The Inspector-General (2 page)

During this period he kept up his literary activity uninterruptedly, and
in 1835 published his collection of stories, Mirgorod, containing
How Ivan Ivanovich Quarreled with Ivan Nikiforovich, Taras Bulba, and
others. This collection firmly established his position as a leading
author. At the same time he was at work on several plays. The Vladimir
Cross, which was to deal with the higher St. Petersburg functionaries
in the same way as the Revizor with the lesser town officials, was never
concluded, as Gogol realized the impossibility of placing them on the
Russian stage. A few strong scenes were published. The comedy Marriage,
finished in 1835, still finds a place in the Russian theatrical
repertoire. The Gamblers, his only other complete comedy, belongs to a
later period.

After a stay abroad, chiefly in Italy, lasting with some interruptions
for seven years (1836-1841), he returned to his native country, bringing
with him the first part of his greatest work, Dead Souls. The novel,
published the following year, produced a profound impression and made
Gogol's literary reputation supreme. Pushkin, who did not live to see
its publication, on hearing the first chapters read, exclaimed, "God,
how sad our Russia is!" And Alexander Hertzen characterized it as
"a wonderful book, a bitter, but not hopeless rebuke of contemporary
Russia." Aksakov went so far as to call it the Russian national epic,
and Gogol the Russian Homer.

Unfortunately the novel remained incomplete. Gogol began to suffer
from a nervous illness which induced extreme hypochondria. He became
excessively religious, fell under the influence of pietists and a
fanatical priest, sank more and more into mysticism, and went on a
pilgrimage to Jerusalem to worship at the Holy Sepulchre. In this
state of mind he came to consider all literature, including his own, as
pernicious and sinful.

After burning the manuscript of the second part of Dead Souls, he began
to rewrite it, had it completed and ready for the press by 1851, but
kept the copy and burned it again a few days before his death (1852), so
that it is extant only in parts.

Thomas Seltzer.

ANTON ANTONOVICH SKVOZNIK-DMUKHANOVSKY, the
Governor.
ANNA ANDREYEVNA, his wife.
MARYA ANTONOVNA, his daughter.
LUKA LUKICH KHLOPOV, the Inspector of Schools.
His Wife.
AMMOS FIODOROVICH LIAPKIN-TIAPKIN, the Judge.
ARTEMY FILIPPOVICH ZEMLIANIKA, the Superintendent of
Charities.
IVAN KUZMICH SHPEKIN, the Postmaster.
PIOTR IVANOVICH DOBCHINSKY,
and PIOTR IVANOVICH BOBCHINSKY, Country Squires.
IVAN ALEKSANDROVICH KHLESTAKOV, an official from St.
Petersburg.
OSIP, his servant.
CHRISTIAN IVANOVICH HÜBNER, the district Doctor.

FIODR ANDREYEVICH LULIUKOV,
IVAN LAZAREVICH RASTAKOVSKY,
and STEPAN IVANOVICH KOROBKIN, ex-officials, esteemed personages of the town.
STEPAN ILYICH UKHOVERTOV, the Police Captain.
SVISTUNOV,
PUGOVITZYN,
and DERZHIMORDA, Police Sergeants.
ABDULIN, a Merchant.
FEVRONYA PETROVA POSHLIOPKINA, the Locksmith's wife.
The Widow of a non-commissioned Officer.
MISHKA, the Governor's Servant.
Servant at the Inn.
Guests, Merchants, Citizens, and Petitioners.

THE GOVERNOR.—A man grown old in the service, by no means a fool in his
own way. Though he takes bribes, he carries himself with dignity. He is
of a rather serious turn and even given somewhat to ratiocination. He
speaks in a voice neither too loud nor too low and says neither too much
nor too little. Every word of his counts. He has the typical hard stern
features of the official who has worked his way up from the lowest rank
in the arduous government service. Coarse in his inclinations, he passes
rapidly from fear to joy, from servility to arrogance. He is dressed in
uniform with frogs and wears Hessian boots with spurs. His hair with a
sprinkling of gray is close-cropped.

ANNA ANDREYEVNA.—A provincial coquette, still this side of middle age,
educated on novels and albums and on fussing with household affairs and
servants. She is highly inquisitive and has streaks of vanity. Sometimes
she gets the upper hand over her husband, and he gives in simply because
at the moment he cannot find the right thing to say. Her ascendency,
however, is confined to mere trifles and takes the form of lecturing and
twitting. She changes her dress four times in the course of the play.

KHLESTAKOV.—A skinny young man of about twenty-three, rather stupid,
being, as they say, "without a czar in his head," one of those persons
called an "empty vessel" in the government offices. He speaks and acts
without stopping to think and utterly lacks the power of concentration.
The words burst from his mouth unexpectedly. The more naiveté
and ingenousness the actor puts into the character the better will he
sustain the role. Khlestakov is dressed in the latest fashion.

OSIP.—A typical middle-aged servant, grave in his address, with eyes
always a bit lowered. He is argumentative and loves to read sermons
directed at his master. His voice is usually monotonous. To his master
his tone is blunt and sharp, with even a touch of rudeness. He is the
cleverer of the two and grasps a situation more quickly. But he does not
like to talk. He is a silent, uncommunicative rascal. He wears a shabby
gray or blue coat.

BOBCHINSKY AND DOBCHINSKY.—Short little fellows, strikingly like
each other. Both have small paunches, and talk rapidly, with emphatic
gestures of their hands, features and bodies. Dobchinsky is slightly
the taller and more subdued in manner. Bobchinsky is freer, easier and
livelier. They are both exceedingly inquisitive.

LIAPKIN-TIAPKIN.—He has read four or five books and so is a bit of
a freethinker. He is always seeing a hidden meaning in things and
therefore puts weight into every word he utters. The actor should
preserve an expression of importance throughout. He speaks in a bass
voice, with a prolonged rattle and wheeze in his throat, like an
old-fashioned clock, which buzzes before it strikes.

ZEMLIANIKA.—Very fat, slow and awkward; but for all that a sly, cunning
scoundrel. He is very obliging and officious.

SHPEKIN.—Guileless to the point of simplemindedness. The other
characters require no special explanation, as their originals can be met
almost anywhere.

The actors should pay especial attention to the last scene. The last
word uttered must strike all at once, suddenly, like an electric shock.
The whole group should change its position at the same instant. The
ladies must all burst into a simultaneous cry of astonishment, as if
with one throat. The neglect of these directions may ruin the whole
effect.

A Room in the Governor's House.

Anton Antonovich, the Governor, Artemy Filippovich, the Superintendent
of Charities, Luka Lukich, the Inspector of Schools, Ammos Fiodorovich,
the Judge, Stepan Ilyich, Christian Ivanovich, the Doctor, and two
Police Sergeants.

GOVERNOR. I have called you together, gentlemen, to tell you an
unpleasant piece of news. An Inspector-General is coming.

AMMOS FIOD. What, an Inspector-General?

ARTEMY FIL. What, an Inspector-General?

GOVERNOR. Yes, an Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And with
secret instructions, too.

AMMOS. A pretty how-do-you-do!

ARTEMY. As if we hadn't enough trouble without an Inspector!

LUKA LUKICH. Good Lord! With secret instructions!

GOVERNOR. I had a sort of presentiment of it. Last night I kept dreaming
of two rats—regular monsters! Upon my word, I never saw the likes of
them—black and supernaturally big. They came in, sniffed, and then went
away.—Here's a letter I'll read to you—from Andrey Ivanovich. You
know him, Artemy Filippovich. Listen to what he writes: "My dear
friend, godfather and benefactor—
(He mumbles, glancing rapidly down the
page.)
—and to let you know"—Ah, that's it—"I hasten to let you know,
among other things, that an official has arrived here with instructions
to inspect the whole government, and your district especially.
(Raises
his finger significantly.)
I have learned of his being here from highly
trustworthy sources, though he pretends to be a private person. So, as
you have your little peccadilloes, you know, like everybody else—you
are a sensible man, and you don't let the good things that come your
way slip by—"
(Stopping)
H'm, that's his junk—"I advise you to take
precautions, as he may arrive any hour, if he hasn't already, and is not
staying somewhere incognito.—Yesterday—" The rest are family matters.
"Sister Anna Krillovna is here visiting us with her husband. Ivan
Krillovich has grown very fat and is always playing the fiddle"—et
cetera, et cetera. So there you have the situation we are confronted
with, gentlemen.

AMMOS. An extraordinary situation, most extraordinary! Something behind
it, I am sure.

LUKA. But why, Anton Antonovich? What for? Why should we have an
Inspector?

GOVERNOR. It's fate, I suppose.
(Sighs.)
Till now, thank goodness, they
have been nosing about in other towns. Now our turn has come.

AMMOS. My opinion is, Anton Antonovich, that the cause is a deep one
and rather political in character. It means this, that Russia—yes—that
Russia intends to go to war, and the Government has secretly
commissioned an official to find out if there is any treasonable
activity anywhere.

GOVERNOR. The wise man has hit on the very thing. Treason in this little
country town! As if it were on the frontier! Why, you might gallop three
years away from here and reach nowhere.

AMMOS. No, you don't catch on—you don't—The Government is shrewd. It
makes no difference that our town is so remote. The Government is on the
look-out all the same—

GOVERNOR
(cutting him short)
. On the look-out, or not on the look-out,
anyhow, gentlemen, I have given you warning. I have made some
arrangements for myself, and I advise you to do the same. You
especially, Artemy Filippovich. This official, no doubt, will want first
of all to inspect your department. So you had better see to it that
everything is in order, that the night-caps are clean, and the patients
don't go about as they usually do, looking as grimy as blacksmiths.

ARTEMY. Oh, that's a small matter. We can get night-caps easily enough.

GOVERNOR. And over each bed you might hang up a placard stating in Latin
or some other language—that's your end of it, Christian Ivanovich—the
name of the disease, when the patient fell ill, the day of the week
and the month. And I don't like your invalids to be smoking such strong
tobacco. It makes you sneeze when you come in. It would be better, too,
if there weren't so many of them. If there are a large number, it
will instantly be ascribed to bad supervision or incompetent medical
treatment.

ARTEMY. Oh, as to treatment, Christian Ivanovich and I have worked out
our own system. Our rule is: the nearer to nature the better. We use
no expensive medicines. A man is a simple affair. If he dies, he'd die
anyway. If he gets well, he'd get well anyway. Besides, the doctor would
have a hard time making the patients understand him. He doesn't know a
word of Russian.

The Doctor gives forth a sound intermediate between M and A.

GOVERNOR. And you, Ammos Fiodorovich, had better look to the courthouse.
The attendants have turned the entrance hall where the petitioners
usually wait into a poultry yard, and the geese and goslings go poking
their beaks between people's legs. Of course, setting up housekeeping is
commendable, and there is no reason why a porter shouldn't do it. Only,
you see, the courthouse is not exactly the place for it. I had meant to
tell you so before, but somehow it escaped my memory.

AMMOS. Well, I'll have them all taken into the kitchen to-day. Will you
come and dine with me?

GOVERNOR. Then, too, it isn't right to have the courtroom littered up
with all sorts of rubbish—to have a hunting-crop lying right among the
papers on your desk. You're fond of sport, I know, still it's better to
have the crop removed for the present. When the Inspector is gone, you
may put it back again. As for your assessor, he's an educated man, to
be sure, but he reeks of spirits, as if he had just emerged from a
distillery. That's not right either. I had meant to tell you so long
ago, but something or other drove the thing out of my mind. If his
odor is really a congenital defect, as he says, then there are ways of
remedying it. You might advise him to eat onion or garlic, or something
of the sort. Christian Ivanovich can help him out with some of his
nostrums.

The Doctor makes the same sound as before.

AMMOS. No, there's no cure for it. He says his nurse struck him when he
was a child, and ever since he has smelt of vodka.

GOVERNOR. Well, I just wanted to call your attention to it. As regards
the internal administration and what Andrey Ivanovich in his letter
calls "little peccadilloes," I have nothing to say. Why, of course,
there isn't a man living who hasn't some sins to answer for. That's the
way God made the world, and the Voltairean freethinkers can talk against
it all they like, it won't do any good.

AMMOS. What do you mean by sins? Anton Antonovich? There are sins and
sins. I tell everyone plainly that I take bribes. I make no bones about
it. But what kind of bribes? White greyhound puppies. That's quite a
different matter.

GOVERNOR. H'm. Bribes are bribes, whether puppies or anything else.

AMMOS. Oh, no, Anton Antonovich. But if one has a fur overcoat worth
five hundred rubles, and one's wife a shawl—

GOVERNOR.
(testily)
. And supposing greyhound puppies are the only bribes
you take? You're an atheist, you never go to church, while I at least am
a firm believer and go to church every Sunday. You—oh, I know you. When
you begin to talk about the Creation it makes my flesh creep.