to the department. Petrovich went out after him and, remaining on the street, looked for a long time at his overcoat from a distance and then deliberately walked to the side so that, having turned around the crooked alley, he could run back into the street and look again at his overcoat from the other side, that is, right in the face . Meanwhile, Akaki Akakievich walked in the most festive mood of all feelings. He felt every moment that he had a new greatcoat on his shoulders, and several times he even grinned with inner pleasure. In fact, there are two benefits: one is that it is warm, and the other is that it is good. He didn’t notice the road at all and suddenly found himself in the department; in the Swiss one, he took off his overcoat, looked around at it and entrusted it with special supervision to the doorman.
Akaki Akakievich in a new overcoat. Illustration by B. Kustodiev for Gogol’s story
It is not known how everyone in the department suddenly found out that Akaki Akakievich had a new overcoat and that the hood no longer existed. At that very moment everyone ran out to the Swiss to look at Akaki Akakievich’s new overcoat. They began to congratulate him and greet him, so that at first he only smiled, and then he even felt ashamed. When everyone approached him and began to say that he needed a new overcoat and that, at least, he should give them all the evening, Akaki Akakievich was completely lost, did not know what to do, what to answer and how to make an excuse. After a few minutes, all flushed, he began to assure quite innocently that this was not a new overcoat at all, that it was true, that it was an old overcoat. Finally, one of the officials, some even an assistant to the mayor, probably in order to show that he was not at all proud and knew even his inferiors, said: “So be it, instead of Akakiy Akakievich I give the evening and ask you to come to me today for tea: as if on purpose, today is my birthday.” The officials, naturally, immediately congratulated the assistant chief and eagerly accepted the offer. Akakiy Akakievich began to make excuses, but everyone began to say that it was discourteous, that it was just a shame and disgrace, and he certainly could not refuse. However, he later felt pleased when he remembered that he would have the opportunity to walk around even in the evening in his new overcoat. This whole day was definitely the biggest solemn holiday for Akaki Akakievich. He returned home in the happiest mood, took off his overcoat and hung it carefully on the wall, once again admiring the cloth and lining, and then deliberately pulled out, for comparison, his old hood, which had completely fallen apart. He looked at it and even laughed himself: such a far difference! And for a long time afterwards, at dinner, he kept grinning, as soon as the situation in which the hood was located came to his mind. He dined cheerfully and after dinner he didn’t write anything, no papers, but just sat on his bed for a while until it got dark. Then, without delaying the matter, he got dressed, put his overcoat on his shoulders and went out into the street. Unfortunately, we cannot say where exactly the official who invited us lived: our memory is beginning to fail us greatly, and everything that is in St. Petersburg, all the streets and houses, have merged and mixed up so much in our heads that it is very difficult to get anything from there in decent form. . Be that as it may, it is at least true that the official lived in the best part of the city - therefore, not very close to Akaki Akakievich. At first Akaki Akakievich had to go through some deserted streets with poor lighting, but as he approached the official’s apartment, the streets became livelier, more populated and better lit. Pedestrians began to flash more often, ladies began to come across, beautifully dressed, men came across beaver collars, vans with wooden lattice sleds studded with gilded nails were seen less often - on the contrary, all the reckless drivers in crimson velvet hats, with patent leather sleds, with bear blankets were seen , and carriages with harvested goats flew past the street, their wheels squealing in the snow. Akaki Akakievich looked at all this as if it were news. He had not gone out in the evenings for several years. I stopped with curiosity in front of the illuminated window of the store to look at a picture depicting some beautiful woman who was taking off her shoe, thus exposing her entire leg, which was very pretty; and behind her, from the door of another room, a man with sideburns and a beautiful goatee under his lip stuck his head out. Akakiy Akakievich shook his head and grinned, and then went on his way. Why did he grin, was it because he encountered something that was not at all familiar, but about which, nevertheless, everyone still has some kind of instinct, or he thought, like many other officials, the following: “Well, these French! needless to say, if they want something like this, then they certainly want that...” Or maybe he didn’t even think about that - after all, you can’t get into a person’s soul and find out everything that he thinks. Finally he reached the house in which the assistant chief of staff lodged. The assistant clerk lived on a large scale: there was a lantern on the stairs, the apartment was on the second floor. Entering the hallway, Akaki Akakievich saw whole rows of galoshes on the floor. Between them, in the middle of the room, stood a samovar, making noise and emitting clouds of steam. All the greatcoats and cloaks hung on the walls, some of which even had beaver collars or velvet lapels. Behind the wall a noise and conversation could be heard, which suddenly became clear and ringing when the door opened and a footman came out with a tray laden with empty glasses, a creamer and a basket of crackers. It is clear that the officials had already gotten ready long ago and drank their first glass of tea. Akaki Akakievich, having hung up his overcoat, entered the room, and candles, officials, pipes, card tables flashed before him at the same time, and his ears were vaguely struck by the fluent conversation rising from all sides and the noise of moving chairs. He stood very awkwardly in the middle of the room, searching and trying to figure out what to do. But they had already noticed him, received him with a shout, and everyone immediately went to the hall and again examined his overcoat. Although Akakiy Akakievich was somewhat embarrassed, being a sincere man, he could not help but rejoice when he saw how everyone praised the overcoat. Then, of course, everyone abandoned him and his overcoat and turned, as usual, to the tables designated for whist. All this: the noise, the talk and the crowd of people - all of this was somehow wonderful to Akakiy Akakievich. He simply didn’t know what to do, where to put his arms, legs and his whole figure; Finally, he sat down with the players, looked at the cards, looked into each other’s faces, and after a while he began to yawn, feeling that he was bored, especially since the time at which he, as usual, went to bed had long since arrived. He wanted to say goodbye to the owner, but they did not let him in, saying that he must definitely drink a glass of champagne in honor of the new thing. An hour later, dinner was served, consisting of vinaigrette, cold veal, pate, pastry pies and champagne. Akaki Akakievich was forced to drink two glasses, after which he felt that the room became more cheerful, but he could not forget that it was already twelve o’clock and that it was high time to go home. So that the owner would not somehow decide to restrain him, he quietly left the room, found an overcoat in the hall, which, not without regret, he saw lying on the floor, shook it off, removed all the fluff from it, put it on his shoulders and went down the stairs to the street. It was still light outside. Some small shops, these permanent clubs of courtyards and all sorts of people, were unlocked, while others that were locked, however, showed a long stream of light across the entire door crack, which meant that they were not yet deprived of society and, probably, courtyards the maids or servants are still finishing their discussions and conversations, plunging their masters into complete bewilderment about their whereabouts. Akaki Akakievich walked in a cheerful mood, he even suddenly ran up, no one knows why, after some lady who passed by like lightning and every part of her body was filled with extraordinary movement. But, however, he immediately stopped and walked again, still very quietly, marveling even at the lynx that had come from out of nowhere. Soon those deserted streets stretched out in front of him, which are not so cheerful even during the day, and even more so in the evening. Now they have become even quieter and more secluded: the lanterns began to flicker less often - apparently, less oil was being supplied; wooden houses and fences went; not a soul anywhere; There was only sparkling snow in the streets, and the sleepy low shacks, with their shutters closed, gleamed sadly and black. He approached the place where the street was cut by an endless square with houses barely visible on the other side, which looked like a terrible desert.
In the distance, God knows where, a light flashed in some booth, which seemed to stand at the edge of the world. Akaki Akakievich’s gaiety somehow diminished here significantly. He entered the square not without some kind of involuntary fear, as if his heart had a presentiment of something evil. He looked back and around: the exact sea was all around him. “No, it’s better not to look,” he thought and walked, closing his eyes, and when he opened them to find out whether the end of the square was near, he suddenly saw that standing in front of him were some people with mustaches, which ones, almost right under his nose. he couldn’t even discern that. His eyes grew blurry and his chest began to pound. “But the overcoat is mine!” - said one of them in a thunderous voice, grabbing him by the collar. Akaki Akakievich was about to shout “guard,” when another put a fist the size of an official’s head to his very mouth, saying: “Just shout!” Akakiy Akakievich only felt how they took off his greatcoat, gave him a kick with the knee, and he fell backwards into the snow and didn’t feel anything anymore. A few minutes later he came to his senses and got to his feet, but there was no one there. He felt that it was cold in the field and there was no overcoat, he began to shout, but the voice, it seemed, did not even think of reaching the ends of the square. Desperate, never tired of screaming, he started to run across the square straight to the booth, next to which the watchman stood and, leaning on his halberd, looked, it seems, with curiosity, wanting to know why the hell the man was running towards him from afar and shouting. Akakiy Akakievich, running to him, began shouting in a breathless voice that he was sleeping and wasn’t watching anything, didn’t see how a man was being robbed. The watchman replied that he did not see anything, that he saw how some two people stopped him in the middle of the square, but he thought that they were his friends; and let him, instead of scolding in vain, go to the warden tomorrow, so the warden will find out who took the overcoat. Akaki Akakievich ran home in complete disarray: the hair that he still had in small quantities on his temples and the back of his head was completely disheveled; His side and chest and all his trousers were covered in snow. The old woman, the owner of his apartment, hearing a terrible knock on the door, hastily jumped out of bed and, with only one shoe on her foot, ran to open the door, holding her shirt on her chest, out of modesty, with her hand; but, having opened it, she stepped back, seeing Akaky Akakievich in this form. When he told what was the matter, she clasped her hands and said that she needed to go straight to the private, that the policeman would cheat, promise and start driving; and it’s best to go straight to the private, that he is even familiar to her, because Anna, a Chukhonka, who previously served as her cook, has now decided to take the private as a nanny, that she often sees him himself, as he drives past their house, and that He also goes to church every Sunday, prays, and at the same time looks cheerfully at everyone, and therefore, by all appearances, he must be a kind person. Having heard such a decision, Akaki Akakievich wandered sadly to his room, and how he spent the night there is left to be judged by those who can somewhat imagine the situation of another. Early in the morning he went to the private; but they said he was sleeping; he came at ten - they said again: he’s sleeping; he came at eleven o'clock - they said: yes, there is no private house; he was at lunchtime - but the clerks in the hallway did not want to let him in and definitely wanted to find out what business and what need he had brought him for and what had happened. So finally Akaki Akakievich, once in his life, wanted to show his character and said flatly that he needed to see the most private person in person, that they didn’t dare not let him in, that he came from the department for official business, and that he would complain about them, so then they will see. They didn’t dare say anything against this clerk, and one of them went to call a private. The private one took the story of the robbery of the greatcoat in an extremely strange way. Instead of paying attention to the main point of the matter, he began to question Akakiy Akakievich: why did he return so late, and whether he had come in and whether he had been in some dishonest house, so that Akakiy Akakievich was completely embarrassed and left him, without himself knowing whether the case about the overcoat will take the proper course or not. He was not present all that day (the only time in his life). The next day he appeared all pale and in his old hood, which became even more deplorable. The story of the robbery of the overcoat, despite the fact that there were officials who did not even miss to laugh at Akaki Akakievich, nevertheless touched many. They immediately decided to make a contribution for him, but collected the most trifle, because the officials had already spent a lot, subscribing to the director’s portrait and one book, but at the suggestion of the head of the department, who was a friend of the writer, the amount turned out to be the most idle. One someone, moved by compassion, decided to at least help Akakiy Akakievich with good advice, telling him not to rush to the policeman, because even though it might happen that the policeman, wanting to earn the approval of his superiors, would somehow find the overcoat , but the overcoat will still remain with the police if he does not provide legal evidence that it belongs to him; and it is best for him to turn to one significant person, because a significant person, by writing and communicating with whomever he should, can make the matter go more successfully. There was nothing to do, Akaki Akakievich decided to go to a significant person. What exactly and what the position of the significant person was remains unknown to this day. You need to know that one significant person recently became a significant person, and before that time he was an insignificant person. However, his place even now was not considered significant in comparison with others, even more significant. But there will always be a circle of people for whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others is already significant. However, he tried to enhance his significance by many other means, namely: he arranged for lower officials to meet him on the stairs when he came to office; so that no one would dare to come to him directly, but so that everything would go in the strictest order: the collegiate registrar would report to the provincial secretary, the provincial secretary - to the titular secretary or whoever else, and so that, in this way, the matter would reach him. So in holy Rus' everything is infected with imitation, everyone teases and makes fun of his boss. They even say that some titular councilor, when they made him the ruler of some separate small office, immediately fenced off a special room for himself, calling it the “presence room,” and stationed at the door some ushers with red collars, in galloons, which they took hold of the door handle and opened it to anyone who came, although in the “presence room” an ordinary desk could hardly be seen. The techniques and customs of a significant person were respectable and majestic, but not polysyllabic. The main basis of his system was rigor. “Severity, severity and - severity,” he usually said, and at the last word he usually looked very significantly into the face of the person to whom he spoke. Although, however, there was no reason for this, because the dozen officials who made up the entire government mechanism of the office were already in proper fear; seeing him from afar, he left the matter and waited, standing at attention, while the boss passed through the room. His ordinary conversation with inferiors was stern and consisted of almost three phrases: “How dare you? Do you know who you are talking to? Do you understand who is standing in front of you? However, he was a kind man at heart, good with his comrades, helpful, but the rank of general completely confused him. Having received the rank of general, he somehow became confused, lost his way and did not know at all what to do. If he happened to be with his equals, he was still a proper person, a very decent person, in many respects not even a stupid person; but as soon as he happened to be in society, where there were people at least one rank lower than him, there he was simply out of hand: he was silent, and his position aroused pity, especially since he himself even felt that he could have spent his time incomparably better . Sometimes one could see in his eyes a strong desire to join some interesting conversation and circle, but he was stopped by the thought: wouldn’t this be too much on his part, wouldn’t it be familiar, and wouldn’t he thereby lose his importance? And as a result of such reasoning, he remained forever in the same silent state, uttering only occasionally some monosyllabic sounds, and thus acquired the title of the most boring person. Our Akaki Akakievich appeared to such and such a significant person, and he appeared at the most unfavorable time, very inopportune for himself, although, incidentally, opportune for a significant person. The significant personage was in his office and had a very, very cheerful conversation with an old acquaintance and childhood friend who had recently arrived, whom he had not seen for several years. At this time they reported to him that some Bashmachkin had arrived. He asked abruptly: “Who is he?” They answered him: “Some official.” - "A! “can wait, now is not the time,” said the significant person. Here it must be said that the significant person completely lied: he had time, he and his friend had long talked about everything and had long passed on the conversation with very long silences, only lightly patting each other on the thigh and saying: “That’s it, Ivan Abramovich!” - “That’s it, Stepan Varlamovich!” But with all this, however, he ordered the official to wait in order to show his friend, a man who had not served for a long time and who had lived at home in the village, how long the officials had been waiting in his front room. Having finally spoken, and even more silently enough and having smoked a cigar in the very relaxed reclining chairs, he finally seemed to suddenly remember and said to the secretary, who had stopped at the door with papers for the report: “Yes, there seems to be an official standing there; tell him he can come in.” Seeing Akaki Akakievich’s humble appearance and his old uniform, he suddenly turned to him and said: “What do you want?” - in a abrupt and firm voice, which I deliberately learned in advance in my room, in solitude and in front of a mirror, a week before receiving my current place and the rank of general. Akaki Akakievich already felt the proper timidity in advance, became somewhat embarrassed and, as best he could, as much as his freedom of language could allow him, explained, adding even more often than at other times, particles of “that”, that the overcoat was a completely new one, and was now robbed by an inhuman way, and that he turns to him so that, through his petition, he would somehow write to Mr. Chief of Police or someone else and find the overcoat. The general, unknown why, thought this treatment was familiar. “Why, dear sir,” he continued abruptly, “don’t you know the order? where did you go? don't know how things are going? You should have first submitted a request for this to the office; it would go to the clerk, to the head of the department, then it would be handed over to the secretary, and the secretary would deliver it to me..."
Gogol "The Overcoat". Illustration by P. Fedorov
“But, your Excellency,” said Akaki Akakievich, trying to muster up all the small handful of presence of mind that he had, and feeling at the same time that he was sweating terribly: “I dared to trouble your Excellency because the secretaries of that... unreliable people..."
“What, what, what?” said a significant person: “Where did you get such spirit from? Where did you get these thoughts from? what kind of rioting has spread among young people against their superiors and superiors!” The significant person, it seems, did not notice that Akaki Akakievich was already over fifty years old. Therefore, even if he could be called a young man, it would be only relatively, that is, in relation to someone who was already over seventy years old. “Do you know who you are telling this to? Do you understand who is standing in front of you? do you understand this, do you understand this? I'm asking you". Here he stamped his foot, raising his voice to such a strong note that even Akaky Akakievich would have become afraid. Akaki Akakievich froze, staggered, shook all over, and could not stand: if the guards had not immediately ran up to support him, he would have flopped to the floor; they carried him out almost without moving. And the significant personage, pleased that the effect exceeded even expectations, and completely intoxicated by the thought that his word could deprive even a person of his feelings, glanced sideways at his friend to find out how he looked at it, and not without pleasure saw that his friend was in the most uncertain state and began to feel fear even on his own part.
How he came down the stairs, how he went out into the street, Akaki Akakievich did not remember any of this. He didn't hear either hands or feet. In his life he had never been so much in the face of a general, and a stranger at that. He walked through the blizzard, whistling in the streets, his mouth open, knocking off the sidewalks; the wind, according to St. Petersburg custom, blew on him from all four sides, from all alleys. Instantly a toad blew into his throat, and he got home, unable to say a single word; he was all swollen and went to bed. Proper roasting can be so powerful sometimes! The next day he developed a severe fever. Thanks to the generous assistance of the St. Petersburg climate, the disease spread faster than could have been expected, and when the doctor appeared, he, having felt the pulse, could not find anything to do except prescribe a poultice, solely so that the patient would not be left without the beneficial help of medicine; However, after a day and a half he was immediately declared kaput. After which he turned to the hostess and said: “And you, mother, don’t waste time, order him a pine coffin now, because an oak one will be dear to him.” Did Akaki Akakievich hear these fatal words uttered for him, and if he did, did they have a stunning effect on him, did he regret his miserable life - none of this is known, because he was delirious and feverish all the time. Phenomena, one more strange than the other, constantly presented themselves to him: he saw Petrovich and ordered him to make an overcoat with some kind of traps for thieves, which he constantly imagined under the bed, and he constantly called on the hostess to pull out one thief from him, even from under the blanket; then he asked why his old hood was hanging in front of him, that he had a new overcoat; sometimes it seemed to him that he was standing in front of the general, listening to the proper scolding, and saying: “I’m sorry, your Excellency!” - then, finally, he even blasphemed, uttering the most terrible words, so that the old landlady even crossed herself, having never heard anything like that from him in her life, especially since these words immediately followed the syllable “your excellency.” Then he spoke complete nonsense, so that nothing could be understood; one could only see that random words and thoughts were tossing and turning around the same overcoat. Finally, poor Akaki Akakievich gave up the ghost. Neither his room nor his things were sealed, because, firstly, there were no heirs, and secondly, very little inheritance remained, namely: a bunch of goose feathers, ten pieces of white government paper, three pairs of socks, two or three buttons, torn from the trousers, and the hood already known to the reader. Who got all this, God knows: I admit, the one telling this story was not even interested in this. Akaki Akakievich was taken and buried. And Petersburg was left without Akaki Akakievich, as if he had never been there. The creature disappeared and hid, not protected by anyone, not dear to anyone, not interesting to anyone, not even attracting the attention of a natural observer who would not allow an ordinary fly to be placed on a pin and examined under a microscope; a creature who meekly endured clerical ridicule and went to the grave without any emergency, but for whom nevertheless, although just before the end of his life, a bright guest flashed in the form of an overcoat, reviving his poor life for a moment, and upon whom misfortune just as unbearably fell , as it fell upon the kings and rulers of the world... A few days after his death, a watchman from the department was sent to his apartment with orders to appear immediately: the boss said he demanded it; but the watchman had to return with nothing, having given a report that he could no longer come, and to the question “why?” expressed himself in the words: “Yes, he died, they buried him on the fourth day.” Thus, the department learned about the death of Akaki Akakievich, and the next day a new official was sitting in his place, much taller and writing letters no longer in such a straight handwriting, but much more slanted and askew.
But who would have imagined that this was not all about Akaki Akakievich, that he was destined to live noisily for several days after his death, as if as a reward for a life not noticed by anyone. But it happened, and our poor story unexpectedly takes on a fantastic ending. Rumors suddenly spread across St. Petersburg that at the Kalinkin Bridge and far away a dead man began to appear at night in the form of an official, looking for some kind of stolen overcoat and, under the guise of a stolen overcoat, tearing off from all the shoulders, without distinguishing rank and title, all sorts of overcoats: on cats, on beavers, cotton wool, raccoon, fox, bear coats - in a word, every kind of fur and leather that people have come up with to cover their own. One of the department officials saw the dead man with his own eyes and immediately recognized him as Akaki Akakievich; but this, however, instilled in him such fear that he began to run as fast as he could and therefore could not get a good look, but only saw how he shook his finger at him from afar. From all sides there were incessant complaints that the backs and shoulders, even if only of titular councilors, or even of the privy councilors themselves, were susceptible to complete colds due to the pulling off of their greatcoats at night. The police made an order to catch the dead man at any cost, alive or dead, and punish him, as an example in another, most severe way, and in that case they almost didn’t even have time. It was the baker of some block in Kiryushkin Lane who grabbed a completely dead man by the collar at the very scene of the crime, during an attempt to rip off the frieze overcoat from some retired musician who had once played the flute. Grabbing him by the collar, he called out with his cry two other comrades, whom he instructed to hold him, and he himself only reached for one minute by his boot to pull out a bottle of tobacco from there, to temporarily refresh his frozen nose six times forever; but the tobacco was probably of a kind that even a dead man could not bear. Before the baker had time to close his right nostril with his finger and pull half a handful with his left, the dead man sneezed so hard that it completely splattered all three of them in the eyes. While they brought their fists to wipe them, the trace of the dead man disappeared, so they did not even know whether he was definitely in their hands. From then on, the guards received such fear of the dead that they were even afraid to grab the living, and only shouted from afar: “Hey, you, go your way!” - and the dead official began to appear even beyond the Kalinkin Bridge, instilling considerable fear in all timid people. But we, however, completely left out one significant person, who, in fact, was almost the reason for the fantastic direction, however, of a completely true story. First of all, the duty of justice requires us to say that one significant person soon after the departure of poor, baked Akakiy Akakievich felt something like regret. Compassion was not alien to him; Many good movements were accessible to his heart, despite the fact that his rank very often prevented them from being discovered. As soon as his visiting friend left his office, he even thought about poor Akaki Akakievich. And from then on, almost every day he saw the pale Akaki Akakievich, unable to withstand the official scolding. The thought of him worried him to such an extent that a week later he even decided to send an official to him to find out what he was doing and how, and whether it was really possible to help him with anything; and when they informed him that Akaki Akakievich had died suddenly in a fever, he was even amazed, heard reproaches from his conscience and was out of sorts all day. Wanting to have some fun and forget the unpleasant impression, he went for the evening to one of his friends, where he found decent company, and what was best - everyone there was almost the same rank, so he could not be bound by anything at all . This had an amazing effect on his spiritual disposition. He turned around, became pleasant in conversation, amiable - in a word, he spent the evening very pleasantly. At dinner he drank two glasses of champagne - a remedy, as you know, that has a good effect on gaiety. Champagne gave him a disposition for various emergencies, namely: he decided not to go home yet, but to call on a lady he knew, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it seems, of German origin, with whom he felt completely friendly. It must be said that the significant person was already a middle-aged man, a good husband, a respectable father of the family. Two sons, one of whom was already serving in the chancellery, and a pretty sixteen-year-old daughter with a somewhat curved but pretty nose came every day to kiss his hand, saying: bonjour, papa. His wife, still a fresh woman and not even at all bad, first let him kiss her hand and then, turning it over to the other side, kissed his hand. But a significant person, however, completely satisfied with domestic family tenderness, found it decent to have a friend in another part of the city for friendly relations. This friend was no better and no younger than his wife; but such problems exist in the world, and it is not our business to judge them. So, the significant personage came down from the stairs, sat down in the sleigh and said to the coachman: “To Karolina Ivanovna,” and he himself, wrapped very luxuriously in a warm overcoat, remained in that pleasant position, which you cannot imagine better for a Russian person, that is, when you yourself don’t think about anything, and yet thoughts themselves creep into your head, one more pleasant than the other, without even bothering to chase after them and look for them. Full of pleasure, he slightly recalled all the funny places of the evening spent, all the words that made the small circle laugh; He even repeated many of them in a low voice and found them to be just as funny as before, and therefore it was no wonder that he himself laughed heartily. From time to time, however, he was disturbed by a gusty wind, which, suddenly snatched up from God knows where and for God knows what reason, cut him in the face, throwing scraps of snow there, flapping his overcoat collar like a sail, or suddenly throwing it at him with unnatural force. on your head and thus causing eternal trouble to get out of it. Suddenly the significant person felt that someone grabbed him very tightly by the collar. Turning around, he noticed a short man in an old, worn uniform, and not without horror recognized him as Akaki Akakievich. The official's face was as pale as snow and looked completely dead. But the horror of the significant person surpassed all boundaries when he saw that the dead man’s mouth was twisted and, smelling terribly of the grave, he uttered the following speeches: “Ah! so here you are at last! Finally I caught you by the collar! It’s your overcoat that I need! you didn’t bother about mine, and even scolded me - now give me yours!” The poor significant person almost died. No matter how characteristic he was in the office and in general before the lower ones, and although, looking at his courageous appearance and figure, everyone said: “Wow, what a character!” - but here he, like very many who have a heroic appearance, felt such fear that, not without reason, he even began to fear about some painful attack. He himself even quickly threw his overcoat off his shoulders and shouted to the coachman in a voice that was not his own: “Go home at full speed!” The coachman, hearing the voice, which is usually pronounced at decisive moments and is even accompanied by something much more real, hid his head in his shoulders just in case, swung his whip and rushed off like an arrow. At just over six minutes the significant person was already in front of the entrance to his house. Pale, frightened and without an overcoat, instead of going to Karolina Ivanovna, he came to his room, somehow trudged to his room and spent the night in great disarray, so that the next morning at tea his daughter said to him directly: “You are today very pale, dad.” But dad was silent and not a word to anyone about what happened to him, and where he was, and where he wanted to go. This incident made a strong impression on him. He even began to say to his subordinates much less often: “How dare you, do you understand who is in front of you? "; if he did say it, it was not before he had first heard what was going on. But what is even more remarkable is that from then on the appearance of the dead official completely ceased: apparently, the general’s overcoat fell completely on his shoulders; at least, such cases were no longer heard anywhere where someone’s greatcoat was pulled off. However, many active and caring people did not want to calm down and they said that the dead official was still appearing in the distant parts of the city. And indeed, one Kolomna guard saw with his own eyes how a ghost appeared from behind one house; but, being by nature somewhat powerless, so that one day an ordinary adult pig, rushing out of some private house, knocked him down, to the great laughter of the cabbies standing around, from whom he demanded a penny for tobacco for such a mockery - so, being powerless, he did not dare to stop him, and so he followed him in the darkness until finally the ghost suddenly looked around and, stopping, asked: “What do you want?” - and showed such a fist, which you will not find among the living. The watchman said: “nothing,” and turned back the same hour ago. The ghost, however, was already much taller, wore an enormous mustache and, directing his steps, as it seemed, towards the Obukhov Bridge, disappeared completely into the darkness of the night.