The Inspector-General (3 page)

AMMOS. Well, it's a conclusion I've reasoned out with my own brain.

GOVERNOR. Too much brain is sometimes worse than none at all.—However,
I merely mentioned the courthouse. I dare say nobody will ever look at
it. It's an enviable place. God Almighty Himself seems to watch over it.
But you, Luka Lukich, as inspector of schools, ought to have an eye on
the teachers. They are very learned gentlemen, no doubt, with a college
education, but they have funny habits—inseparable from the profession,
I know. One of them, for instance, the man with the fat face—I forget
his name—is sure, the moment he takes his chair, to screw up his face
like this.
(Imitates him.)
And then he has a trick of sticking his hand
under his necktie and smoothing down his beard. It doesn't matter, of
course, if he makes a face at the pupils; perhaps it's even necessary.
I'm no judge of that. But you yourself will admit that if he does it to
a visitor, it may turn out very badly. The Inspector, or anyone else,
might take it as meant for himself, and then the deuce knows what might
come of it.

LUKA. But what can I do? I have told him about it time and again. Only
the other day when the marshal of the nobility came into the class-room,
he made such a face at him as I had never in my life seen before. I
dare say it was with the best intentions; But I get reprimanded for
permitting radical ideas to be instilled in the minds of the young.

GOVERNOR. And then I must call your attention to the history teacher. He
has a lot of learning in his head and a store of facts. That's evident.
But he lectures with such ardor that he quite forgets himself. Once
I listened to him. As long as he was talking about the Assyrians
and Babylonians, it was not so bad. But when he reached Alexander of
Macedon, I can't describe what came over him. Upon my word, I thought a
fire had broken out. He jumped down from the platform, picked up a chair
and dashed it to the floor. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, it is true.
But that's no reason for breaking chairs. The state must bear the cost.

LUKA. Yes, he is a hot one. I have spoken to him about it several times.
He only says: "As you please, but in the cause of learning I will even
sacrifice my life."

GOVERNOR. Yes, it's a mysterious law of fate. Your clever man is either
a drunkard, or he makes such grimaces that you feel like running away.

LUKA. Ah, Heaven save us from being in the educational department! One's
afraid of everything. Everybody meddles and wants to show that he is as
clever as you.

GOVERNOR. Oh, that's nothing. But this cursed incognito! All of a sudden
he'll look in: "Ah, so you're here, my dear fellows! And who's the judge
here?" says he. "Liapkin-Tiapkin." "Bring Liapkin-Tiapkin here.—And who
is the Superintendent of Charities?" "Zemlianika."—"Bring Zemlianika
here!"—That's what's bad.

Enter Ivan Kuzmich, the Postmaster.

POSTMASTER. Tell me, gentlemen, who's coming? What chinovnik?

GOVERNOR. What, haven't you heard?

POSTMASTER. Bobchinsky told me. He was at the postoffice just now.

GOVERNOR. Well, what do you think of it?

POSTMASTER. What do I think of it? Why, there'll be a war with the
Turks.

AMMOS. Exactly. Just what I thought.

GOVERNOR
(sarcastically)
. Yes, you've both hit in the air precisely.

POSTMASTER. It's war with the Turks for sure, all fomented by the
French.

GOVERNOR. Nonsense! War with the Turks indeed. It's we who are going to
get it, not the Turks. You may count on that. Here's a letter to prove
it.

POSTMASTER. In that case, then, we won't go to war with the Turks.

GOVERNOR. Well, how do you feel about it, Ivan Kuzmich?

POSTMASTER. How do I feel? How do YOU feel about it, Anton Antonovich?

GOVERNOR. I? Well, I'm not afraid, but I just feel a little—you
know—The merchants and townspeople bother me. I seem to be unpopular
with them. But the Lord knows if I've taken from some I've done it
without a trace of ill-feeling. I even suspect—
(Takes him by the
arm and walks aside with him.)
—I even suspect that I may have been
denounced. Or why would they send an Inspector to us? Look here, Ivan
Kuzmich, don't you think you could—ahem!—just open a little every
letter that passes through your office and read it—for the common
benefit of us all, you know—to see if it contains any kind of
information against me, or is only ordinary correspondence. If it is all
right, you can seal it up again, or simply deliver the letter opened.

POSTMASTER. Oh, I know. You needn't teach me that. I do it not so much
as a precaution as out of curiosity. I just itch to know what's doing in
the world. And it's very interesting reading, I tell you. Some letters
are fascinating—parts of them written grand—more edifying than the
Moscow Gazette.

GOVERNOR. Tell me, then, have you read anything about any official from
St. Petersburg?

POSTMASTER. No, nothing about a St. Petersburg official, but plenty
about Kostroma and Saratov ones. A pity you don't read the letters.
There are some very fine passages in them. For instance, not long ago a
lieutenant writes to a friend describing a ball very wittily.—Splendid!
"Dear friend," he says, "I live in the regions of the Empyrean, lots of
girls, bands playing, flags flying." He's put a lot of feeling into his
description, a whole lot. I've kept the letter on purpose. Would you
like to read it?

GOVERNOR. No, this is no time for such things. But please, Ivan Kuzmich,
do me the favor, if ever you chance upon a complaint or denunciation,
don't hesitate a moment, hold it back.

POSTMASTER. I will, with the greatest pleasure.

AMMOS. You had better be careful. You may get yourself into trouble.

POSTMASTER. Goodness me!

GOVERNOR. Never mind, never mind. Of course, it would be different if
you published it broadcast. But it's a private affair, just between us.

AMMOS. Yes, it's a bad business—I really came here to make you a
present of a puppy, sister to the dog you know about. I suppose you have
heard that Cheptovich and Varkhovinsky have started a suit. So now I
live in clover. I hunt hares first on the one's estate, then on the
other's.

GOVERNOR. I don't care about your hares now, my good friend. That cursed
incognito is on my brain. Any moment the door may open and in walk—

Enter Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, out of breath.

BOBCHINSKY. What an extraordinary occurrence!

DOBCHINSKY. An unexpected piece of news!

ALL. What is it? What is it?

DOBCHINSKY. Something quite unforeseen. We were about to enter the inn—

BOBCHINSKY
(interrupting)
. Yes, Piotr Ivanovich and I were entering the
inn—

DOBCHINSKY
(interrupting)
. Please, Piotr Ivanovich, let me tell.

BOBCHINSKY. No, please, let me—let me. You can't. You haven't got the
style for it.

DOBCHINSKY. Oh, but you'll get mixed up and won't remember everything.

BOBCHINSKY. Yes, I will, upon my word, I will. PLEASE don't interrupt!
Do let me tell the news—don't interrupt! Pray, oblige me, gentlemen,
and tell Dobchinsky not to interrupt.

GOVERNOR. Speak, for Heaven's sake! What is it? My heart is in my mouth!
Sit down, gentlemen, take seats. Piotr Ivanovich, here's a chair for
you.
(All seat themselves around Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky.)
Well, now,
what is it? What is it?

BOBCHINSKY. Permit me, permit me. I'll tell it all just as it happened.
As soon as I had the pleasure of taking leave of you after you were good
enough to be bothered with the letter which you had received, sir, I ran
out—now, please don't keep interrupting, Dobchinsky. I know all about
it, all, I tell you.—So I ran out to see Korobkin. But not finding
Korobkin at home, I went off to Rastakovsky, and not seeing him, I went
to Ivan Kuzmich to tell him of the news you'd got. Going on from there I
met Dobchinsky—

DOBCHINSKY
(interjecting)
. At the stall where they sell pies—

BOBCHINSKY. At the stall where they sell pies. Well, I met Dobchinsky
and I said to him: "Have you heard the news that came to Anton
Antonovich in a letter which is absolutely reliable?" But Piotr
Ivanovich had already heard of it from your housekeeper, Avdotya, who, I
don't know why, had been sent to Filipp Antonovich Pachechuyev—

DOBCHINSKY
(interrupting)
. To get a little keg for French brandy.

BOBCHINSKY. Yes, to get a little keg for French brandy. So then I went
with Dobchinsky to Pachechuyev's.—Will you stop, Piotr Ivanovich?
Please don't interrupt.—So off we went to Pachechuyev's, and on the
way Dobchinsky said: "Let's go to the inn," he said. "I haven't eaten a
thing since morning. My stomach is growling." Yes, sir, his stomach was
growling. "They've just got in a supply of fresh salmon at the inn," he
said. "Let's take a bite." We had hardly entered the inn when we saw a
young man—

DOBCHINSKY
(Interrupting)
. Of rather good appearance and dressed in
ordinary citizen's clothes.

BOBCHINSKY. Yes, of rather good appearance and dressed in citizen's
clothes—walking up and down the room. There was something out of the
usual about his face, you know, something deep—and a manner about
him—and here
(raises his hand to his forehead and turns it around
several times)
full, full of everything. I had a sort of feeling, and I
said to Dobchinsky, "Something's up. This is no ordinary matter."
Yes, and Dobchinsky beckoned to the landlord, Vlas, the innkeeper,
you know,—three weeks ago his wife presented him with a baby—a
bouncer—he'll grow up just like his father and keep a tavern.—Well,
we beckoned to Vlas, and Dobchinsky asked him on the quiet, "Who," he
asked, "is that young man?" "That young man," Vlas replied, "that young
man"—Oh, don't interrupt, Piotr Ivanovich, please don't interrupt. You
can't tell the story. Upon my word, you can't. You lisp and one tooth in
your mouth makes you whistle. I know what I'm saying. "That young man,"
he said, "is an official."—Yes, sir.—"On his way from St. Petersburg.
And his name," he said, "is Ivan Aleksandrovich Khlestakov, and he's
going," he said "to the government of Saratov," he said. "And he acts
so queerly. It's the second week he's been here and he's never left the
house; and he won't pay a penny, takes everything on account." When
Vlas told me that, a light dawned on me from above, and I said to Piotr
Ivanovich, "Hey!"—

DOBCHINSKY. No, Piotr Ivanovich, I said "HEY!"

BOBCHINSKY. Well first YOU said it, then I did. "Hey!" said both of us,
"And why does he stick here if he's going to Saratov?"—Yes, sir, that's
he, the official.

GOVERNOR. Who? What official?

BOBCHINSKY. Why, the official who you were notified was coming, the
Inspector.

GOVERNOR
(terrified)
. Great God! What's that you're saying. It can't be
he.

DOBCHINSKY. It is, though. Why, he doesn't pay his bills and he doesn't
leave. Who else can it be? And his postchaise is ordered for Saratov.

BOBCHINSKY. It's he, it's he, it's he—why, he's so alert, he
scrutinized everything. He saw that Dobchinsky and I were eating
salmon—chiefly on account of Dobchinsky's stomach—and he looked at our
plates so hard that I was frightened to death.

GOVERNOR. The Lord have mercy on us sinners! In what room is he staying?

DOBCHINSKY. Room number 5 near the stairway.

BOBCHINSKY. In the same room that the officers quarreled in when they
passed through here last year.

GOVERNOR. How long has he been here?

DOBCHINSKY. Two weeks. He came on St. Vasili's day.

GOVERNOR. Two weeks!
(Aside.)
Holy Fathers and saints preserve me! In
those two weeks I have flogged the wife of a non-commissioned officer,
the prisoners were not given their rations, the streets are dirty as a
pothouse—a scandal, a disgrace!
(Clutches his head with both hands.)

ARTEMY. What do you think, Anton Antonovich, hadn't we better go in
state to the inn?

AMMOS. No, no. First send the chief magistrate, then the clergy, then
the merchants. That's what it says in the book. The Acts of John the
Freemason.

GOVERNOR. No, no, leave it to me. I have been in difficult situations
before now. They have passed off all right, and I was even rewarded
with thanks. Maybe the Lord will help us out this time, too.
(Turns to
Bobchinsky.)
You say he's a young man?

BOBCHINSKY. Yes, about twenty-three or four at the most.

GOVERNOR. So much the better. It's easier to pump things out of a young
man. It's tough if you've got a hardened old devil to deal with. But a
young man is all on the surface. You, gentlemen, had better see to your
end of things while I go unofficially, by myself, or with Dobchinsky
here, as though for a walk, to see that the visitors that come to town
are properly accommodated. Here, Svistunov.
(To one of the Sergeants.)

SVISTUNOV. Sir.

GOVERNOR. Go instantly to the Police Captain—or, no, I'll want you.
Tell somebody to send him here as quickly as possibly and then come
back.

Svistunov hurries off.

ARTEMY. Let's go, let's go, Ammos Fiodorovich. We may really get into
trouble.

AMMOS. What have you got to be afraid of? Put clean nightcaps on the
patients and the thing's done.

ARTEMY. Nightcaps! Nonsense! The patients were ordered to have oatmeal
soup. Instead of that there's such a smell of cabbage in all the
corridors that you've got to hold your nose.

AMMOS. Well, my mind's at ease. Who's going to visit the court?
Supposing he does look at the papers, he'll wish he had left them alone.
I have been on the bench fifteen years, and when I take a look into a
report, I despair. King Solomon in all his wisdom could not tell what is
true and what is not true in it.