In the department of----, but it is better not to mention the
department. The touchiest things in the world are departments,
regiments, courts of justice, in a word, all branches of public
service. Each individual nowadays thinks all society insulted in his
person. Quite recently, a complaint was received from a district chief
of police in which he plainly demonstrated that all the imperial
institutions were going to the dogs, and that Czar's sacred name
was being taken in vain; and in proof he appended to the complaint a
romance, in which the district chief of police is made to appear about
once in every ten pages, and sometimes in a downright drunken
condition. Therefore, in order to avoid all unpleasantness, it will be
better to designate department in question, as a certain
department.

So, in a certain department there was a certain official--not a very
notable one, it must be allowed--short of stature, somewhat
pock-marked, red-haired, and mole-eyed, with a bald forehead, wrinkled
cheeks, and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St.
Petersburg climate was responsible for this. As for his official
rank--with us Russians the rank comes first--he was what is called a
perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is well known, some
writers make merry and crack their jokes, obeying praiseworthy
custom of attacking those who cannot bite back.

His family name was Bashmachkin. This name is evidently derived from
bashmak (shoe); but, when, at what time, and in what manner, is not
known. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmachkins, always
wore boots, which were resoled two or three times a year. His name was
Akaky Akakiyevich. It may strike the reader as rather singular and
far-fetched; but he may rest assured that it was by no means
far-fetched, and that circumstances were such that it would have
been impossible to give him any other.

This was how it came about.

Akaky Akakiyevich was born, if my memory fails me not, in the evening
on the 23rd of March. His mother, wife of a Government official,
and a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the child
baptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her right
stood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, a most estimable man,
who served as head clerk of the senate; and the godmother, Arina
Semyonovna Bielobrinshkova, the wife of an officer of quarter, and
a woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice of three
names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after
martyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are
poor." In order to please her, they opened the calendar at another
place; three more names appeared, Triphily, Dula, and Varakhasy. "This
is awful," said old woman. "What names! I truly never heard the
like. I might have put up with Varadat or