Orlov contested the point and then agreed.
My effort to please succeeded: from that time we were on intimate terms. He saw in me a rising possibility; I saw in him a veteran of our views, a friend of our heroes, a noble figure in our life.
Poor Orlov was like a lion in a cage. Everywhere he knocked himself against the bars; he had neither space to move nor work to do and was consumed by a thirst for actiYity.
After the fall of France I more than once met people of the same sort, people who were disintegrated by the craving for public activity and incapable of finding their true selves within the four walls of their study or in home life. They do not know how to be alone; in solitude they are attacked by the spleen, they 2 The Leag-ue of Public \\'elfare was formed in the reign of Alexander I to support philan thropic undertakings and education. to impro\'e the aclministriltion of justice. and to promote the economic welfare of the country. The best men in Russia belonged to it. At first approved by Alexander, it was afterwards repressed, and it split into the 'Union of the North.' which aimed at establ ishing constitutional go\'ernment, and the
' Union of the South' led hy Peste!, which aimed at republicanism. The two Unions combined in the at tempt of Decemb!'r the Fourteenth, 1 825.
( Tr.)
Prison and Exile
1 29
become capricious, quarrel with their last friends, see intrigues against them on all hands, and themselves intrigue to reveal all these non-existent plots.
A stage and spectators are as necessary to them as the air they breathe; in the public view they really are heroes and will endure the unendurable. They have to be surrounded by noise, clamour and clash, they \vant to make speeches, to hear their enemies' replies, they crave the stimulus of struggle, the fever of danger, and without these tonics they are miserable, they pine, let themselves go and grow heavy, have an urge to break out, and make mistakes. Ledru-Rollin is one such, who, by the way, has a look of Orlov, particularly since he has grown moustaches.
Orlov was very handsome; his tall figure, fine carriage, handsome, manly features and completely bare skull, altogether gave an irresistible attractiveness to his a ppearance. The upper half of his body \vas a match to that of A. P. Yermolov, whose frowning, quadrangular brow, thick thatch of grey hair, and eyes piercing the distance gave him that beauty of the warrior chieftain, grown old in battles, which won Maria Kochubey's heart i n Mazeppa.
Orlov was so bored that he did not know what to begin upon.
He tried founding a glass factory, in which medireval stained glass was made, costing him more than he sold it for; and began writing a book 'On Credit'-no, that was not the way his heart yearned to go, and yet it was the only way open to him. The lion was condemned to \Vander idly between the Arhat and Basmannaya Street, not even daring to let his tongue run freely.
It was a mortal pity to see Orlov endeavouring to become a learned man, a theorist. His intelligence was clear and brilliant, but not at all speculative, and he got confused among newly invented systems for long-familiar subjects-like his chemical nomenclature. He was a complete failure in everything abstract, but went in for metaphysics with intense obstinacy.
Careless and incontin!'nt of speech, he was continually making mistakes; carried away by his first impression, which was always chivalrously lofty, he would suddenly remember his position and turn back half way. He was an even greater failure in these diplomatic count!'rmarches than in metaphysics and nomenclature ; and, having got his legs tangled in the traces once, he would do it t\vo or three times more in trying to get clear. He was blamed for this; people are so superficial and inattentive that they look more to words than to actions, and attach more weight to separate mistakes than to the combination
M Y P A S T A N D T H O U G H T S
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of the whole character. What is the use of blaming, from the rigorous viewpoint of a Regulus, a man? One must blame the sorry environment in which any noble feeling must be communicated, like contraband, under ground and behind locked doors ; and, if one says a word aloud, one is wondering all day how soon the police will come . . . .
There was a large party at the dinner. I happened to sit beside General Rayevsky, the brother of Orlov's wife. He too had been in disgrace since the Fourteenth of December; the son of the celebrated N. N. Rayevsky, he had as a boy of fourteen been with his brother at Borodino by his father's side; later on he died of wounds in the Caucasus. I told him about Ogarev, and asked him whether Orlov could do anything and whether he would care to.
A cloud came over Rayevsky's face: it was not the look of tearful self-preservation ,...-hich I had seen in the morning, but a mixture of bitter memories and repulsion.
'There is no question here of caring or not caring,' he answered, 'only I doubt whether Orlov can do much ; after dinner go to the study and I will bring him to you. So then,' he added after a pause, 'your turn has come, too; everyone will be dragged down into that slough.'
After questioning me, Orlov ''Tote a letter to Prince Golitsyn asking for an interview.
'The prince,' he told me, 'is a very decent man ; if he doesn't do anything, he will at least tell us the truth.'
Next day I went for an answer. Prince Golitsyn said that Ogarev had been arrested by order of the Tsar, that a committee of inquiry had been appointed, and that the material occasion had been some supper on the 24th June at \vhich seditious songs had been sung. I could make nothing of it. That day was my father's name-day; I had spent the whole day at home and Ogarev had been with us.
It was with a heavy heart that I left Orlov; he, too, was troubled; when I gave him my hand he stood up, embraced me, pressed me warmly to his broad chest and kissed me.
It was as though he felt that we were parting for long years.
I only saw him once afterwards, eight years later. His light was flickering out. The look of illness on his face, the melancholy and a sort of new angularity in it struck me; he was gloomy, was conscious that he was breaking up, knew things were all going wrong-and saw no way out. Two months later he died-the blood congealed in his veins.
