Chapter 28: The Classmate Turgenev Who Loves to Brag (Tuesday, please follow and read)

As for where Belinsky would invite him to gather, Mikhail had a fairly confident guess — most likely the home of the poet Ivan Ivanovich Panaev mentioned earlier, the very gentleman who had Nekrasov in a threesome.

It is worth mentioning that Belinsky did indeed have quite a few wealthy friends, but he rarely opened his mouth to ask them for help — first, because of Belinsky's personal character, and second, because some of those friends were actually not very reliable, each and every one of them placing great weight on money.

And among them, Panaev and his wife Avdotya were two of the more dependable ones, having provided a great deal of help for Belinsky's life over these past few years as well as several other major events.

As was said before, Belinsky is a penniless wretch, and in many respects he doesn't know how to be flexible, but short of the very last resort, he certainly wouldn't be willing to starve himself to death.

Therefore, during these years in Saint Petersburg, Belinsky came up with a "Hungry Writers' Club," and the activities of this club, apart from the daily reading, card-playing, and bragging, the most important thing was this: organizing group trips to the great poet Panaev's home to mooch meals.

After all, what kind of members this club had can be seen from the name itself — basically a bunch of fellows who couldn't afford to eat.

Nekrasov was probably only just recruited into it this year.

And as things stand now, Mikhail is also about to find his own organization!

With a slightly excited mood, Mikhail followed the address given in the letter and walked on, until finally at an intersection he spotted two familiar figures and one unfamiliar tall man.

Those two need no further explanation — naturally they were Nekrasov and Belinsky, who clearly had barely a few coins in their pockets; as for that other tall man, his attire was considerably more presentable — flaxen hair, bright eyes, a face bearing an aristocratic kind of carefree and innocent expression, clearly someone who hadn't suffered much from the hardships of life.

"Long time no see, Nikolai and dear Vissarion." Mikhail walked up with a smile and greeted them: "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No, the fault is ours for not going to meet you." At the sight of Mikhail's arrival, a flush of excitement rose on Belinsky's originally somewhat pale face: "Seeing you like this puts my mind at ease — it seems those vicious articles in the magazine really didn't have much effect on you, just as Nikolai said."

"Why should I be angry?" Mikhail shrugged: "In the face of a pack of blind men, the only thing we can do is pity them, and forgive their nonsense."

Wait, why am I being so aggressive.

"You're right, Mikhail!" Before Mikhail could come back to himself from his own words, Belinsky replied with a smile: "I often tell myself that. By the way, I haven't introduced this gentleman to you yet."

And before Belinsky could say any more, the young man beside him had already impatiently extended his hand toward Mikhail: "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mikhail — may I call you that? I never imagined there could be such a work, such a concise, understated way of writing.

By the way, I am Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev."

"Hello, very glad to meet you." Looking at this young man who did indeed seem somewhat familiar, as though he'd seen him in some book, Mikhail felt a slight stir of excitement too, and then took the other's hand.

Needless to say, Turgenev is a great writer.

But far too many writers can only be called great when measured across the span of an entire life.

At this present period, the young Turgenev was little different from many idle sons of the aristocracy — fond of telling little lies, vain, loved to brag, liked to boast about his romantic affairs, liked to make friends with the powerful, and was somewhat sharp-tongued and gossipy to boot.

It was precisely because of this temperament that the man who originally had a very good impression of him, and who even praised him in a letter as:

"What a splendid fellow he is! I almost fell in love with him myself. A poet, a man of talent, an aristocrat, a handsome man, a rich man, clever, well-educated, twenty-five years old — I really can't see where God has been unfair to him? Finally, his character is exceptionally frank and fine, molded by Lianghaode Sect."

— Dostoevsky was greatly angered, to the point of breaking with him.

Of course, old Dostoevsky's own character was hardly anything to boast about either; when he had just entered the literary world, he could fairly be called "the classmate Dostoevsky who loved to show off."

We'll set these matters aside for later discussion. Although Turgenev of this period was somewhat fond of bragging, his conscience was still decent, and moreover he had one rather fine quality:

"I'm also very glad to meet you, Mikhail." Turgenev, who seemed excited to have made the acquaintance of this figure who had recently stirred up quite a storm in Saint Petersburg, immediately opened his mouth and said: "Let's get together privately sometime when you have time — my treat!"

"Deal!"

Mikhail nodded heavily.

Although Mikhail was excited by this remark, there was actually a small problem hidden within it.

Namely, although Turgenev of this period was indeed a rich second-generation sort, he was still living off the allowance sent by his mother, and combined with his love of bragging and treating people, he often found himself in a situation where he couldn't afford to eat.

Therefore, Turgenev nowadays was also a member of the Hungry Writers' Club.

This won't do — looks like I'll have to pick the right moment and get Brother Tur to treat me right after he just receives his allowance.

While Mikhail was mulling this matter over in his head, the three of them had already set off walking toward some place.

And along the way, Turgenev clearly took a great interest in Mikhail, asking him quite a few questions, as well as quite a few opinions on certain matters.

Mikhail's answers to this were quite cautious — after all, one careless moment and he really might end up as gossip material for Turgenev to spread around.

Apart from that, there were Belinsky's questions:

"Mikhail, are you still keeping at your writing? I hope you'll definitely keep at it — with your talent, you'll sooner or later become a great writer."

Saying this, Belinsky couldn't help glancing at Turgenev beside him: "Don't be like him, day after day acting like a child, immersed in those childish things, when you clearly possess quite decent talent."

Seeing Turgenev look slightly embarrassed, Mikhail thought for a moment and then timely spoke up: "The new work is already finished — I was just planning to submit it to a magazine again to try my luck."

"Oh?"

Hearing this, all three people present immediately turned to look at Mikhail.

"Good, wonderful!" Belinsky, who was quite heartened by this, spoke up: "Then would you mind reading it aloud before a group of respectable Mr. s? I was just about to introduce you to them — they all possess Lianghaode Sect, and might be able to offer you a bit of advice."

Feeling deeply grateful for the chapter recommendation from the esteemed editor and the author of "The Shadow of Great Britain," Master's article.

Honestly, this little newbie is feeling a bit apprehensive.

The pressure is real too, but I'll still power through it (fly rubbing its hands together)

Thank you all for your support.

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(End of this chapter)