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Character  3:                                

Anna  Andreyevna  

Synopsis  The  corrupt  officials  of  a  small  Russian  town,  headed  by  the  Mayor,  react  with  terror  to  the  news  that  an  incognito  inspector  (the  revizor)  will  soon  be  arriving  in  their  town  to  investigate  them.  The  flurry  of  activity  to  cover  up  their  considerable  misdeeds  is  interrupted  by  the  report  that  a  suspicious  person  has  arrived  two  weeks  previously  from  Saint  Petersburg  and  is  staying  at  the  inn.  That  person,  however,  is  not  an  inspector;  it  is  Khlestakov,  a  foppish  civil  servant  with  a  wild  imagination.                                                                                                            Having  learned  that  Khlestakov  has  been  charging  his  considerable  hotel  bill  to  the  Crown,  the  Mayor  and  his  crooked  cronies  are  immediately  certain  that  this  upper  class  twit  is  the  dreaded  inspector.  For  quite  some  time,  however,  Khlestakov  does  not  even  realize  that  he  has  been  mistaken  for  someone  else.  Meanwhile,  he  enjoys  the  officials'  terrified  deference  and  moves  in  as  a  guest  in  the  Mayor's  house.  He  also  demands  and  receives  massive  "loans"  from  the  Mayor  and  all  of  his  associates.  He  also  flirts  outrageously  with  the  Mayor's  wife  and  daughter.  

Sick  and  tired  of  the  Mayor's  ludicrous  demands  for  bribes,  the  village's  Jewish  and  Old  Believer  merchants  arrive,  begging  Khlestakov  to  have  him  dismissed  from  his  post.  Stunned  at  the  Mayor's  rapacious  corruption,  Khlestakov  states  that  he  deserves  to  be  exiled  in  chains  to  Siberia.  Then,  however,  he  pockets  still  more  "loans"  from  the  merchants,  promising  to  comply  with  their  request.Terrified  that  he  is  now  undone,  the  Mayor  pleads  with  Khlestakov  not  to  have  him  arrested,  only  to  learn  that  the  latter  has  become  engaged  to  his  daughter.  At  which  point  Khlestakov  announces  that  he  is  returning  to  St.  Petersburg,  having  been  persuaded  by  his  valet  Osip  that  it  is  too  dangerous  to  continue  the  charade  any  longer.          After  Khlestakov  and  Osip  depart  on  a  coach  driven  by  the  village's  fastest  horses,  the  Mayor's  friends  all  arrive  to  congratulate  him.  Certain  that  he  now  has  the  upper  hand,  he  summons  the  merchants,  boasting  of  his  daughter's  engagement  and  vowing  to  squeeze  them  for  every  kopeck  they  are  worth.  However,  the  Postmaster  suddenly  arrives  carrying  an  intercepted  letter  which  reveals  Khlestakov's  true  identity—and  his  mocking  opinion  of  them  all.          The  Mayor,  after  years  of  bamboozling  Governors  and  shaking  down  criminals  of  every  description,  is  enraged  to  have  been  thus  humiliated.  He  screams  at  his  cronies,  stating  that  they,  not  himself,  are  to  blame.  While  they  continue  arguing,  a  message  arrives  from  the  real  Government  Inspector,  who  is  demanding  to  see  the  Mayor  immediately.

Play:      The  Government  Inspector              Author:            Nikolay  Gogol  

Web  Links:    www.youtube.com/watch?v=gW6ifIEJm_E www.youtube.com/watch?v=j85DPP_X_O8 www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILFMmpSskk www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrZRjV31Xtk www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW8lfPa9rLI    

 

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Source:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Government_Inspector#Plot_summary  

       

The  playwright  Nikolai  Vasilievich  Gogol  (1809-­‐52)  Ukrainian-­‐born  Russian  author  and  dramatist  is  deemed  by  many  as  the  Father  of  Russia's  Golden  Age  of  Realism.  

Nikolai  Vasilievich  Gogol  was  born  on  his  parents’  estate  in  Sorochintsi,  Ukraine,  on  31  March,  1809.  He  was  the  first  son  to  Vasili  and  Maria  (née  Kosiarovski)  Gogol.  Though  his  real  surname  was  Ianovskii,  his  grandfather  had  claimed  his  noble  Cossack  ancestors’  name  `Gogol'.  Nikolai’s  younger  brother  Ivan  died  when  Nikolai  was  ten,  thus  profoundly  affecting  his  character,  always  in  search  of  his  next  best  friend.  

Young  Nikolai  attended  the  Poltava  boarding  school,  and  then  went  on  to  Nehzin  high  school  from  1821  to  1828,  where  he  wrote  for  the  school’s  literary  journal  and  participated  in  theatrical  productions.  With  a  certificate  attesting  to  his  right  to  `the  rank  of  the  14th  class'  he  moved  to  St.  Petersburg  in  1829  teaching  history  at  the  Patriotic  Institute  and  tutoring  from  1831-­‐1834.  At  this  time  he  ventured  to  publish,  at  his  own  expense,  his  epic  narrative  poem  Hanz  Kuechelgarten,  the  result  of  his  reading  German  Romantics.  It  was  not  well-­‐received.  

After  plans  to  enter  into  the  civil  service,  Gogol  decided  he  would  try  to  make  a  name  for  himself  in  literature  instead.  Like  his  grandfather,  fierce  nationalistic  pride  and  admiration  of  the  simple  Cossack  life  is  often  an  underlying  theme  in  Gogol's  works,  blending  the  past  and  present,  the  Golden  Age  fading  into  the  Iron  Age,  the  folk  and  grotesque.  His  often  nostalgic  social  commentary  and  exposure  of  surreal  human  defect  tends  to  tribute  the  absurdist  struggle  of  the  Ukrainian  people  who  he  loved  so  much.  The  conflicts  between  Westernisation  and  the  slavophilic  tendencies  of  older  generations,  from  stories  told  to  him  by  his  mother  and  others  around  him  provided  much  fodder  for  him,  a  prime  example  being  Evenings  on  a  farm  near  Dikanka  (1831  -­‐  1832)  which  was  a  huge  success.  Gogol  met  the  great  Russian  poet  Aleksandr  Pushkin  in  1831  who  would  become  a  great  friend  and  influence  until  his  death  in  1837.  

Gogol  turned  to  writing  full-­‐time  when  his  position  as  assistant  lecturer  in  World  History  at  the  University  of  St.  Petersburg  (1834-­‐1835)  failed.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  published  his  collection  of  short  stories  Mirgorod  (1835),  containing  the  Sir  Walter  Scott  influenced  Taras  Bulba,  Old  World  Landowners,  the  comical  satire  The  Tale  of  How  Ivan  Ivanovic  Quarrelled  with  Ivan  Nikiforovic  and  Viy.  Gogol  worked  on  St.  Petersburg  Stories  (1835-­‐1841)  next.  The  Nose,  a  masterful  comic  short  story  (1835)  was  later  turned  into  an  opera.  Release  of  Diary  of  a  Madman  (1835)  and  The  Overcoat  set  in  St.  Petersburg  and  deemed  one  of  the  greatest  short  stories  ever  written,  was  overshadowed  by  his  The  Inspector  General  (1836),  a  satire  of  sweeping  indictment  about  provincial  officials  and  turned  into  a  stage  production.  It  caused  much  controversy  whereupon  Gogol  fled  to  Rome  where  apart  from  a  few  brief  visits  he  stayed  for  twelve  years.  

Dead  Souls  was  published  in  1842,  a  satirisation  of  serfdom,  seen  by  many  as  the  first  `modern'  Russian  novel  and  a  call  for  reform  and  freedom  for  serfs,  much  to  Gogol’s  chagrin.  In  response,  a  few  years  before  he  returned  to  Russia  his  Selected  Passages  from  Correspondence  with  Friends  (1847),  illustrating  his  high  regard  for  the  autocratic  tsarist  regime  and  patriarchal  Russian  way  of  life  caused  disappointment  among  the  radicals  who  were  looking  for  more  of  Gogol's  social  criticism.  To  him  slavery  was  justified  in  the  bible  and  need  not  be  abolished.  "It  is  no  use  to  blame  the  looking  glass  if  your  face  is  awry."  (Gogol,  1836)  It  was  not  well  received  and  political  factions  in  Russia  responded  angrily.  

 

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Gogol  had  a  gift  for  caricature  and  imaginative  invention,  influencing  many  other  upcoming  writers  including  Dostoevsky,  but  was  often  misunderstood.  He  was  a  deeply  sensitive  man,  tormented  throughout  his  life  with  moral  and  religious  issues.  As  he  got  older,  the  criticism  of  his  writing  from  his  peers  increasingly  drained  his  spirit.  Turning  to  religion,  Gogol  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem  in  1848.  Upon  return,  greatly  depressed  and  under  the  influence  of  the  religious  fanatical  priest,  Father  Konstantinovskii,  Gogol  subjected  himself  to  a  fatal  course  of  fasting  and  died  on  the  4th  of  March,  1852,  at  the  age  of  forty-­‐two.  He  lies  buried  in  the  Novo  Devichy  Cemetery  in  Moscow,  Russia.  

 

Sources:  http://www.online-­‐literature.com/gogol/  

                             www.globalgrey.co.uk  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Character  study      Anna  Andreyevna  is  the  governor’s  wife.  In  his  notes  on  the  characters,  Gogol  describes  her  as  “still  tolerably  young,  and  a  provincial  coquette,”  who  “displays  now  and  then  a  vain  disposition.”  Her  concern  with  appearance  is  indicated  by  the  stage  direction  that  “she  changes  her  dress  four  times”  during  the  play.  The  governor’s  wife  flirts  shamelessly  with  Hlestakov.  When  he  informs  her  of  his  engagement  to  Marya,  she  approves,  imagining  the  benefits  she  will  enjoy  in  Saint  Petersburg  as  a  result  of  the  marriage.    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.      Comments  from  actor:    Marianna  Caldwell  Source:  http://blogs.cuit.columbia.edu/theatrearts/2013/10/18/meet-­‐an-­‐actor-­‐marianna-­‐caldwell/    I  am  playing  Anna  Andreyevna,  who  is  the  Mayor’s  wife  and  mother  to  Marya.  She’s  completely  delusional  in  who  she  thinks  she  is  and  pours  all  her  effort  into  this  pretense  of  being  a  cultured,  beautiful  and  fashionable  woman.  Which  she,  of  course,  is  not.  I  have  a  lot  of  sympathy  for  her,  and  even  see  some  of  myself  in  her.  It’s  a  very  human  thing  to  feel  that  you’re  not  enough,  and  want  people  to  believe  you’re  something  else.  But  in  the  end,  it’s  difficult  to  hide  one’s  true  nature,  and  Anna,  along  with  most  of  the  other  characters,  is  exposed  as  the  selfish,  ignorant,  and  desperate  woman  she  truly  is.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Context  Gogol  is  perhaps  the  weirdest  of  Russian  writers,  and  The  Government  Inspector  is  certainly  among  the   funniest   of   Russian   plays.   It’s   possible   that   no   other   work   has   so   thoroughly   infiltrated   the  lexicon   of   educated   Russians:   without   The   Government   Inspector,   no   one   would   “take   bribes   in  borzoi  puppies”  or  be  “sort  of  married,”  and  no  one  would  talk  about  hospitals  where  the  patients  are  “getting  better   like   flies.”  As   these   lines  suggest,  Gogol’s   imaginary  world   is  both  hilarious  and  very,  very  dark.  

It’s   been   said   that   Gogol   hardly   has   a   biography:   no   marriage,   no   lovers,   no   children,   few   close  friends,  an  unremarkable  education,  few  institutional  affiliations  that  might  help  us  locate  the  source  of  his  gift.  His  background  was   fairly   typical  of   the  minor  Ukrainian  gentry,   including   in   its  cultural  hybridity.  The   family’s  official  name  was  GogolJanowski,  with   Janowski   signaling   their  partly  Polish  heritage  (which  Gogol   later  denied).  They  generally  spoke  Russian  at  home  but  Ukrainian  at  times;  they   corresponded   in   Russian   and   read   in   Russian,   Ukrainian   and   Polish.   They   were   undoubtedly  loyal  subjects  of  the  Russian  empire,  despite  what  Ukrainian  nationalists  have  occasionally  claimed.  In   fact   it   was   only   after   Gogol   arrived   in   the   imperial   capital   of   St.   Petersburg   that   he   began   to  perceive  any  potential  for  tension  between  his  Ukrainian  and  Russian  identities.  His  approach  to  this  duality  was  generally    

pragmatic,  even  opportunistic:  noting  the  capital’s  craze  for  all  things  “Little  Russian”  (“Little  Russia”  being   a   slightly   patronizing   “Great   Russian”   name   for   Ukraine),   Gogol   initiated   his   career   by  successfully   exploiting   this   fad,   setting   his   early   stories   in   a   folksy   Ukrainian   village   that   invited  urbanized  “great  Russians”  to  enjoy  what  they  saw  as  their  Ukrainian  little  brothers’  gratifyingly  pre-­‐modern  ur-­‐Slavicness.  

Gogol’s  origins  made  him  a  genuine  anomaly  among  the  Russian  writers  of  his  day.  In  the  late  1820s  when   Gogol   (then   barely   20   years   old)   began   his   career,   literary   life   was   dominated   by   a   tiny  minority   of   cultured   readers   and  writers,   often   referred   to   simply   as   “society.”   These  men   (and   a  very   few  women:   hence  my   use   of  masculine   pronouns)  were   almost   all   aristocrats,   born   to   high  culture  and  perfectly  at  home  in  the  salons  that  served  as  the  main  locus  of  literary  activity.  Gogol,  by   contrast,   was   not   only   deeply   eccentric   by   nature   but   also   a   provincial   outsider,   alien   to   this  worldly  milieu  where  a  very   specific   set  of  manners  was  deemed   indispensable.  While  writers   like  Alexander   Pushkin   (Gogol’s   contemporary   and   his   unlikely   champion)   took   seriously   the   salons’  imperative  never   to   appear   serious—the  goal  was   to  be   cool,   to  make  everything   look  easy,   right  down  to  improvising  complex  poetry  on  the  spot—Gogol  was  liable  to  sit  silently  in  a  corner  with  his  head   ostentatiously   bowed,   perhaps   responding   to   attempts   at   polite   chitchat   with   information  about  the  state  of  his  bowels  or  his  eternal  soul.  But  thanks  to  his   immense  and  strange  talent,  he  was  nonetheless  welcomed  into  the  highest  circles  of  Russian  cultural  life.  

Furthermore,   despite   his  willingness   to   capitalize   on   his   Ukrainian   ethnicity,   Gogol   identified   fully  with   the   Russian   imperial   project:   he   wanted   to   be   a   great   Russian   writer.   And   despite   his  participation   in   the   salons—where   “literature”   was   largely   an   oral   affair,   and   the   lines   dividing  readers   from  writers  were  by  no  means   clear,   and  professionalization  was   frowned  upon—  Gogol  cast  his   lot  with  printed   texts.  His   career   spanned  a  period  of   important   reorganization   in  Russian  literary   life,   a   period   when   the   salons’   influence   was   declining   and   books   were   being   ever   more  widely  distributed  to  an  ever  more  sizable  and  diverse  readership.  This  was  the  audience  that  Gogol  

 

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chose,  even  as   the   literary  establishment  wrung   its  hands  over   the  commercialization  of   literature  and  new  readers’  abysmal  taste.  He  was  keenly  aware  that  in  the  brave  new  world  of  printed  books,  the   Russian   author   who   published   his   works   sent   them   out   into   a   world   of   largely   incompetent  readers,  whose  responses  he  could  neither  predict  nor  guide.  But  he  also  knew  that  an  author,  by  renouncing  control  over  the  book  he  sends  out  into  the  world,  confers  upon  it  a  new  power,  simply  by  allowing  it  to  circulate  widely.  

These  new  conditions  help  explain   the  pedagogical   impulse   that  motivates  much  of  Gogol’s  work,  including  his  funniest  work.  The  Government  Inspector  is  a  very  funny  play,  but  it’s  meant  to  be  an  edifying  one  as  well:  as  the  Mayor  says  to  us,  the  audience,  at  the  end,  “What  are  you  laughing  at?  You’re  laughing  at  yourselves!”  While  Gogol’s  didacticism  took  different  forms  over  the  course  of  his  career,   from  the  straightforward   to   the  mystical,   virtually  all  of  his  writings  work  hard   to   teach  us  something.   Yet   given   how   elusive   his   art   tends   to   be—permeated   by   complex   irony,   minimally  concerned   with   psychology   or   plotting—the   nature   of   this   “something”   is   always   difficult   to   pin  down.  

Like   virtually   everything   Gogol   wrote,   The   Government   Inspector   is   built   around   the   slimmest   of  plots:   corrupt   officials   in   an   unnamed   Russian   town   mistake   a   dimwitted   young   visitor   from   St.  Petersburg  for  a  government   inspector.  The  provincial  malefactors,  having  realized  that  the  capital  has   turned   its  eyes  upon   them,  are  both  anxious  and  deeply  gratified.   In   their   far-­‐off,   anonymous  city,   they   fear   the   accusatory   and   unmasking   gaze   of   St.   Petersburg—but   they   long   for   it   as  well,  because,  it  seems,  their  manifestly  insignificant  lives  promise  to  take  on  meaning  when  subjected  to  the  capital’s  discipline.  They  dream  of  the  capital  not  only  because  of  its  associations  with  power  and  money,  but   also  because  of   the   capital’s   ability   to   confer   significance.  One   character   sums  up   the  provincial   view   of   the   capital’s   signifying   power  when   he   begs   the   visitor   Hlestakov   to   inform   St.  Petersburg  that  he  exists:    “in  Petersburg  tell  all  the  various  bigwigs  …  that  in  such-­‐and-­‐such  a  town  there  lives  Pyotr  Ivanovich  Bobchinksy.”  In  The  Government  Inspector  the  capital  looks  (occasionally,  and  unpredictably)  at  the  provinces  in  order  to  inspect,  indict  and  control;  the  provinces  look  back  in  order  to  imitate,  to  see  themselves  reflected  in  the  eyes  of  the  powers-­‐that-­‐be  (thereby  confirming  that  they  actually  exist),  and  to  formulate  alibis  as  needed.    

Gogol’s   play—again,   like   a   number   of   his   other   works—imagines   a   world   of   plotmongerers   and  conspiracy  theorists,   the  fundamentally  unstable  kind  of  world  he  feared  was  being  shaped  by  the  promiscuous   circulation   of   printed   “information.”   The   result   is   interpretive   anarchy.   In   The  Government   Inspector   the   townspeople’s  energetic   lying,   fawning  and  bribing   inspire  Hlestakov   to  improvise   his   own   fantastically   comic   lies   about   himself   and   about   life   in   the   capital.   In   St.  Petersburg,  Hlestakov  crows,  a  watermelon  weighs  700  pounds,  he’s  on  intimate  terms  with  Pushkin  and   35,000   government   messengers   once   came   running   through   the   streets   to   find   him.   But  Hlestakov  is  by  no  means  tricking  the  locals:  he’s  simply  telling  them  what  they  already  believe.  He’s  responding   to   their   image  of   St.   Petersburg,   an   image   that’s   quite   capable  of   accommodating   the  idea  of,  say,  a  700-­‐pound  melon.  Hlestakov  tells  stories  of  being  “taken  for”  an  important  official  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  provincial  mayor’s  wife  is  duly  impressed:  in  a  world  where  being  “taken  for”  a  V.I.P.  is  just  as  good  as  being  one,  a  belief  in  the  capital’s  essential  superiority  is  merely  what  we  might  call  these  characters’  foundational  mirage,  the  delusion  that  generates  all  their  other    

delusions.   There’s   nothing   to   suggest   that   this   conviction   has   any  more   basis   in   reality   than   does  Hlestakov’s   fantastic  melon.   In   fact,  until  perhaps  the  very   last   lines  of  The  Government   Inspector,  when   the  arrival  of   the   real   government   inspector   is   announced,   it’s   virtually   impossible   to   locate  any  standard  against  which  we  might  judge  what  we  are  seeing.  

 

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Gogol’s   play   debuted   in   1836   to   great   success   (the   tsar   sat   front   and   center,   applauding  enthusiastically  at  what  he  assumed  was  an  indictment  of  those  who  failed  to  uphold  his  autocracy’s  high   standards).  Gogol,  however,   felt   that   the  play  was  not   fully   appreciated—though  what  might  have  constituted  adequate  appreciation  to  him  at  this  point  in  his  life  is  unclear,  since  his  goal  seems  to  have  been  nothing   less  than  the   instantaneous  moral  and  spiritual  regeneration  of  all  Russia.   In  fact,   his   dissatisfaction  with   the  public’s   response   to   The  Government   Inspector   convinced  him   to  decamp  to  Rome,  where  he  was  to  spend  much  of  the  rest  of  his   life  writing  his  masterpiece  Dead  Souls  while  giving  himself  over  to  increasingly  grandiose  ideas  about  the  message  he  was  destined  to  convey   to   his   countrymen.   The  Government   Inspector’s   success   derives   in   part   from   its   ability   to  imply   (without   stating   outright)   the   presence   of   this   message,   and   to   suggest   that   it   somehow  concerns   Russia   and  Russianness.  Here   as   in  Dead   Souls,  we’re   persuaded   to   experience   our   own  confusion  as  a  testimony  to  some  fundamental  mystery;  as  Gogol’s  admirer  Ivan  Aksakov  said  upon  his  death,  we  “cannot  yet”  assess  “the  whole  vast  sense  of  the  life,  suffering,  and  death  of  our  great  author,”  nor  his  “deep  and  severe  meaning.”  

“Interpreting”  Gogol  presents  much   the  same  problem  today  as   it  did  150  years  ago.  We  can  side  with  the  19th-­‐century  critics  who  saw  him  as  a  realist  devoted  to  exposing  social  injustice,  or  we  can  side  with  the  modernists  who  emphasized  all  that’s  surreal  and  grotesque  in  his  work.  Much  of  his  enduring   fascination   derives   precisely   from   this   ambiguity,   which   in   turn   relates   to   one   of   the  fundamental  problems  (and  joys)  of  classic  Russian  literature.  Russian  writers  are  famously  willing  to  ask  big  questions—leaving  it  up  to  us  to  decide  to  what  degree  we  want  to  connect  their  “eternal”  questions   to   the   particular   historical   circumstances   that   led   Russians   to   pose   them   with   such  urgency.    

Anne  Lounsbery  is  Associate  Professor  of  Russian  Literature  at  New  York  University  

Source:      ShakespeareTheatre.org/Education    

                                                                                                                                                                 www.deanhills.com  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Theatrical  style  Gogol's  true  genius  lies  in  his  play's  form.  As  previously  mentioned,  Gogol  blends  neoclassicism  with  various   other   dramatic   genres,   as   well   as   a   comic   blend   of   illogicality   and   logic.   Also   previously  mentioned,  the  play  and  its  form  may  best  be  understood  in  terms  of  speed  and  power.  Gogol  has  streamlined   his   play   with   neoclassical   devices.   His   characters   are   familiar   to   us   from   tradition.  Khlestakov  is  a  comic  braggart,  Osip,  a  wily  servant,  Marya,  a  naive  ingénue.  Also,  his  plot  turns  on  the  classical  case  of  mistaken  identity.  The  Government  Inspector  closely  follows  the  unity  of  action,  giving   it,   despite   its   colloquial   language   and   social   spectrum,   elegance   and   simplicity.   However,  because  neoclassical  forms  were  under  attack,  as  well  as  because  of  Gogol's  own  creative  impulses,  he  only  adhered  to  the  form  so   long  as   it  was  useful  to  him.    For  example,  the  unities  of  time  and  place  are  observed  only  loosely;  the  twenty-­‐four-­‐odd  hours  of  the  play  are  stretched  over  the  course  of  two  days;  the  action  takes  place  in  varied  locations,  but  all  in  one  small  provincial  town.    

Gogol  openly  despised  vaudeville,  "this  facile,  insipid  plaything  (that)  could  only  originate  among  the  French,   a   nation   lacking   a   profound   and   fixed   character,"   as   he   called   it.   However,   Gogol   also  possessed   a   great   respect   for   vaudeville,   just   as   he   possessed   a   great   respect   for   the   French.   "O  Moliere,  great  Moliere,  you  who  developed  your  characters  in  such  breadth  and  fullness  and  traced  their   every   shadow   with   profundity,"   Gogol   laments   in   the   very   paragraph   following   his   French-­‐bashing.  While  the  French  lacked  profundity  of  character,  Moliere  possessed  profundity  in  apparent  abundance.  While  vaudeville  was  "facile,   insipid,"  it  possessed  a  briskness  of  pace,  actability,  and  a  novelty  that  carried  across  political  and  class  lines.  

Gogol   adopted   these   qualities   to   give   speed   and   power   to   his   streamlined   play.   Previous   comic  playwrights  relied  on  the  heavy  use  of  a  raisonneur    (a character in a play, novel, etc. who serves as spokesman for the author's views) to  express   the  utile   of   their   plays..  Gogol's   solution   to   this  was  ingenious  and  radical:  complete  elimination  of  the  raisonneur.  In  doing  so,  of  course,  he  completely  eliminated  a  stable  center  for  his  play.  To  again  quote  Milton  Ehre:  "(Gogol's)  great  innovation…  was  to   write   a   comedy   without   any   ballast   of   sanity."   The   Government   Inspector   spins   nearly   out   of  control,  with  hapless,  self-­‐serving,  amoral  characters  running  in  farcical  situations  that  beg  physical  comedy  (such  as  Khlestakov's  dual  and  simultaneous  seduction  of  the  mayor's  wife  and  daughter,  his  solicitation  of  bribes  from  several  officials  in  the  course  of  just  a  few  minutes,  etc.).  On  the  verge  of  chaos,  The  Government  Inspector  is  vaudeville,  but  remains,  somehow  obviously,  a  moral  drama.  

As   stated   before,   Gogol's   characters   are   amoral,   not   immoral.   A   government   inspector   means   a  possible  threat  to  their  posts;  therefore,  they  bribe  the  perceived  threat  to  neutralize  it.  There  is  no  intrigue,  no  premeditated  scheme  to  do  wrong,  merely  a  practical  system  that  is  followed.  As  Gogol  states:  "My  heroes  are  not  all  villains;  were  I  to  add  but  one  good  trait  to  any  of  them,  the  reader  would  be  reconciled  to  all  of  them."  Gogol's  characters  are  grotesque,  but  not  completely  without  hope.  It  is  precisely  this  hope,  this  possibility  of  salvation  that  allows  the  play  to  be  open  to  morality.  

Take  a  close  look  at  the  town  depicted  in  the  play.  Everyone  agrees  that  no  such  town  exists  in  all  of  Russia;  a  town  where  all  the  officials  are  monsters  is  unheard  of.  You  can  always  find  two  or  three  who  are  honest,  but  here  –  not  one.  In  a  word,  there  is  no  such  town.    

 

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Gogol  expected  his  audience  to  realize  they  were  watching  a  narrative  hyperbole,  a  world  turned  on  its  head,  and  instinctively  perform  the  intellectual  gymnastics  to  right  it.  

Gogol  expected  his  comedy  without  sanity,  his  world  without   logic  or  morals  to  create  a  hunger   in  his  audience  for  sanity,  logic,  and  morals.  Another  of  Gogol's  stylistic  devices  further  aids  the  speed  and   flow   of   the   play.   As   stated   earlier   from   Nabokov,   The   Government   Inspector   "begins   with   a  blinding  flash  of   lightning  and  ends  in  a  thunderclap…  it   is  wholly  placed  in  the  tense  gap  between  the   flash   and   the   crash."   The   reason   this   observation   rings   true   is   because   Gogol   has   completely  omitted  any  falling  action  and  the  denouement  and  has  condensed  the  exposition  into  near  similar  oblivion.  

The  Mayor's  first  two  lines  let  us  know  all  we  need;  "Gentlemen!  I've  summoned  you  here  because  of   some   very   distressing   news.   A   government   inspector   is   on   his   way."   is   followed   by   "From   St.  Petersburg,   incognito!  And  with   secret   instructions   to   boot!"[23]  We   know  now   the   action  of   the  play   turns   on   a   government   inspection.   We   know   that   no   one   knows   who   the   inspector   is.   Any  audience  member  with  even  brief  experience  classic  plots  will  know  that  the  comic  action  will  turn  on  mistaken  identity.  Finally,  we  know  from  "Gentlemen,"  the  concerned  and  indignant  tone  of  the  announcement,  and  the  brief  explicatives  of  concern  uttered  by  the  other  characters,  that  they  are  likely  provincial  officials.  Provincial  officials  are   the  only  people  who  would   show  concern   for   this;  they   are   the   only   people   who   may   lose   their   positions   from   such   an   inspection.   Hence,   the  exposition   is   taken  care  of   in   less   than  a  quarter  page.  Other  needed   information   is   introduced  as  part  of  the  rising  action.  

Gogol  spends  the  next  three  and  half  acts  building  a  rising  action.  Khlestakov  arrives  on  the  scene,  is  mistaken   for   the   inspector,   and   is   given   a   royal   treatment   he   does   not   understand,   but   takes   full  advantage  of.  Minor  characters  are   introduced  and  a  potential   love  affair  between  Khlestakov  and  the  mayor's   daughter   (and  possibly  wife   too)   is   developed.   The   climax  begins  near   the  end  of   act  four,   with   the   famous   "bribe   scene,"   where   a   rapid   and   farcical   procession   of   officials   commit  continuous   bribery.   However,   this   climax   never   ends,   but   continues   through   the   fifth   act,  reinvigorated  by  the  arrival  of  the  Storekeepers,  the  reading  of  the  letter,  and  given  one  final  boost  with   the   last   line  of   the  play:   "the  government   inspector  has  arrived.".  As  all   characters   freeze  on  stage,  the  pace  has  nowhere  to  go  but  crashing  through  the  theater  walls.  

The  result  of  Gogol's  stylized  dramatic  structure  is  the  final  stylistic  device  we  will  discuss,  a  device  whose   intent   seems   to   have   backfired   on   Gogol.   This   device   can   only   be   called   an   "inverted  catharsis."   The  play   certainly  possesses   catharsis:   it   creates   joy   for   the  audience  and  purges   them  with  laughter.  However,  other  emotions,  such  as  the  anger  at  seeing  such  corruption  as  well  as  the  frustration   at  wanting   to   right  Gogol's   upside-­‐down-­‐world   and  not   seeing   it   happen,   are   given  no  release.  The  audience  must  exit   through  a  gaping  wound  created  by   the  exiting  action,  with   these  emotions  seething  within  them,  desiring  release;  this  is  inverted  catharsis.  

It  is  possible  that  Gogol  intend  this,  assuming  the  post-­‐production  release  of  this  emotion  would  be  channelled  into  improving  society  and  stamping  out  corruption.  However,  more  often  than  not,  the  audience  simply  directed  their  anger  and  frustration  at  the  play  and/or  its  author.  Gogol  complained  about  this:  

"He's  an  incendiary!  A  rebel!"  And  who  is  saying  this?  Government  officials,  experienced  people  who  ought  to  know  better…  and  this  ignorance  is  widespread.  Call  a  crook  a  crook,  and  they  consider  it  an  undermining  of  the  state  apparatus…  Consider  the  plight  of  the  poor  author  who  nevertheless  loves  his  country  and  his  countrymen  intensely.  

Source”:  http://www.sras.org/gogol_the_government_inspector_in_text_and_presentation_1836_1938  

 

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Stagecraft  

 

 

www.charpo-­‐canada.com        

       

www.abbeytheatre.ie  

 

marycwo    ll.com