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Our literature of the era of "great silence" is not fraught with the effects of genius, its voice is quiet. And here you can recall the famous lines of Baratynsky in 1828, who described his own work as follows:
My gift is wretched and my voice is not loud,
But I live, and on my land
Someone kindly being:
It will be found by my distant descendant
In my poems: who knows? my soul
Will be with his soul in indequiousness,
And how I found a friend in the college,
I will find the reader in posterity.
In our opinion, this characteristic can be attributed to the entire Old Russian literature as a whole. It is all directed not so much to the present as to the future, and this future is not earthly, but heavenly.