Chapter 98: Dining, Politics, and Mikhail's Banquet

After sending the letter to Nadya, Mikhail devoted himself to preparing for the banquet, and aside from focusing on this task, he had been going out as little as possible lately, avoiding the publishing house office whenever he could, and hardly reading letters from readers.

Although Mikhail knew those grumpy old brothers might not actually do what they claimed in their letters, seeing so many of them still made his heart race.

As for hosting the guests, besides needing to purchase some items, other issues had given Mikhail a headache for a while.

One of these issues was what standard of hospitality to adopt when entertaining guests; for Russia in the eighteenth and even nineteenth centuries, what a person ate in public often determined his social rank.

During this period, the Russian nobility remained as xenophilic and abstract as ever; for instance, members of the upper class often excluded certain foods, dishes, and drinks from their lives on the grounds of being "unrefined," and since the Russian nobility had been learning from Europe for one hundred and fifty years starting with Peter the Great, they considered foods deemed "unrefined" to be Russian cuisine.

Those who could not resist eating such unrefined foods were regarded by high society as oddballs, misers, or vulgar people.

In short, during this time, every self-respecting wealthy Russian noble household had to employ a French chef, and besides French cuisine, the Russian nobility also gradually introduced other European dishes, such as cod and trout.

Russian native porridge, kvass, hot honey water, and cabbage soup were not allowed to appear at formal luncheons or banquets; nuts and beer suffered the same contempt, and in the era of the great Pushkin, these two foods were also considered markers of vulgarity and lack of breeding.

Of course, the despised nuts referred to their unprocessed state, but once ground into crumbs by a French chef and sprinkled on cakes, they immediately became darlings of noble banquets.

And after Russia fought France in 1812, patriotic sentiment within Russia began to surge, so some upper-class nobles would deliberately drink native rural beverages like kvass in public to show their love for the motherland.

Besides this, sometimes food could also be linked to political leanings; for instance, at the secret meetings held by Decembrist Kondraty in his own home, boiled cabbage and rye bread would be served to like-minded individuals.

By the era in which Mikhail currently found himself, at gatherings of the earliest Slavophiles, some performance art would also be staged: they would mix Russian kvass with French champagne in a large silver tub, then drink this beverage to show they had immersed themselves among the masses.

Although the fashion for French cuisine was not as prevalent in these years as before, some authentic St. Petersburg old nobles still adhered strictly to this code; for instance, the last time Mikhail attended a gathering at a general's house, everything served was authentic French cuisine, though Mikhail ate so fast he hardly tasted any of it.

The reason for saying all this was naturally that the class backgrounds of Mikhail's friends were quite mixed, ranging from kitchen maids to top-tier rich second-generation heirs, with people doing all sorts of things.

Among these people, some belonged to the type with strong class consciousness; even if they might not show it on their faces, they would still feel somewhat awkward inside.

This was actually a common ailment among some noble youths of this period: the ideas and education they encountered made their feelings unconsciously draw close to the masses, yet their background environment and the profound influence received within that environment caused them, in many situations, to unconsciously display noble postures.

For this type of person, as the times changed, their inner struggles and conflicts became increasingly prominent, thereby forming another classic image in Russian literature: the "Superfluous Man."

Unless something unexpected happened, Mikhail would probably write about such characters next, summarizing the related literary phenomena along the way, after all, this image had already been vividly depicted in Pushkin's "Eugene Onegin."

Such writing might exert a certain influence on some progressive young nobles, after all, literature always has a role in awakening people; even if the impact on some individuals is not great, as long as it influences a few people, then at certain special moments, this influence will manifest very clearly.

That said, actually, not many people truly knew that Mikhail had moved, and upon careful calculation, Mikhail discovered that those closest to him were indeed a bunch of poor buddies; Old Bel and Old Ne were typical representatives, and even though they had become quite wealthy alongside Mikhail recently, they probably hadn't yet adapted to the change in status.

In that case, what might need slightly more consideration were Panayev and Turgenev.

However, to be honest, although Mikhail was now quite wealthy, because the magazine was still in its initial stage, expenses in all aspects were huge, and it was not yet his turn as a publisher to get rich, so he definitely could not afford an authentic French chef; he could only hire a cook with a good reputation first, and serve somewhat higher-quality ingredients.

Regarding this point, Mikhail had briefly explained it to Old Pa and Old Tu, who was preparing to return recently.

Upon learning of Mikhail's slight concern, both of them laughed and said: "Don't worry, Mikhail, we all know your situation; your thinking on this is a bit superfluous, don't we know your financial status?"

Mikhail: "?"

Just wait until I surpass you, you two guys.

After settling these slightly tedious matters, although Mikhail was a bit flustered, regardless, the first banquet held at his house was finally about to begin.

The time was set for near evening, because only at this time could the friends in Mikhail's apartment shake off their daily labor for a while and enjoy a period of rest.

The house Mikhail currently lived in was much larger, but there were not many more people; roles such as maids, which would generally be present in slightly wealthier families, Mikhail had not yet recruited, so although the living room was festively decorated because of the banquet, at first glance it actually looked a bit desolate.

However, as time passed, Mikhail's guests arrived one after another.

The first to appear were the burly landlady Pavlovna and the seemingly timid old maid Nastasya; upon seeing Mikhail's new home, which was decorated quite lively, while Pavlovna felt happy for Mikhail, she could not help but sigh.

Seeing her look of regret, Mikhail was smart enough not to press further, but instead smiled and looked at the seemingly constrained Nastasya, saying: "What's wrong with you? Go find a place to sit. Didn't you bring a cat to me before? Why do you look as if we don't know each other now?"

"You look almost like a master, Mikhail!"

Seeing Mikhail's smile, which seemed not much different from before, Nastasya, whose status was indeed somewhat low in contemporary Russia, relaxed a bit and said cheerfully: "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, no one would believe such a thing!

Recently, Pavlovna has started trying to sell your little attic, but no matter how she says it, few people believe you actually lived in such a place! They say: Are you saying that Mikhail lived in a place like this? I admit this joke sounds good, but if it is that Mr., with his talent, he could live in a place ten times better than this with just a flick of his finger!"

Mikhail: "?"

It's not that easy; young people are still too young.

Counting carefully, from the very beginning until now, Mikhail had also endured more than half a year of hard times.

"Because there were too many disbelievers, this made Pavlovna furious; in the end, she simply decided not to rent it out anymore, planning to seal up that little room directly when your fame grew a bit larger! Anyone wanting to take a look must pay ten kopecks!"

Mikhail: "."

Wow, top-tier thinking, and it actually seems feasible.

Mikhail chatted with the two for quite a while; seeing that they had relaxed, he let them enter and take their seats first, and not long after, the minor official Smirnov arrived with his family, while walking and bickering with the small merchant Versilov who accompanied him.

Upon seeing Mikhail, Smirnov immediately said to him: "Look, this gentleman actually told me on the road that he gave you a whole set of furniture for free! If I hadn't asked you about this beforehand, I might have actually believed it!

But one thing is good: my jokes will increase; I have a story about a ridiculous merchant!"

"That is not funny, Smirnov."

Versilov, who habitually inflated the numbers but indeed did not expect to be exposed, although his face turned slightly red, continued to argue: "Given the price I gave to dear Mikhail, I indeed essentially gave it away for free! If you were to buy it, I would definitely charge five times the price or even more!"

"Go to hell!"

Hearing this familiar noise, Mikhail just shook his head and smiled, then invited them to the dining table.

The dining table for this banquet was custom-made by Mikhail; a long table capable of seating nearly twenty people, which should be sufficient to accommodate the people Mikhail intended to entertain this time.

After they took their seats, not long after, Belinsky, Nekrasov, dressed much more decently, Old Tu who had just returned from the countryside, and Old Dostoevsky who came to join the fun, appeared at Mikhail's doorway.

Due to their arrival, those already seated at the dining table suddenly fell silent; even the ever-cheerful minor official Smirnov seemed at a loss for a moment.

Undoubtedly, they had seen Mikhail's friends before, but previously only from a distance; meeting them in such a formal setting as now was truly the first time.

However, this subtle atmosphere did not last long; as Mikhail invited Belinsky and the others to take their seats and helped ease the mood, and as Mikhail also brought out some vodka and other wines for them to drink directly, after a few cups of horse piss went down their throats, not long after, the scene naturally became lively again.

Facing such an occasion, which seemed uncommon in contemporary Russia, Belinsky appeared quite excited; while constantly talking to the person beside him, he could not help but look at Mikhail and say:

"Look, Mikhail, if in the future everyone could sit together like this, talk, drink happily together, and discuss various matters, then the best of times must surely be coming."

To be honest, if one really had to say it, Belinsky and the friends in Mikhail's apartment indeed had many things to talk about, after all, in a sense, Belinsky's previous situation was not much different from theirs, merely working as a laborer in another form.

Facing such an occasion, Turgenev, who had just returned from the countryside not long ago, seemed to be the one least adapted; for a noble youth like him who had previously spent all day trying to break into high society, the scene before him was even remarkable.

If not for Mikhail, he probably would not have had such an opportunity.

However, although somewhat unaccustomed, Turgenev did not show much discomfort; instead, he revealed a thoughtful expression. Since Mikhail had previously mentioned the novel "A Sportsman's Sketches" to him, Turgenev had actually started writing, but perhaps because he had not returned for a long time, Turgenev could not bring himself to put pen to paper.

But upon seeing today's scene, Turgenev also seemed to gradually understand what he was truly lacking.

And when he awoke from his deep reverie, he exchanged a few words with those present, then suddenly, looking somewhat dejected, he found Mikhail and quietly asked, "Mikhail, why does Vissarion keep looking at me? It's as if I've done something terrible, but I swear, I haven't done anything lately except read!"

"I truly do not know that."

Just as Mikhail's gaze grew a bit unsteady, new guests arrived one after another. And when someone Mikhail knew very well finally arrived, a pair of strong arms firmly locked onto him, followed by Dmitri's cheerful voice:

"Long time no see, Mikhail! Seeing you like this now makes me truly overjoyed! I'm sorry I'm only coming now to formally congratulate you, but I do have good news to tell you today. I'll tell you when the banquet ends—it's that thing you used to like the most!"

Mikhail, whose eyes were turning black: "..."

Mumbling something, I can't hear anything at all.

(End of this chapter)