shadow of britain

Chapter 619 1 A comedy writer with hemorrhoids on his butt and full of complaints

Chapter 619: A comedy writer with a lot of hemorrhoids and a lot of complaints
The characters I create are based on synthesis, not imagination, but I am afraid that the more things I synthesize, the more realistic my creations will be, which will eventually cause me trouble.

—Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol
"Mr. Gogol?"

The fire in the fireplace crackled. Arthur leaned back in a rocking chair padded with red velvet, and looked with interest at the young Russian man in front of him who was running around for a professorship.

Even apart from the fact that he had hemorrhoids, Gogol was a very interesting guy.

How would you describe his appearance and outfit?

His chin-length hair was shiny and glossy like silk, and the stubborn mustache across his lips made his hooked nose stand out even more.

A colorful satin vest, a large copper chain from the breast pocket of his shirt to his belt buckle, it was obvious at first glance that he was wearing the latest fashion tailcoat in Petersburg, plus a suitcase filled with colorful spare coats and vests hidden on the carpet behind him.

With just one look, Arthur could easily deduce that this was a vain fashion guru, just like Mr. Disraeli in London.

He also discovered that Gogol was a potential severe patient of early human cryptothorax and cryptorhea.

So, what are cryptothorax and cryptorchidism?
In short, these two diseases usually occur in fitness enthusiasts. People with cryptogee usually open their hands seemingly unintentionally when walking, so that the front of their coat opens to reveal the lining, as if their chest and back muscles are so developed that they are about to burst their shirts.

Generally speaking, a weirdo like Mr. Gogol is extremely eye-catching wherever he goes, and you can tell at first glance that he is extraordinary.

He will either accomplish something earth-shattering in his life, or become a psychopath in the eyes of others.

But based on simple surface observation, Arthur could not conclude that this gentleman was Mr. Gogol, the master of realism in the 19th century Russian literary world, Lu Xun's idol, and the author of famous works such as "The Inspector General", "Dead Souls", "The Nose" and "Diary of a Madman".

After all, based on what Arthur has observed so far, this gentleman's behavior is so funny, just like a character in Gogol's works.

If Arthur could not be sure that he was Gogol, he would not be able to make friends with him, penetrate the Russian literary circle through him, and establish social relations as a British spy in the Russian literary world.

Arthur did not want to confess his great friendship with such an eccentric fellow as Mr. Benjamin Disraeli if Mr. Disraeli had not become Prime Minister in the future.

Of course, Mr. Elder Carter was not included in Arthur's friendship evaluation system. The main reason was that Arthur believed that the relationship between the two was not a friendship but a breeding relationship.

Arthur crossed his legs, a notebook on his knees, a quill in his hand, and asked in an interrogative tone: "Excuse me, sir. Due to my professional ethics, I have to conduct routine inquiries to you. I hope this will not cause you unnecessary psychological pressure. The first question is, where do you work?"

It can be seen that Gogol is very nervous. His face is pale and his expression is painful. He turns his hat around in his hands, rubs his gloves, and looks at Arthur with a somewhat distrustful look.

Arthur saw him like this and asked with concern, "Are you sick again? If you need it, I can recommend you a very good German doctor. That doctor has no other skills in his life, but he is particularly interested in treating hemorrhoids and urinary incontinence. Even Austrian Prime Minister Metternich specially invited him to Vienna to see a doctor."

Gogol covered his cheek and breathed softly: "Um... is what you said true? What is the doctor's fee? Does he live in Petersburg?"

Arthur recalled Heine's fee standards and shook his head slightly. "He usually charges quite a lot, but he doesn't charge a penny for treating hemorrhoids because that's his hobby. But he doesn't live in St. Petersburg, but in Paris. But I can't rule out his plan to move to St. Petersburg in the future, provided that His Majesty the Tsar allows it, if he also needs to treat hemorrhoids."

"You seem to be making fun of me." Gogol sighed and answered the question honestly: "Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol-Yanovsky, an imperial civil servant of the eighth rank, a history teacher at the Petersburg Patriotic Girls' Academy."

"Are you a teacher at the Women's College?" Arthur lied, trying to get closer to Gogol: "I have a distant sister who studies at the Women's College."

"Really? Then maybe your sister and my two sisters are classmates." Gogol said, "My two sisters are also studying in this school, one is in the third grade and the other is in the second grade."

Arthur smiled and put away his pen: "Both sisters are in a women's college? It seems that your family is well-off. After all, the tuition there is not cheap."

"My family... is not poor, but not rich either. My ancestors were Little Russian nobles with some Polish ancestry. My father used to work in the postal department in Poltava as an eighth-rank civil servant. After retirement, he returned to the countryside and became a local landlord. He was considered a well-known figure in the local area. However, my family could not afford to send both of my sisters to the Women's College in St. Petersburg. When I first taught at the Women's College, I made a request to the school that my annual salary of 1,200 rubles could be transferred to the school in full, on the condition that my two sisters could study at the school for free."

Turning the pages of his notebook, Arthur nodded slightly and said, "How do you live in Petersburg without a salary? Are you relying entirely on your family for support?"

Gogol said helplessly: "I help my family a little, and I also work as a tutor for others. In my spare time, I contribute some articles to various magazines and earn a meager fee to make a living. Do you read newspapers and magazines? I have published several papers and novels in "Northern Bee", "Literary Newspaper" and "Fatherland Chronicle", but most of them are published under my pen name. But the article "Woman" was written under my real name, and I also published a funny novel "Evening Talks in the Suburbs of Dikanka"."

"Ah!" Arthur pretended to be surprised. He had completely locked onto the target. "So that article 'Evening Talks in the Suburbs of Dikanka' is your masterpiece! To be honest, when I read it for the first time, I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt."

Gogol found that the gendarmerie colonel in front of him was actually his loyal reader, and he relaxed all of a sudden. He was about to say a few humble words, but unexpectedly Arthur suddenly found a ball of cotton on his forehead.

"what is this?"

Arthur reached out to pick the cotton ball, but Gogol hurriedly blocked Arthur's hand: "It's nothing, Colonel, just a clever little device."

"You must show it to me." Arthur asked in the tone of a gendarme, "Are you hiding something that threatens the emperor's rule?"

"I didn't, so please don't make assumptions. This is just my personal little secret. Please don't ask any more questions."

"In Russia, no one should have any secrets in front of the military police, unless you are a lawless citizen."

"How can I be an unlawful citizen? I have excellent grades in my annual assessments, have never been punished or sued, and never took a vacation before becoming an eighth-rank civil servant."

"Then why are you hiding this from me? You must be hiding something."

Gogol was forced into a corner and struggled for a long time before he hardened his heart and put his hand on his hair and pulled it gently.

He held his long, silky hair in his hands, and the top of his originally thick head was now empty and shiny. It turned out to be a wig with a spring.

Gogol looked angry. He was furious when his vain little secret of wearing a wig was exposed in front of him.

The Russian writer, who had been nervous just now, seemed to be possessed by Peter the Great. He stood up like a spring, jumped onto a stool, pointed at Arthur's nose and cursed him.

"Look! I am bald, that's true. But can shaving one's head threaten the emperor's rule nowadays? Do you mean to say that without hair, an eighth-rank civil servant with good conduct can be transformed into Pugachev? This is ridiculous! You are so rude! You are a colonel of the gendarmerie and a fifth-rank official, which is of course true, but this does not mean that you can bully a small eighth-rank official like me like this. I used to work in the ministry. Before I went to the Women's College to teach, I worked in the State Property Bureau and the fiefdom office!

I have more than a dozen classmates in Petersburg, including Prokopovich, Danilevsky, Paschenko, Kukolnik, Bazili, Grebenka, Mokritsky, and several others. They are all employed in various ministries. How can you be sure that they will not climb higher than you in the future? Besides, I also know Zhukovsky. You probably know who Zhukovsky is, right? Yes, the teacher of the crown prince! He admires me very much! And Pushkin, I have always had a good relationship with Pushkin!
Let me tell you this, I tell you, you must not make me angry. I have a good temper, but you should not regard me as a good man without temper. Even rabbits bite when they are angry! Zhukovsky can talk to the emperor. As for Pushkin, the Minister of Education Uvarov has to give him face. And your director, Count Benkendorf, do you know that your director has to visit Pushkin's apartment every once in a while? At that time, as long as Pushkin mentions it slightly, he will say that his friend Gogol met a gendarmerie colonel in Vitebsk named Hestingov, who was even rude.

Do you know how much this will affect your future? You are definitely the kind of person who wants to stand out. As for me, I am a simple person and I don't have such a strong desire to be an official. I just want to find a warm place to continue to create my works, instead of living in that hiding place in Petersburg where I can't even stretch my fingers in the cold. Just because of this, I went to Kiev in the snow and wind, hoping to make a connection with the Kiev inspector and get a position as an associate professor at Kiev University. However, just because of such a small matter, you have been interrogating me endlessly since you brought me to this place. It made my intelligence strangely stagnant, my thoughts so unfocused that I couldn't even remember the new ideas I had just come up with on the road. You made me so depressed, cold-hearted, and mediocre that I couldn't recognize myself. Do you know? It's been almost a year! I haven't written a single line! No matter how hard I pushed myself, I couldn't come up with anything. However, I just had some inspiration and ideas, but because of the incident with the bald head, I was disturbed. "

Arthur looked calmly at the emotional, gesticulating little Russian in front of him, took out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the saliva that sprayed all over his face.

He put the quill back into the ink bottle, picked up the teapot and poured tea while saying, "It's really a big problem for a writer to lose his inspiration."

Gogol got even angrier after hearing this. He sneered at Arthur's words: "What do you mean by that? You are talking as if you can write books. Do you think that you can be called a writer just because you can write a few official documents? Although it is very immodest to say this, I have to tell you that my nickname in the Petersburg circle is the Russian Alexander Dumas."

"puff!"

When Arthur heard this, the black tea he had just drunk sprayed all over Gogol's face.

He quickly took out his handkerchief and wiped Gogol's vest: "I'm sorry, Mr. Gogol, I know I shouldn't do this, but the joke you just told is so funny, just like your book."

Gogol thought Arthur was mocking him. The little Russian was instantly enraged: "Colonel, I tell you seriously, you are finished! I will tell Zhukovsky and Pushkin the truth about what happened today!"

Arthur waved his hand and said, "Don't worry. What I mean is that the title of Russia's Alexander Dumas is really an insult to you. I always think that people should set their ambitions higher. You can even say that you are Russia's Shakespeare."

Gogol frowned, turned his head away and ignored Arthur.

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Arthur smiled and asked, "Do you have any other nicknames in your circle? For example, the Russian Hugo, the Russian Balzac, etc."

"Of course we have! Are you mocking our ignorance?" As if to prove his own reading volume, Gogol counted on his fingers and shouted to Arthur: "Besides that, we also have the Russian Dickens, the Russian Disraeli, the Russian Arthur Sigmar and the Russian Elder Carter!"

When Arthur heard this series of names, he felt a black screen in front of his eyes. He remembered that "The Litter" had not released any works in Russia. Could it be that these Russians secretly released pirated copies?

"Are there any Russian versions of these people's works?"

"Of course not!" Gogol snorted. "We all read the French version."

When Arthur heard this, he finally understood what was going on.

No wonder it is said that the sales network of French booksellers is far ahead in Europe. He just reached an agreement with the French on French publishing last year, but this year Elder has taken advantage of the French's support and easily entered St. Petersburg without any effort.

You know, this is a feat that even Napoleon has never accomplished!

The most the French emperor managed was to capture Moscow.

Just like when Gogol discovered that Arthur was his loyal reader, he immediately developed a favorable impression of the gendarmerie colonel.

When Arthur discovered that Gogol had read his "The Hastings Mysteries", the British spy immediately changed his attitude.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to have such broad knowledge." Arthur said, "It's my fault for disrupting your train of thought. To make it up to you, I have a good idea here. I was going to write it myself. But since I made a mistake, I plan to give this idea to you as a way to make up for my mistake."

"Ideas?" Gogol said disdainfully: "You should keep it to yourself. What good ideas can you have?"

Arthur was not angry. He just lay in the rocking chair and said in French: "If this idea is not enough, I just heard that you seem to be seeking an associate professorship. Maybe I can help you in this regard."

"You?" Gogol frowned and looked at Arthur when he heard this: "Do you know the Kiev Inspector Bradkai?"

"Brad Kay? No, I don't know him." Arthur smiled and said, "But I know Arthur Hastings. Oh, by the way, his pen name is Arthur Sigma, the one who wrote The Hastings Mysteries."

"You know Arthur Sigma?" Gogol took a deep breath and looked Arthur up and down. "You...are you really an insider? But what does your knowing Arthur Sigma have to do with helping me get a professorship?"

"It's very simple."

Arthur saw that the fish had taken the bait, and he explained slowly: "I got the news that Sir Arthur Hastings will soon be transferred to the position of British Cultural Counselor in Russia. Do you know what a cultural counselor does? It is mainly to exchange culture, so he must visit various universities in Russia frequently. Let's assume that he suddenly wants to visit the University of Kiev to investigate cultural work, and inadvertently mentioned your name in front of the president of Kiev University and the Kiev Inspector, saying that you are a Russian writer he respects very much. I think this will definitely leave a deep impression on them."

Gogol looked suspicious and asked, "How do you know he will definitely go to Kiev? If he doesn't want to go, you can write him a letter and he will definitely be willing to go? Do you have a close relationship with him?"

"How do I know that? Don't worry about it. I just know it. As for whether we are close friends? Well, if I tell him to go east, he won't dare to go west. If I tell him to go to Petersburg, he won't dare to go to Paris."

When Gogol heard this, he felt that the military police colonel in front of him was definitely a person who was used to talking nonsense. He sneered: "Ha! Instead of letting me listen to your bragging, why not let me listen to the so-called idea you just mentioned! At least your idea will definitely not be as bizarre as your relationship with Arthur Sigmar."

"Listen to my ideas? Great! My ideas are more attractive than my friendship. You owe me a big favor this time."

Arthur smiled and said, "Just tell me! On his way to Petersburg to take up his post, Arthur Hastings had his luggage stolen, and even his diplomatic documents were all gone. Without money and documents, he was trapped in a small town for five days and five nights. However, the mayor of this small town unexpectedly received news that the imperial envoy would visit..."

As the narration progressed, Gogol felt more and more that something was wrong.

At first, he just laughed at the stupidity of all the officials in the city. Until he heard that a real imperial envoy was visiting and that this imperial envoy brought with him a clerk suffering from hemorrhoids, Gogol's smile froze immediately.

He stared at Arthur and couldn't utter a word for a long time.

Arthur drank a sip of tea, enjoying the warmth brought by the stove, and asked, "Nicholas, guess what is the name of the town where Sir Arthur Hastings was trapped for five days and five nights?"

Gogol's expression was brilliant: "I don't guess."

"why?"

Gogol took a deep breath: "I'm afraid I'm right."

(End of this chapter)

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