Later Years
As regards politics, Shuvalov's life abroad was not as exciting as the previous period of his career. On Catherine II's request, he would go on diplomatic errands; thus it was he who persuaded the Pope to replace Durini, a Russophobic nuncio at Warsaw, with the more pliant Count Giuseppe Garampi.
His eventual return to Russia in 1777 occasioned Derzhavin's well-known epistle, while the Empress made him High Chamberlain. Shuvalov's mansion was to be frequented by the new generation of Russian intellectuals: Ekaterina Dashkova, Denis Fonvizin, Mikhail Kheraskov, Ivan Dmitriev, Aleksandr Shishkov – many of them products of the university he had established. While living at his palace, the poet Kostrov produced the first Russian translation of the Iliad.
After his imperial lover's demise Shuvalov never married and had no children. He died in the Shuvalov Palace, Saint Petersburg on 14 November 1797. His tomb is in the Annunciation Church of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery. In 2003, a memorial statue of Shuvalov was unveiled in the inner court of the Academy of Arts in St Petersburg. Its sculptor is Zurab Tsereteli, the current president of the Academy that Shuvalov founded. Another commemorative statue was erected in front of the Moscow University Library in 2004.
Read more about this topic: Ivan Shuvalov
Famous quotes containing the word years:
“The years seemed to stretch before her like the land: spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning; the same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released.”
—Willa Cather (1873–1947)
“What will our children remember of us, ten, fifteen years from now? The mobile we bought or didn’t buy? Or the tone in our voices, the look in our eyes, the enthusiasm for life—and for them—that we felt? They, and we, will remember the spirit of things, not the letter. Those memories will go so deep that no one could measure it, capture it, bronze it, or put it in a scrapbook.”
—Sonia Taitz (20th century)