THE CLOTHE CLOAKAK

BYBY NIKNIKOLAOLAY VY V. GOGOL. GOGOL1

THE CLOTHE CLOAKAKBY NIKOLAY V. GOGOL

In the department of—, but it is betternot to mention the department. Thetouchiest things in the world are de-partments, regiments, courts of jus-tice, in a word, all branches of publicservice. Each individual nowadaysthinks all society insulted in his per-son. Quite recently, a complaint wasreceived from a district chief of policein which he plainly demonstrated thatall the imperial institutions were goingto the dogs, and that the Czar’s sacredname was being taken in vain; and inproof he appended to the complaint aromance, in which the district chief ofpolice is made to appear about oncein every ten pages, and sometimes in adownright drunken condition. There-fore, in order to avoid all unpleasant-ness, it will be better to designate thedepartment in question, as a certaindepartment.

So, in a certain department there

was a certain official — not a very no-table one, it must be allowed — shortof stature, somewhat pock-marked,red-haired, and mole-eyed, with a baldforehead, wrinkled cheeks, and a com-plexion of the kind known as sanguine.The Leningrad climate was responsi-ble for this. As for his officialrank — with us Russians the rankcomes first — he was what is called aperpetual titular councillor, overwhich, as is well known, some writersmake merry and crack their jokes,obeying the praiseworthy custom ofattacking those who cannot bite back.

His family name was Bash-machkin. This name is evidently de-rived from bashmak (shoe); but, when,at what time, and in what manner, isnot known. His father and grandfa-ther, and all the Bashmachkins, alwayswore boots, which were resoled twoor three times a year. His name wasAkaky Akakiyevich. It may strike thereader as rather singular and far-fetched; but he may rest assured thatit was by no means far-fetched, andthat the circumstances were such that

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it would have been impossible to givehim any other.

This was how it came about.1

Akaky Akakiyevich was born, ifmy memory fails me not, in theevening on the 23rd of March. Hismother, the wife of a Government of-ficial, and a very fine woman, made alldue arrangements for having the childbaptised. 2 She was lying on the bedopposite the door; on her right stoodthe godfather, Ivan IvanovichEroshkin, a most estimable man, whoserved as the head clerk of the senate;and the godmother, Arina Semyonov-na Bielobrinshkova, the wife of an offi-cer of the quarter, and a woman of rarevirtues. They offered the mother herchoice of three names, Mokiya, Sos-siya, or that the child should be calledafter the martyr Khozdazat. “No,” saidthe good woman, “all those names arepoor.” In order to please her, theyopened the calendar at another place;three more names appeared, Triphily,Dula, and Varakhasy. “This is awful,”

1. See Wikipedia 2. See Tolstoy

said the old woman. “What names! Itruly never heard the like. I might haveput up with Varadat or Varukh, butnot Triphily and Varakhasy!” Theyturned to another page and foundPavsikakhy and Vakhtisy. “Now I see,”said the old woman, “that it is plainlyfate. And since such is the case, it willbe better to name him after his father.His father’s name was Akaky, so let hisson’s name be Akaky too.” In this man-ner he became Akaky Akakiyevich.They christened the child, whereat hewept, and made a grimace, as thoughhe foresaw that he was to be a titularcouncillor.

In this manner did it all comeabout. We have mentioned it in orderthat the reader might see for himselfthat it was a case of necessity, and thatit was utterly impossible to give himany other name.

When and how he entered the de-partment, and who appointed him, noone could remember. However muchthe directors and chiefs of all kindswere changed, he was always to be seenin the same place, the same attitude,

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the same occupation — always the let-ter-copying clerk — so that it was af-terwards affirmed that he had beenborn in uniform with a bald head. Norespect was shown him in the depart-ment. The porter not only did not risefrom his seat when he passed, but nev-er even glanced at him, any more thanif a fly had flown through the recep-tion-room. His superiors treated himin coolly despotic fashion. Some in-significant assistant to the head clerkwould thrust a paper under his nosewithout so much as saying, “Copy,” or,“Here’s an interesting little case,” oranything else agreeable, as is custom-ary amongst well-bred officials. Andhe took it, looking only at the paper,and not observing who handed it tohim, or whether he had the right to doso; simply took it, and set about copy-ing it.

The young officials laughed at andmade fun of him, so far as their officialwit permitted; told in his presence var-ious stories concocted about him, andabout his landlady, an old woman ofseventy; declared that she beat him;

asked when the wedding was to be;and strewed bits of paper over hishead, calling them snow. But AkakyAkakiyevich answered not a word, anymore than if there had been no onethere besides himself. It even had noeffect upon his work. Amid all theseannoyances he never made a singlemistake in a letter. But if the jokingbecame wholly unbearable, as whenthey jogged his head, and preventedhis attending to his work, he would ex-claim:

“Leave me alone! Why do you in-sult me?”

And there was something strangein the words and the voice in whichthey were uttered. There was in itsomething which moved to pity; somuch so that one young man, a new-comer, who, taking pattern by the oth-ers, had permitted himself to makesport of Akaky, suddenly stoppedshort, as though all about him had un-dergone a transformation, and pre-sented itself in a different aspect.Some unseen force repelled him fromthe comrades whose acquaintance he

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had made, on the supposition thatthey were decent, well-bred men. Longafterwards, in his gayest moments,there recurred to his mind the little of-ficial with the bald forehead, with hisheart-rending words, “Leave me alone!Why do you insult me?” In these mov-ing words, other words resounded — “Iam thy brother.” And the young mancovered his face with his hand; andmany a time afterwards, in the courseof his life, shuddered at seeing howmuch inhumanity there is in man, howmuch savage coarseness is concealedbeneath refined, cultured, worldly re-finement, and even, O God! in thatman whom the world acknowledges ashonourable and upright.

It would be difficult to find anoth-er man who lived so entirely for his du-ties. It is not enough to say that Akakylaboured with zeal; no, he labouredwith love. In his copying, he found avaried and agreeable employment. En-joyment was written on his face; someletters were even favourites with him;and when he encountered these, hesmiled, winked, and worked with his

lips, till it seemed as though each lettermight be read in his face, as his pentraced it. If his pay had been in pro-portion to his zeal, he would, perhaps,to his great surprise, have been madeeven a councillor of state. But heworked, as his companions, the wits,put it, like a horse in a mill.

However, it would be untrue to saythat no attention was paid to him. Onedirector being a kindly man, and de-sirous of rewarding him for his longservice, ordered him to be given some-thing more important than mere copy-ing. So he was ordered to make a re-port of an already concluded affair, toanother department; the duty consist-ing simply in changing the headingand altering a few words from the firstto the third person. This caused him somuch toil, that he broke into a perspi-ration, rubbed his forehead, and final-ly said, “No, give me rather somethingto copy.” After that they let him copyon forever.

Outside this copying, it appearedthat nothing existed for him. He gaveno thought to his clothes. His uniform

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was not green, but a sort of rusty-mealcolour. The collar was low, so that hisneck, in spite of the fact that it wasnot long, seemed inordinately so as itemerged from it, like the necks of theplaster cats which pedlars carry abouton their heads. And something was al-ways sticking to his uniform, either abit of hay or some trifle. Moreover,he had a peculiar knack, as he walkedalong the street, of arriving beneath awindow just as all sorts of rubbish wasbeing flung out of it; hence he alwaysbore about on his hat scraps of mel-on rinds, and other such articles. Nev-er once in his life did he give heed towhat was going on every day to thestreet; while it is well known that hisyoung brother officials trained therange of their glances till they couldsee when any one’s trouser-straps cameundone upon the opposite sidewalk,which always brought a malicioussmile to their faces. But AkakyAkakiyevich saw in all things theclean, even strokes of his written lines;and only when a horse thrust his nose,from some unknown quarter, over his

Fig 1: A historical map of Leningrad

shoulder, and sent a whole gust ofwind down his neck from his nostrils,did he observe that he was not in themiddle of a line, but in the middle ofthe street.

On reaching home, he sat downat once at the table, sipped his cab-bage-soup up quickly, and swallowed abit of beef with onions, never noticingtheir taste, and gulping down every-thing with flies and anything elsewhich the Lord happened to send atthe moment. When he saw that hisstomach was beginning to swell, herose from the table, and copied paperswhich he had brought home. If there

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happened to be none, he took copiesfor himself, for his own gratification,especially if the document was note-worthy, not on account of its style, butof its being addressed to some distin-guished person.

Even at the hour when the greyLeningrad sky had quite disappeared,and all the official world had eaten ordined, each as he could, in accordancewith the salary he received and his ownfancy; when, all were resting from thedepartment jar of pens, running to andfro, for their own and other people’sindispensable occupations’, and fromall the work that an uneasy man makeswillingly for himself, rather than whatis necessary; when, officials hasten todedicate to pleasure the time which isleft to them, one bolder than the rest,going to the theatre; another; into thestreet looking under the bonnets; an-other, wasting his evening in compli-ments to some pretty girl, the star ofa small official circle; another — andthis is the common case of all — visit-ing his comrades on the third or fourthfloor, in two small rooms with an ante-

room or kitchen, and some preten-sions to fashion, such as a lamp orsome other trifle which has cost manya sacrifice of dinner or pleasure trip; ina word, at the hour when all officialsdisperse among the contracted quar-ters of their friends, to play whist, asthey sip their tea from glasses with akopek’s worth of sugar, smoke longpipes, relate at time some bits of gossipwhich a Russian man can never, underany circumstances, refrain from, andwhen there is nothing else to talk of,repeat eternal anecdotes about thecommandant to whom they had sentword that the tails of the horses on theFalconet Monument had been cut off;when all strive to divert themselves,Akaky Akakiyevich indulged in nokind of diversion. No one could evensay that he had seen him at any kindof evening party. Having written to hisheart’s content, he lay down to sleep,smiling at the thought of the comingday — of what God might send him tocopy on the morrow.

Thus flowed on the peaceful lifeof the man, who, with a salary of four

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hundred rubles, understood how to becontent with his lot; and thus it wouldhave continued to flow on, perhaps,to extreme old age, were it not thatthere are various ills strewn along thepath of life for titular councillors aswell as for private, actual, court, andevery other species of councillor, evento those who never give any advice ortake any themselves.

There exists in Leningrad a pow-erful foe of all who receive a salary offour hundred rubles a year, or there-abouts. This foe is no other than theNorthern cold, although it is said tobe very healthy. At nine o’clock in themorning, at the very hour when thestreets are filled with men bound forthe various official departments, it be-gins to bestow such powerful andpiercing nips on all noses impartially,that the poor officials really do notknow what to do with them. At anhour, when the foreheads of even thosewho occupy exalted positions achewith the cold, and tears start to theireyes, the poor titular councillors aresometimes quite unprotected. Their

only salvation lies in traversing asquickly as possible, in their thin littlecloaks, five or six streets, and thenwarming their feet in the porter’sroom, and so thawing all their talentsand qualifications for official service,which had become frozen on the way.

Akaky Akakiyevich had felt forsome time that his back and shoulderswere paining with peculiar poignancy,in spite of the fact that he tried totraverse the distance with all possiblespeed. He began finally to wonderwhether the fault did not lie in hiscloak. He examined it thoroughly athome, and discovered that in twoplaces, namely, on the back and shoul-ders, it had become thin as gauze. Thecloth was worn to such a degree thathe could see through it, and the lininghad fallen into pieces. You must knowthat Akaky Akakiyevich’s cloak servedas an object of ridicule to the officials.They even refused it the noble name ofcloak, and called it a cape. In fact, itwas of singular make, its collar dimin-ishing year by year to serve to patch itsother parts. The patching did not ex-

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Fig 2: A map of Russia

hibit great skill on the part of the tai-lor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly.Seeing how the matter stood, AkakyAkakiyevich decided that it would benecessary to take the cloak to Petro-vich, the tailor, who lived somewhereon the fourth floor up a dark staircase,and who, in spite of his having but oneeye and pock-marks all over his face,busied himself with considerable suc-cess in repairing the trousers and coats

of officials and others; that is to say,when he was sober and not nursingsome other scheme in his head.

It is not necessary to say muchabout this tailor, but as it is the customto have the character of each person-age in a novel clearly defined there isno help for it, so here is Petrovich thetailor. At first he was called only Grig-ory, and was some gentleman’s serf. Hecommenced calling himself Petrovich

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from the time when he received hisfree papers, and further began to drinkheavily on all holidays, at first on thegreat ones, and then on all church fes-tivals without discrimination, wherev-er a cross stood in the calendar. Onthis point he was faithful to ancestralcustom; and when quarrelling with hiswife, he called her a low female anda German. As we have mentioned hiswife, it will be necessary to say a wordor two about her. Unfortunately, littleis known of her beyond the fact thatPetrovich had a wife, who wore a capand a dress, but could not lay claim tobeauty, at least, no one but the soldiersof the guard even looked under her capwhen they met her.

Ascending the staircase which ledto Petrovich’s room — which staircasewas all soaked with dish-water andreeked with the smell of spirits whichaffects the eyes, and is an inevitableadjunct to all dark stairways inLeningrad houses — ascending thestairs, Akaky Akakiyevich ponderedhow much Petrovich would ask, andmentally resolved not to give more

than two rubles. The door was open,for the mistress, in cooking some fish,had raised such a smoke in the kitchenthat not even the beetles were visible.Akaky Akakiyevich passed throughthe kitchen unperceived, even by thehousewife, and at length reached aroom where he beheld Petrovich seat-ed on a large unpainted table, with hislegs tucked under him like a Turkishpasha. His feet were bare, after thefashion of tailors as they sit at work;and the first thing which caught theeye was his thumb, with a deformednail thick and strong as a turtle’s shell.About Petrovich’s neck hung a skein ofsilk and thread, and upon his knees laysome old garment. He had been try-ing unsuccessfully for three minutes tothread his needle, and was enraged atthe darkness and even at the thread,growling in a low voice, “It won’t gothrough, the barbarian! you prickedme, you rascal!”

Akaky Akakiyevich was vexed atarriving at the precise moment whenPetrovich was angry. He liked to ordersomething of Petrovich when he was a

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little downhearted, or, as his wife ex-pressed it, “when he had settled him-self with brandy, the one-eyed devil!”Under such circumstances Petrovichgenerally came down in his price veryreadily, and even bowed and returnedthanks. Afterwards, to be sure, his wifewould come, complaining that herhusband had been drunk, and so hadfixed the price too low; but, if only aten-kopek piece were added then thematter would be settled. But now itappeared that Petrovich was in a sobercondition, and therefore rough, taci-turn, and inclined to demand, Satanonly knows what price. AkakyAkakiyevich felt this, and would glad-ly have beat a retreat, but he was infor it. Petrovich screwed up his oneeye very intently at him, and AkakyAkakiyevich involuntarily said, “Howdo you do, Petrovich?”

“I wish you a good morning, sir,”said Petrovich squinting at AkakyAkakiyevich’s hands, to see what sortof booty he had brought.

“Ah! I — to you, Petrovich, this — ”It must be known that Akaky

Akakiyevich expressed himself chieflyby prepositions, adverbs, and scraps ofphrases which had no meaning what-ever. If the matter was a very difficultone, he had a habit of never complet-ing his sentences, so that frequently,having begun a phrase with the words,“This, in fact, is quite — ” he forgot togo on, thinking he had already finishedit.

“What is it?” asked Petrovich, andwith his one eye scanned AkakyAkakiyevich’s whole uniform from thecollar down to the cuffs, the back, thetails and the button-holes, all of whichwere well known to him, since theywere his own handiwork. Such is thehabit of tailors; it is the first thing theydo on meeting one.

“But I, here, this — Petrovich — acloak, cloth — here you see, every-where, in different places, it is quitestrong — it is a little dusty and looksold, but it is new, only here in oneplace it is a little — on the back, andhere on one of the shoulders, it is a lit-tle worn, yes, here on this shoulder it isa little — do you see? That is all. And a

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little work — ”Petrovich took the cloak, spread it

out, to begin with, on the table, lookedat it hard, shook his head, reached outhis hand to the window-sill for hissnuff-box, adorned with the portraitof some general, though what generalis unknown, for the place where theface should have been had been rubbedthrough by the finger and a square bitof paper had been pasted over it. Hav-ing taken a pinch of snuff, Petrovichheld up the cloak, and inspected itagainst the light, and again shook hishead. Then he turned it, lining up-wards, and shook his head once more.After which he again lifted the gen-eral-adorned lid with its bit of pastedpaper, and having stuffed his nose withsnuff, dosed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally, “No, it is impos-sible to mend it. It is a wretched gar-ment!”

Akaky Akakiyevich’s heart sank atthese words.

“Why is it impossible, Petrovich?”he said, almost in the pleading voiceof a child. “All that ails it is, that it is

worn on the shoulders. You must havesome pieces — ”

“Yes, patches could be found,patches are easily found,” said Petro-vich, “but there’s nothing to sew themto. The thing is completely rotten. Ifyou put a needle to it — see, it will giveway.”

“Let it give way, and you can puton another patch at once.”

“But there is nothing to put thepatches on to. There’s no use instrengthening it. It is too far gone. It’slucky that it’s cloth, for, if the windwere to blow, it would fly away.”

“Well, strengthen it again. Howthis, in fact — ”

“No,” said Petrovich decisively,“there is nothing to be done with it.It’s a thoroughly bad job. You’d better,when the cold winter weather comeson, make yourself some gaiters out ofit, because stockings are not warm.The Germans invented them in orderto make more money.” Petrovich lovedon all occasions to have a fling at theGermans. “But it is plain you musthave a new cloak.”

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At the word “new” all grew darkbefore Akaky Akakiyevich’s eyes, andeverything in the room began to whirlround. The only thing he saw clearlywas the general with the paper face onthe lid of Petrovich’s snuff-box. “A newone?” said he, as if still in a dream.“Why, I have no money for that.”

“Yes, a new one,” said Petrovich,with barbarous composure.

“Well, if it came to a new one,how — it — ”

“You mean how much would itcost?”

“Yes.”“Well, you would have to lay out a

hundred and fifty or more,” said Petro-vich, and pursed up his lips signifi-cantly. He liked to produce powerfuleffects, liked to stun utterly and sud-denly, and then to glance sideways tosee what face the stunned personwould put on the matter.

“A hundred and fifty rubles for acloak!” shrieked poor Akaky Akakiye-vich, perhaps for the first time in hislife, for his voice had always been dis-tinguished for softness.

“Yes, sir,” said Petrovich, “for anykind of cloak. If you have a marten furon the collar, or a silk-lined hood, itwill mount up to two hundred.”

“Petrovich, please,” said AkakyAkakiyevich in a beseeching tone, nothearing, and not trying to hear, Petro-vich’s words, and disregarding all his“effects,” “some repairs, in order that itmay wear yet a little longer.”

“No, it would only be a waste oftime and money,” said Petrovich. AndAkaky Akakiyevich went away afterthese words, utterly discouraged. ButPetrovich stood for some time after hisdeparture, with significantly com-pressed lips, and without betakinghimself to his work, satisfied that hewould not be dropped, and an artistictailor employed.

Akaky Akakiyevich went out intothe street as if in a dream. “Such anaffair!” he said to himself. “I did notthink it had come to — ” and then af-ter a pause, he added, “Well, so it is!see what it has come to at last! and Inever imagined that it was so!” Thenfollowed a long silence, after which he

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exclaimed, “Well, so it is! see what al-ready — nothing unexpected that — itwould be nothing — what a strangecircumstance!” So saying, instead ofgoing home, he went in exactly the op-posite direction without suspecting it.On the way, a chimney-sweep bumpedup against him, and blackened hisshoulder, and a whole hatful of rub-bish landed on him from the top of ahouse which was building. He did notnotice it, and only when he ran againsta watchman, who, having planted hishalberd beside him, was shaking somesnuff from his box into his horny hand,did he recover himself a little, and thatbecause the watchman said, “Why areyou poking yourself into a man’s veryface? Haven’t you the pavement?” Thiscaused him to look about him, andturn towards home.

There only, he finally began to col-lect his thoughts, and to survey his po-sition in its clear and actual light, andto argue with himself, sensibly andfrankly, as with a reasonable friend,with whom one can discuss privateand personal matters. “No,” said

Akaky Akakiyevich, “it is impossibleto reason with Petrovich now. He isthat — evidently, his wife has beenbeating him. I’d better go to him onSunday morning. After Saturday nighthe will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy,for he will want to get drunk, and hiswife won’t give him any money, and atsuch a time, a ten-kopek piece in hishand will — he will become more fitto reason with, and then the cloak andthat — ” Thus argued Akaky Akakiye-vich with himself regained his courage,and waited until the first Sunday,when, seeing from afar that Petrovich’swife had left the house, he wentstraight to him.

Petrovich’s eye was indeed verymuch askew after Saturday. His headdrooped, and he was very sleepy; butfor all that, as soon as he knew what itwas a question of, it seemed as thoughSatan jogged his memory. “Impossi-ble,” said he. “Please to order a newone.” Thereupon Akaky Akakiyevichhanded over the ten-kopek piece.“Thank you, sir. I will drink your goodhealth,” said Petrovich. “But as for the

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cloak, don’t trouble yourself about it;it is good for nothing. I will make youa capital new one, so let us settle aboutit now.”

Akaky Akakiyevich was still formending it, but Petrovich would nothear of it, and said, “I shall certainlyhave to make you a new one, and youmay depend upon it that I shall do mybest. It may even be, as the fashiongoes, that the collar can be fastened bysilver hooks under a flap.”

Then Akaky Akakiyevich saw thatit was impossible to get along withouta new cloak, and his spirit sank utterly.How, in fact, was it to be done? Wherewas the money to come from? He musthave some new trousers, and pay adebt of long standing to the shoemak-er for putting new tops to his oldboots, and he must order three shirtsfrom the seamstress, and a couple ofpieces of linen. In short, all his moneymust be spent. And even if the direc-tor should be so kind as to order himto receive forty-five or even fiftyrubles instead of forty, it would be amere nothing, a mere drop in the

ocean towards the funds necessary fora cloak, although he knew that Petro-vich was often wrong-headed enoughto blurt out some outrageous price, sothat even his own wife could not re-frain from exclaiming, “Have you lostyour senses, you fool?” At one time hewould not work at any price, and nowit was quite likely that he had named ahigher sum than the cloak would cost.

But although he knew that Petro-vich would undertake to make a cloakfor eighty rubles, still, where was he toget the eighty rubles from? He mightpossibly manage half. Yes, half mightbe procured, but where was the otherhalf to come from? But the readermust first be told where the first halfcame from.

Akaky Akakiyevich had a habit ofputting, for every ruble he spent, agroschen into a small box, fastenedwith lock and key, and with a slit inthe top for the reception of money. Atthe end of every half-year he countedover the heap of coppers, and changedit for silver. This he had done for along time, and in the course of years,

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the sum had mounted up to over fortyrubles. Thus he had one half on hand.But where was he to find the otherhalf? Where was he to get anotherforty rubles from? Akaky Akakiyevichthought and thought, and decided thatit would be necessary to curtail his or-dinary expenses, for the space of oneyear at least, to dispense with tea inthe evening, to burn no candles, and,if there was anything which he mustdo, to go into his landlady’s room, andwork by her light. When he went intothe street, he must walk as lightly ashe could, and as cautiously, upon thestones, almost upon tiptoe, in ordernot to wear his heels down in too shorta time. He must give the laundress aslittle to wash as possible; and, in ordernot to wear out his clothes, he musttake them off as soon as he got home,and wear only his cotton dressing-gown, which had been long and care-fully saved.

To tell the truth, it was a little hardfor him at first to accustom himselfto these deprivations. But he got usedto them at length, after a fashion, and

all went smoothly. He even got usedto being hungry in the evening, buthe made up for it by treating himself,so to say, in spirit, by bearing ever inmind the idea of his future cloak. Fromthat time forth, his existence seemedto become, in some way, fuller, as if hewere married, or as if some other manlived in him, as if, in fact, he were notalone, and some pleasant friend hadconsented to travel along life’s pathwith him, the friend being no otherthan the cloak, with thick waddingand a strong lining incapable of wear-ing out. He became more lively, andeven his character grew firmer, likethat of a man who has made up hismind, and set himself a goal. From hisface and gait, doubt and indecision, allhesitating and wavering disappearedof themselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes,and occasionally the boldest and mostdaring ideas flitted through his mind.Why not, for instance, have marten furon the collar? The thought of this al-most made him absent-minded. Once,in copying a letter, he nearly made amistake, so that he exclaimed almost

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aloud, “Ugh!” and crossed himself.Once, in the course of every month, hehad a conference with Petrovich on thesubject of the cloak, where it would bebetter to buy the cloth, and the colour,and the price. He always returnedhome satisfied, though troubled, re-flecting that the time would come atlast when it could all be bought, andthen the cloak made.

The affair progressed more brisklythan he had expected. For beyond allhis hopes, the director awarded nei-ther forty nor forty-five rubles forAkaky Akakiyevich’s share, but sixty.Whether he suspected that AkakyAkakiyevich needed a cloak, orwhether it was merely chance, at allevents, twenty extra rubles were bythis means provided. This circum-stance hastened matters. Two or threemonths more of hunger and AkakyAkakiyevich had accumulated abouteighty rubles. His heart, generally soquiet, began to throb. On the first pos-sible day, he went shopping in compa-ny with Petrovich. They bought somevery good cloth, and at a reasonable

rate too, for they had been consideringthe matter for six months, and rarelylet a month pass without their visitingthe shops to enquire prices. Petrovichhimself said that no better cloth couldbe had. For lining, they selected a cot-ton stuff, but so firm and thick, thatPetrovich declared it to be better thansilk, and even prettier and more glossy.They did not buy the marten fur, be-cause it was, in fact, dear, but in itsstead, they picked out the very best ofcat-skin which could be found in theshop, and which might, indeed, be tak-en for marten at a distance.

Petrovich worked at the cloak twowhole weeks, for there was a great dealof quilting; otherwise it would havebeen finished sooner. He chargedtwelve rubles for the job, it could notpossibly have been done for less. It wasall sewed with silk, in small, doubleseams, and Petrovich went over eachseam afterwards with his own teeth,stamping in various patterns.

It was — it is difficult to say pre-cisely on what day, but probably themost glorious one in Akaky Akakiye-

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vich’s life, when Petrovich at lengthbrought home the cloak. He brought itin the morning, before the hour whenit was necessary to start for the depart-ment. Never did a cloak arrive so ex-actly in the nick of time, for the se-vere cold had set in, and it seemed tothreaten to increase. Petrovichbrought the cloak himself as befits agood tailor. On his countenance was asignificant expression, such as AkakyAkakiyevich had never beheld there.He seemed fully sensible that he haddone no small deed, and crossed a gulfseparating tailors who put in linings,and execute repairs, from those whomake new things. He took the cloakout of the pocket-handkerchief inwhich he had brought it. The handker-chief was fresh from the laundress, andhe put it in his pocket for use. Takingout the cloak, he gazed proudly at it,held it up with both hands, and flungit skilfully over the shoulders of AkakyAkakiyevich. Then he pulled it and fit-ted it down behind with his hand, andhe draped it around Akaky Akakiye-vich without buttoning it. Akaky

Akakiyevich, like an experienced man,wished to try the sleeves. Petrovichhelped him on with them, and itturned out that the sleeves were sat-isfactory also. In short, the cloak ap-peared to be perfect, and most season-able. Petrovich did not neglect to ob-serve that it was only because he livedin a narrow street, and had no sign-board, and had known AkakyAkakiyevich so long, that he had madeit so cheaply; but that if he had beenin business on the Nevsky Prospect, hewould have charged seventy-five rublesfor the making alone. Akaky Akakiye-vich did not care to argue this pointwith Petrovich. He paid him, thankedhim, and set out at once in his newcloak for the department. Petrovichfollowed him, and pausing in thestreet, gazed long at the cloak in thedistance, after which he went to oneside expressly to run through acrooked alley, and emerge again intothe street beyond to gaze once moreupon the cloak from another point,namely, directly in front.

Meantime Akaky Akakiyevich

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went on in holiday mood. He was con-scious every second of the time thathe had a new cloak on his shoulders,and several times he laughed with in-ternal satisfaction. In fact, there weretwo advantages, one was its warmth,the other its beauty. He saw nothingof the road, but suddenly found him-self at the department. He took off hiscloak in the ante-room, looked it overcarefully, and confided it to the specialcare of the attendant. It is impossibleto say precisely how it was that everyone in the department knew at oncethat Akaky Akakiyevich had a newcloak, and that the “cape” no longer ex-isted. All rushed at the same momentinto the ante-room to inspect it. Theycongratulated him, and said pleasantthings to him, so that he began at firstto smile, and then to grow ashamed.When all surrounded him, and saidthat the new cloak must be “chris-tened,” and that he must at least givethem all a party, Akaky Akakiyevichlost his head completely, and did notknow where he stood, what to answer,or how to get out of it. He stood blush-

ing all over for several minutes, tryingto assure them with great simplicitythat it was not a new cloak, that it wasin fact the old “cape.”

At length one of the officials, assis-tant to the head clerk, in order to showthat he was not at all proud, and ongood terms with his inferiors, said:

“So be it, only I will give the partyinstead of Akaky Akakiyevich; I inviteyou all to tea with me to-night. It justhappens to be my name-day too.”

The officials naturally at once of-fered the assistant clerk their congrat-ulations, and accepted the invitationwith pleasure. Akaky Akakiyevichwould have declined; but all declaredthat it was discourteous, that it wassimply a sin and a shame, and that hecould not possibly refuse. Besides, thenotion became pleasant to him whenhe recollected that he should therebyhave a chance of wearing his new cloakin the evening also.

That whole day was truly a mosttriumphant festival for AkakyAkakiyevich. He returned home in themost happy frame of mind, took off

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his cloak, and hung it carefully on thewall, admiring afresh the cloth and thelining. Then he brought out his old,worn-out cloak, for comparison. Helooked at it, and laughed, so vast wasthe difference. And long after dinnerhe laughed again when the conditionof the “cape” recurred to his mind. Hedined cheerfully, and after dinnerwrote nothing, but took his ease fora while on the bed, until it got dark.Then he dressed himself leisurely, puton his cloak, and stepped out into thestreet.

Where the host lived, unfortunate-ly we cannot say. Our memory beginsto fail us badly. The houses and streetsin Leningrad have become so mixed upin our head that it is very difficult toget anything out of it again in properform. This much is certain, that the of-ficial lived in the best part of the city;and therefore it must have been any-thing but near to Akaky Akakiyevich’sresidence. Akaky Akakiyevich wasfirst obliged to traverse a kind ofwilderness of deserted, dimly-lightedstreets. But in proportion as he ap-

proached the official’s quarter of thecity, the streets became more lively,more populous, and more brilliantlyilluminated. Pedestrians began to ap-pear; handsomely dressed ladies weremore frequently encountered; the menhad otter skin collars to their coats;shabby sleigh-men with their wooden,railed sledges stuck over with brass-headed nails, became rarer; whilst onthe other hand, more and more driversin red velvet caps, lacquered sledgesand bear-skin coats began to appear,and carriages with rich hammer-clothsflew swiftly through the streets, theirwheels scrunching the snow.

Akaky Akakiyevich gazed upon allthis as upon a novel sight. He had notbeen in the streets during the eveningfor years. He halted out of curiositybefore a shop-window, to look at a pic-ture representing a handsome woman,who had thrown off her shoe, therebybaring her whole foot in a very prettyway; whilst behind her the head of aman with whiskers and a handsomemoustache peeped through the door-way of another room. Akaky Akakiye-

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vich shook his head, and laughed, andthen went on his way. Why did helaugh? Either because he had met witha thing utterly unknown, but forwhich every one cherishes, neverthe-less, some sort of feeling, or else hethought, like many officials, “Well,those French! What is to be said? Ifthey do go in for anything of that sort,why — ” But possibly he did not thinkat all.

Akaky Akakiyevich at lengthreached the house in which the headclerk’s assistant lodged. He lived infine style. The staircase was lit by alamp, his apartment being on the sec-ond floor. On entering the vestibule,Akaky Akakiyevich beheld a wholerow of goloshes on the floor. Amongthem, in the centre of the room, stooda samovar, humming and emittingclouds of steam. On the walls hung allsorts of coats and cloaks, among whichthere were even some with beaver col-lars, or velvet facings. Beyond, thebuzz of conversation was audible, andbecame clear and loud, when the ser-vant came out with a trayful of empty

glasses, cream-jugs and sugar-bowls. Itwas evident that the officials had ar-rived long before, and had already fin-ished their first glass of tea.

Akaky Akakiyevich, having hungup his own cloak, entered the innerroom. Before him all at once appearedlights, officials, pipes, and card-tables,and he was bewildered by a sound ofrapid conversation rising from all thetables, and the noise of moving chairs.He halted very awkwardly in the mid-dle of the room, wondering what heought to do. But they had seen him.They received him with a shout, andall thronged at once into the ante-room, and there took another look athis cloak. Akaky Akakiyevich, al-though somewhat confused, was frank-hearted, and could not refrain from re-joicing when he saw how they praisedhis cloak. Then, of course, they alldropped him and his cloak, and re-turned, as was proper, to the tables setout for whist.

All this, the noise, the talk, andthe throng of people, was rather over-whelming to Akaky Akakiyevich. He

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simply did not know where he stood,or where to put his hands, his feet, andhis whole body. Finally he sat down bythe players, looked at the cards, gazedat the face of one and another, and af-ter a while began to gape, and to feelthat it was wearisome, the more so, asthe hour was already long past whenhe usually went to bed. He wanted totake leave of the host, but they wouldnot let him go, saying that he mustnot fail to drink a glass of champagne,in honour of his new garment. In thecourse of an hour, supper, consisting ofvegetable salad, cold veal, pastry, con-fectioner’s pies, and champagne, wasserved. They made Akaky Akakiyevichdrink two glasses of champagne, afterwhich he felt things grow livelier.

Still, he could not forget that itwas twelve o’clock, and that he shouldhave been at home long ago. In orderthat the host might not think of someexcuse for detaining him, he stole outof the room quickly, sought out, in theante-room, his cloak, which, to his sor-row, he found lying on the floor,brushed it, picked off every speck up-

on it, put it on his shoulders, and de-scended the stairs to the street.

In the street all was still bright.Some petty shops, those permanentclubs of servants and all sorts of folks,were open. Others were shut, but, nev-ertheless, showed a streak of light thewhole length of the door-crack, indi-cating that they were not yet free ofcompany, and that probably some do-mestics, male and female, were finish-ing their stories and conversations,whilst leaving their masters in com-plete ignorance as to their where-abouts. Akaky Akakiyevich went on ina happy frame of mind. He even start-ed to run, without knowing why, aftersome lady, who flew past like a flashof lightning. But he stopped short, andwent on very quietly as before, won-dering why he had quickened his pace.Soon there spread before him these de-serted streets which are not cheerfulin the daytime, to say no thing of theevening. Now they were even moredim and lonely. The lanterns began togrow rarer, oil, evidently, had been lessliberally supplied. Then came wooden

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houses and fences. Not a soul any-where; only the snow sparkled in thestreets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabins with their closed shut-ters. He approached the spot wherethe street crossed a vast square withhouses barely visible on its fartherside, a square which seemed a fearfuldesert.

Afar, a tiny spark glimmered fromsome watchman’s-box, which seemedto stand on the edge of the world.Akaky Akakiyevich’s cheerfulness di-minished at this point in a marked de-gree. He entered the square, not with-out an involuntary sensation of fear, asthough his heart warned him of someevil. He glanced back, and on bothsides it was like a sea about him. “No,it is better not to look,” he thought,and went on, closing his eyes. Whenhe opened them, to see whether he wasnear the end of the square, he suddenlybeheld, standing just before his verynose, some bearded individuals of pre-cisely what sort, he could not makeout. All grew dark before his eyes, andhis heart throbbed.

“Of course, the cloak is mine!” saidone of them in a loud voice, seizinghold of his collar. Akaky Akakiyevichwas about to shout “Help!” when thesecond man thrust a fist, about the sizeof an official’s head, at his very mouth,muttering, “Just you dare to scream!”

Akaky Akakiyevich felt them stripoff his cloak, and give him a kick. Hefell headlong upon the snow, and feltno more.

In a few minutes he recovered con-sciousness, and rose to his feet, but noone was there. He felt that it was coldin the square, and that his cloak wasgone. He began to shout, but his voicedid not appear to reach the outskirtsof the square. In despair, but withoutceasing to shout, he started at a runacross the square, straight towards thewatch-box, beside which stood thewatchman, leaning on his halberd, andapparently curious to know what kindof a customer was running towardshim shouting. Akaky Akakiyevich ranup to him, and began in a sobbingvoice to shout that he was asleep, andattended to nothing, and did not see

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when a man was robbed. The watch-man replied that he had seen two menstop him in the middle of the square,but supposed that they were friends ofhis, and that, instead of scolding vain-ly, he had better go to the police onthe morrow, so that they might makea search for whoever had stolen thecloak.

Akaky Akakiyevich ran home andarrived in a state of complete disorder,his hair which grew very thinly uponhis temples and the back of his head alltousled, his body, arms and legs, cov-ered with snow. The old woman, whowas mistress of his lodgings, on hear-ing a terrible knocking, sprang hastilyfrom her bed, and, with only one shoeon, ran to open the door, pressing thesleeve of her chemise to her bosom outof modesty. But when she had openedit, she fell back on beholding AkakyAkakiyevich in such a condition.When he told her about the affair, sheclasped her hands, and said that hemust go straight to the district chief ofpolice, for his subordinate would turnup his nose, promise well, and drop the

matter there. The very best thing todo, therefore, would be to go to thedistrict chief, whom she knew, becauseFinnish Anna, her former cook, wasnow nurse at his house. She often sawhim passing the house, and he was atchurch every Sunday, praying, but atthe same time gazing cheerfully ateverybody; so that he must be a goodman, judging from all appearances.Having listened to this opinion, AkakyAkakiyevich betook himself sadly tohis room. And how he spent the nightthere, any one who can put himself inanother’s place may readily imagine.

Early in the morning, he presentedhimself at the district chief’s, but wastold the official was asleep. He wentagain at ten and was again informedthat he was asleep. At eleven, and theysaid, “The superintendent is not athome.” At dinner time, and the clerksin the ante-room would not admit himon any terms, and insisted upon know-ing his business. So that at last, foronce in his life, Akaky Akakiyevichfelt an inclination to show some spirit,and said curtly that he must see the

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chief in person, that they ought not topresume to refuse him entrance, thathe came from the department of jus-tice, and that when he complained ofthem, they would see.

The clerks dared make no reply tothis, and one of them went to call thechief, who listened to the strange storyof the theft of the coat. Instead of di-recting his attention to the principalpoints of the matter, he began to ques-tion Akaky Akakiyevich. Why was hegoing home so late? Was he in thehabit of doing so, or had he been tosome disorderly house? So that AkakyAkakiyevich got thoroughly confused,and left him, without knowingwhether the affair of his cloak was inproper train or not.

All that day, for the first time inhis life, he never went near the de-partment. The next day he made hisappearance, very pale, and in his oldcape, which had become even moreshabby. The news of the robbery of thecloak touched many, although therewere some officials present who neverlost an opportunity, even such a one

as the present, of ridiculing AkakyAkakiyevich. They decided to make acollection for him on the spot, but theofficials had already spent a great dealin subscribing for the director’s por-trait, and for some book, at the sugges-tion of the head of that division, whowas a friend of the author; and so thesum was trifling.

One of them, moved by pity, re-solved to help Akaky Akakiyevichwith some good advice, at least, andtold him that he ought not to go to thepolice, for although it might happenthat a police-officer, wishing to winthe approval of his superiors, mighthunt up the cloak by some means, still,his cloak would remain in the posses-sion of the police if he did not offer le-gal proof that it belonged to him. Thebest thing for him, therefore, would beto apply to a certain prominent per-sonage; since this prominent person-age, by entering into relation with theproper persons, could greatly expeditethe matter.

As there was nothing else to bedone, Akaky Akakiyevich decided to

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go to the prominent personage. Whatwas the exact official position of theprominent personage, remains un-known to this day. The reader mustknow that the prominent personagehad but recently become a prominentpersonage, having up to that time beenonly an insignificant person. More-over, his present position was not con-sidered prominent in comparison withothers still more so. But there is alwaysa circle of people to whom what is in-significant in the eyes of others, is im-portant enough. Moreover, he stroveto increase his importance by sundrydevices. For instance, he managed tohave the inferior officials meet him onthe staircase when he entered upon hisservice; no one was to presume tocome directly to him, but the strictestetiquette must be observed; the colle-giate recorder must make a report tothe government secretary, the govern-ment secretary to the titular council-lor, or whatever other man was prop-er, and all business must come beforehim in this manner. In Holy Russia,all is thus contaminated with the love

of imitation; every man imitates andcopies his superior. They even say thata certain titular councillor, when pro-moted to the head of some small sep-arate office, immediately partitionedoff a private room for himself, calledit the audience chamber, and postedat the door a lackey with red collarand braid, who grasped the handle ofthe door, and opened to all comers,though the audience chamber wouldhardly hold an ordinary writing table.

The manners and customs of theprominent personage were grand andimposing, but rather exaggerated. Themain foundation of his system wasstrictness. “Strictness, strictness, andalways strictness!” he generally said;and at the last word he looked sig-nificantly into the face of the personto whom he spoke. But there was nonecessity for this, for the halfscore ofsubordinates, who formed the entireforce of the office, were properlyafraid. On catching sight of him afaroff, they left their work, and waited,drawn up in line, until he had passedthrough the room. His ordinary con-

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verse with his inferiors smacked ofsternness, and consisted chiefly ofthree phrases: “How dare you?” “Doyou know whom you are speaking to?”“Do you realise who is standing beforeyou?”

Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades,and ready to oblige. But the rank ofgeneral threw him completely off hisbalance. On receiving any one of thatrank, he became confused, lost his way,as it were, and never knew what to do.If he chanced to be amongst his equals,he was still a very nice kind of man,a very good fellow in many respects,and not stupid, but the very momentthat he found himself in the society ofpeople but one rank lower than him-self, he became silent. And his situa-tion aroused sympathy, the more so, ashe felt himself that he might have beenmaking an incomparably better use ofhis time. In his eyes, there was some-times visible a desire to join some in-teresting conversation or group, but hewas kept back by the thought, “Wouldit not be a very great condescension

on his part? Would it not be familiar?And would he not thereby lose his im-portance?” And in consequence of suchreflections, he always remained in thesame dumb state, uttering from timeto time a few monosyllabic sounds,and thereby earning the name of themost wearisome of men.

To this prominent personageAkaky Akakiyevich presented himself,and this at the most unfavourable timefor himself, though opportune for theprominent personage. The prominentpersonage was in his cabinet, convers-ing very gaily with an old acquaintanceand companion of his childhood,whom he had not seen for severalyears, and who had just arrived, whenit was announced to him that a personnamed Bashmachkin had come. Heasked abruptly, “Who is he?” — “Someofficial,” he was informed. “Ah, he canwait! This is no time for him to call,”said the important man.

It must be remarked here that theimportant man lied outrageously. Hehad said all he had to say to his friendlong before, and the conversation had

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been interspersed for some time withvery long pauses, during which theymerely slapped each other on the leg,and said, “You think so, IvanAbramovich!” “Just so, Stepan Varlam-ovich!” Nevertheless, he ordered thatthe official should be kept waiting, inorder to show his friend, a man whohad not been in the service for a longtime, but had lived at home in thecountry, how long officials had to waitin his ante-room.

At length, having talked himselfcompletely out, and more than that,having had his fill of pauses, andsmoked a cigar in a very comfortablearm-chair with reclining back, he sud-denly seemed to recollect, and said tothe secretary, who stood by the doorwith papers of reports, “So it seemsthat there is an official waiting to seeme. Tell him that he may come in.” Onperceiving Akaky Akakiyevich’s mod-est mien and his worn uniform, heturned abruptly to him, and said,“What do you want?” in a curt hardvoice, which he had practised in hisroom in private, and before the look-

ing-glass, for a whole week before be-ing raised to his present rank.

Akaky Akakiyevich, who was al-ready imbued with a due amount offear, became somewhat confused, andas well as his tongue would permit, ex-plained, with a rather more frequentaddition than usual of the word “that”that his cloak was quite new, and hadbeen stolen in the most inhuman man-ner; that he had applied to him, in or-der that he might, in some way, by hisintermediation — that he might enterinto correspondence with the chief ofpolice, and find the cloak.

For some inexplicable reason, thisconduct seemed familiar to the promi-nent personage.

“What, my dear sir!” he saidabruptly, “are you not acquainted withetiquette? To whom have you come?Don’t you know how such matters aremanaged? You should first have pre-sented a petition to the office. It wouldhave gone to the head of the depart-ment, then to the chief of the division,then it would have been handed overto the secretary, and the secretary

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would have given it to me.”“But, your excellency,” said Akaky

Akakiyevich, trying to collect his smallhandful of wits, and conscious at thesame time that he was perspiring ter-ribly, “I, your excellency, presumed totrouble you because secretaries — arean untrustworthy race.”

“What, what, what!” said the im-portant personage. “Where did you getsuch courage? Where did you get suchideas? What impudence towards theirchiefs and superiors has spread amongthe young generation!” The prominentpersonage apparently had not ob-served that Akaky Akakiyevich was al-ready in the neighbourhood of fifty.If he could be called a young man, itmust have been in comparison withsome one who was seventy. “Do youknow to whom you are speaking? Doyou realise who is standing before you?Do you realise it? Do you realise it, Iask you!” Then he stamped his foot,and raised his voice to such a pitchthat it would have frightened even adifferent man from Akaky Akakiye-vich.

Akaky Akakiyevich’s senses failedhim. He staggered, trembled in everylimb, and, if the porters had not runin to support him, would have fallento the floor. They carried him out in-sensible. But the prominent personage,gratified that the effect should havesurpassed his expectations, and quiteintoxicated with the thought that hisword could even deprive a man of hissenses, glanced sideways at his friendin order to see how he looked uponthis, and perceived, not without satis-faction, that his friend was in a mostuneasy frame of mind, and even begin-ning on his part, to feel a trifle fright-ened.

Akaky Akakiyevich could not re-member how he descended the stairs,and got into the street. He felt neitherhis hands nor feet. Never in his lifehad he been so rated by any high offi-cial, let alone a strange one. He wentstaggering on through the snow-storm,which was blowing in the streets, withhis mouth wide open. The wind, inLeningrad fashion, darted upon himfrom all quarters, and down every

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cross-street. In a twinkling it hadblown a quinsy into his throat, and hereached home unable to utter a word.His throat was swollen, and he laydown on his bed. So powerful is some-times a good scolding!

The next day a violent fever de-veloped. Thanks to the generous as-sistance of the Leningrad climate, themalady progressed more rapidly thancould have been expected, and whenthe doctor arrived, he found, on feel-ing the sick man’s pulse, that there wasnothing to be done, except to pre-scribe a poultice, so that the patientmight not be left entirely without thebeneficent aid of medicine. But at thesame time, he predicted his end inthirty-six hours. After this he turnedto the landlady, and said, “And as foryou, don’t waste your time on him. Or-der his pine coffin now, for an oak onewill be too expensive for him.”

Did Akaky Akakiyevich hear thesefatal words? And if he heard them, didthey produce any overwhelming effectupon him? Did he lament the bitter-ness of his life? — We know not, for

he continued in a delirious condition.Visions incessantly appeared to him,each stranger than the other. Now hesaw Petrovich, and ordered him tomake a cloak, with some traps for rob-bers, who seemed to him to be alwaysunder the bed; and he cried every mo-ment to the landlady to pull one ofthem from under his coverlet. Then heinquired why his old mantle hung be-fore him when he had a new cloak.Next he fancied that he was standingbefore the prominent person, listeningto a thorough setting-down and say-ing, “Forgive me, your excellency!” butat last he began to curse, uttering themost horrible words, so that his agedlandlady crossed herself, never in herlife having heard anything of the kindfrom him, and more so as these wordsfollowed directly after the words “yourexcellency.” Later on he talked utternonsense, of which nothing could bemade, all that was evident being thatthese incoherent words and thoughtshovered ever about one thing, hiscloak.

At length poor Akaky Akakiye-

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vich breathed his last. They sealed upneither his room nor his effects, be-cause, in the first place, there were noheirs, and, in the second, there wasvery little to inherit beyond a bundleof goose-quills, a quire of white officialpaper, three pairs of socks, two orthree buttons which had burst off histrousers, and the mantle alreadyknown to the reader. To whom all thisfell, God knows. I confess that the per-son who told me this tale took no in-terest in the matter. They carriedAkaky Akakiyevich out, and buriedhim.

And Leningrad was left withoutAkaky Akakiyevich, as though he hadnever lived there. A being disappeared,who was protected by none, dear tonone, interesting to none, and whonever even attracted to himself the at-tention of those students of human na-ture who omit no opportunity ofthrusting a pin through a common flyand examining it under the micro-scope. A being who bore meekly thejibes of the department, and went tohis grave without having done one un-

usual deed, but to whom, nevertheless,at the close of his life, appeared abright visitant in the form of a cloak,which momentarily cheered his poorlife, and upon him, thereafter, an in-tolerable misfortune descended, just asit descends upon the heads of themighty of this world!

Several days after his death, theporter was sent from the departmentto his lodgings, with an order for himto present himself there immediately,the chief commanding it. But theporter had to return unsuccessful, withthe answer that he could not come;and to the question, “Why?” replied,“Well, because he is dead! he wasburied four days ago.” In this mannerdid they hear of Akaky Akakiyevich’sdeath at the department. And the nextday a new official sat in his place, witha handwriting by no means so upright,but more inclined and slanting.

But who could have imagined thatthis was not really the end of AkakyAkakiyevich, that he was destined toraise a commotion after death, as if incompensation for his utterly insignifi-

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cant life? But so it happened, and ourpoor story unexpectedly gains a fantas-tic ending.

A rumour suddenly spreadthrough Leningrad, that a dead manhad taken to appearing on theKalinkin Bridge, and its vicinity, atnight in the form of an official seekinga stolen cloak, and that, under the pre-text of its being the stolen cloak, hedragged, without regard to rank orcalling, every one’s cloak from hisshoulders, be it cat-skin, beaver, fox,bear, sable, in a word, every sort offur and skin which men adopted fortheir covering. One of the departmentofficials saw the dead man with hisown eyes, and immediately recognisedin him Akaky Akakiyevich. This, how-ever, inspired him with such terror,that he ran off with all his might, andtherefore did not scan the dead manclosely, but only saw how the latterthreatened him from afar with his fin-ger. Constant complaints poured infrom all quarters, that the backs andshoulders, not only of titular but evenof court councillors, were exposed to

the danger of a cold, on account of thefrequent dragging off of their cloaks.

Arrangements were made by thepolice to catch the corpse, alive ordead, at any cost, and punish him asan example to others, in the most se-vere manner. In this they nearly suc-ceeded, for a watchman, on guard inKirinshkin Lane, caught the corpse bythe collar on the very scene of his evildeeds, when attempting to pull off thefrieze cloak of a retired musician. Hav-ing seized him by the collar, he sum-moned, with a shout, two of his com-rades, whom he enjoined to hold himfast, while he himself felt for a mo-ment in his boot, in order to draw outhis snuff-box, and refresh his frozennose. But the snuff was of a sort whicheven a corpse could not endure. Thewatchman having closed his right nos-tril with his finger, had no sooner suc-ceeded in holding half a handful upto the left, than the corpse sneezed soviolently that he completely filled theeyes of all three. While they raisedtheir hands to wipe them, the deadman vanished completely, so that they

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positively did not know whether theyhad actually had him in their grip atall. Thereafter the watchmen con-ceived such a terror of dead men thatthey were afraid even to seize the liv-ing, and only screamed from a dis-tance. “Hey, there! go your way!” So thedead official began to appear even be-yond the Kalinkin Bridge, causing nolittle terror to all timid people.

But we have totally neglected thatcertain prominent personage who mayreally be considered as the cause of thefantastic turn taken by this true histo-ry. First of all, justice compels us to say,that after the departure of poor, an-nihilated Akaky Akakiyevich, he feltsomething like remorse. Suffering wasunpleasant to him, for his heart wasaccessible to many good impulses, inspite of the fact that his rank oftenprevented his showing his true self. Assoon as his friend had left his cabinet,he began to think about poor AkakyAkakiyevich. And from that day forth,poor Akaky Akakiyevich, who couldnot bear up under an official repri-mand, recurred to his mind almost

every day. The thought troubled himto such an extent, that a week laterhe even resolved to send an official tohim, to learn whether he really couldassist him. And when it was reportedto him that Akaky Akakiyevich haddied suddenly of fever, he was startled,hearkened to the reproaches of hisconscience, and was out of sorts for thewhole day.

Wishing to divert his mind insome way and drive away the disagree-able impression, he set out thatevening for one of his friends’ houses,where he found quite a large party as-sembled. What was better, nearlyevery one was of the same rank as him-self, so that he need not feel in the leastconstrained. This had a marvellous ef-fect upon his mental state. He grewexpansive, made himself agreeable inconversation, in short, he passed a de-lightful evening. After supper hedrank a couple of glasses of cham-pagne — not a bad recipe for cheerful-ness, as every one knows. The cham-pagne inclined him to various adven-tures, and he determined not to return

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home, but to go and see a certain well-known lady, of German extraction,Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it appears,with whom he was on a very friendlyfooting.

It must be mentioned that theprominent personage was no longer ayoung man, but a good husband andrespected father of a family. Two sons,one of whom was already in the ser-vice, and a good-looking, sixteen-year-old daughter, with a slightly archedbut pretty little nose, came everymorning to kiss his hand and say, “Bonjour, papa.” His wife, a still fresh andgood-looking woman, first gave himher hand to kiss, and then, reversingthe procedure, kissed his. But theprominent personage, though perfect-ly satisfied in his domestic relations,considered it stylish to have a friend inanother quarter of the city. This friendwas scarcely prettier or younger thanhis wife; but there are such puzzles inthe world, and it is not our place tojudge them. So the important person-age descended the stairs, stepped intohis sledge, said to the coachman, “To

Karolina Ivanovna’s,” and, wrappinghimself luxuriously in his warm cloak,found himself in that delightful frameof mind than which a Russian can con-ceive nothing better, namely, whenyou think of nothing yourself, yetwhen the thoughts creep into yourmind of their own accord, each moreagreeable than the other, giving you notrouble either to drive them away, orseek them. Fully satisfied, he recalledall the gay features of the evening justpassed and all the mots which hadmade the little circle laugh. Many ofthem he repeated in a low voice, andfound them quite as funny as before;so it is not surprising that he shouldlaugh heartily at them. Occasionally,however, he was interrupted by gustsof wind, which, coming suddenly, Godknows whence or why, cut his face,drove masses of snow into it, filled outhis cloak-collar like a sail, or suddenlyblew it over his head with supernaturalforce, and thus caused him constanttrouble to disentangle himself.

Suddenly the important personagefelt some one clutch him firmly by the

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collar. Turning round, he perceived aman of short stature, in an old, wornuniform, and recognised, not withoutterror, Akaky Akakiyevich. The offi-cial’s face was white as snow, andlooked just like a corpse’s. But the hor-ror of the important personage tran-scended all bounds when he saw thedead man’s mouth open, and heard itutter the following remarks, while itbreathed upon him the terrible odourof the grave: “Ah, here you are at last!I have you, that — by the collar! I needyour cloak. You took no trouble aboutmine, but reprimanded me. So nowgive up your own.”

The pallid prominent personagealmost died of fright. Brave as he wasin the office and in the presence of in-feriors generally, and although, at thesight of his manly form and appear-ance, every one said, “Ugh! how muchcharacter he has!” at this crisis, he, likemany possessed of an heroic exterior,experienced such terror, that, notwithout cause, he began to fear an at-tack of illness. He flung his cloak hasti-ly from his shoulders and shouted to

his coachman in an unnatural voice,“Home at full speed!” The coachman,hearing the tone which is generallyemployed at critical moments, andeven accompanied by something muchmore tangible, drew his head down be-tween his shoulders in case of an emer-gency, flourished his whip, and flewon like an arrow. In a little more thansix minutes the prominent personagewas at the entrance of his own house.Pale, thoroughly scared, and cloakless,he went home instead of to KarolinaIvanovna’s, reached his room somehowor other, and passed the night in thedirest distress; so that the next morn-ing over their tea, his daughter said,“You are very pale to-day, papa.” Butpapa remained silent, and said not aword to any one of what had happenedto him, where he had been, or where hehad intended to go.

This occurrence made a deep im-pression upon him. He even began tosay, “How dare you? Do you realisewho is standing before you?” less fre-quently to the under-officials, and, ifhe did utter the words, it was only af-

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ter first having learned the bearingsof the matter. But the most notewor-thy point was, that from that day for-ward the apparition of the dead offi-cial ceased to be seen. Evidently theprominent personage’s cloak just fittedhis shoulders. At all events, no moreinstances of his dragging cloaks frompeople’s shoulders were heard of. Butmany active and solicitous personscould by no means reassure them-selves, and asserted that the dead of-ficial still showed himself in distantparts of the city.

In fact, one watchman in Kolomen

saw with his own eyes the apparitioncome from behind a house. But thewatchman was not a strong man, so hewas afraid to arrest him, and followedhim in the dark, until, at length, theapparition looked round, paused, andinquired, “What do you want?” at thesame time showing such a fist as is nev-er seen on living men. The watchmansaid, “Nothing,” and turned back in-stantly. But the apparition was muchtoo tall, wore huge moustaches, and,directing its steps apparently towardsthe Obukhov Bridge, disappeared inthe darkness of the night.

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