Chapter 103: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Under normal circumstances, Mikhail would naturally avoid participating in the activities of the Petrashevsky Circle from as far away as possible; although strictly speaking, it was merely a gathering of hot-blooded youths for study and political debate, and even if some truly wished to turn certain ideas into reality, they ultimately never actually did so.

Therefore, in a legal sense, this group had not actually committed any substantive crimes; if merely thinking constituted a crime, then who in this world would be innocent?

But one point is crucial: the law has never been as fair as it claims to be, especially in today's Russia under autocracy and severe penalties; in fact, after their arrest, the youths of the Petrashevsky Circle were subjected to repeated interrogations.

During this process, they encountered several of the Tsar's most trusted generals, which was also a characteristic of Nicholas I's rule: heavy reliance on military commanders, to the extent that for a time he did not have a single civil official by his side.

And for these military commanders, their way of handling problems was roughly as follows: "Your Majesty, why waste words with people like them!"

General Dubelt, the head of the Third Section spies responsible for overseeing the interrogations, held an even more simplistic view: "Since they have already been arrested, these people are criminals! Sentence them as soon as possible!"

Thus, although during the interrogation some expressed regret while more insisted that what they hated was not the government of Nicholas I but the terrible system of serfdom, they were all uniformly sentenced to death.

Of course, after reviewing the interrogation reports, Nicholas I basically learned that this group had no intention of overthrowing the Tsar's rule, which posed no threat to him as the sole holder of supreme power; at the same time, like many great figures, while autocratic, Nicholas I still liked to cultivate an image of an enlightened monarch among the people.

Therefore, he decided to show mercy beyond the law, commuting the death sentences to exile, but in order to kill the chicken to scare the monkey and deter these youths as well as future intellectuals with unclear minds, the incident of the mock execution took place.

This could be considered the Russian version of "He should even thank us for this!"

However, at present, Mikhail had no way to escape; even if his early involvement might spare him from influence, he still had to consider Dmitri and Old Tuo at the very least, yet after calming down and thinking carefully, Mikhail realized that methods did indeed exist.

Being cautious meant employing the thirty-six stratagems, with fleeing as the best option; being reckless meant a strategist entering the game with his own body, using his own reputation to try influencing the circle, telling them the time was not yet ripe, that they must lie low and wait for the heavenly timing, until the right opportunity arrived to strike like a dragon spear and seize the bird-seat of that old Tsar!

But honestly, that last sentence was pure boasting; admittedly, this was an era where new ideas blossomed everywhere, but the root cause of these ideas lay in the fact that social and class contradictions in those European countries had already developed to that extent, so why had Russian intellectuals accepted these sets of ideas?

Because St. Petersburg had also developed to that stage.

Then what kind of life were the ordinary people in the vast regions of Russia still living?

Not to mention the present; even by 18... "Abandon these universities, colleges, and schools... Go to the people!"

This call received an enthusiastic response from countless ambitious youths; they abandoned city life, went to the countryside in groups, wore peasants' clothing, spoke the peasants' language, lived the peasants' life, spread knowledge to the peasants, taught them to read and write, relieved their illnesses, and subsequently carried out revolutionary propaganda.

But they were not understood by the peasants; indeed, many were betrayed by the very peasants they had helped and handed over to the local police.

As for why this happened, let us not elaborate for now; in short, Mikhail would most likely still go to observe the activities of the Petrashevsky Circle, but before going, he truly needed to make some mental preparations.

Ever since the banquet that day ended, Mikhail began handling matters one by one; first, he went to work at the publishing house, then used this opportunity to discuss certain affairs further with Nekrasov and Panaev, who were also handling matters, and finally invited Belinsky to Mikhail's office.

On this ordinary day, since everyone had been busy all morning, by the time Mikhail sat in his office chair waiting for Belinsky to arrive, the sunlight streaming in through the window and falling upon him was already the dim yellow light of dusk.

Mikhail sat with his fingers interlaced, still pondering certain issues, while Nekrasov and Panaev, sitting beside the desk, appeared somewhat burdened with worries.

Just when Belinsky was expected to arrive soon, Panaev, the oldest among them yet actually the least able to keep his composure, spoke up: "Mikhail and Nikolai, can we really persuade Vissarion to honestly go for treatment and convalescence? Especially at the end of this year, I estimate he will be even more unwilling."

"We are just informing him first, not saying we will send him there immediately; moreover, look, through our efforts over the past period, our magazine is indeed getting on track, we have received enough manuscripts to keep the magazine running, not to mention the existence of Mikhail."

After saying this to Panaev, Nekrasov turned to look at Mikhail, who sat in the dim yellow sunlight.

But before Mikhail could say anything, a knock sounded at the door, and then Belinsky walked in; unlike his previous passionate demeanor while working, largely due to some discomfort in his body again, Belinsky looked as though he was forcibly rallying his spirits, constantly coughing while his back hunched over.

Even so, after greeting Mikhail and the others, Belinsky quickly said: "Everyone, has something major happened to gather here? Is our magazine facing some difficulty again?"

"No, dear Vissarion."

Seeing Belinsky immediately begin to worry, Nekrasov hurriedly said: "Our magazine is doing very well; sales have been rising, and we estimate the next issue will sell even better; furthermore, we have already finalized the manuscripts for the next issue, so there is absolutely no need to worry about this matter now."

These words were naturally no lie; during the promotion phase, the latest issue of The Contemporary magazine had already secured fifteen hundred subscribers.

With the launch of the first issue and the gradual fermentation of its reputation, besides the base subscribers, sales in bookstores and other locations also amounted to a significant figure.

Perhaps because the long novels were published in serialized form, the growth in subscribers was quite rapid; in less than a month, the number of subscribers had risen from over a thousand to nearly twenty-five hundred, and this figure clearly had not yet reached its limit.

It must be known that Notes of the Fatherland, currently one of the best-selling magazines in St. Petersburg, after years of reputation accumulation, had only thirty-five hundred subscribers, which almost covered many families in St. Petersburg with a need for literary reading.

For Mikhail and his group, who had just taken over this magazine, achieving such results was already quite remarkable.

The most intuitive reflection of this was that before they took over, the number of subscribers to The Contemporary had fallen to only a few hundred.

To some extent, The Contemporary, Russia's earliest literary magazine, had indeed been brought back from the dead in the hands of Mikhail and his group.

And this was only the subscriber count; there were also many people who did not have the habit of subscribing to magazines but would go to bookstores every month to browse before considering whether to buy.

Calculating it this way, with the current retail price being one ruble and fifty kopecks, the combination of subscriber numbers and additional monthly sales meant that monthly revenue could very likely reach six thousand rubles.

It sounded frighteningly high, but after deducting printing costs, promotion costs, and wages for staff and authors, the remaining amount should not be too large.

Of course, making money it certainly did; in normal history, it was precisely because of his success in the publishing business that Nekrasov not only lived in a large villa and ate all kinds of exquisite food, but also had a large sum of money on hand, allowing him to travel abroad whenever he wished and even sponsor others.

In later generations, it would be good enough if a literary magazine did not go bankrupt, let alone making big money.

In any case, judging by the current situation, as one of the main owners of The Contemporary, Mikhail was earning truly quite a lot; estimating another two or three years, he would truly be living in a large villa, eating whatever he wanted.

So returning to the present, although Belinsky also showed a pleasant smile upon hearing this situation, he still emphasized: "This is certainly good, but we must also consider the long term; so, what did you want to discuss with me? If it is nothing urgent, then let me go quickly!

I need to go back and continue writing manuscripts! I still have much work to do!"

Perhaps due to being somewhat excited, after finishing these words, Belinsky suddenly began to cough violently; it took quite a while before he stopped, and although it was not visible, judging by the severity, there was probably a taste of rust in Belinsky's throat.

Mikhail: "."

Suddenly feeling as though I had truly become a capitalist, and a conscienceless one at that, what is going on?

Looking at Belinsky in this state, Mikhail exchanged a glance with Nekrasov and the others before ceasing to hide his intentions, speaking directly in a gentle tone: "Dear Vissarion, we plan to send you to a suitable place for convalescence at the end of this year."

"My health is fine, and where would the money come from? If it is drawn from the magazine's finances, what will we do if our magazine cannot continue operating?!"

Before Mikhail could finish speaking, Belinsky, whose expression suddenly became somewhat panicked, resolutely opened his mouth to refuse.

But before he could say more, he could not help but start coughing again.

Is this still called having no problems?

Seeing this, Mikhail continued somewhat helplessly: "Vissarion, not now, but near the end of the year; by then, the magazine's situation will certainly be much better. Moreover, it is not just us; we believe your other friends will also contribute their share.

As for the magazine's operations, you need not worry; with me here, you can rest assured; I could even write poems and novels sufficient for publication in the magazine right now."

Because he was very clear about Belinsky's concerns, Mikhail rarely boasted; unexpectedly, just after he finished boasting, Belinsky, who seemingly could not let go of the magazine's work, took the opportunity to say:

"Really, Mikhail? If you can truly do it, why not write one right now? The issue after next happens to be lacking a heavyweight manuscript. If you cannot do it, then forget it."

Mikhail: "?"

Still thinking about magazine manuscripts even now, you fellow Belinsky...

After hearing Belinsky's slightly shameless words, Mikhail, while feeling somewhat helpless, directly picked up the paper and pen sitting on the desk.

Seeing his action, the three people present instantly froze; they wanted to say something, but after opening their mouths for a long time, still failed to utter a single word, so they just stared blankly at Mikhail, bathed in the dim yellow sunlight, writing something there with a quill pen.

Due to the lighting, they could not quite make out Mikhail's features, yet they could not help but watch every one of his movements; after a span of time that was exceedingly brief yet seemed to stretch into a century, Mikhail finally stopped, and as he handed the paper in his hand to the slightly trembling Belinsky, Mikhail's somewhat blurred face shifted, and he spoke:

"Dear Vissarion, I have long heard that you previously spoke many disheartening words due to illness and time; now that there is an opportunity, naturally you must take a little care, otherwise how can you see a further future?"

Hearing Mikhail's words, Belinsky seemed to nod slightly, but his gaze could not help but turn more toward the text on the paper; in such a brief time, it seemed only a single poem could be written:

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

The attitude an aged and withered person should have toward life?

Belinsky's age could certainly not be called too great, but in this era where the average lifespan was generally not high, and with his frail body, perhaps in some midnight hours he had also harbored some not-so-optimistic thoughts.

But thinking of Mikhail's previous poem, perhaps this one carried other meanings as well.

However, the present Belinsky had no time to think so much; his spirit trembled, and Belinsky continued to look downward:

"Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with tears I beg you.

【85】 Do not go gentle into that good night.

【86】 Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

【87】 (End of this chapter)