"The experience of ages has shown that a man who works on the land is purer, nobler, higher, and more moral... Agriculture should be at the basis of everything. That's my idea"
About this Quote
Gogol’s rustic piety lands with the force of a sermon and the slyness of a man who knows he’s preaching to the wrong crowd. When he declares the worker of the land “purer, nobler, higher,” he isn’t just praising peasants; he’s staging an indictment of everyone who isn’t one. The city becomes a moral solvent, bureaucracy a kind of spiritual mildew, and art itself a suspicious luxury unless it can be yoked to “basis,” to dirt, to usefulness.
It’s also a rhetorical costume change. Gogol, the great anatomist of petty officials and status obsession, reaches here for the language of “the experience of ages,” a phrase that tries to smuggle ideology in as common sense. He’s invoking tradition as evidence, turning a preference into a verdict. The absolutism is the point: “Agriculture should be at the basis of everything” doesn’t argue, it orders. And that closing tag - “That’s my idea” - plays like false modesty, the wink of an author presenting a private conviction that conveniently aligns with a national myth.
Context sharpens the edge. Mid-19th-century Russia was still built on serf labor; “the land” was not a pastoral lifestyle brand but a system of coercion. Idealizing agricultural virtue can read as a way to sanctify the social hierarchy that keeps peasants in place while elites harvest the moral credit. Coming from a writer whose work skewers institutional rot, the line feels like a nervous pivot: disgust with modernity recast as a yearning for purity, even if that purity is partly imagined.
It’s also a rhetorical costume change. Gogol, the great anatomist of petty officials and status obsession, reaches here for the language of “the experience of ages,” a phrase that tries to smuggle ideology in as common sense. He’s invoking tradition as evidence, turning a preference into a verdict. The absolutism is the point: “Agriculture should be at the basis of everything” doesn’t argue, it orders. And that closing tag - “That’s my idea” - plays like false modesty, the wink of an author presenting a private conviction that conveniently aligns with a national myth.
Context sharpens the edge. Mid-19th-century Russia was still built on serf labor; “the land” was not a pastoral lifestyle brand but a system of coercion. Idealizing agricultural virtue can read as a way to sanctify the social hierarchy that keeps peasants in place while elites harvest the moral credit. Coming from a writer whose work skewers institutional rot, the line feels like a nervous pivot: disgust with modernity recast as a yearning for purity, even if that purity is partly imagined.
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| Topic | Nature |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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