Chapter 27: The Moderates (Seeking Reads on Tuesday)

"Thank you very much, dear Nastasya." Opening the door to take the letter handed over by the old maid, Mikhail glanced at it briefly and said with a smile: "It seems I must go out this noon; there is no need to save lunch for me anymore."

"Very well, Mikhail." After agreeing to this, Nastasya could not help but glance into Mikhail's small room, then asked: "Shall I help you tidy the room? Have you written anything new? After all, you see, you have not left your room for several days; you must have done something. You cannot sleep all day like a noble master every day, can you?"

"Not for now." The corner of Mikhail's mouth twitched; he then naturally evaded the subsequent question. Putting on his coat and hat, under Nastasya's gaze, Mikhail smiled slightly and then hurriedly made his escape.

During these days, Mikhail had naturally taken the opportunity to read the short story "Misery" aloud to those in the apartment willing to listen. Just as Mikhail finished reading, the most excited person turned out to be the little merchant Versilov, who immediately stood up, slapping the table and saying:

"Oh God! After listening, I immediately thought of what happened last time. I rode in a young coachman's carriage; that young man looked truly destitute, so when paying the fare, I gave him dozens of kopecks more! It was even close to one ruble!"

"Dear Smirnov, did you hear? Did you hear what I did? Could you do such a thing? Come on! Your salary is not even enough for you to have a few proper drinks!"

Faced with such remarks, the little civil servant Smirnov, though somewhat skeptical, found himself unable to say anything for the moment.

He could only mutter a few words: "Look, look, someone did a small good deed occasionally and now thinks himself extraordinary. I gave some food to a child that day; although it was meager, who can say it did not make him happy all evening? ………"

After reading these two short stories, Mikhail's situation in the apartment changed somewhat. First, naturally, the landlord Pavlovna's attitude toward Mikhail improved significantly.

The debt was no longer pressed as urgently as before; if Mikhail failed to arrive in time for meals, some would be left for him. Furthermore, although tea still could not be drunk freely, at least he could have two or three cups amidst the envious gazes of other tenants.

Of course, even so, it was best to avoid getting too close to her little tsar.

To this, Mikhail replied:

"Oh dear Pavlovna, do you know? Young people nowadays are all about free love! There is an old saying in my hometown: a forcibly twisted melon will not be sweet."

"What nonsense is this 'free love'? The things young people follow are completely incomprehensible. But believe me, Mikhail, even in a thousand years, nothing will be more substantial than the ruble."

I dare not speak of a thousand years, but within two hundred years, I can guarantee you are right………

In any case, Mikhail could only manage to bluff his way through it for now.

For Mikhail, matters of the heart could indeed be put aside for now; first, he must simply live his own life well.

Besides the landlord, other tenants seemed to have developed a feeling between respect and warmth toward Mikhail; sometimes they were very willing to chat with him, as if they could obtain some unknown comfort from him.

Mikhail was extremely delighted by this.

After all, during conversations, he could always hear some gossip and rumors that would open his eyes.

Take the gossip from the little civil servant Smirnov, for instance; anyone who heard it once would surely gain a new understanding of "The Death of a Government Clerk" and "The Chameleon."

Putting those aside for now, returning to the letter, the gist was that Belinsky wished to invite Mikhail to gather, eat together, and strengthen their bond.

For a pauper, there was no better way to strengthen a bond than this.

As for where to eat, one must mention the happy little salons of intellectuals in these times.

The word "salon" and related activities naturally came from France, the revolutionary homeland; roughly, it was a group of idle nobles gathering to drink, play cards, and boast, occasionally discussing philosophy or art. Oh yes, the most indispensable thing was, of course, keyboard politics.

After all, keyboard politics is something you dare not do publicly, is it?

Since you cannot keyboard politically in public, you can only chat with a group of nobles of like mind during private gatherings, discussing the current situation.

Generally, such salons indeed provided food and drink, and offered an opportunity to expand one's network.

Furthermore, intellectuals in these times basically formed one small group after another, either based on shared hobbies or on shared literary, artistic, or political ideals.

In this current period, it is still all right; the division is not yet so severe. Once the situation in Russia deteriorates further, the so-called intellectuals will begin intense internal division and struggle.

Roughly, a perfectly fine dinner gathering would suddenly have someone sigh: "Alas! Look how well the Westerners do it; their thought, art, economy, and state systems are all good!"

Another person would hear this and immediately become displeased: "You speak absolute nonsense! There is no logic in that! We Russians have our own traditions and national conditions. Although the Tsar is not good, autocracy is our historical tradition! We must follow this!"

"What did you say? Pure nonsense!"

"You can even ignore all our Russian traditions, yet you dare to talk about serving the country? I'll f*** your mother!"

"You f***ing………"

Ahem………

Of course, this is an abstract expression; more will be discussed later.

However, it must be said that, largely due to national character shaped jointly by history and geography, Russian intellectuals are all about extremes. On them, there seems to be a lack of sufficient patience: "All or nothing."

Their perspective on history often does not allow for reform; either they overthrow it, or they are overthrown by it.

In specific periods, such an attitude can rapidly propel social change and development, but at the same time, hidden dangers are often sown during this period.

The writers of Russia's Golden Age, more or less, embodied such tendencies. Take our old Dostoevsky, for instance; when young, he was once an radical revolutionary for a time. Later, he suffered the Tsar's iron fist; his death sentence was commuted to exile. After living such a life for a few years, old Dostoevsky finally turned to the embrace of religious redemption.

Of course, this is only a general summary; the actual situation and old Dostoevsky's thoughts are far more complex than this.

So the question arises: are there any moderate or centrist writers who want everyone to stop quarreling, get along well, and build a beautiful homeland together?

Yes, brother, yes.

If luck is good, Mikhail will soon meet this person at the upcoming gathering.

He is the owner of a series of nicknames such as "Hamlet," "The Old Romantic," "Judas," and "Fool"; one of the three giants of the Golden Age of Russian literature; a fanatical fanboy; a half-finished pure-lover; our Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev!

Brother Turgenev.

(End of this chapter)