by Tom Murphy
Jenks Except one night, Mr Butler.
Butler ’Cept in the case of the vicar’s older daughter, Miss Olivia, Sir. The bogus priest that night had overdone the claret and couldn’t stand.
Jenks And who undertook to marry them?
Butler Why, you did.
Burchill Who did?
Butler He did – Mr Jenks.
Miss Wilmot’s Voice Oh, let me in, let me in!
Burchill This grows complicated.
Jenks Begging your leave, Your Honour, in a little I shall set the affair in its proper light. While on release I sent message to Miss Wilmot and to one other witness more . . . (He continues his private word to Burchill.)
Miss Wilmot (has come in during the above) Sirs, ladies – my dear Mr Thornhill! But I take it a little unkindly that, in what must have been your haste to get here, you neglected to inform me of the situation of a family dear to us both. I find that like your uncle you take most pleasure in doing good in secret.
Mrs Primrose Hymph! His good is as base as he is!
Miss Wilmot Goodness! (How is she to understand it all.)
Burchill (to Gaoler) Remove him (Ephraim Jenkinson.) And return the prisoner, George Primrose.
Miss Wilmot (‘Goodness!’) Mr Thornhill informed me that Dr Primrose’s eldest son, Mr George Primrose, had married in London and that his hastened escape to the West Indian Islands was in order to abandon his wife and the child she bore him!
Moses I have heard my brother say he would die a bachelor for your sake, Miss Wilmot.
Mrs Primrose My son would wait for ever while you engage so quickly to another. You are too quick off your marks, my dear.
Burchill And you, Sir, who are so fond of justice, what further before I give judgement?
Thornhill You should now know – Uncle – that my financial situation no longer depends on your whim, for I have secured another fortune which no one can take from me. Yes, the charming Miss Wilmot’s, which, thanks to her father’s assiduity, is pretty warm and which, thanks to you, is mine whether she marries me or not.
Miss Wilmot Oh, is this true, Sir William?
Burchill By heaven! The legality is on his side: I drew up the articles in the contract myself.
Miss Wilmot Then never shall I be able to renew my warmest vows to Mr Primrose. I have only my hand to give.
George And that is all you ever had to give, Miss Wilmot. (George, in regimentals, being let in by Gaoler.) At least, all I thought was worth accepting. I now protest by all that’s happy, your want of fortune this moment increases my pleasure as it serves to convince you of my sincerity. He can have it, Miss Wilmot, so he can!
Jenks Not so hasty, George. Sir William, can a gentleman have one lady’s fortune if he be married to another?
Burchill How do you make such simple demand? Undoubtedly he cannot.
Jenks Then your marriage contract for Miss Wilmot’s fortune is not worth a tobacco-stopper to you, Capting. There is one other witness more, Sir William.
Burchill Gaoler!
Gaoler opens the gate and stands back. Olivia comes in. She descends the steps with Dick and Bill flanking her, like page-boys.
Vicar (whispers) Livy . . . Olivia?
Olivia Oh, Papa.
Vicar Livy? Do I behold thee? Yes, it is. And my boys. My life, my happiness.
Olivia Oh, Papa.
Vicar Are you returned to me?
Jenks That she is, Vicar, and make much of her for she is as honest a woman as any in the room.
Burchill Sir!
Jenks Then a final word will explain the difficulty. You see me, as great a sinner as ever a member of the laity: but I am not, as Mr Thornhill asserted, all counterfeit. No man is. One of my disguises was not fake. (Aside to Thornhill.) You treated me rotten, Ned! (Produces a document.) My ordination papers. (A second document.) And this is the marriage licence that joined those two together. I kept it with the purpose of getting money on it from Mr Thornhill at an opportune moment, and should have used it, but, my vocation, refired by the example of this upright man (Vicar) now craves to take up the trade of cleric once again. (Presents documents to Burchill.) Sir William.
Burchill You shall not find my leniency wanting, Reverend Jenks. I shall see that you continue the good work, so ably begun by the Vicar, here.
He gives the marriage licence to Olivia.
Madam, I restore you to reputation. And as for you – (Thornhill) your vices and crimes of ingratitude deserve no pity. A bare competence of what you presently receive shall be supplied to support the wants of life, but not its follies. In the future, it will be from the tenderness and intercession of your wife that you will receive any extraordinary supplies.
Thornhill Oh, my dearest wife!
Moses His repentance is too sudden!
Burchill Do not aggravate your meanness, Sir, with hypocrisy!
Thornhill My dearest Uncle –
Burchill Depart from me and from England for a period of ten years and seek reformation. From all your former servants, choose one – Not Mr Butler, sir! This decent domestic, who only wanted a master to love, is to be accommodated into my own employ.
Olivia Papa, ten years.
Vicar Sir William. Forgiveness. Heaven has blessed me this night and forgiven my pride. Might we allow the wife, now grown prudent, to be sure, to decide the term?
The decision is given to Olivia.
Olivia Then, if severance there has to be (she touches her stomach) let it be for six months.
Thornhill Olivia, Olivia! –
Olivia (tears) Oh, Ned!
Burchill Leave, sir – Depart!
Thornhill I shall long for you till then – (To the others.) I really shall. My dearest wife, farewell – six months – adieu . . . (He’s gone.)
Vicar But how could you add to my miseries by telling me that my darling girl was dead?
Mrs Primrose To save you, dearest. And you are dearer than all else to me.
Vicar But it matters not, my pleasure at finding her again is more than compensation for the pain.
Olivia And allow me to increase your joy, Papa, with the news that arrived an hour ago, to say that the merchant from Wakefield who absconded with your fortune was arrested at Antwerp and, far from being bankrupt, gave up effects to a much greater amount than was due to his creditors.
Burchill And now that I have sorted out your problems, I think we are ready to go to supper.
Mrs Primrose (drawing Sophy forward) Some little matters yet, Sir William, to be tied?
Burchill Some little matters? Yes! What, Bill, you chubby rogue! You remember your old friend Burchill, dontcha? And Dick too, my honest veteran! Well, you shall find I’ve not forgotten you. Your favourite gingerbread!
Mrs Primrose But, is there not one little matter more?
Sophy (coyly) Mama.
Burchill You are sensible, Dr Primrose, of an obligation we both owe the Reverend Jenks?
Vicar Indeed.
Burchill Then if I pledge five hundred pounds as fortune to enable him find a wife, will you give him your younger daughter?
Mrs Primrose Laws!
Burchill Will you have him, Miss Sophia?
Mrs Primrose What d’you say, Sir William? – She cannot!
Burchill (to Sophy) Mr Jenks, who is to be chaplain to this prison – (To himself.) I must be really certain – and a handsome enough young fella with five hundred pounds?
Mrs Primrose (speaking for/cueing Sophy) ‘No, sir, never!’
Burchill Ay?
Sophy No, sir, never; I would sooner die.
Burchill Can this young lady have taken a shine to the cut of my jaw? Ah, how I have searched for a wife – striven even among the pert and the ugly – who, a stranger to my birth and fortune, would love me! How great then is my rapture to find that woman! Miss Sophia, will you become Lady Thornhill?
Sophy Yes, oh yes.
George And, Miss Wilmot – Arabella – will you become my wife?
Miss Wi
lmot Yes, dearest Mr Primrose – George.
Moses The world goes on very well.
Mrs Primrose I haven’t done too badly by my children, Dr Primrose?
Vicar Yes, child.
George Give us your blessing, Father.
Vicar I give it from my heart. May you be happy as I, and glory in the mystery of being alive. Once have I objected, spoken of things I do not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. But I’ll proceed no more in complaint. I believe in good, I believe in the power of forgiveness, I believe in life. My pleasure is unspeakable when I look at you. And it only remains that my gratitude in good fortune shall exceed my former submission in adversity. God’s blessing on us all.
The Cherry Orchard
This adaptation of The Cherry Orchard received its premiere at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, on 17 February 2004. The cast was as follows:
Ranyevskaya
Donna Dent
Lopakhin
Lorcan Cranitch
Anya
Gemma Reeves
Petya Trofimov
Michael Colgan
Yepikhodov
Phelim Drew
Firs
Tom Hickey
Gayev
Nick Dunning
Varya
Alison McKenna
Dunyasha
Janet Moran
Yasha
Dylan Tighe
Charlotta
Clara Simpson
Boris Pishchik
Des Cave
Vagrant
Simon O’Gorman
Post Office Clerk
Peter Daly
Stationmaster
Des Nealon
Guests/Servants
Peter Daly
Ruth McGill
Conor Ryan
Director Patrick Mason
Designer Joe Vanek
Lighting Designer Paul Keogan
Characters
Lyubov Andreyevna Ranyevskaya, owner of the estate
Anya, her daughter, aged 17
Varya, her adopted daughter, aged 24
Leonid Gayev, her brother, aged 51
Yermolay Lopakhin, a businessman
Petya Trofimov, a student
Boris Borisovich Simeonov-Pishchik, a landowner
Charlotta Ivanovna, a governess
Simon Panteleyevich Yepikhodov, a young estate office clerk
Dunyasha, a young housemaid
Firs, manservant, aged 87
Yasha, a young manservant
Vagrant
Stationmaster
Post Office Clerk
Guests and Servants
The action takes place on Ranyevskaya’s estate.
Act One
A room which is still called the nursery. One of the doors leads to Anya’s bedroom. The windows are shut. Daybreak: the sun will soon be up. May.
Dunyasha comes in carrying a candle with Lopakhin who is holding a book.
Lopakhin Well, it’s in.
Dunyasha Thank God.
Lopakhin What time is it?
Dunyasha Nearly two.
Lopakhin So how late does that make the train?
Dunyasha blows out the candle.
Lopakhin Two hours at least.
Dunyasha . . . It’s nearly light already.
Lopakhin But I’m a fine one: I fall asleep. And I came here specially to meet her at the station. You might have given me a shout.
Dunyasha I thought you’d gone to the station with the others.
Lopakhin What? No. Suddenly I’m asleep sitting down with this. (Book.) A pleb.
Dunyasha (listening) I think they’re . . . [‘coming’] Are they?
Lopakhin (listens) No. Their luggage, bags, one thing and another to be collected . . . What will she be like after her five years abroad? She won’t have changed . . . The eyes, you know: the kindness in them. Always . . . I’ll never forget it for her: I was fifteen, and my father – oh, he’d ‘progressed’ to having the little shop over in the village then. And we’d come here, to the yard out there, for something or other, and he hit me. Drunk, of course, what else. Smack, here in the face with his fist, and the blood started to pour. And Lyubov Andreyevna, so young then, so – slender – took me in. I mean into here, the house, to this room, the washbasin that was over there. ‘Do not cry, little peasant, it will get better before you are married’ . . . Now: little peasant . . . And I still am, despite my waistcoat and yellow boots. And everything else. A pig’s snout in a pastry shop. (The book:) Trying to make head or tail of this and couldn’t understand a blessed word of it, I fall asleep.
Dunyasha (whispering) The dogs can sense it. (Dunyasha is a little given to the dramatic.)
Lopakhin (absently) What?
Dunyasha That the mistress is returning. They have been awake too all night, and trembling.
Lopakhin What’s the matter with you?
Dunyasha holds out her hands to show him they are trembling.
Lopakhin What? (Silently.)
Dunyasha I think I’m going to faint.
Lopakhin Well, aren’t you the lady! Your clothes and hairdo too. That’s not the way, Dunyasha. Remember who you are. (He sees/hears someone coming in and moves aside with a little impatience.)
Yepikhodov comes in. He is the young estate office clerk; jacket and highly polished boots that squeak; innocently pretentious; awkward, accident-prone. He has a bunch of flowers behind his back that he would gallantly present to Dunyasha; now he produces them with a flourish:
Yepikhodov Tra-la! (The nosegay comes apart, the flowers fly, scatter. His smile is one of both disbelief and conviction at this demonstration of his accident-proneness.) You see!
Lopakhin Tck!
Yepikhodov I mean to say, the gardener sent them. (Gathers the flowers, gives them to Dunyasha.) They’re to go in the dining room, he said.
Lopakhin And bring me a glass of something, Dunyasha.
Dunyasha (going out) Sir.
Yepikhodov . . . A morning frost of three degrees again this morning? And the cherry is in blossom. Dear sir, I cannot approve this climate. The climate, I regret to say, does not facilitate the requirement. In no way whatsoever is it equal to the occasion. Further, Yermolay Alekseich, if I may append, I purchased these boots two days ago and they squeak so excessively I have little hope in them. In your opinion what should I oil them with?
Lopakhin (undertone: containing himself) Stop.
Yepikhodov Each day something falls out. Do I complain? I’ve grown used to it.
Lopakhin Stop.
Yepikhodov One thing after another.
Lopakhin Buzz, clear off!
Yepikhodov lingers. Dunyasha returns: a glass of kvass to Lopakhin.
Yepikhodov . . . I’ll be going, then. (And he walks into a chair – or some accident. Triumph:) You see! The concatenation? It’s even rather remarkable! (He’s gone.)
Dunyasha He proposed to me . . . Yermolay Alekseich?
Lopakhin Aah!
Dunyasha I don’t know, though . . . He’s nice. But when he opens his mouth – Do you understand what he says? . . . It sounds right, really sophisticated, but . . . I think I like him. He loves me. Madly. But when they tease him, and call him ‘Two-and-Twenty Troubles’?
Lopakhin Shh! (Listening.)
Dunyasha I don’t know, though. Heigh-ho!
Lopakhin There!
Dunyasha Are they coming?
Lopakhin They’re here.
Dunyasha I’m shaking again.
Lopakhin Will she recognise me? (Going out.)
Dunyasha I’m going to faint. (Following him.)
The stage is empty.
Two carriages have been heard drawing up. (And voices off, indistinctly, of the kind: ‘Whoa!’, ‘Welcome home!’ ‘Where’s the luggage to go?’, ‘Those to the other door, those in here!’)
Now, noise of people in rooms off, and Firs comes in, hurrying across the room as best he can, leaning on a stick. He is wearing old-fashione
d livery and a top-hat for the occasion: he has been to the station. He’s talking to himself, words no one can make out.
Voice This way, this way.
Anya comes in, then Lyubov Andreyevna and Charlotta with a little dog on a lead. They are in travelling clothes.
Anya Mama, mama, in here, come through here! Do you remember what this room is?
Lyubov smiles, silenced by it, tears coming to her eyes. They are followed by Varya (full-length coat and a headscarf), Gayev, Pishchik, Lopakhin, Dunyasha (carrying a bundle and an umbrella) and Servants carrying luggage. All are on their way through the room.
Varya It’s so cold, it’s so cold.
Lyubov The nursery.
Varya My hands are numb.
Lyubov Sweet, darling, beautiful, angel of a room.
Varya Mamochka, we’ve left your rooms exactly as they were, the white one and the mauve.
Lyubov The nursery. I used to sleep here when I was little. (She’s tearful.) And now I’m a little girl again. Leonid – (She kisses her brother, Gayev, then Varya.) My Varya too, the same as ever, like a little nun. (Kisses her brother again.) Oh, Leonid! And Dunyasha: how you’ve grown, but I recognised you straight off! (Kisses her.)
Gayev Train, two hours late: how’s that for efficiency?
Varya (leading them off) This way, this way . . .
Pishchik (asking Charlotta what her dog eats, making sounds like a dog eating) He?
Charlotta He is very fond of nuts.
Pishchik (astonished) Well I never! Nuts?! . . .
All have gone out except Anya and Dunyasha. Dunyasha helps Anya out of her things – gloves, coat, hat.
Dunyasha Now. My little darling. Oh, I’m so, oh! [‘excited’] We’ve worn ourselves out waiting for you.
Anya I didn’t sleep for the whole four nights of the journey.
Dunyasha Pet.
Anya Freezing.
Dunyasha Freezing when you left in Holy Week, but now! Longing to see you – My little flower! But I can’t wait to tell you, wait’ll I tell you!
