The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1376: Chapter 199: The British Claw_3

At least for now, the official articles in the St. Petersburg newspapers are all quoting Chutchev’s famous saying - ”You can’t make Russian bread in someone else’s way.”

Arthur was still wondering where to start his ’cultural work’ when suddenly he heard a fierce argument upstairs.

”Are you asking about the ’Dikanka Suburb Night Talk’? Let it go to hell! I will not publish a second volume!”

”Are you really not considering it? Mr. Gogol, this book is selling very well! You would earn quite a lot of money. Let me put up fifteen thousand rubles, and you reconsider. You know, Pushkin’s ’Eugene Onegin’ sold so well, and it only fetched twelve thousand rubles; that was already a very high price!”

”So what if it’s selling well? While making money isn’t redundant for me, writing for a pittance just to add stories, I refuse! I lack any talent for speculative business. If you hadn’t reminded me, I would have even forgotten that I’m the author of ’Dikanka Suburb Night Talk!’”

”What about the characters? The fates of your characters haven’t ended yet; the readers are eagerly anticipating your second volume.”

”The fates of the characters? Their fates are unknown! For now, I can’t write anything weighty, great, or artistic.”

”Have you considered writing poetry? Pushkin’s poetry earns ten rubles per line, given it’s your first time writing, I’ll give you half of Pushkin’s price. Write a hundred lines, and you can make five hundred rubles, why not?”

”Poetry? I’m doing nothing, absolutely idle right now. I don’t want to write anything small, and can’t think of anything big. To sum it up in one sentence - I’m intellectually constipated!”

Gogol, with a dark face, angrily marched downstairs wearing his sheepskin coat; it was clear that either his hemorrhoids weren’t acting up today, or they were acting up but he was too angry from the publishers’ pestering to feel the pain.

The teacher from the women’s college, who was humble in front of the Constitutional Soldier Colonel at the inn, had disappeared, and the temperamental Gogol was more overbearing in front of the publishers than even the Tsar.

To sum it up in his own words, all in all, he walked with thundering steps today.

Just as Gogol reached the bottom of the stairs, he ran straight into Arthur’s smiling face, almost crashing into Arthur’s arms.

”You... Hestingov?”

”Hestingov?” Arthur took off his hat and extended his hand in greeting, ”I don’t dislike this name, but giving someone a nickname upon first meeting is always a little impolite. Hello, Mr. Gogol, I am Sir Arthur Hastings.”

Gogol gave a haunted look; he didn’t want to associate with this person.

No matter what purpose this British man had, pretending to be a Constitutional Soldier Colonel, it wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in; he was just an Eighth Rank Civil Servant, and his greatest wish was to secure a position as an associate professor at Kyiv University.

As for the upper-level struggles, the Decemberists, although he had some opinions, he never spoke them aloud.

He was different from Pushkin; though they were friends, and Gogol was an ardent supporter of Pushkin, the idol’s behavior shouldn’t be imposed upon the fan.

After all, he didn’t have Pushkin’s stature. Even in front of the Tsar, Pushkin could still speak his mind without change.

When the Tsar once asked Pushkin face to face at court: ”If you were in St. Petersburg on December 14th, what would you have done?”

”Then I would have joined the rebels.” Pushkin answered as such.

Even more unexpectedly, the Tsar did not do anything to Pushkin for his words, but instead praised him as an honest person and issued a decree to pardon him, allowing him to return to St. Petersburg from exile, and promised that Pushkin could live in Moscow, St. Petersburg, or any other place in the country, including several of the Tsar’s vacation palaces.

If you ask where the sole flaw lies?

That would be that the Tsar gave Pushkin a great honor—henceforth, Tsar Nicholas I himself would be the only censor of Pushkin’s works.

When the news of Pushkin’s pardon spread, it caused an uproar across Russia, and Moscow, already bustling with the coronation of the new Tsar, became even busier with many out-of-town readers flocking in. The Muscovites, along with the entire Russian literary scene, celebrated Pushkin’s return as the most significant event.

Gogol considered himself not as grand as Pushkin, nor could he wield Pushkin’s influence. If he got involved in any political incident, he would likely end up on the Third Bureau’s tiger bench.

And it’s well known that those with hemorrhoids are not suited to sitting on cold benches.

Gogol tried to sneak past Arthur, but could he escape from the clutches of this British man?

Arthur’s hand clamped down on his arm like an iron grip, and the cultural advisor whispered in his ear, ”Mr. Gogol, is the position of associate professor at Kyiv University worth so little to you?”