At first the French influence was manifested chiefly in external forms—­that is to say, in dress, manners, language, and upholstery—­but gradually, and very rapidly after the accession of Catherine II., the friend of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists, it sank deeper.  Every noble who had pretensions to being “civilised” learned to speak French fluently, and gained some superficial acquaintance with French literature.  The tragedies of Corneille and Racine and the comedies of Moliere were played regularly at the Court theatre in presence of the Empress, and awakened a real or affected enthusiasm among the audience.  For those who preferred reading in their native language, numerous translations were published, a simple list of which would fill several pages.  Among them we find not only Voltaire, Rousseau, Lesage, Marmontel, and other favourite French authors, but also all the masterpieces of European literature, ancient and modern, which at that time enjoyed a high reputation in the French literary world—­Homer and Demosthenes, Cicero and Virgil, Ariosto and Camoens, Milton and Locke, Sterne and Fielding.

It is related of Byron that he never wrote a description whilst the scene was actually before him; and this fact points to an important psychological principle.  The human mind, so long as it is compelled to strain the receptive faculties, cannot engage in that “poetic” activity—­to use the term in its Greek sense—­which is commonly called “original creation.”  And as with individuals, so with nations.  By accepting in a lump a foreign culture a nation inevitably condemns itself for a time to intellectual sterility.  So long as it is occupied in receiving and assimilating a flood of new ideas, unfamiliar conceptions, and foreign modes of thought, it will produce nothing original, and the result of its highest efforts will be merely successful imitation.  We need not be surprised therefore to find that the Russians, in becoming acquainted with foreign literature, became imitators and plagiarists.  In this kind of work their natural pliancy of mind and powerful histrionic talent made them wonderfully successful.  Odes, pseudo-classical tragedies, satirical comedies, epic poems, elegies, and all the other recognised forms of poetical composition, appeared in great profusion, and many of the writers acquired a remarkable command over their native language, which had hitherto been regarded as uncouth and barbarous.  But in all this mass of imitative literature, which has since fallen into well-merited oblivion, there are very few traces of genuine originality.  To obtain the title of the Russian Racine, the Russian Lafontaine, the Russian Pindar, or the Russian Homer, was at that time the highest aim of Russian literary ambition.