uld have envied for its life and Swinburne for its
sound.
But neither Maikov, Fet, nor Polonsky, exquisite as much of their
writing is, produced anything of the calibre of Nekrasov, even in
their own province; that is to say, they were none of them as great in
the artistic field as he was in his didactic field. Compared with him,
they are minor poets. There is one poet of this epoch who does rival
Nekrasov in another field, and that is COUNT ALEXIS TOLSTOY (1817-75),
who was also a Parnassian and remained aloof from didactic literature;
yet, under the pseudonym of Kuzma Prutkov, he wrote a satire, a
collection of platitudes, that are household words in Russia; also a
short history of Russia in consummately neat and witty satirical
verse. As well as his satires, he wrote an historical novel, _Prince
Serebryany_, and more important still, a trilogy of plays, dealing
with the most dramatic epoch of Russian history, that of Ivan the
Terrible. The trilogy, written in verse, consists of the "Death of
Ivan the Terrible," "The Tsar Feodor Ivanovitch" and "Tsar Boris."
They are all of them acting plays, form part of the current classical
repertory, and are effective, impressive and arresting when played on
the stage.
But it is as a poet and as a lyrical poet that Alexis Tolstoy is most
widely known. Versatile with a versatility that recalls Pushkin, he
writes epical ballads on Russian, Northern, and even Scottish themes,
and dramatic poems on Don Juan, St. John Damascene, and Mary
Magdalene; and, besides these, a whole series of personal lyrics,
which are full of charm, tenderness, music and colour, harmonious in
form and transparent. No Russian poet since Pushkin has written such
tender love lyrics, and nobody has sung the Russian spring, the
Russian summer, and the Russian autumn with such tender lyricism. His
poem on the early spring, when the fern is still tightly curled, the
shepherd's note still but half heard in the morning, and the birch
trees just green, is one of the most tender, fresh, and perfect
expressions of first love, morning, spring, dew, and dawn in the
world's literature. His songs have inspired Tchaikovsky and other
composers. The strongest and highest chord he struck is in his St.
John Damascene; this contains a magnificent dirge for the dead which
can bear comparison even with the _Dies Irae_ for majesty, solemn
pathos, and plangent rhythm.
His pictures of landscapes have a peculiar charm. The follo
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