Russia's idealization of Europe was profoundly shaken by the French Revolution of 1789. The Jacobin reign of terror undermined Russia's belief in Europe as a force of progress and enlightenment. 'The "Age of Enlightenment"! I do not recognize you in blood and flames,' Karamzin wrote with bitterness in 1795.148 It seemed to him, as to many of his outlook, that a wave of murder and destruction would 'lay waste to Europe', destroying the 'centre of all art and science and the precious treasures of the human mind'.149 Perhaps history was a futile cycle, not a path of progress after all, in which 'truth and error, virtue and vice, are constantly repeated'? Was it possible that 'the human species had advanced so far, only to be compelled to fall back again into the depths of barbarism, like Sisyphus' stone'?150
Karamzin's anguish was widely shared by the European Russians of his age. Brought up to believe that only good things came from France, his compatriots could now see only bad. Their worst fears appeared to be confirmed by the horror stories which they heard from the emigres who had fled Paris for St Petersburg. The Russian government broke off relations with revolutionary France. Politically the once Francophile nobility became Francophobes, as 'the French' became a byword for inconstancy and godlessness, especially in Moscow and the provinces, where Russian political customs and attitudes had always mixed with foreign convention. In Petersburg, where the aristocracy was totally immersed in French culture, the reaction against France was more gradual and complicated - there were many liberal noblemen and patriots (like Pierre Bezukhov in
In this search for a new life on 'Russian principles' the Enlightenment ideal of a universal culture was finally abandoned for the national way. 'Let us Russians be Russians, not copies of the French', wrote Princess
Dashkova; 'let us remain patriots and retain the character of our ancestors'.151 Karamzin, too, renounced 'humanity' for 'nationality'. Before the French Revolution he had held the view that 'the main thing is to be, not Slavs, but men. What is good for Man, cannot be bad for the Russians; all that Englishmen or Germans have invented for the benefit of mankind belongs to me as well, because I am a man'.152 But by 1802 Karamzin was calling on his fellow writers to embrace the Russian language and 'become themselves':
Our language is capable not only of lofty eloquence, of sonorous descriptive poetry, but also of tender simplicity, of sounds of feeling and sensibility. It is richer in harmonies than French; it lends itself better to effusions of the soul… Man and nation may begin with imitation but in time they must become themselves to have the right to say: 'I exist morally'.'153
Here was the rallying cry of a new nationalism that flourished in the era of 1812.
overleaf:
St Petersburg, 1838
At the height of Napoleon's invasion of Russia, in August 1812, Prince Sergei Volkonsky was delivering a report to the Emperor Alexander in St Petersburg. Alexander asked the young aide-de-camp about the morale of the troops. 'Your Majesty!' the prince replied. 'From the Supreme Commander to the ordinary soldier, every man is prepared to lay down his life in the patriotic cause.' The Emperor asked the same about the common people's mood, and again Volkonsky was full of confidence. 'You should be proud of them. For every single peasant is a patriot.' But when that question turned to the aristocracy, the prince remained silent. Prompted by the Emperor, Volkonsky at last said: 'Your Majesty! I am ashamed to belong to that class. There have been only words." It was the defining moment of Volkonsky's life - a life that tells the story of his country and his class in an era of national self-discovery.
