Chapter 618 Hemorrhoids Have Not Healed

To Pushkin:

Dear Alexander, I have to tell you a very unfortunate thing. Due to the unhealed hemorrhoids and the cold, I now have a thick scarf wrapped around my neck, like a yoke on a horse's neck. The doctor told me: From all appearances, this disease will keep me at home for a week. But even so, I decided not to wait in vain. You know, ever since the news of the establishment of Kiev University came out, I have been hoping to work in the Russian literature department there, and Maximovich also wanted to find a chair in world history at Kiev University.

I thought to myself: Get there! Go to Kyiv! Go to ancient and beautiful Kyiv! It is the birthplace of our motherland. I can work, and I will do my best. But at the same time, I was scared. Maybe I'll accomplish nothing. I was tired of Petersburg, or rather, it was not the city itself that I hated, but its cursed climate. This climate is really torture, especially for people like me who suffer from hemorrhoids.

How wonderful it would be if Maksimovich and I both got professorships at the University of Kiev! We can do many good things, and we can even start a new life in such a beautiful place! It's a place where you can regain your strength and refresh your spirit. Isn't this a great blessing? But what embarrasses me is, what if this doesn't work out?

Three years ago I could have gotten the professorship at Moscow State University that was recommended to me, but the then Minister of Education Levin was a guy with no vision, and no one paid attention to our work. This is really sad. However, the new Minister of Education Uvarov is an expert, and I am full of confidence. If I can have the opportunity to talk about my plan, then in Uvarov's eyes, he will put me in the same category as those who fill the universities. distinguished from a group of depressed professors.

For this reason, I specially dragged my sick body to Kyiv. I thought that I should have a good talk with Kiev Superintendent Bradkay. After all, his submission to the Ministry of Education would probably be more useful than our fumbling around in Petersburg. But what is annoying is that I ran into a wall there. Bradkay didn't even see me in person. He probably thought I was a poor scholar from some remote country. I am a person with the title of eighth-class civil servant! I'm not a newbie, and I've been teaching for quite some time, albeit at a women's college...

Alexander, seriously, if you want to help, when you wrote to Brad Kay, you hinted at my situation like this: Just say, if you can recruit Gogol to the university, then You just did a great thing. Then you say, you really don’t understand who has such a profound historical accomplishment, who can control the teaching language so well, and other humility and compliments, as if they were just mentioned in passing. Don't write too deliberately, so that others can see that you are interceding on my behalf. If you really don’t know how to write a recommendation letter, you can refer to the preface in Grech’s “Grammar Reader” or the preface Grech wrote to Bulgarin’s novel. They are all such compliments. template.

As a leader in the Russian literary world, although your reputation is not always good, you are still very important in his mind. But as for me, I am just a poor thing, and to him I am almost nothing. If you are really willing to write him a letter, this is very necessary for me. It seems that the Secretary of Education is willing to do everything he can for me, as long as the Inspector of Schools can facilitate it from his side. No matter how nice it is, the matter will definitely be established.

Of course, I am not asking you to write this letter to deceive me. At your suggestion, I am now writing the most complete history of Little Russia. It will be a small six-volume version, or a large four-volume version.

So far, there is no complete and satisfactory history of Little Russia and the nation in Russia. I determined to undertake this task, and to show in as much detail as possible how this part of Russia separated itself, and what political institutions it acquired under alien domination. How did that militarized nation, marked by its unique character and outstanding achievements, form on this land? How it took three centuries to gain its rights with the help of weapons in its hands, how it tenaciously defended its religion, and how it was finally integrated into Russia forever. How its militarized way of life disappeared and became an agrarian society, how the country gradually gained new rights that replaced the old ones, and finally became fully integrated with Russia.

I spent about five years and made great efforts to collect various historical materials about this land. The first half of my history book has almost been written, but I am not in a hurry to publish the first few volumes, because I suspect that there are still many original materials that I do not know about, but I will undoubtedly preserve them. In some private hands.

On the way back from Kiev, I met a Cossack, General Pavel Andreevich Barkov. He was a hero of the Caucasus War and participated in several battles against the Persians. . This general was born in Little Russia and was a military doctor in his early days. When I told him that I was writing a history of Little Russia, he became very interested in me and invited me to accompany him.

He had a very handsome large long-distance carriage, like one of those beamed-and-springed carriages. You see, riding in rural wagons and these long-distance carriages is very beneficial to health, especially for those who suffer from depression and hemorrhoids. We rode in this carriage and talked about Little Russia and the character of the Little Russians along the way.

The general also told me that his mission during this trip was to investigate the history of Pugachev's rebellion as entrusted by the relevant committee of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and he believed that the information he collected would definitely be helpful to my history of Little Russia. .

This should have been a pleasant and amusing journey, and it was. But when the carriage drove to Druisk, a small town in Vitebsk Province, the fun level of the trip simply reached a new level. You probably can't imagine what I encountered in this small city? This hardly seems like a true story. Maybe I'm writing a comedy based on it.

——Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol, January 1833 to Pushkin, "Letters of Gogol"

On a cold winter day, snowflakes are flying outside, and the temperature is so low that people dare not go out much. In this quiet small town, the wooden door of the hotel cannot withstand the ravages of time, and it seems that it will collapse at any time in the wind and snow.

Gogol sat on a stiff stool and endured severe pain. His neck was wrapped in a thick scarf like an ancient knight about to go to war, and his sitting posture had a strange stiffness, as if Even the muscles and bones are in pain and cannot move as they wish.

Whenever he tried to slightly adjust his body position in order to get some relief from the unbearable pain, the ever-expanding burning sensation and heartbreaking pain dragged him into deep torment.

The restless Gogol glanced out the window from time to time and saw the Cossacks walking hastily on the street, but in his heart he only complained about his physical discomfort.

"Damn it! This small place is so inefficient in doing things! Sigh... If I had known it was all useless work, I wouldn't have needed to go all the way to Kiev. It's really a hassle for myself."

Gogol covered his butt with a rather indecent hand, feeling that the diseased area was about to crack due to the cold and dry weather: "No, even if I hit a wall, I still have to go to Kiev! The weather in Petersburg is so bad that I I can't stand it any longer. None of the doctors can stand it. Everyone advised me to leave Petersburg as soon as possible. If I continued to live in Petersburg for a few years, I would die of blood loss from a cracked buttocks. I didn’t want a man who was destined to do great work to die for such a funny reason. Become the laughing stock of future generations.”

Just when Gogol was sullen and enduring pain in that cold hotel, soft footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

Immediately afterwards, the door was pushed open, and General Barkov's tall, bear-like figure appeared at the door.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at Gogol, with a look of concern on his face: "Mr. Gogol, are you okay?"

Gogol smiled bitterly and couldn't help complaining: "Oh, General, it's ridiculous! I came out of Petersburg and wanted to find a way out for myself in a warm place, but it turned out that this place became my health resort. '. My condition has been bad, and I almost wonder if God doesn't want me to have a peaceful life."

He suddenly grabbed the thick scarf around his neck and said with a self-deprecating smile, "Really...even my butt won't allow me to walk a long way."

Balkov held the cigarette rod in his hand, shook his head and said: "Your body is indeed weak. Logically speaking, I have to consider the patient's feelings and take you back to Petersburg directly. But the orders from above must be fulfilled after all. You Please be considerate, I have asked them to hurry up.”

Gogol pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and tried to make himself look less painful, although this was a futile effort: "Despite my situation, you still care about me, I'm really grateful."

Suddenly, a gust of cold wind blew into the hotel, and snowflakes drifted in with the wind and fell on Gogol's face.

Before Gogol could react, he saw more than a dozen Russian gendarmes in neat uniforms appearing at the door, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.

Among them, the leader was Gendarmerie Captain Richard Huett.

He was dressed in a dark military uniform with a heavy winter coat on top. His epaulettes shone coldly in the cold sunlight, making him look cold and majestic.

His eyes were as sharp as a blade, carrying a power that could not be ignored.

Hueter did not make any announcement, and walked straight into the room, his eyes scanning Barkov and Gogol, as if he did not intend to change because of anyone's identity or status.

When General Barkov saw this, a trace of anger immediately flashed in his eyes.

He thought that the military police captain was just an official of the Druisk garrison, but he did not expect that this man would be so presumptuous.

In anger, he almost lost his cool: "The devil peeled off the skin of eighteen generations of your ancestors! Do you think that just because you are a captain, you can pour cold water on others in this cold weather? You simply don't take me seriously!" "

Hute remained unmoved, his eyes were as cold as ice, and he didn't care about Barkov's provocation.

When he stood still, a low and clear voice broke the silence in the room: "Colonel Artur Agaresovich Hestingov has arrived!"

This sudden report stunned Barkov, and then he raised his brows, revealing a bit of doubt and confusion: "Colonel Hestingoff?"

Footsteps sounded, steady and silent, with almost no echo.

Immediately afterwards, a tall figure slowly appeared in front of the hotel door, like a fairy coming out of the snow.

The snowflakes spreading outside seemed to be suppressed by that momentum, and even the wind and snow stopped at this moment.

The little officials, whose noses were red from the cold, could not help but shudder.

At this moment, the mayor hurriedly stepped forward and put a heavy coat on him first.

The mayor's movements were quick and respectful, as if he was afraid that the big man might catch the cold.

The sun shines on the face of the visitor. His face is carved by the cold wind like a cold stone sculpture, with sharp-edged cheeks, furrowed brows and slightly raised eyes. His body is tall and straight, and his shoulders are broad, as if he can bear the whole world. weight.

Arthur stared at Barkov for a while, then raised the corner of his mouth and stretched out his hand to introduce himself: "Artur Agaresovich, Army Special Staff Officer, Second District, Military Police Regiment, Third Bureau of His Majesty's Imperial Office ·Hestingoff.”

When Barkov heard this, he couldn't help but have a look of disgust in his eyes.

Perhaps because Hute and others were following behind, Balkov didn't even suspect Arthur's identity at all. He just thought it was bad luck and could only mutter in his mouth: "Curse these people. The third dog agent of Hell.”

He wiped his hands on his uniform, reluctantly held Arthur's hand and said: "The commander of the 2nd Ukrainian Cossack Cavalry Regiment, Pavel Andreevich Barkov, by order of the Ministry of Internal Affairs , patrol here."

The municipal officials of Druisk were all shrinking their heads, like frightened chickens.

But when they saw that the colonel from Petersburg was not at all afraid of the brigadier general who was one level above him, they seemed to have grown backbones all of a sudden, and even their waists were much straighter.

Arthur saw that although the other party hated him, at least he didn't obviously disrespect him, so he also found a topic to lighten the atmosphere: "I see that the horse outside has a strong body and is wild. The long black mane is similar to the one in the south. Beauty, is that horse yours?"

When Balkov heard someone praising his sweetheart, he put down his cigarette pipe and softened his tone a lot: "Yes, that is my Agrafena Ivanovna. She is a good girl. She has great footwork." She is fast and has good endurance. She followed me all the way through the Caucasus War. Apart from being a bit arrogant and liking to bite, this girl has no faults whatsoever. "

Arthur nodded slightly: "It is indeed a good horse. A good horse must be matched with a good car. You have to get a high-end car for her to pull."

"A carriage?" Barkov said with disdain, "This is a horse for people to ride on."

"I know that." Arthur said: "But what I want to ask you is, do you have a carriage that is comparable to other horses? I know that even the horses that pull the carriages in the Cossack regiment are generally the best. I have seen that The car outside looks a bit old.”

"Oh... the carriage I have here is really not big enough." Barkov refused to lose his status in front of the military police, he said: "To be honest, I have long wanted to have a fashionable four-wheeled carriage. . I just wrote to my brother in Petersburg and asked him to get me a new one.”

"I think so, Your Excellency General." Arthur said: "Just getting a new carriage is not enough. You have to get a Vienna carriage. The Vienna carriage is the best. It is as light as a feather, and as soon as a person sits on it, Inside, it’s like the nanny is rocking you in a cradle!”

Balkov was moved by what Arthur said, and he asked casually: "How much does such a car cost?"

Arthur did not answer directly, but turned to the mayor and asked: "Alexei, how much did your custom-made Viennese carriage cost?"

The mayor felt as if he was in a mirror. How could he not know that Arthur was pointing at him: "That car of mine?"

Barkov asked: "That car must be very comfortable to sit in, right?"

The mayor stammered back: "It's very, very comfortable. The padding, springs, and all the equipment are just like the paintings."

"Well..." Barkov pinched his chin and fell into thought.

Seeing this situation, the mayor immediately felt confident. He knew there was something serious about this, so he hurriedly hit the railroad while it was hot: "Also, that carriage is very spacious! That is to say, Your Excellency, I have never seen such a good carriage before. .For example, when you were serving in the army, the wooden box of your car It can hold ten bottles of rum and 20 pounds of tobacco. In addition, it is more than enough to bring 6 sets of uniforms, underwear and two long cigarette sticks. General, please don't be surprised. Maybe this example is a bit strange. It’s disgusting, but the cart is as long as a tapeworm and can fit a bull in the bag!”

Barkov nodded angrily: "Not bad."

The mayor smiled and said: "Your Majesty General, the original price of that car was four thousand rubles."

"Judging from the price, it should be a good car. So, did you buy it yourself?"

"No, General. I got it by chance. This car was bought by my friend. He is a rare good man and my childhood friend. You and he will get along well. We are very close. No. Let’s share it with each other. I won it from him playing cards. Mr. General, could you come to my house for lunch tomorrow and take a look at the car?”

Balkov was moved by what he said, but he was embarrassed to go alone. After all, he had to take care of the emotions of his subordinates: "I don't know how to tell you. It's a bit... well, I'm going to enjoy the food alone. I can't watch these Cossack brothers under my command starve, right?"

"Of course not." The mayor seemed very generous: "I also invite all the Cossack gentlemen to come. Gentlemen, if you are willing to come to my humble house, it will be a great honor for me, Bakalkin!"

At this time, even the other Cossack officers with stern faces bowed respectfully to express their gratitude.

At this point, the mayor did not forget to ask Arthur's opinion: "Colonel, look, tomorrow's menu, sturgeon, sturgeon, ground quail, asparagus, quail, mountain partridge, mushrooms, and so on, do you want to eat anything else?"

Before Arthur opened his mouth, he heard a painful groaning sound in the hotel.

Everyone's eyes were focused on Gogol, who was sitting at the table, gritting his teeth and burying his head in pain. Arthur couldn't help but point at him and ask the general: "Sir, is this person from your regiment?"

"Ah? This person?" Barkov didn't know how to explain Gogol's embarrassing condition to Arthur, so he could only say cryptically: "This is a writer I met on the road, Mr. Gogol, he has some unspeakable secrets. Excuse me, can you prepare a hot blanket for him to cushion his butt?"