One of the most influential figures of Russian literary history, Anton Chekhov capitulated to worldwide fame as a playwright because of his mature plays such as THE SEAGULL, THREE SISTERS, THE CHERRY ORCHARD, etc. The heights of fame perhaps would not have been possible without the efforts of Konstantin Stanislavsky and Nemerovich- Danchenko of the Moscow Art Theatre. The Moscow Art Theatre itself changed the course of Russian Theatre in the early twentieth century. Till date, it is one of the world famous theatres. Simply speaking, Chekhov's art came full circle because of his having collaborated with the Moscow Art Theatre. Having said that, Chekhov's writing remains supreme. He was a keen judge of the turbulent environment of his time. Sensitive, humane and sometimes excessively modest, Chekhov brought alive life as it was. It is not for nothing that the term 'Realism' is attributed to his plays.

The following excerpts have Maxim Gorky, yet another important Russian literary figure reminisce the time he spent with Chekhov, observing him. These excerpts are illuminating in the sense of understanding the kind of man and writer that Chekhov was. The excerpts are also particularly relevant of Chekhov's commentary on the Russia of his time.

Once he (Anton Chekhov) invited me to the village Koutchouk-Koy where he had a tiny strip of land and a white, two-storied house. There while showing me his "estate", he began to speak with animation: "If I had plenty of money, I should build a sanatorium here for invalid village teachers. You know, I would put up a large, bright building--very bright, with large windows and lofty rooms. I would have a fine library, different musical instruments, bees, a vegetable garden, an orchard. ... There would be lectures on agriculture, mythology. ... Teachers ought to know everything, everything, my dear fellow."

He was suddenly silent, coughed, looked at me out of the corners of his eyes, and smiled that tender, charming smile of his which attracted one so irresistibly to him and made one listen so attentively to his words.

"Does it bore you to listen to my fantasies? I do love to talk of it. ... If you knew how badly the Russian village needs a nice, sensible, educated teacher! We ought in Russia to give the teacher particularly good conditions, and it ought to be done as quickly as possible. We ought to realize that without a wide education of the people, Russia will collapse, like a house built of badly baked bricks. A teacher must be an artist, in love with his calling; but with us he is a journeyman, ill educated, who goes to the village to teach children as though he were going into exile. He is starved, crushed, terrorized by the fear of losing his daily bread. But he ought to be the first man in the village; the peasants ought to recognize him as a power, worthy of attention and respect; no one should dare to shout at him or humiliate him personally, as with us every one does--the village constable, the rich shop-keeper, the priest, the rural police commissioner, the school guardian, the councilor, and that official who has the title of school-inspector, but who cares nothing for the improvement of education and only sees that the circulars of his chiefs are carried out. ... It is ridiculous to pay in farthings the man who has to educate the people. It is intolerable that he should walk in rags, shiver with cold in damp and draughty schools, catch cold, and about the age of thirty get laryngitis, rheumatism, or tuberculosis. We ought to be ashamed of it. Our teacher, for eight or nine months in the year, lives like a hermit: he has no one to speak a word to; without company, books or amusements, he is growing stupid, and, if he invites his colleagues to visit him, then he becomes politically suspect--a stupid word with which crafty men frighten fools. All this is disgusting; it is the mockery of a man who is doing a great and tremendously important work. ... Do you know, whenever I see a teacher, I feel ashamed for him, for his timidity, and because he is badly dressed ... it seems to me that for the teacher's wretchedness I am myself to blame--I mean it."