Dead Souls

The vain and self-conscious Chichikov takes great care with his personal grooming. Before the governor’s ball, he primps so much that the narrator jokes, “it may be that never in the history of the world has so much time been devoted to a toilette” (3065). Crooning “vague sounds, in part resembling French, though Chichikov did not know a word of French” (3067), Chichikov devotes himself to the prospect of impressing his social betters by aping their manners. Unfortunately, his preparation is too good—his attention becomes a prize the town’s aristocratic ladies fight over, while their husbands easily believe Nozdryov’s wild tales about Chichikov’s real motives. His attention to the governor’s daughter draws gossip and opprobrium, and as he is chased out of town, there is a direct line between this overconfident preening and his failure.

At the end of the second part, when Chichikov buys a fine new red coat, his machinations with the false will begin to unravel. As he is carried off to jail in his new finery, the prince denounces him for his lack of humble dress: “you are several times worse than they are: they wear peasant jackets and sheepskins, but you…” (6770). Chichikov leaves in this new coat, which adds to the uncertainty of whether he really will reform.

Chichikov is in perpetual motion, as his quest for dead souls relies on visiting landowners at their various properties and his frequent exposure as a conman means having to flee towns on the regular. He often gets lost, in part due to his driver Selifan’s lack of skill or drunkenness, which means that the plot often relies on accidental encounters to move forward. For instance, Chichikov encounters the governor’s daughter when their carriages collide on the road.

The narrator extensively comments on road conditions, typically while comparing Chichikov’s vehicle’s progress to Russia itself. Sometimes this pokes fun at the terrible potholes that rumble the carriage: The path away from Korobochka’s is like “trapped crayfish after they have been tipped out of a sack” (1101). Other times, the narrator waxes poetic about the beauty of the road. In either case, we have the distinct understanding that Chichikov’s barouche is a symbol of the country’s uncertain path forward.