Chapter 99: Mikhail: Solving Problems and Facing Problems

To be honest, Mikhail hadn’t seen Dmitri in a while—partly because he’d been busy lately, and partly because Dmitri had recently become enthusiastic about attending gatherings, seemingly drawn to some new idea that had deeply moved him, and he was now fully devoted to studying it and engaging in heated discussions with others.

This wasn’t unusual in Russia’s intellectual circles, and as more diverse new ideas emerged, this kind of “debating” trend would only intensify—those with sharper tongues and deeper understanding of an idea would rise in status within their small groups.

If one had greater ambition, once firmly established, one could continue gathering like-minded followers, expanding and strengthening the group, and achieving new glory.

Years later, a young man with brown eyes named Vladimir, who had gone bald early and thus appeared wise, did exactly this—he joined the “Big Beard Doctrine” group at the St. Petersburg Institute of Engineering shortly after arriving in the city; though nominally so, most members were “half-baked,” lacking deep understanding of the doctrine.

This young man, who had lost his hair by his twenties, was indeed stronger for it—his reputation within the “circle” grew louder through brilliant debates and speeches.

Soon after, followers of the Big Beard Doctrine in St. Petersburg all knew a young man had come from the Volga River—thin on hair, but truly learned. It was at such gatherings that he met a girl with matching interests and found love.

Though he achieved success in both career and love, this young man did not stop there. At the time, the Tsarist government and police viewed the radical People’s Will members, who frequently resorted to assassination, as the primary threat, while they dismissed the peaceful propaganda of social democracy as: “These few people won’t amount to anything for another fifty years!”

So he seized this window of opportunity and the slightly relaxed environment, teaching working-class groups, holding public debates and speeches, and...

That’s another grand story altogether.

In short, prestige is either won through debate or earned through action—and often, both are indispensable.

As for the current “debating” trend sweeping St. Petersburg, it wasn’t strange at all for Dmitri, a university student with a rebellious streak.

So it was no surprise that Mikhail and Dmitri saw less of each other while both were busy.

As for Dmitri’s “good news,” Mikhail was genuinely curious—could Dmitri have found a way to make money and wanted to bring his brother along?

He really wanted to ask right then: “Dmitri, where’ve you been making money lately? Take me with you.”

But with so many guests present, Mikhail could only attend to his visitors first.

Once all of Mikhail’s guests had arrived one by one, the rather informal banquet began.

Though the St. Petersburg outside the window was dark and gloomy, the room was filled with bright candlelight; the decorative flowers and ornaments seemed heavier in the glow, and the long table beside them was laden with all manner of dishes.

There were peasant delicacies eaten on major holidays—roast goose, stuffed suckling pig, ginger cakes, honey cakes—and also refined dishes usually seen only at noble banquets: imported ham, macarons.

The theme: a little money, no etiquette, everything mixed and chaotic.

Mikhail felt no shame about it—he was a true provincial commoner, and this was how he was.

His friends felt nothing amiss either; before formally eating, they all unconsciously turned their eyes toward Mikhail.

Undoubtedly, this was a momentous day!

So what views and insights would Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov, the genius poet and writer, offer?

Would he perhaps write a poem or a passage from a great novel right then and there?

Thinking of this, Belinsky couldn’t help swallowing hard and instinctively patted his pocket, wondering if he’d brought paper and pen.

He wasn’t alone—Mikhail’s other cultured friends, Old Tu and Old Tuo, also perked up, ready to hear what Mikhail would say.

To be honest, Mikhail felt slightly embarrassed under such stares, but since everyone was looking, staying silent seemed worse—so he picked up his cup, already half-filled with wine, smiled, and raised it:

“Eat well, drink well—I’ll drink mine, you all do as you please.”

Belinsky, frustrated by the lack of paper and pen: “?”

Hearing this, everyone exchanged glances, then burst into laughter; with this cheerful atmosphere, the banquet officially began.

Banquets are usually eaten while chatting, and since this was his own home, Mikhail naturally didn’t eat like a guest at someone else’s—he ate while talking with others.

But with so many people, many topics couldn’t be explored deeply; yet several people clearly wanted to talk with Mikhail at length—within moments, he noticed Dmitri, Old Tu, Old Tuo, and other friends all glancing his way.

I know Dmitri might want to bring me into his money-making scheme—but what’s Old Tu and Old Tuo after?

Then again, Old Tuo’s latest novella, “The Double,” had recently received a cold reception from readers and critics—a significant blow to Old Tuo, who had been in the spotlight lately.

As Mikhail pondered this, Turgenev approached him first; aside from the new insights he’d gained, Turgenev also mentioned his upcoming travel plans:

“Mikhail, I’ll be traveling to Europe soon—assuming I can deliver my manuscript to Belinsky on time.”

At this, Turgenev grimaced, sighed, and continued: “The most important thing in Europe, of course, is seeing the talented actress Viardot, whom I told you about before!”

Lately, through my persistent efforts, she’s clearly taken an interest in me—she’s been drawn to my talent and character! There’s no doubt about it. But recently, she and her troupe returned home, so I must go see her too!”

After so long apart, if I suddenly appear before her, won’t she be delighted?”

Mikhail: “...”

Old Tu, after all this time, you’ve still fallen for it.

Watching Turgenev, excited yet confident, Mikhail saw no need to say more—he merely nodded faintly: “Probably. Good luck.”

“At the same time, I’d like to translate your stories, Mikhail—I think your work should be introduced to Europe! Your short stories stand equal to those of Europe’s finest writers!”

At this, Turgenev grew unusually animated: “You know, Europe’s gentlemen have long held prejudice against any art outside their own culture—some of it reasonable, but much of it not! I’ve already seen this in your short stories.”

“Oh?”

Hearing this, Mikhail glanced at Turgenev—slightly surprised, yet not entirely.

In fact, though later many in Russia labeled Turgenev a fake Westerner and traitor, he had always worked hard to bring Russian literature into the European world.

While rising to fame in Europe with “A Hunter’s Notes,” he tirelessly promoted other Russian writers.

Even though Turgenev and Tolstoy had a bitter quarrel in 1861 and completely severed ties—even friends trying to reconcile were driven away—when Turgenev read Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” in 1869, he couldn’t help saying: “Only Tolstoy could have written such a work.”

He immediately organized its translation, bringing it into the French-speaking world.

Regarding “War and Peace,” under Turgenev’s efforts, Flaubert, then a towering figure in French literature, not only read it but offered this evaluation:

“Thank you for urging me to read Tolstoy’s novel. It is a first-rate masterpiece—how skillfully he depicts, what a profound psychologist he is! The first two volumes are exquisite, but the third falls flat. He repeats himself, overloads with philosophical musings, and finally—the author and the Russian soul reveal themselves.”

In fact, lengthy philosophical musings in literary works were a hallmark of Russian literature—much of what made readers either unable to finish or utterly captivated stemmed from this.

Western novelists and critics long rejected this style; only later, as people increasingly recognized the greatness of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, did this technique become more common.

Back to now: seeing Old Tu, even with his head full of women, still thinking of translating Mikhail’s stories into English and French, Mikhail could only say—Old Tu had no flaws.

(End of chapter)