The Government Inspector

Nikolai Gogol, Stephen Mulrine

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2014
• eBook ISBN: 9781780013893
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price A classic satire of provincial bureaucracy, which only saw the stage after the personal intervention of Tsar Nicholas I.

A small, corrupt Russian town receives a letter informing them of the imminent visit of a government inspector travelling incognito. When a passing civil servant is mistaken for the inspector, panic soon sets in.

This English version of Nikolai Gogol's play The Government Inspecto r, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Stephen Mulrine.

Act Four

The same room in the MAYOR’s house. Cautiously, almost on tiptoe, enter the JUDGE, the CHARITIES WARDEN, the POSTMASTER, the SCHOOLS SUPERINTENDENT, DOBCHINSKY and BOBCHINSKY, all in full dress uniform. The entire scene is played in hushed voices.

JUDGE (organizes everybody into a semi-circle). Gentlemen, for goodness’ sake, hurry up and form a circle, let’s have a bit more order! God save us, this is a man who drives to the Palace and tears strips off the Privy Council! Get into battle order, come on, line up! No, Bobchinsky, you run round to this side, and you stay where you are, Dobchinsky.

BOBCHINSKY and DOBCHINSKY both run round on tiptoe.

WARDEN. It’s up to you, Judge, but we really ought to arrange something.

JUDGE. What do you mean exactly?

WARDEN. Well, you know . . .

JUDGE. What, a bribe?

WARDEN. Yes, a backhander, you know . . .

JUDGE. No, too risky, dammit. He’ll howl the place down, a Government man. Not unless we make a donation, say, from the local gentry, towards some monument or other.

POSTMASTER. What if we say: ‘Look, here’s some money just arrived through the post, we’ve no idea who it belongs to’?

WARDEN. Yes, well, you’d better watch he doesn’t post you, to some far-off land! Listen, in a well-ordered society people don’t do these things. And what are we all lined up here for, like a cavalry charge? We ought to present ourselves to him one by one, so it’s private, and, er . . . to keep things right – so other people can’t hear. That’s what happens in a well-ordered society. Right then, Judge – you can go first.

JUDGE. No no – it’s better if you go. After all, our distinguished visitor did break bread in your hospital.

WARDEN. Actually, the Superintendent should go first, as the torch-bearer to our youth.

SUPERINTENDENT. No, I can’t, sirs – I can’t do it. Perhaps it’s my upbringing, but honestly, the minute someone even one rank higher than me starts speaking, my mind goes blank, and I get completely tongue-tied. No, sirs, please, count me out!

WARDEN. Well, Judge, I suppose that leaves you. Go on, you’d even be a match for Cicero.

JUDGE. Oh, rubbish! Cicero, really! Just because a man gets carried away now and again, talking about his dogs, or a fine bloodhound . . .

ALL (urging him). No, no, Judge – not just dogs, you could’ve talked up the Tower of Babel! Judge, please, don’t let us down, you’re like a father to us! Please, don’t abandon us!

JUDGE. Gentlemen, leave me be!

Just then, footsteps and coughing are heard from KHLESTAKOV’s room. They all make a mad rush to escape from the room, bunching together, and some of them become wedged in the door. Stifled cries of pain.

BOBCHINSKY. Ouch! Dobchinsky, you’re standing on my foot!

WARDEN. Let me through, sirs, have a heart! You’re squeezing me to death!

More cries of ‘Ouch!, etc., until finally all manage to squeeze out, leaving the room empty. KHLESTAKOV then emerges, bleary-eyed.

KHLESTAKOV. Well, I must’ve had a decent snooze. I wonder where they got those mattresses and eiderdowns? I’m dripping with sweat. I think they must’ve slipped me something at lunch yesterday – my head’s still thumping. Yes, from what I’ve seen, I could pass the time very pleasantly here. I do enjoy hospitality, and all the more so when it’s out of the goodness of people’s hearts, and not some ulterior motive. The Mayor’s daughter’s not bad-looking, and his wife’d do a turn, too . . . I don’t know, I quite fancy this way of life.

The JUDGE enters, and stops by the door.

JUDGE (aside). Oh Lord, oh Lord! Help me out here, please! My knees are giving way . . . (Aloud, drawing himself up to his full height, his hand on his sword-hilt.) Sir, permit me to introduce myself – Collegiate Assessor, and presiding Judge of the District Court – Lyapkin-Tyapkin.

KHLESTAKOV. Sit down, please. So – you’re the law in these parts?

JUDGE. Yes, sir – appointed in 1816 for a three-year term, at the instance of the local nobility, and continued in that post until the present.

KHLESTAKOV. I see. And is it a profitable business, being a judge?

JUDGE. Well, sir, after three full terms of office I was recommended for the Order of St Vladimir, Fourth Class, with my superiors’ approval. (Aside.) Oh Lord, this money’s burning a hole in my fist!

KHLESTAKOV. Oh, I do like the Vladimir. It leaves the St Anne Third Class simply nowhere.

JUDGE (slowly extending his clenched fist. Aside). God Almighty – I feel as if I’m sitting on hot coals!

KHLESTAKOV. What’s that you have in your hand?

JUDGE (panics, and drops the banknotes on the floor). Nothing, sir!

KHLESTAKOV. What d’you mean nothing? Didn’t I see money falling?

JUDGE (trembling all over). No no, it was absolutely nothing, sir! (Aside.) Oh Lord, I’m in the dock now! And the cart’s arrived to whisk me off to jail!

KHLESTAKOV (Picking it up). Yes, it is money.

JUDGE (aside). The game’s up! I’m done for!

KHLESTAKOV. Look, I’ll tell you what – why don’t you give me a loan of this?

JUDGE (eagerly). Oh yes, sir, yes! With the greatest of pleasure! (Aside.) Now, go to it! Holy Mother of God, see me through this!

KHLESTAKOV. I ran out of cash on the road, you see, what with one thing and another . . . Anyway, I’ll send it back to you from my estate.

JUDGE. Oh, please, don’t even mention it – I’m only too honoured. Naturally, I endeavour to serve my superiors to the utmost of my abilities, meagre though they be . . . (Rises from his chair and comes to attention.) Sir, I shall not presume to trouble you further with my presence. Does Your Honour have any instructions for me?

KHLESTAKOV. What sort of instructions?

JUDGE. Well, I thought you might perhaps have some instructions for the District Court?

KHLESTAKOV. What on earth for? I’ve no business in that place now, surely?

JUDGE (bows and makes to exit. Aside). Yes, we’ve won the day!

KHLESTAKOV (After he has gone). Decent chap, the Judge.

Enter the POSTMASTER, stiffly, his hand on his sword-hilt.

POSTMASTER. Sir, permit me to introduce myself – Postmaster and Court Councillor Shpyokin.

KHLESTAKOV. Ah, I’m delighted to meet you. I do enjoy good company. Please, sit down. So, you’ve always lived here?

POSTMASTER. That’s correct, Your Honour.

KHLESTAKOV. Yes, I rather like this little town. Not many people, of course, but so what? It’s not the capital. It’s not exactly St Petersburg, is it?

POSTMASTER. That’s perfectly true, sir.

KHLESTAKOV. Yes, the capital’s your only place for le bon ton – none of your provincial clods there, eh? What’s your opinion?

POSTMASTER. That’s absolutely right, sir. (Aside.) Well, one thing – he isn’t too proud to ask questions.

KHLESTAKOV. Even so, you can live quite contentedly in a small town, wouldn’t you say?

POSTMASTER. Yes, indeed, sir.

KHLESTAKOV. You know what I think? I think all you need is a bit of respect, a bit of sincere affection, n’est-ce pas?

POSTMASTER. I couldn’t agree more, sir.

KHLESTAKOV. You know, I’m really pleased we’re of the same mind. Of course, people will say I’m a queer fish, but that’s just how I am. (Peers closely at him, then aside.) I think I’ll tap this Postmaster for a loan! (Aloud.) You know, it’s the damndest thing: I absolutely ran out of cash on the road. I don’t suppose you could see your way to lending me three hundred roubles?

POSTMASTER. Yes, why not? With the greatest of pleasure, sir. Here, take it, please. I’m delighted to be of service.

KHLESTAKOV. Thank you very much. I must confess, I positively loathe having to do without things when I’m travelling, and why on earth should I? D’you agree?

POSTMASTER. Oh, completely, sir. (Stands up, and comes to attention, his hand on his sword-hilt.) Sir, I shall not presume to trouble you further with my presence. Does Your Honour wish to make any observations pertaining to the postal administration?

KHLESTAKOV. No, none at all.

The POSTMASTER bows and exits.

The Postmaster seems a decent chap too. Obliging, at any rate. My sort of people.

Enter the SUPERINTENDENT, virtually shoved through the door. A voice i...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Introduction
• For Further Reading
• Gogol: Key Dates
• Dramatis Personae
• Act One
• Act Two
• Act Three
• Act Four
• Act Five
• Appendix: Pronounciation
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information