It is on the invoking of "mercy to the fallen," the "waking of kindly feelings," the actual "usefulness" of his poetry, that Pushkin bases his claims to immortality.
In another poem, "The Echo," he distinctly lays it down as the poet's duty to vibrate in consonance with the multitudinous events of life, even though himself receiving no response from any one:—
THE ECHO
"There roars a beast in forest's gloom,
Or horn blares, or thunders boom,
Or maiden sings beyond the holm;—
To every tone
Thy answer in air's vacant dome.
Thou dost intone.
"Thou hearkenst to the thunders gruff,
The voice of storm and waves far-off,
And shout of rustic shepherds rough;—
Comes answer back.
But thou gett'st none. As badly off
A bard's, alack!"
And this is the keynote of Russian Literature and literary criticism. Every Russian author of note has distinctly stated that his literary work is but a means for a certain well-defined purpose, a straight aiming at a sturdy reality, not a blind groping after vague and diffuse ideals.
The faltering verse of Russia's first would-be poet, Kantemir (1708-1744), becomes a social satire against the senseless opposition to the reforms of Peter the Great. The odes of Lomonosoff (1711-1765) attain a genuine poetic ring when dealing with the value of knowledge for benighted Russia. The comedies of Fonvizin (1745-1792), the first artistic creations (along with their lesser contemporary achievements by Catherine II) on truly Russian lines, scourge the excesses of
