Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 20, 2025
Gorky's voice is not the calm, cultivated, well-balanced voice of Chekhov, the Russian De Maupassant, nor even the apostolic, well-meaning, but comparatively faint voice of Tolstoy, the preacher: it is the roaring of a lion, the crash of thunder.
Just at the moment when Chekhov appeared to stand at the head of young Russian writers, Gorki appeared, and his fame swept from one end of the world to the other. In Russia, his public was second in numbers only to Tolstoi's; Kuprin and Andreev both dedicated books to him; in Germany, France, England, and America, he became literally a household word.
As is only fitting, the work of Tolstoi, Dostoievsky, Turgenev, and other Russians, whose work is already well known to the American reader, are only represented lightly in the collection, and greater space is devoted to the stories of Chekhov and other writers less familiar to the American public.
Chekhov himself planted the trees and looked after them. His father worked from morning till night weeding the paths in the garden and making new ones. Everything attracted the new landowner: planting the bulbs and watching the flight of rooks and starlings, sowing the clover, and the goose hatching out her goslings. By four o'clock in the morning Chekhov was up and about.
Not wishing to see or meet anyone, Chekhov kept out of sight after the performance, and by next morning was in the train on his way back to Melihovo. The subsequent performances of "The Seagull," when the actors understood it, were successful. Chekhov had collected a large number of books, and in 1896 he resolved to present them to the public library in his native town of Taganrog.
"There's a story I love about Chekhov," she said, getting back into the car. "He paid a visit to Tolstoy. Late in the evening, on his way home after a certain amount of wine, he cried out to his horse and to the heavens: 'He says I'm worse than Shakespeare. Worse than Shakespeare!" "Wonderful," Charlie said. "Chekhov didn't he die after a last swallow of champagne?" "It was sad," Margery said.
In "Ward No. 6" Chekhov pays his respects to Tolstoi's creed of self-denial, through the lips of the doctor's favourite madman.
And, if I realized that the revolution had come to stay, if I realized that Chekhov's play had become a play of historical interest, I realized also that Chekhov was a great master in that his work carried across the gulf between the old life and the new, and affected a revolutionary audience of to-day as strongly as it affected that very different audience of a few years ago.
He was particularly fond of them, and his whole family rejoiced at their arrival. They stayed up long after midnight on such days, and Chekhov wrote only by snatches. And every time he wrote five or six lines, he would get up again and go back to his visitors. "I have written sixty kopecks' worth," he would say with a smile.
I was also able to buy a book of his which I have long wanted, his "Foreigners' Accounts of the Muscovite State," which had also fallen out of print. In the same way the Government has reprinted, and sells at fixed low prices that may not be raised by retailers, the works of Koltzov, Nikitin, Krylov, Saltykov-Shtchedrin, Chekhov, Goncharov, Uspensky, Tchernyshevsky, Pomyalovsky and others.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking