“The History of a City” summary of the chapters of the story by Mikhail Saltykova-Shchedrin

About the product

In 1870, after a series of publications of individual chapters, Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin’s work “The History of a City” was published. This event received a wide public response: the writer was accused of ridiculing the Russian people and denigrating the facts of Russian history. The genre of the work is a satirical story, exposing morals, relationships between government and people in an autocratic society.

The story “The History of a City” is full of such techniques as irony, grotesque, Aesopian language, and allegory. All this allows the author, in some episodes bringing what is described to the point of absurdity, to vividly depict the absolute submission of the people to any arbitrary rule of power. The vices of the author’s contemporary society have not been eliminated even today. After reading “The History of a City” in a chapter-by-chapter summary, you will become familiar with the most important moments of the work, which clearly demonstrate the satirical nature of the story.

The material was prepared jointly with a teacher of the highest category, Kuchmina Nadezhda Vladimirovna.

Experience as a teacher of Russian language and literature - 27 years.

Meaning of the word organ

Examples of the use of the word organic in literature.

Having climbed onto the stage, I leaned my elbows on the organ, which responded with a drawn-out note of an unpleasant timbre, and looked around the tensely quiet hall.
The bullet knocked the organ off its stand, and it fell to the floor very close to me.

There was a small organ built into it - a crooked handle, polished by the palm of a hand, stuck out from the side, and the side facing the audience was covered with different-sized tubes.

“Do you remember, vrow,” said Ruff, carefully sitting down in a large chair, “that wonderful organ that entertained you so much when you worked in a noble house in Heidelberg?”

Yes, and I won’t sell this organ for fifty wallets full of money,” Raff continued.

His convertible is shell-shaped and all silvered, and between the wheels there is an organ that plays itself when the axis rotates.

A silvered tree is not sparkling transparent crystal, and an organ does not sound like a glass harmonica, a silver pheasant is not a jockey, and an umbrella is not a golden beetle.

To turn these fears into a more cheerful mood, during the first months a winding organ was installed in front of the locomotive, which played some popular tune.

Having straightened the mask on his face, the magician grabbed the handle of his organ and quickly spun it.

The hall ended with a brightly lit stage, where behind a small keyboard organ stood a middle-aged man with a black animal beard on his wide-cheeked face and sang in a wolfish voice: Don’t kill, don’t kill.

Above the organ rose a short rod that looked like an antenna, ending in a round ring.

Something similar happened with gramophones, which were brought by cheerful French heterae to replace outdated organs and caused serious damage to the income of the local orchestra.

In the room there were also an organ grinder boy with a small hand organ, and a healthy, red-cheeked girl in a tucked striped skirt and a Tyrolean hat with ribbons, a singer, about eighteen years old, who, despite the choral song in the other room, sang to the accompaniment of the organ player, quite in a hoarse contralto, some kind of lackey song.

Meanwhile, people of different professions and positions going home, noticing the group with the organ, hesitantly slowed down and looked sideways at it or paused to find out what was happening.

Whether Shchedrin’s mechanical organ was playing in his head, or whether a program in an electric vacuum assembler was pulsating, go and find out!

Source: Maxim Moshkov library

Main characters

The main characters of the story are the mayors, each of whom managed to be remembered for something in the history of the city of Foolov. Since the story describes many portraits of mayors, it is worth dwelling on the most significant characters.
Busty - shocked the residents with his categoricalness, with his exclamations on any occasion, “I’ll ruin it!” and “I won’t tolerate it!”
Dvoekurov, with his “great” reforms regarding bay leaves and mustard, seems completely harmless compared to subsequent mayors.
Wartkin - fought with his own people “for enlightenment.”
Ferdyshchenko - his greed and lust almost destroyed the townspeople.
Pimple - the people were not ready for a ruler like him: people lived too well under him, who did not interfere in any matters.
Gloomy-Burcheev - with all his idiocy, he managed not only to become the mayor, but also to destroy the entire city, trying to bring his crazy idea to life.

The history of one city (Saltykov-Shchedrin M. E., 1870)

Organ [According to the “Brief Inventory” is listed at No. 8. The publisher found it possible not to adhere to a strictly chronological order when familiarizing the public with the contents of the “Chronicle”. Moreover, he considered it best to present here the biographies of only the most remarkable city governors, since the rulers, who were not so remarkable, are sufficiently characterized by the “Brief Description” that preceded this essay. – Approx. publisher.]

Even dangerous dreamers appeared. Guided not so much by reason as by the movements of a grateful heart, they argued that under the new mayor trade would flourish and that, under the supervision of quarterly overseers, sciences and arts would emerge. We couldn't resist making comparisons. They remembered the old mayor who had just left the city and found that although he, too, was handsome and smart, but that, for all that, the new ruler should be given preference for the sole reason that he was new. In a word, in this case, as in other similar ones, both the usual Foolovian enthusiasm and the usual Foolovian frivolity were fully expressed.

Meanwhile, the new mayor turned out to be silent and gloomy. He galloped to Foolov, as they say, at full speed (there was such time that not a single minute could be lost) and had barely entered the city pasture when right there, on the very border, he crossed a lot of coachmen. But even this circumstance did not cool the enthusiasm of the townsfolk, because their minds were still full of memories of the recent victories over the Turks, and everyone hoped that the new mayor would take the Khotyn fortress by storm for the second time.

Soon, however, the townsfolk became convinced that their rejoicings and hopes were at least premature and exaggerated. The usual reception took place, and here for the first time in their lives the Foolovites had to experience in practice what bitter tests the most stubborn love of authority could be subjected to. Everything at this reception happened somehow mysteriously. The mayor silently walked around the ranks of the official archistratigs, [Archistratigus (Greek) – supreme military leader.] flashed his eyes, said: “I will not tolerate it!” - and disappeared into the office. The officials were dumbfounded; Behind them, the townsfolk also stood dumbfounded.

Despite their insurmountable firmness, the Foolovites are a pampered people and extremely spoiled. They love for the boss to have a friendly smile on his face, for friendly jokes to come from his mouth from time to time, and they are perplexed when these lips only snort or make mysterious sounds. The boss can carry out all sorts of activities, he may even not carry out any activities, but if he does not scribble at the same time, then his name will never become popular. There were truly wise mayors, those who were not alien even to the thought of establishing an academy in Foolov (such, for example, as civilian adviser Dvoekurov, listed in the “inventory” at No. 9), but since they did not call the Foolovites either “brothers” or “robots,” then their names remained in oblivion. On the contrary, there were others, although not that they were very stupid - there were no such things - but those who did average things, that is, flogged and collected arrears, but since they always said something kind, their names not only were they listed on tablets, [Tablets (Church Slavic) - stone tablets on which, according to biblical tradition, the commandments of Moses were written.] but even served as the subject of a wide variety of oral legends.

This was the case in the present case. No matter how much the hearts of the inhabitants were inflamed on the occasion of the arrival of the new chief, his reception significantly cooled them.

- What is this? snorted - and showed the back of his head! We haven’t seen the backs of heads! and you can talk to us to your heart’s content! You caress me, touch me with caresses! You threaten, threaten, and then have mercy! “That’s what the Foolovites said and with tears recalled the kind of bosses they had before, all friendly, kind, and handsome—and all in uniform!” They even remembered the fugitive Greek Lamvrokakis (according to the “inventory” under No. 5), they remembered how foreman Baklan arrived in 1756 (according to the “inventory” No. 6) and what a fine fellow he showed himself to the townsfolk at the very first reception.

“Onslaught,” he said, “and, moreover, speed, condescension, and, moreover, severity.” And, moreover, prudent firmness. This, dear sirs, is the goal, or, more precisely, the five goals, which, with God's help, I hope to achieve through certain administrative measures that constitute the essence, or, better to say, the core of the campaign plan that I have thought out!

And how he then, deftly turning on one heel, turned to the mayor and added:

- And on holidays we will eat your pies!

- So, sir, this is how real bosses received you! - sighed the Foolovites, - what about this one! snorted some nonsense, and that was it!

Alas! subsequent events not only justified the public opinion of ordinary people, but even surpassed their wildest fears. The new mayor locked himself in his office, did not eat, did not drink, and kept scratching something with his pen. From time to time he ran out into the hall, threw a pile of scribbled sheets of paper to the clerk, and said: “I won’t stand it!” - and again disappeared into the office. Unheard-of activity suddenly began to boil in all parts of the city: private bailiffs galloped, police officers galloped, assessors galloped, guards forgot what it meant to eat, and from then on acquired the pernicious habit of grabbing pieces on the fly. They seize and catch, flog and flog, describe and sell... And the mayor still sits and scrapes out more and more new impulses... A rumble and crackling rush from one end of the city to the other, and above all this hubbub, above all this confusion, like the cry of a bird of prey , an ominous reign reigns: “I will not tolerate it!”

The Foolovites were horrified. They remembered the general section of the coachmen, and suddenly the thought dawned on everyone: well, how can he flog an entire city in this manner! Then they began to figure out what meaning should be given to the word “I will not tolerate!” - they finally resorted to the history of Foolov, began to look for examples of the city’s saving severity in it, found an amazing variety, but still did not find anything suitable.

- And at least he would say in action how much he needs from his heart! - the embarrassed townsfolk were talking among themselves, - otherwise he’s circling, and even at ́

- come on!

Foolov, carefree, good-natured and cheerful Foolov, became depressed. There are no more lively gatherings outside the gates of houses, the clicking of sunflowers has fallen silent, there is no game of grandmothers! The streets were deserted, wild animals appeared in the squares. People only left their houses out of necessity and, showing their frightened and exhausted faces for a moment, were immediately buried. Something similar happened, according to old-timers, during the time of the Tsar Tushino, and even under Biron, when a prowling girl, Tanka-Clumsy, almost brought the entire city under execution. But even then it was better: at least then they understood something, but now they felt only fear, ominous and unaccountable fear.

It was especially difficult to look at the city late in the evening. At this time, Foolov, already a little animated, completely froze. Hungry dogs reigned on the street, but even they did not bark, but in the greatest order indulged in effeminacy and licentiousness of morals; thick darkness enveloped the streets and houses; and only in one of the rooms of the mayor’s apartment did an ominous light flicker long after midnight. The average person who woke up could see how the mayor was sitting, bent over, at his desk, still scratching something with a pen... And suddenly he came up to the window and shouted “I won’t tolerate it!” - and sits down at the table again and scratches again...

Ugly rumors began to circulate. They said that the new mayor was not even a mayor at all, but a werewolf sent to Foolov out of frivolity; that at night, in the form of an insatiable ghoul, he hovers over the city and sucks blood from sleepy townsfolk. Of course, all this was narrated and passed on to each other in whispers; although there were brave souls who offered to fall on their knees and ask for forgiveness, even those were taken aback. But what if this is exactly how it should be? What if it is considered necessary that Foolov, for his sake, should have just such a mayor and not another? These considerations seemed so reasonable that the brave men not only renounced their proposals, but immediately began to reproach each other for troublemaking and incitement.

And suddenly it became known to everyone that the mayor was secretly visited by the watchmaker and organ maker Baibakov. Reliable witnesses said that once, at three o’clock in the morning, they saw Baibakov, all pale and frightened, leave the mayor’s apartment and carefully carry something wrapped in a napkin. And what is most remarkable is that on this memorable night, not only were none of the townsfolk awakened by the cry of “I will not tolerate it!”, but the mayor himself, apparently, stopped for a while the critical analysis of the arrears registers [Obvious anachronism. In 1762, there were no arrears registers, but money was simply collected, as much as was due from whom. There was, therefore, no critical analysis. However, this is more likely not an anachronism, but rather insight, which the chronicler reveals in places to such a strong degree that the reader is not even quite clever. So, for example (we will see this later), he foresaw the invention of the electric telegraph and even the establishment of provincial governments. – Approx. publisher.] and fell asleep.

The question arose: what need could there have been for the mayor of Baibakovo, who, in addition to drinking without waking up, was also an obvious adulterer?

Tricks and subterfuge began in order to find out the secret, but Baibakov remained dumb as a fish and, in response to all admonitions, limited himself to shaking his whole body. They tried to get him drunk, but he, without refusing vodka, only sweated and did not give away the secret. The boys who were apprenticed to him could report one thing: that a police soldier really came one night, took the owner, who an hour later returned with a bundle, locked himself in the workshop and has been homesick ever since.

They couldn't find out anything more. Meanwhile, the mayor’s mysterious meetings with Baibakov became more frequent. Over time, Baibakov not only stopped grieving, but even became so bold that he promised to give him up to the mayor himself without being counted as a soldier if he did not give him a scale every day. He sewed himself a new pair of dresses and boasted that one of these days he would open such a store in Foolov that Winterhalter himself would [A new example of foresight: Winterhalter was not there in 1762. – Approx. publisher.] will catch your nose.

Among all this talk and gossip, a summons suddenly fell from the sky, inviting the most eminent representatives of Foolov’s intelligentsia to come to the mayor on such and such a day and hour for indoctrination. The eminent people were embarrassed, but began to prepare.

It was a beautiful spring day. Nature rejoiced; the sparrows chirped; the dogs squealed joyfully and wagged their tails. The townsfolk, holding bags under their arms, crowded into the courtyard of the mayor's apartment and tremblingly awaited a terrible fate. Finally the awaited moment arrived.

He came out, and on his face for the first time the Foolovites saw that friendly smile for which they were yearning. It seemed that the beneficial rays of the sun had an effect on him too (at least, many ordinary people later assured that they saw with their own eyes how his coattails were shaking). He walked around all the townsfolk one by one and, although silently, graciously accepted everything that was due from them. Having finished with this matter, he retreated a little to the porch and opened his mouth... And suddenly something inside him hissed and buzzed, and the longer this mysterious hissing lasted, the more and more his eyes spun and sparkled. “P... p... spit!” - finally escaped from his lips... With this sound, he flashed his eyes for the last time and rushed headlong into the open door of his apartment.

Reading in the Chronicler a description of an incident so unheard of, we, witnesses and participants in other times and other events, of course, have every opportunity to treat it with composure. But let us transport our thoughts a hundred years ago, put ourselves in the place of our illustrious ancestors, and we will easily understand the horror that must have seized them at the sight of these rotating eyes and this open mouth, from which nothing came out except hissing and some kind of a meaningless sound, unlike even the chime of a clock. But this is precisely the goodness of our ancestors: no matter how shocked they were by the spectacle described above, they were not carried away by either the revolutionary ideas fashionable at that time or the temptations presented by anarchy, but remained faithful to the love of authority and only slightly allowed themselves to condole and reproach at his more than strange mayor.

- And where did this scoundrel come to us from! - said the townsfolk, asking each other in amazement and not attaching any special meaning to the word “scoundrel”.

- Look, brothers! I wish we wouldn’t have to answer for him, for the scoundrel! - others added.

And after all that, they calmly went home and indulged in their usual activities.

And our Brudasty would have remained for many years the shepherd of Vertograd [Vertograd (Church Slavic) - garden.] of this and would have pleased the hearts of the leaders with his stewardship, and the townsfolk would not have felt anything extraordinary in their existence, if the circumstance were completely accidental (a simple oversight ) did not stop his activity in its midst.

A little later after the reception described above, the mayor’s clerk, entering his office with a report in the morning, saw the following sight: the mayor’s body, dressed in a uniform, was sitting at a desk, and in front of him, on a pile of arrears registers, lay, in the form of a dandy paperweight , a completely empty head of the mayor... The clerk ran out in such confusion that his teeth were chattering.

They ran for the assistant mayor and the senior policeman. The former first of all attacked the latter, accusing him of negligence and indulging in brazen violence, but the policeman was justified. He argued, not without reason, that the head could have been emptied only with the consent of the mayor himself and that a person who undoubtedly belonged to a craft workshop took part in this matter, since on the table, among the material evidence, were: a chisel, a gimlet and English file. They called for the council of the chief city doctor and asked him three questions: 1) could the mayor’s head be separated from the mayor’s body without hemorrhage? 2) is it possible to assume that the mayor removed his own head from his shoulders and emptied it himself? and 3) is it possible to assume that the mayor's head, once abolished, could subsequently grow again through some unknown process? Aesculapius [Aesculapius (Greek) – doctor.] thought for a moment, muttered something about some kind of “mayor’s substance”, supposedly emanating from the mayor’s body, but then, seeing himself that he had reported, he avoided directly resolving the issues, responding by saying, that the secret of constructing the mayor's body has not yet been sufficiently explored by science. [It has now been proven that the bodies of all bosses in general are subject to the same physiological laws as any other human body, but we should not forget that in 1762 science was in its infancy. – Approx. publisher.]

After listening to such an evasive answer, the assistant mayor was at a dead end. He had one of two things to do: either immediately report what had happened to his superiors and meanwhile begin an investigation at hand, or remain silent for a while and wait to see what happens. In view of such difficulties, he chose the middle path, that is, he began an inquiry, and at the same time he ordered everyone to keep the deepest secret on this subject, so as not to worry the people and not instill in them unrealistic dreams.

But no matter how strictly the guards kept the secret entrusted to them, the unheard of news about the abolition of the mayor's head spread throughout the city in a few minutes. Many of the townsfolk cried because they felt like orphans and, moreover, they were afraid of being held accountable for obeying such a mayor who had an empty vessel on his shoulders instead of a head. On the contrary, others, although they also cried, insisted that for their obedience, not punishment, but praise awaited them.

In the club, in the evening, all available members were assembled. They worried, interpreted, recalled various circumstances and found facts of a rather suspicious nature. So, for example, assessor Tolkovnikov said that one day he entered the mayor’s office by surprise on a very necessary matter and found the mayor playing with his own head, which he, however, immediately hastened to attach to the proper place. Then he did not pay proper attention to this fact and even considered it a trick of the imagination, but now it is clear that the mayor, in the form of his own relief, from time to time took off his head and put on a skullcap instead, just like the cathedral archpriest, being in his home circle, takes off his kamilavka [Kamilavka (Greek) - a specially shaped headdress worn by senior priests.] and puts on a cap. Another assessor, Mladentsev, remembered that one day, walking past the watchmaker Baibakov’s workshop, he saw in one of its windows the mayor’s head, surrounded by metalwork and carpentry tools. But Mladentsev was not allowed to finish, because at the first mention of Baibakov, everyone remembered his strange behavior and his mysterious night trips to the mayor’s apartment...

Nevertheless, no clear result emerged from all these stories. The public even began to lean towards the opinion that this whole story was nothing more than an invention of idle people, but then, remembering the London agitators [Even this was foreseen by the “Chronicle”! – Approx. publisher.] and moving from one syllogism [Syllogism (Greek) - a conclusion from two or more judgments.] to another, concluded that betrayal had made its nest in Foolov himself. Then all the members became agitated, made a noise and, inviting the superintendent of the public school, asked him a question: have there been examples in history of people giving orders, waging wars and concluding treaties with an empty vessel on their shoulders? The caretaker thought for a minute and replied that much in history is covered in darkness; but that there was, however, a certain Karl the Simple-minded, who had on his shoulders, although not empty, but still, as it were,

an empty vessel, but he waged wars and concluded treaties.

While these discussions were going on, the assistant mayor did not sleep. He also remembered Baibakov and immediately pulled him to answer. For some time, Baibakov locked himself away and did not answer anything other than “I don’t know, I don’t know,” but when he was presented with the material evidence found on the table and, in addition, they promised fifty kopecks for vodka, he came to his senses and, being literate, gave the following testimony:

“My name is Vasily, Ivanov’s son, nicknamed Baibakov. Gupovsky workshop; I don’t attend confession or holy communion, because I belong to the sect of the Farmazons and am a false priest of that sect. [False priest (Church Slavic) - a self-proclaimed, fake priest.] I was tried for cohabitation outside of marriage with a suburban wife, Matryonka, and was recognized by the court as an obvious adulterer, which title I still hold today. Last year, in the winter - I don’t remember what date or month - having been awakened in the night, I went, accompanied by a policeman, to our mayor, Dementy Varlamovich, and, when I arrived, I found him sitting and with his head in one direction or another. the other side is gradually anointed. [Waving - swaying, waving.] Unconscious with fear and, moreover, weighed down by alcoholic drinks, I stood silent at the threshold, when suddenly the mayor beckoned me with his hand and handed me a piece of paper. On the piece of paper I read: “Don’t be surprised, but fix what’s damaged.” After that, Mr. Mayor took off his own head and gave it to me. Taking a closer look at the box lying in front of me, I found that it contained in one corner a small organ capable of playing some simple musical pieces. There were two of these plays: “I’ll ruin you!” and “I won’t tolerate it!” But since the head became somewhat damp on the road, some of the pegs on the roller became loose, while others completely fell out. Because of this, Mr. Mayor could not speak clearly or spoke with missing letters and syllables. Having noticed in myself a desire to correct this error and having received the consent of the mayor, I, with due diligence [Diligence - diligence, diligence.] wrapped my head in a napkin and went home. But here I saw that I had hoped in vain for my diligence, for no matter how hard I tried to fix the fallen pegs, I managed so little in my undertaking that at the slightest carelessness or a cold, the pegs fell out again, and lately Mr. Mayor could only say “P.” “I spit!” In this extreme situation, they rashly intended to make me unhappy for the rest of my life, but I rejected that blow, suggesting that the mayor turn for help to St. Petersburg, to watchmaker and organ maker Winterhalter, which they did exactly. Quite a lot of time has passed since then, during which I daily examined the mayor’s head and cleaned the rubbish out of it, which was my occupation that morning when your honor, due to my oversight, confiscated an instrument that belonged to me. But why the new head ordered from Mr. Winterhalter still has not arrived is unknown. I believe, however, that due to the flooding of the rivers, in the current spring time, this head is still somewhere inactive. To your honor’s question, firstly, can I, if a new head is sent, approve it and, secondly, will that approved head function properly? I have the honor to answer this: I can confirm and it will act, but it cannot have real thoughts. The obvious adulterer Vasily Ivanov Baibakov had a hand in this testimony.”

After listening to Baibakov’s testimony, the mayor’s assistant realized that if it was once allowed for there to be a mayor in Foolov who had a simple head instead of a head, then, therefore, it should be so. Therefore, he decided to wait, but at the same time sent a compulsory telegram to Winterhalter [Amazing! – Approx. publisher.] and, having locked the mayor’s body, directed all his activities towards calming public opinion.

But all the tricks turned out to be in vain. Two more days passed after that; The long-awaited St. Petersburg mail finally arrived, but did not bring any head.

Anarchy began, that is, anarchy. The public places were deserted; There were so many arrears that the local treasurer, looking into the government box, opened his mouth, and remained so for the rest of his life with his mouth open; The police officers got out of hand and were brazenly inactive: official days disappeared. Moreover, murders began, and on the city pasture itself the body of an unknown man was raised, in which, by the coattails, they recognized the Life Campanian, but neither the police captain nor the other members of the temporary department, no matter how they fought, could not find the separated from the body of the head.

At eight o'clock in the evening, the assistant mayor received news by telegraph that the head had been sent a long time ago. The assistant mayor was completely taken aback.

Another day passes, and the mayor’s body still sits in the office and even begins to deteriorate. Love of Command, temporarily shocked by the strange behavior of Brudasty, steps forward with timid but firm steps. The best people go in a procession to the assistant mayor and urgently demand that he give orders. The assistant mayor, seeing that arrears were accumulating, drunkenness was developing, the truth was being abolished in the courts, and resolutions were not being approved, turned to the assistance of the headquarters officer. This latter, as an obligatory person, telegraphed about the incident to his superiors and received news by telegraph that he had been dismissed from service for an absurd report. [This worthy official was justified and, as we will see below, took an active part in the subsequent Foolov events. – Approx. publisher.]

Hearing about this, the assistant mayor came to the office and began to cry. The assessors came and also began to cry; The solicitor appeared, but even he could not speak from tears.

Meanwhile, Winterhalter spoke the truth, and the head was indeed made and sent on time. But he acted rashly, entrusting its delivery to a postal boy who was completely ignorant of the organ business. Instead of holding the parcel carefully in weight, the inexperienced messenger threw it to the bottom of the cart, and he dozed off. In this position, he rode several stations, when suddenly he felt that someone had bitten him on the calf. Taken by surprise by the pain, he hastily untied the gunny bag in which the mysterious luggage was wrapped, and a strange sight suddenly presented itself to his eyes. The head opened its mouth and moved its eyes; Moreover, she said loudly and quite clearly: “I’ll ruin you!”

The boy was simply mad with horror. His first move was to throw the talking luggage onto the road; the second is to quietly descend from the cart and hide in the bushes.

Perhaps this strange incident would have ended in such a way that the head, having lain for some time on the road, would have been crushed over time by passing carriages and finally taken out to the field in the form of fertilizer, if the matter had not been complicated by the intervention of an element to such a fantastic degree that they themselves Foolovites - and they became a dead end. But let’s not preempt events and let’s see what’s happening in Foolov.

Foolov was seething. Having not seen the mayor for several days in a row, the citizens were worried and, without any hesitation, accused the assistant mayor and the senior quarterly of embezzling government property. Holy fools and blessed ones wandered around the city with impunity and predicted all sorts of disasters for the people. Some Mishka Vozgryavyi assured that he had a sleepy vision at night, in which a menacing man appeared to him in a cloud of bright clothes.

Finally, the Foolovites could not stand it any longer: led by their beloved citizen Puzanov, they lined up in a square in front of the public places and demanded the assistant mayor to the people's court, threatening otherwise to demolish both him and his house.

Anti-social elements rose to the top with terrifying speed. They were talking about impostors, about some Styopka, who, leading the freemen, just yesterday, in front of everyone, brought together two merchants' wives.

- Where did you put our father? - the crowd, angry to the point of fury, screamed when the assistant mayor appeared before him.

- Well done atamans! where can I get it for you if it’s locked with a key! - the official, overcome with trepidation, aroused by the events from administrative stupor, persuaded the crowd. At the same time, he secretly blinked at Baibakov, who, seeing this sign, immediately disappeared.

But the excitement did not subside.

- You're lying, saddle bag! - answered the crowd, - you deliberately clashed with the policeman in order to get our priest away from you!

And God knows how the general confusion would have been resolved if at that moment the ringing of a bell had not been heard and then a cart had not approached the rioters, in which the police captain was sitting, and next to him... the disappeared mayor!

He was wearing a Life Campaign uniform; his head was heavily stained with mud and beaten in several places. Despite this, he deftly jumped out of the cart and flashed his eyes at the crowd.

- I'll ruin it! - he thundered in such a deafening voice that everyone instantly fell silent.

The excitement was suppressed immediately; In this recently so menacingly buzzing crowd, such silence reigned that one could hear the buzzing of a mosquito that had flown in from a neighboring swamp to marvel at “this absurd and laughable Foolovian confusion.”

- Instigators, forward! - the mayor commanded, raising his voice more and more.

They began to select instigators from among the tax defaulters and had already recruited about a dozen people, when a new and completely outlandish circumstance gave the matter a completely different turn.

While the Foolovites were whispering sadly, remembering which of them had accumulated more arrears, the city governor's droshky, so familiar to the townsfolk, quietly drove up to the collector. Before the townsfolk had time to look around, Baibakov jumped out of the carriage, and after him, in the sight of the entire crowd, appeared exactly the same mayor as the one who, a minute before, had been brought in a cart by the police officer! The Foolovites were dumbfounded.

This other mayor's head was completely new and, moreover, covered with varnish. It seemed strange to some perspicacious citizens that the large birthmark that had been on the mayor’s right cheek a few days ago was now on his left.

The impostors met and measured each other with their eyes. The crowd dispersed slowly and silently. [The publisher considered it best to end the present story at this point, although the Chronicler supplements it with various explanations. So, for example, he says that the first mayor was wearing the same head that Winterhalter’s messenger threw out of the cart and which the police captain put on the body of the unknown lifeguard; the second mayor wore the same head, which Baibakov hastily corrected, on the orders of the assistant mayor, having mistakenly filled it with obsolete instructions instead of music. All these arguments are positively childish, and the only thing that remains certain is that both mayors were impostors. – Approx. publisher.]

Other characters

If the main characters are the mayors, the secondary ones are the people with whom they interact. The common people are shown as a collective image. The author generally portrays him as obedient to his ruler, ready to endure all oppression and various oddities of his power. Shown by the author as a faceless mass that rebels only when there is a massive death toll from hunger or fires around them.

And we also have:

for the most sociable -

The main characters of "The Story of a City"

for the busiest -

Reader's diary “The History of a City”

for the most curious -

Analysis “The History of a City” Saltykov-Shchedrin

for the coolest -

Read “The History of a City” in full

Summary

From the publisher

“The History of a City” tells about the city of Foolov and its history. The chapter “From the Publisher,” in the author’s voice, assures the reader that “The Chronicler” is genuine. He invites the reader to “catch the face of the city and follow how its history reflected the various changes that were simultaneously taking place in the highest spheres.” The author emphasizes that the plot of the story is monotonous, “almost exclusively limited to biographies of mayors.”

Appeal to the reader from the last archivist-chronicler

In this chapter, the author sets himself the task of conveying the “touching correspondence” of the city authorities, “to the extent of daring” to the people, “to the extent of giving thanks.” The archivist says that he will present to the reader the history of the reign of mayors in the city of Foolov, one after another succeeding in the highest post. The narrators, four local chroniclers, set out one by one the “true” events that took place in the city from 1731 to 1825.

About the roots of the origin of the Foolovites

This chapter tells about prehistoric times, about how the ancient tribe of bunglers won a victory over the neighboring tribes of bow-eaters, thick-eaters, walrus-eaters, frogs, scythe-bellies, etc. After the victory, the bunglers began to think about how to restore order in their new society, since things were not going well for them: either “they kneaded the Volga with oatmeal,” or “they dragged a calf to the bathhouse.” They decided that they needed a ruler. To this end, the bunglers went to look for a prince who would rule them. However, all the princes to whom they turned with this request refused, since no one wanted to rule stupid people. The princes, having “taught” with the rod, released the bunglers in peace and with “honor.” Desperate, they turned to the innovative thief, who managed to help find the prince. The prince agreed to manage them, but did not live with the bunglers - he sent an innovative thief as his governor.

Golovoyapov renamed it “Foolovtsy”, and the city accordingly began to be called Foolov. It was not at all difficult for the novotoro to manage the Foolovites: these people were distinguished by their obedience and unquestioning execution of the orders of the authorities. However, their ruler was not happy about this; the novotor wanted riots that could be pacified. The end of his reign was very sad: the innovative thief stole so much that the prince could not stand it and sent him a noose. But Novotor managed to get out of this situation: without waiting for the noose, he “stabbed himself to death with a cucumber.”

Then other rulers, sent by the prince, began to appear in Foolov one by one. All of them - Odoevets, Orlovets, Kalyazinians - turned out to be unscrupulous thieves, even worse than the innovator. The prince was tired of such events and personally came to the city shouting: “I’ll screw it up!” With this cry the countdown of “historical time” began.

Inventory to the mayors appointed at different times to the city of Glupov by the higher authorities (1731 - 1826)

This chapter lists Foolov's mayors by name and briefly mentions their “achievements.” It speaks of twenty-two rulers, each worse and more wonderful than the other. So, for example, about one of the city governors the document says: “22) Intercept-Zalikhvatsky, Archangel Stratilatovich, major. I won’t say anything about this. He rode into Foolov on a white horse, burned the gymnasium and abolished the sciences.”

Organ

The year 1762 was marked by the beginning of the reign of mayor Dementy Varlamovich Brudasty. The Foolovites were surprised that their new ruler was gloomy and did not say anything except two phrases: “I will not tolerate it!” and “I’ll ruin you!” They didn’t know what to think until Brudasty’s secret was revealed: his head was completely empty. The clerk accidentally saw a terrible thing: the mayor’s body, as usual, was sitting at the table, but his head was lying separately on the table. And there was nothing in it at all. The townspeople did not know what to do now. They remembered Baibakov, a master of watchmaking and organ making, who had recently come to Brudasty. After questioning Baibakov, the Foolovites found out that the mayor’s head was equipped with a musical organ that played only two pieces: “I won’t tolerate it!” and “I’ll ruin you!” The organ failed, having become damp on the road. The master was unable to fix it on his own, so he ordered a new head in St. Petersburg, but the order was delayed for some reason.

Anarchy set in, ending with the unexpected appearance of two absolutely identical impostor rulers at the same time. They saw each other, “measured each other with their eyes,” and the residents who watched this scene silently and slowly dispersed. A messenger who arrived from the province took both “mayors” with him, and anarchy began in Foolov, which lasted a whole week.

The Tale of the Six Mayors (Picture of Foolov's civil strife)

This time was very eventful in the sphere of city government: the city experienced as many as six mayors. Residents watched the struggle of Iraida Lukinichna Paleologova, Klemantinka de Bourbon, Amalia Karlovna Shtokfish. The first insisted that she was worthy of being a mayor because her husband was engaged in mayoral activities for some time, the second’s father was engaged in mayor’s work, the third was once a mayor herself. In addition to those named, Nelka Lyadokhovskaya, Dunka the Thick-Footed and Matryonka the Nostril also laid claim to power. The latter had no grounds at all to claim the role of mayors. Serious battles broke out in the city. The Foolovites drowned and threw their fellow citizens from the bell tower. The city is tired of anarchy. And then finally a new mayor appeared - Semyon Konstantinovich Dvoekurov.

News about Dvoekurov

The newly-minted ruler Dvoekurov ruled Foolov for eight years. He is noted as a man of progressive views. Dvoekurov developed activities that became beneficial for the city. Under him, they began to engage in honey and beer brewing, and he ordered that mustard and bay leaves be consumed in food. His intentions included the establishment of the Foolov Academy.

Hungry City

The reign of Dvoekurov was replaced by Pyotr Petrovich Ferdyshchenko. The city lived for six years in prosperity and prosperity. But in the seventh year, the city governor fell in love with Alena Osipova, the wife of the coachman Mitka. However, Alenka did not share Pyotr Petrovich’s feelings. Ferdyshchenko took all sorts of actions to make Alenka fall in love with him, even sent Mitka to Siberia. Alenka became receptive to the mayor’s advances.

A drought began in Foolov, and after it hunger and human deaths began. The Foolovites lost patience and sent an envoy to Ferdyshchenko, but the walker did not return. The submitted petition also did not find an answer. Then the residents rebelled and threw Alenka from the bell tower. A company of soldiers came to the city to suppress the riot.

Straw City

Pyotr Petrovich’s next love interest was the archer Domashka, whom he recaptured from the “optists.” Along with new love, fires caused by drought came to the city. Pushkarskaya Sloboda burned down, then Bolotnaya and Negodnitsa. The Foolovites accused Ferdyshchenko of a new misfortune.

Fantastic traveler

Ferdyshchenko’s new stupidity hardly brought a new misfortune to the townspeople: he went on a journey through the city pasture, forcing the residents to give themselves food supplies. The journey ended three days later with the death of Ferdyshchenko from gluttony. The Foolovites were afraid that they would be accused of deliberately “fostering the foreman.” However, a week later, the townspeople’s fears dissipated: a new mayor arrived from the province. The decisive and active Wartkin marked the beginning of the “golden age of Foolov.” People began to live in complete abundance.

Wars for enlightenment

Vasilisk Semyonovich Borodavkin, the new mayor of Foolov, studied the history of the city and decided that the only previous ruler worth emulating was Dvoyekurov, and what struck him was not even the fact that his predecessor paved the streets of the city and collected arrears, but the fact that they sowed under him mustard. Unfortunately, people have already forgotten it and even stopped sowing this crop. Wartkin decided to remember the old days, resume sowing mustard and eating it. But the residents stubbornly did not want to return to the past. The Foolovites rebelled on their knees. They were afraid that if they obeyed Wartkin, in the future he would force them “to eat any more abomination.” The mayor undertook a military campaign against Streletskaya Sloboda, “the source of all evil,” to suppress the rebellion. The campaign lasted nine days and it is difficult to call it completely successful. In absolute darkness, they fought with their own. The mayor suffered betrayal from his supporters: one morning he discovered that a large number of soldiers had been fired and replaced by tin soldiers, citing a certain resolution. However, the city governor managed to survive, organizing a reserve of tin soldiers. He reached the settlement, but found no one there. Wartkin began to dismantle houses log by log, which forced the settlement to surrender. The future brought three more wars, which were also fought for “enlightenment.” The first of three subsequent wars was fought to educate the city residents about the benefits of stone foundations for houses, the second was due to the residents’ refusal to grow Persian chamomile, and the third was against the establishment of an academy in the city. The result of Wartkin's reign was the impoverishment of the city. The mayor died at the moment when he once again decided to burn the city.

The era of retirement from wars

In short, subsequent events look like this: the city finally became impoverished under the next ruler, Captain Negodyaev, who replaced Wartkin. The scoundrels were very soon fired for disagreeing with the imposition of the constitution. However, the chronicler considered this reason to be formal. The real reason was the fact that the mayor at one time served as a stoker, which to a certain extent was regarded as belonging to the democratic principle. And wars for and against enlightenment were not needed by the battle-weary city. After the dismissal of Negodyaev, “Circassian” Mikeladze took the reins of government into his own hands. However, his reign did not in any way affect the situation in the city: the mayor was not concerned with Foolov at all, since all his thoughts were connected exclusively with the fair sex.

Benevolensky Feofilakt Irinarkhovich became Mikeladze's successor. Speransky was a friend from the seminary of the new city governor, and from him, obviously, Benevolensky passed on his love for legislation. He wrote the following laws: “Let every man have a contrite heart,” “Let every soul tremble,” and “Let every cricket know the pole corresponding to its rank.” However, Benevolensky did not have the right to write laws; he was forced to publish them secretly, and scatter his works around the city at night. This did not last long: he was suspected of having connections with Napoleon and was fired.

Lieutenant Colonel Pyshch was appointed next. What was surprising was that under him the city lived in abundance, huge harvests were harvested, despite the fact that the mayor was not at all concerned with his direct responsibilities. The townspeople again suspected something. And they were right in their suspicions: the leader of the nobility noticed that the mayor’s head exuded the smell of truffles. He attacked Pimple and ate the ruler's stuffed head.

Worship of Mammon and repentance

In Foolov, a successor to the eaten Pimple appeared - State Councilor Ivanov. However, he soon died, since “he turned out to be so small in stature that he could not contain anything spacious.”

He was succeeded by the Viscount de Chariot. This ruler did not know how to do anything except have fun all the time and organize masquerades. He “didn’t do business and didn’t interfere in the administration. This last circumstance promised to prolong the well-being of the Foolovites endlessly...” But the emigrant, who allowed the residents to convert to paganism, was ordered to be sent abroad. Interestingly, he turned out to be a special female.

The next to appear in Foolov was State Councilor Erast Andreevich Grustilov. By the time of his appearance, the inhabitants of the city had already become absolute idolaters. They forgot God, plunging into debauchery and laziness. They stopped working, sowing fields, hoping for some kind of happiness, and as a result, famine came to the city. Grustilov cared very little about this situation, since he was busy with balls. However, changes soon occurred. The wife of the pharmacist Pfeier influenced Grustilov, showing the true path of good. And the main people in the city became the wretched and holy fools, who, in the era of idolatry, found themselves on the sidelines of life.

The residents of Foolov repented of their sins, but that was the end of the matter - the Foolovites never started working. At night, the city elite gathered to read the works of Mr. Strakhov. This soon became known to the higher authorities and Grustilov had to say goodbye to the position of mayor.

Confirmation of repentance. Conclusion

The last mayor of Foolov was Ugryum-Burcheev. This man was a complete idiot: “the purest type of idiot,” as the author writes. For himself, he set the only goal - to make the city of Nepreklonsk from the city of Glupov, “eternally worthy of the memory of the Grand Duke Svyatoslav Igorevich.” Nepreklonsk should have looked like this: city streets should be identically straight, houses and buildings should also be identical to each other, people too. Each house should become a “settled unit”, which will be watched by him, Ugryum-Burcheev, a spy. The townspeople called him “Satan” and felt a vague fear of their ruler. As it turned out, this was not unfounded: the mayor developed a detailed plan and began to implement it. He destroyed the city, leaving no stone unturned. Now came the task of building the city of his dreams. But the river disrupted these plans, it got in the way. Gloomy-Burcheev started a real war with her, using all the garbage that was left as a result of the destruction of the city. However, the river did not give up, washing away all the dams and dams being built. Gloomy-Burcheev turned around and, leading the people behind him, walked away from the river. He chose a new place to build the city - a flat lowland, and began to build the city of his dreams. However, something went wrong. Unfortunately, it was not possible to find out what exactly prevented the construction, since records with the details of this story have not been preserved. The denouement became known: “...time stopped running. Finally the earth shook, the sun darkened... the Foolovites fell on their faces. An inscrutable horror appeared on all faces and gripped all hearts. It has arrived...” What exactly came remains unknown to the reader. However, the fate of Ugryum-Burcheev is as follows: “the scoundrel instantly disappeared, as if he had disappeared into thin air. History has stopped flowing."

Supporting documents

At the end of the story, “Exculpatory Documents” are published, which are the works of Wartkin, Mikeladze and Benevolensky, written for the edification of other mayors.

ORGANIC 1

In August 1762, an unusual movement took place in the city of Fulpovo on the occasion of the arrival of the new mayor, Dementy Varlamovich Brudasty. The residents rejoiced; Even before they had even laid eyes on the newly appointed ruler, they were already telling jokes about him and calling him “handsome” and “clever.” They congratulated each other with joy, kissed, shed tears, entered taverns, left them again, and entered again. In a fit of delight, the old Foolovian liberties were also remembered. The best citizens gathered in front of the cathedral bell tower and, forming a nationwide assembly, shook the air with exclamations: our father! our handsome guy! our clever girl! Even dangerous dreamers appeared. Guided not so much by reason as by the movements of a grateful heart, they argued that under the new mayor trade would flourish, and that, under the supervision of quarterly overseers, sciences and arts would emerge. We couldn't resist making comparisons. They remembered the old mayor who had just left the city, and found that although he, too, was handsome and smart, but that, for all that, the new ruler should be given preference for the sole reason that he was new. In a word, in this case, as in other similar ones, both the usual Foolovian enthusiasm and the usual Foolovian frivolity were fully expressed. Meanwhile, the new mayor turned out to be silent and gloomy. He galloped to Foolov, as they say, at full speed (there was such time that not a single minute could be lost), and barely broke into the city pasture when right there, at the very border, he crossed a lot of coachmen. But even this circumstance did not cool the enthusiasm of the townsfolk, because their minds were still full of memories of the recent victories over the Turks, and everyone hoped that the new mayor would take the Khotyn fortress by storm for the second time. Soon, however, the townsfolk became convinced that their rejoicings and hopes were, at least, premature and exaggerated. The usual reception took place, and here for the first time in their lives the Foolovites had to experience in practice what bitter tests the most stubborn love of authority could be subjected to. Everything at this reception happened somehow mysteriously. The mayor silently walked around the ranks of the official archistratigs, flashed his eyes, and said: “I will not tolerate it!” - and disappeared into the office. The officials were dumbfounded; Behind them, the townsfolk also stood dumbfounded. Despite their insurmountable firmness, the Foolovites are a pampered people and extremely spoiled. They love for the boss to have a friendly smile on his face, for friendly jokes to come from his mouth from time to time, and they are perplexed when these lips only snort or make mysterious sounds. The boss can carry out all sorts of activities, he may even not carry out any activities, but if he does not scribble at the same time, then his name will never become popular. There were truly wise mayors, those who were not alien even to the thought of establishing an academy in Foolov (such, for example, as civilian adviser Dvoekurov, listed in the “inventory” at No. 9), but since they did not call the Foolovites either “brothers” or “robots,” then their names remained in oblivion. On the contrary, there were others, although not that they were very stupid - there were no such things - but those who did average things, that is, flogged and collected arrears, but since they always said something kind, their names were not only listed on tablets, but even served as the subject of a wide variety of oral legends.