Chapter 101: Enlightenment at Longchang

As time passed bit by bit, the lively atmosphere of the Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov family banquet gradually drew to a close.

The first to leave were Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's friends from the apartments; due to the many tasks awaiting them tomorrow, although they very much wanted to indulge completely, thinking of the heavy future looming just ahead, they maintained a final shred of sobriety and swayed their way home.

Had they failed to maintain this sober courage in facing life, they would have become the drunkards who never return home, so frequently seen in St. Petersburg today.

Out of safety considerations, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov called carriages for them, while Turgenev, Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich, and others, being financially well-off, were able to sit a little longer at Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's place.

Once the crowd thinned, Belinsky, whose spirits had been unusually high just moments before, quickly wilted; he looked pale and breathless, coughing violently from time to time, as if he were about to cough up blood at any moment.

And this state of weakness was actually Belinsky's most common appearance.

Since his health had never been good, combined with the ravages of tuberculosis and long-term mental and material suffering, Belinsky's physical condition had already reached a terrible state, to the point that some time ago he had even quite indifferently told his friends:

"You all are young and healthy; you have hope, but there is not a shred of light ahead of me, and I am becoming a useless invalid."

Under such circumstances, he sometimes avoided overly serious conversations to prevent his nerves from becoming too agitated, which would only worsen his already poor health.

Today's atmosphere had obviously stirred him up involuntarily, but once the excitement subsided, he revealed a sickly appearance that made one feel quite ominous.

Fortunately, the early appearance of the magazine "The Contemporary" had greatly uplifted Belinsky, both spiritually and materially, making him look radiant in recent times; but regardless, the root of the illness always existed, especially since tuberculosis was still an incurable disease in these times.

This ancient disease, tuberculosis, continues to plague many underdeveloped regions even in later eras; from the seventeenth to the twentieth centuries, it troubled countless people.

Chopin died of tuberculosis, Chekhov passed away due to worsening lung disease, and Lu Xun also left the world because his lung disease worsened.

The only thing worth rejoicing over is that tuberculosis is a chronic disease; if one can recuperate properly, at least one will not die young.

In normal history, Belinsky endured his illness until 1847 before traveling to Europe for recuperation; the travel expenses were pooled by friends, with the largest sum coming from Herzen.

Although Belinsky's condition improved considerably after a period of rest, the subsequent Gogol affair and the Tsarist Russian authorities' frantic persecution of the literary world completely shattered his body, and his lungs deteriorated rapidly.

Such distant matters cannot be dealt with for now, but as for the present, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov had long been preparing to find some reliable doctors for Belinsky, or even send him directly to Europe for a period of recuperation.

The matter of doctors is extremely important; one must never overestimate the level of physicians in these times. After all, given Gogol's wealth and status in Russia at that time, even when he was on his deathbed, though he wished to ignore everyone and cooperate with no treatment from the doctors, once he was near unconsciousness, the doctors began forcibly treating him:

First, they placed eight plump leeches on his nose to suck blood, then carried him into a warm water bath, stripped him naked for a shower, later bled him, placed ice cubes on his head, and forced hollyhock root juice down his throat... Gogol groaned and begged incessantly: "Remove the leeches, take them away from my mouth..." Then his groans grew weaker and weaker until there was no response at all.

Just thinking about it made Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov shudder, and as for his own physical condition, for some reason, although his previous living quarters were quite terrible, he had hardly suffered even minor ailments like headaches or fevers for so long.

In this era where diseases raged and major events occurred constantly, this certainly counted as a good thing.

After pondering this question for a while, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov also brought Nekrasov over and spoke directly to him about Belinsky's health issues; Nekrasov, who had always been concerned about Belinsky, naturally nodded repeatedly, but when it came to how to implement this, he also sighed and said:

"I have long thought of inviting some good doctors to examine his condition first, but you know, patients are often afraid to hear a doctor's diagnosis; I estimate this method would terrify Belinsky.

As for going abroad for recuperation, he is now completely devoted to his work. Panayev and I previously tried mentioning this to him, and he even flew into a rage; under no circumstances would he agree to leave "The Contemporary."

He said that although we have the conditions to do the magazine's work well, due to a lack of experience, mistakes might still occur; since many writers hold hostility toward "The Contemporary," such mistakes would give them an opportunity to attack our magazine recklessly."

Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov: "."

What a chosen worker.

"However, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, if you are the one who persuades him, I think it should succeed."

Nekrasov, having thought of something, continued: "Just think, your novel alone can ensure that our magazine will not lack subscribers for a very long time, let alone the fact that you will publish other works; moreover, as long as you are here, our "The Contemporary" magazine office will not lack confidence, not to mention you also know the daughter of a general."

That last sentence was a bit redundant, oh!

Hearing this, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov also nodded, waiting for the next few days to find a time to have a proper talk with Belinsky; as for now, let him continue to enjoy this rare moment.

Since it was a banquet, Belinsky certainly drank a little, so much so that, in high spirits, he unconsciously came to the card table at Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's house and even invited a few friends to join him.

However, just as he was about to start, something occurred to him, and he instantly sobered up from the alcohol; first, he looked quite angrily at Turgenev, who was bragging to someone, and then he looked at Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov with a pleading gaze.

Turgenev: "???"

Why is it that look again?

Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov: "."

Old Bel, you're making me feel quite embarrassed with this.

Never mind, never mind; I, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, am not some devil.

Seeing the gaze Belinsky cast toward him, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, feeling somewhat unable to hold back, waved his large hand.

With this wave of his large hand, Belinsky and the people beside him immediately showed cheerful smiles; while nodding repeatedly, they enthusiastically began a card game without Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov present.

Seeing this scene, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, who had suddenly become idle, finally thought of the earlier doubt, so he stood up and walked toward Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich and Old Dostoevsky, who seemed to still be chatting.

Largely because he thought of the good news mentioned by Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov looked enthusiastic when he joined them, but he still spoke first: "Dmitri and Fyodor, did you know each other before? Why haven't I heard you mention it?"

"Hmm?"

Upon hearing Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's words, Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich and Dostoevsky, who had been speaking, immediately looked over; then the two could not help but smile at each other, after which Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich replied:

"We met each other at a small group gathering; at that time, Fyodor was attending for the first time. I had long heard people say that you discovered him and his works, and that you highly praised his works, so before long we started talking and discussed many things related to you!

But these are just idle talk; what I want to tell you today is another matter. Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, do you remember that gathering we attended once or twice when we were at university? Of course, there is indeed a big difference between before and now; some people have withdrawn, but many more have joined.

Moreover, what we discussed is a completely new ideology, entirely different from the past!

What a lofty conception it is! No one would not expect the arrival of the new world created by this conception! It is far more powerful than any ideology I have heard before!"

Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov: "."

Small group gathering, Dostoevsky, new ideology, and I used to participate...

Why does it feel increasingly wrong?

Listening and listening, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, who had been enthusiastic, quickly wilted; the smile on his face gradually disappeared, and an inexplicable chill suddenly enveloped his entire body.

As his brain raced wildly, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov vaguely seemed to think of something, and looking at the somewhat excited Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich and the slightly excited Dostoevsky, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov finally could not help but ask:

"So what is this new ideology? And where do you gather?"

"Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, have you heard of the names Fourier and Saint-Simon? Have you heard of the ideology of Utopian Socialism?"

Speaking thus, this giant-bear-like man cheerfully recounted a coincidental event:

"We are gathering at Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's house, hahaha, of course, another Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, Mr. Mikhail Vasilyevich Petrashevsky; the gathering time is every Friday. Do you want to come and listen? Reading books is also fine; he is recently preparing to publish a "Pocket Dictionary of Foreign Words in the Russian Language," and he will introduce this doctrine to everyone in the dictionary in a simple and accessible manner."

Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov: "."

Although he had mentally prepared himself somewhat just now, after truly hearing Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich's words clearly, Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov's eyes darkened again and again.

Good heavens, earlier I was worried about Dostoevsky; now it seems I am far more authoritative than him.

(End of this chapter)