Chapter 17: Publication

Listening to the voices of the people around him, although the publisher Kraevsky did not show any clear attitude, the fact that he could stand among these people already said a great deal.

In fact, although Belinsky had been trying to set off a brand-new wave in the literary world, at present the conservatives undoubtedly held the greater power, and the general literary climate today was, broadly speaking, still circling around French classicism and romanticism.

First of all, literature in these years was often the exclusive preserve of the aristocracy; for a large portion of them, nothing would please them more than to keep this way of life unchanged for ten thousand years, and so literature too basically reflected this tendency.

Conservative, dull, full of wind, flowers, snow and moonlight — were it not so, Gogol would not recently have come under such a storm of verbal abuse on account of Dead Souls.

And meanwhile, under the press-control system of the present Tsar Nicholas, wouldn't it be better to honestly write something safe? Why keep trying to dance around in the forbidden zones of the great Tsar Your Majesty?

In present-day Russia, loyalty to the sovereign and love of country had always been a required course; every young person in school had received such an education, and over time the great majority had come to love their motherland from the heart and to revere Tsar Your Majesty.

Only a few odd elements were always trying to launch criticism and attacks against Tsar Your Majesty; even though Tsar Your Majesty was magnanimous and did not bother to argue with these few elements, could the great Tsar Your Majesty's many subjects truly tolerate the existence of such people?

And all in all, the current owner and erudite editor-in-chief of Otechestvennye Zapiski, Kraevsky, was an out-and-out liberal.

It was hard to say what specific leanings he had, but as long as the magazine's subscriptions kept climbing, he would soon enough accept such ideas.

But in fact, he and Belinsky had always had certain differences in some respects; however, at this point in time, for the sake of the subscription numbers, although Kraevsky now felt Belinsky was somewhat too rash and bold, he basically still tacitly permitted this behavior.

At most he would just listen to others vent their grievances, that was all.

As for the novels, Kraevsky had read them too, and did indeed acknowledge that these two novels displayed the author's astonishing talent and that there were undoubtedly new elements appearing in them.

But with only these two novels, and uncertain how future works would turn out, Kraevsky felt it was also not quite appropriate to give such high praise.

Still, no matter how you looked at it, publication was publication; the specifics could be discussed once it was actually printed.

And the day Otechestvennye Zapiski went on sale arrived quickly. On the twenty-fifth of this month, in front of every bookshop of any note in Saint Petersburg, even though the sky was not yet light and the bitter cold wind still swept and spread through Petersburg's streets, batch after batch of neatly dressed university students had already gathered of their own accord at the bookshop doors.

One had to admit that, in any era, intellectuals were, comparatively speaking, the most radical bunch.

It could not be denied that there really were plenty of parasites among them, nor could it be denied that a fair number of them chased radicalism as a fashionable fad; but in the end, in an age where most people seemed to find nothing wrong with anything, they were willing to step forward and challenge the age, and to a certain extent goad this age into continuing to move forward.

And young people, combined with university students, was buffs stacked to the max — in present-day Russia, the whole pitch was basically a born reserve army of rebellion.

Although their family circumstances, backgrounds and economic conditions were generally good, and they seemingly should not have been dissatisfied with such a society, young people were by nature challengers of order; even if they might not be entirely right, they were always trying to seek out their own version of right, and were even convinced that they themselves were right, and would not simply swallow their elders' nonsense.

If later generations had always obediently followed their elders' every word, humanity would still be living in caves today.

And once these young people gathered together, the atmosphere among them grew ever more heated, the discussions ever louder, and the flame they kindled seemed about to drive every last trace of Saint Petersburg's cold wind away.

"You're here for this issue of Otechestvennye Zapiski too?"

"Of course! I came specifically to read Vissarion's commentary! I've never seen a critic with more personality than him."

"Every time I read his commentary, I feel my understanding of certain things is overturned — like his description and explanation of Russian society in his last piece."

"I love his defense and exposition of the book Dead Souls — have you read Dead Souls?"

"Of course! The landowner Plushkin in the book is absolutely identical to my father's friend! Do you know? Every time he comes to our house, something is sure to go missing from our home — God knows what he even wants with those little trinkets."

………

While the young people were beginning to talk heatedly, in some inconspicuous corners too, a few men who also wore greatcoats but looked exceptionally cold and indifferent were watching these young people with obvious annoyance.

In weather like this, if it weren't for these idle young people, why would they have to come out onto the street to keep an eye on this youthful nonsense?

Normally a gathering like this wouldn't really need watching, but God knows what a group of young men with ideas might get up to when they got together.

So they had still sent a couple of men to keep an eye on things.

As secret police under the Tsar, they had plenty to do, and keeping watch on these idle young people was one of the relatively more tedious parts of their work.

The reason was simple: university students of this period were generally from noble or landowner families — either some ancestor had followed Peter the Great through the pass, or some other one was related in some way to Tsar Nicholas Your Majesty.

Such people were the hardest to deal with; after arresting them one still had to carefully verify the person's identity, to avoid any mistakes.

As for those whose families were not in Petersburg, or who came from the taxpaying classes, things were much easier — first treat them to a potato-sized fist, then treat them to a fresh helping of whip and iron rod; under a combination of intimidation and threats, the great majority of them really did become much more obedient.

Who wouldn't be afraid of fists and whips?

Those who truly weren't afraid — one couldn't tell whether their brains were broken or not.

These secret policemen had not the slightest interest in the young people's antics and ideas; they just wanted to finish their shift early, collect the fairly generous salary from the great Tsar Your Majesty, and sit before a warm fireplace drinking tea and playing with their children.

And the young people naturally noticed their presence too; even without deliberately provoking them, they still cast contemptuous glances at these Tsarist running dogs — clearly, neither side could understand the other, and each believed themselves to be right.

In this atmosphere that was both heated and tinged with gloom, the sky gradually brightened, the bookshop doors swung wide open, and the young people poured in, each heading for the literary magazine filled with fresh air and ideas that they had set their hearts on.

When they picked up Otechestvennye Zapiski, they quickly realized that today's protagonist seemed to be not the Belinsky they had long been familiar with, but a young author whose name they had never heard before.

Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov

Someone read out the name.

(End of this chapter)