Chapter 35: Expectations

With the formal conclusion of the first gathering, Mikhail, Belinsky, and Nekrasov supported one another as they walked out of the Panayevs' villa.

First, all three had drunk some wine; Mikhail had remained relatively restrained, but Belinsky and Nekrasov were already somewhat dizzy. At Slavic gatherings, alcohol is rarely absent.

Second, all three had actually eaten quite a lot; their bellies were visibly rounder. Without supporting each other, they would truly have to lean on walls to walk, which would be somewhat embarrassing.

Ahem...

Belinsky's home was relatively close to the Panayevs', so Mikhail and Nekrasov first worked together to deliver this rare relaxed critic to his new wife.

At this point in time, Belinsky had only recently married; marrying at thirty-two was actually slightly late in later eras, let alone in present-day Russia.

The reason for this was, of course, that Belinsky was a pauper, and just a year prior, Belinsky had been sighing at Panayeva that he would likely remain an old bachelor for life, when unexpectedly things took a turn for the better; one of Belinsky's fans began writing to him, and after back-and-forth correspondence, Belinsky fell in love with his own fan.

Just as Belinsky's new wife hurriedly tried to lead Belinsky to the bed, the slightly dizzy Belinsky suddenly grabbed Mikhail's hand again and said solemnly:

"Mikhail, although I do not know if this novel can pass the censor's review, I will certainly do my utmost to advocate for you! Such a novel deserves to be seen by more people exactly as it is!"

"Very well, dear Vissarion, but if it truly needs some revision, that is also fine, because one day it will appear before the world in its complete form."

After Mikhail smiled and answered Belinsky thus, he also greeted Belinsky's new wife, who was looking at him curiously.

Seeing this, the other party immediately smiled and said, "So you are Mikhail? Lately I have heard your name from Vissarion's mouth every single day; I almost thought he had fallen in love at first sight with some Young Lady!"

After making this small joke with Mikhail, the lady soon took her leave from the two and went to take care of Belinsky.

Although Mikhail and Nekrasov's homes were farther from the Panayevs', the two still had no intention of taking a carriage; instead, they stubbornly prepared to measure the land of Saint Petersburg with their feet.

In the process of the two struggling forward, Nekrasov kept looking at Mikhail; after looking an unknown number of times, the fellow finally sighed and spoke: "Mikhail, when will I ever be like you? You are talented, quick-witted, wise, and calm..."

Mikhail, watching Nekrasov babble on and on: "..."

You have quite a lot of words for praising people; you're making me feel shy...

"Dear Nekrasov, believe me, you will have your own set of experiences."

Regarding Nekrasov's current predicament, Mikhail could actually understand it quite well.

Having no fixed abode, with only a few coins in one's pocket, and in such a situation falling in love with a noble friend's wife; it would be strange not to feel anxious.

In later eras, this would just be a college student facing poor economic conditions, unemployed right after graduation, and with no elders to rely on...

So Mikhail also told Nekrasov with a firm tone:

"Someday, you will be the top publisher in Saint Petersburg; you will earn a large sum of money, and the poems you write will be remembered by very many people."

Hmm, you really can charm someone's wife...

"Then let us hope things turn out as you say! Hahaha." Seemingly encouraged by the firm tone in Mikhail's voice, the drunken Nekrasov also perked up and said, "If things truly turn out as you say, then I should change my address! At that time, I will call you a prophet! Prophet Mikhail!"

That nickname is actually quite good...

Having walked the arduous road thus, out of a sense of responsibility as a friend, Mikhail naturally supported Nekrasov all the way to his home; otherwise, he really would not have felt at ease, after all, it is no surprise what a drunkard might do.

Especially a drunkard in present-day Russia, whose main focus is inner pain and suppression, relying on alcohol to numb and vent his heart.

Additionally, Mikhail happened to take a look at Nekrasov's home; compared to where he lived, it could only be described as being much the same.

But it doesn't matter; once the anthology is produced, the two of us brothers will truly be rich!

After seeing Nekrasov off, Mikhail, walking alone on the street, finally had a moment for solitary thought; what he mainly thought about was actually the matter of the novel "Sleepy".

It is a bit dangerous, but in a certain sense, not that dangerous. If it were the ending that left suspense, it would probably be safer.

After all, in Russia during this period, there was actually something slightly counterintuitive: at least on the surface, no writer in Russia had truly been punished for writing.

But the problem lies in the fact that the works of almost all famous Russian writers contain some political tendency, and besides writing, they all personally participated in various political activities; in other words, Russian writers could almost be equated with political prisoners.

Very often, their works even became the vehicle for their political tendencies.

And regarding matters involving politics, it would be strange if the old Tsar did not strike hard.

So the reasons for arresting those writers and critics were often political issues.

For example, Old Dostoevsky was struck hard certainly not because he wrote about the miserable lives of the poor, but mainly because he participated in the various activities of the Petrashevsky Circle at that time.

Later, of course, many plots in Dostoevsky's works exposed the dark side of Russia, but because they leaned more towards religious redemption and lacked overly radical political tendencies, he basically did not get struck hard again.

In short, before clearly declaring one's radical political tendencies and directly participating in certain radical political activities, if Mikhail only writes some works that appear at first glance to be "humanitarian," there should not be too much trouble; at most, he would just be attacked by some people.

Although being constantly attacked by people does seem quite miserable.

I must not become depressed like Gogol and my brother Turgenev.

Of course, in a few years it will not work anymore; with the occurrence of the "Spring of Nations" in 1848, the old Tsar directly transformed into an ultra-sensitive skin, allowing no trace of anything sensitive to appear, directly crushing the Cultural Circle into a lifeless state with no vitality at all.

But then again, the articles published now are certainly not very safe, but this is actually Mikhail, while trying to avoid the Tsar's iron fist, harboring some seemingly ethereal Expectations.

The truly bright future may still be a very, very long time away; then, among the thousands upon thousands of Vankas, Ionas, and Varkas living in this present era, will any of them, because of the appearance of these novels, live slightly better?

Will they? Probably not.

But will they really not? Perhaps they will.

Who can say for sure?

Mikhail walked along this narrow path while thinking; on both sides were somewhat damp and moldy walls, and Mikhail naturally could not turn back, so he could only continue walking along this narrow path.

Although the scene in the distance is always hazy and indistinct, making it hard to see clearly,

Mikhail still walked forward.

(End of this chapter)