I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 154 Crime of Conspiracy to Subvert the State

There are actually quite a few nuances to how the French express exclamations and swear words.

First is the universally recognized interjection, "Oh là là". Generally speaking, this sentence doesn't have any specific meaning; it's just used to express a vague emotion. The more intense the emotion, the more "la" appears, turning into something like "ohlalalalla".

As for swearing, commoners and some aristocratic literati used different terms. For example, French literati of this period often used the relatively elegant swear word "Zut!", which is a euphemism for "fuck." Later, this word was even written into the poetry of the "cursing school" led by poets Verlaine and Hambo, to reflect their rebellion against orthodoxy.

Besides that, the classic French curse word is "Merde," which literally translates to shit, but its usage is flexible. It can be understood as "damn it," and sometimes it can also be used to express a blessing. In the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, when Napoleon's trusted general, Cambronne, was being urged to surrender by the British army in French, he had previously replied in a refined and righteous manner, "Guards would rather die than surrender!"

But on the third time, this guy was already furious about losing the battle, and the British soldiers on the other side kept grumbling and being annoying, so he blurted out a classic Chinese curse: "Merde!"

To some extent, it could be interpreted as "Fuck you, you piece of shit British bastard."
Upon hearing this, the British officer immediately shouted "Fire!" and the man was then engulfed in a barrage of artillery fire.

This event is also recorded in Victor Hugo's "Les Misérables." Although the story is somewhat humorous, Hugo's romantic style naturally portrays it as something lofty and grand, making the reader feel as if they are facing the thunder of history, leaving them unable to calm down for a long time.

As the book says, "What could be greater than saying that word and then calmly facing death! He took this step to seek death, and if he survived the hail of bullets, it was not his fault."

The reason for bringing this up, of course, is that Turgenev had heard it countless times in Parisian literary circles and aristocratic salons during the period from negotiating prices with Parisian publishers to finalizing the contract.

One after another, they kept chanting "ohlalalalala," sometimes sounding almost like singing. As for "Zut!" and "Merde," they were commonplace.
"Zut! Have you heard?"

"What did you hear? Why are you being so rude today?"

"Let's not talk about that. Do you know what price that Russian writer's novel eventually fetched?"

"How much more can there be?" Someone with less information scoffed and replied, "At most, only thirty centimes. A Russian like him would probably be overjoyed to get that price, right? It's not unusual for him to not even get one centime. Parisian magazines don't publish just any novel!"

"Three francs per line!"

"Only Merde! How much?!"

"Ohlalalala Has the Century newspaper gone mad? Or has that Russian writer offered them so much that they simply couldn't refuse?"

"The fact that a foreigner's French novel could fetch such a price in a Parisian newspaper is the craziest thing I've ever heard of in my life!"

"My God, could it be that the owner of the Century newspaper has turned into a woman and fallen in love with that Russian writer?"

"La Fontaine, while I appreciate your humor, it's best to be careful with your words, because I've heard from others that the Russian writer might have some shady dealings with the Russian royal family."

"What? How could someone connected to the royal family be involved in this? But if that's the case, then it makes sense! The Russian Tsar has always liked to use brutal methods to interfere in the affairs of other countries, perhaps this is his new tactic! I bet this novel will praise that Tsar to the skies!"

"Did you hear about that?"

"I've heard about it, and I've also heard that the Russian writer doesn't seem to be young. It's said that he's from the same generation as Mr. Dumas's father, and he might have even held Mr. Dumas in his arms back then!"

"My God! How could this be?! This rumor is just too absurd!"

"Who knows? You never know."

Regarding the price of his novel "Around the World in Eighty Days," Turgenev negotiated and compared prices with several magazines, and ultimately managed to secure a price of 2.5 francs per line.

Admittedly, although Alexandre Dumas praised the novel as worth ten francs per line, it was unlikely to be a fair price in actual negotiations. After all, he was a newcomer and a foreign writer, and Mikhail was certainly unwilling to be associated with any well-known French author. Under such circumstances, if it weren't for the fact that "Around the World in Eighty Days" was truly a high-quality and sensational work, it would have been quite normal for Parisian publishers to band together to drive down the price.

Even though publishers are vying for this work, there is an underlying understanding. After all, if the price is set too high, how will they explain it to the writers in Paris? Or even to a difficult writer like Alexandre Dumas?
If newcomers can get the same price as him, then what is Alexandre Dumas's long career worth?
In conclusion, due to the combined effects of various factors and the weighing of pros and cons by all parties, the price eventually reached this figure.

Frankly speaking, this price is already outrageous. It's only two francs less than Dumas's price. What does that mean?
Therefore, although the editor of the Century newspaper, Jiladan, offered such a price, he also said with a mix of pain and caution, "God, if it weren't for the quality of this work and its market in other countries, I wouldn't have offered such a price even if you put me on the guillotine!"

However, I must remind you that this is a temporary price. After all, the manuscript you gave me is not the complete content. If there are problems with the quality of the later parts, a price reduction or even termination is justified. Of course, if sales are very good, an increase is quite possible.” As he said this, Giradan also cursed Dumas in his heart. If he hadn't done something unnecessary, a normal script would have involved this Russian writer going around trying to find connections to submit it, and then these publishers would reluctantly accept it and reluctantly give a price. Why would it be so expensive today?
Fortunately, this Russian writer already had some fame in Paris, and now he really needs to add fuel to the fire.
Oh right, it should be this Mr. Mikhail! As long as it brings profits to the magazine, there should be no more stereotypes about the other person's nationality!

As for the publishers, having read the first half of the work, they certainly felt the pinch at such a price, but they knew in their hearts that their own newspapers would most likely make money from this deal. However, for the other writers, big and small, in Paris, who had not seen the work in person, such a price aroused their jealousy and dissatisfaction to the greatest extent.

For a time, it seemed that half of the literary world and various small groups in Paris were talking about this absurd matter, to the point that all sorts of ridiculous rumors were circulating. Turgenev had, of course, heard about these rumors, but he did not want to clarify the matter in front of everyone. Firstly, it was impossible, and secondly, Turgenev preferred to recreate the famous scene that Mikhail had once performed in front of his friends.

I won't recount the small detail of Turgenev sitting on the sofa in what was roughly a literary salon, sipping tea with one hand and eating a snack with the other, but then he smiled and said:

"Distinguished gentlemen, there is an old saying in this ancient Eastern country: 'Rumors stop with the wise.' I have complete faith in the wisdom of the gentlemen of Paris!"

Rumors stop with the wise, but what if they keep spreading? What does that tell us about Paris?
Mikhail had such a brilliant rebuttal when faced with various rumors in St. Petersburg; now I, Turgenev, am using the same tactic.
If anyone wants to keep spreading this, let them! Just wait until I come back next time and settle things with them!
By now, Turgenev was already acquainted with many gentlemen in Paris, which would make settling accounts much easier.

In short, thanks to Mikhail's remarkable achievements, Turgenev has recently been enjoying great success in Paris. First, he saw Parisian publishers fawning over him and saying nice things to him. Then, he made sarcastic remarks about several French writers who had previously been disliked and had spoken harshly to him. After that, he was a guest at various salons in Paris.

After all, this matter was truly unusual, and who else could they turn to if not Turgenev to inquire about the situation?

Oh right, perhaps we could also talk to Belinsky. Although Belinsky could only barely read French, he was involved to some extent in Mikhail's affairs and learned the whole story from Turgenev's account.

Upon learning the final outcome of the matter and having a clear understanding of exactly how much could be bought with three francs, Belinsky was instantly swept up in a surge of excitement:

"Look, look, look! This is Mikhail. Even in France, he could easily become a millionaire! And knowing him as I do, he would succeed in any other industry. He's told me a lot about the prospects of other industries, and they certainly seem to make sense."

This is certainly true; often, a seemingly insignificant piece of information in history is enough to move a massive boulder.

Just like France during this period, Mikhail certainly knew that between 1845 and 1847, France suffered consecutive years of poor wheat harvests, to the point that the price of wheat soared from 17.15 francs per 100 kilograms to over 43 francs, which was an important factor in the later outbreak of the French Revolution.

In this situation, given his initial capital and connections, Mikhail could have easily smuggled cheap Russian rye to France in advance and stockpiled it.
Of course, Mikhail would have preferred to give to the famine-stricken French people rather than make money from it. But there was a problem: what if I did it during the most severe period of the revolution and famine, in 1847 and 1848? What if the French accused me of plotting to overthrow the country?
Hopefully it won't be that abstract.
Getting back to the main point, while Turgenev was busy negotiating and boasting, he naturally didn't forget to take Belinsky sightseeing, and also to visit some famous Parisian landmarks, such as the Place de la Concorde, where Louis XVI and many others were executed, and the famous Bastille.

On such an occasion, for some reason, Belinsky felt an even stronger urge to speak with Mikhail.

After all, Turgenev was a liberal, and he could not possibly agree with everything. It was not so pleasant to talk to him.

Another thing worth mentioning is that when Turgenev was discussing the three francs per line with Belinsky, he seemed to have thought of something and praised Mikhail's wisdom:
“Dear Vesalion, do you know that because Parisian newspapers are paid by the line, many writers have profited from this rule in the past? In order to deal with this, the Parisian publishers have set a rule that the text in a line must be more than half a line.”

Guess what happened to Mikhail's manuscript? Many dialogues were barely half a line long! The Paris publisher noticed this and asked me to merge some of the dialogues. I said no, it was just a coincidence. But what a coincidence!

But I only mentioned to Mikhail that Paris charges by line. Could it be that he already knew this in advance through his own insight?

"No, you're wrong, Ivan."

Faced with Turgenev's praise, Belinsky quickly became serious: "This is clearly a coincidence. If it were Mikhail, why would he play such tricks on these things?"

Seeing Belinsky's expression, Turgenev, after careful consideration, began to doubt his own ideas.
If Mikhail knew this, he would indeed say to Turgenev with a somewhat strained expression, "Yes, brother, you are right."

After recounting this, Belinsky, looking at Turgenev who was already basking in the glow of Parisian social circles, could not hide his worry and reminded Turgenev, "Ivan, you can't just immerse yourself in these things; you should also put more words into your writing."

"Don't worry, my dear Vesalion."

Faced with Belinsky's urging, Turgenev quickly replied, "I'll start writing as soon as I get back. I've made an appointment with Mikhail; he'll be staying at my family's estate for a while this summer to learn hunting and mountain climbing skills. I'll start writing with him then, so you won't have to worry anymore, right?"

Speaking of which, Turgenev, whose urge to write had been growing stronger lately, couldn't help but think to himself:

If I followed Mikhail's schedule, I'm sure I'd be able to write a lot of things.
(End of this chapter)