by Tom Murphy
Lyubov (coming in) Is that Yermolay?
Lopakhin Oof ! (A stagger, holding his head. He’s drunk/he’s not that drunk/he’s uneasy about facing her.)
Lyubov What took you so long? Where is Leonid?
Lopakhin Leonid is coming. Right behind me.
Lyubov Well, what happened, did the auction take place? Let us hear – did it?
Lopakhin Four o’clock. (And he’s afraid of betraying his excitement.)
Lyubov (silently or just a frown) Four?
Lopakhin We missed the train and had to wait for the half-nine one. Oof, my head is spinning!
Gayev comes in, downbeat. He has some packages.
Lyubov Leonid! Well? Tell us quickly!
Gayev (a despairing gesture, and gives his packages to Firs) Some anchovies and Kerch herrings.
Lyubov Give us the news!
Gayev I haven’t eaten all day. I’m very tired. Help me change my clothes, Firs. (He goes out through the ballroom, Firs following.)
Pishchik . . . What’s that?!
Lyubov Is Cherryorchard sold?
Lopakhin It is.
Lyubov Who bought it?
Lopakhin I bought it.
In the silence that follows, Lyubov supports herself between the back of an armchair and table, lest she should fall. Varya takes the keys off her belt and dumps them on the floor and she walks out.
My head is in such a state. (A mock stagger) I can hardly speak . . . . We got to the auction, who was there before us? Deriganov. Deriganov, oh-oh-oh! Leonid has – (he shrugs ‘only’) – fifteen thousand. Straightaway, Deriganov bids thirty over the mortgage. I see. (Lopakhin said to himself.) ‘Forty’: I take him on. He bids forty-five, I go fifty-five. He keeps adding fives, I go up in tens, until? I bid ninety, over the mortgage, and that’s it, it stops – that’s it – it’s mine – that’s it – the most beautiful estate in the world – Cherrylands! I don’t believe it! (He starts laughing; exceeds himself; beats a dance on the floor.) Can you believe it? Tell me I’m drunk! I know I’m drunk! But am I dreaming this? Don’t laugh! Don’t laugh at me-e-e-e-e-e, be-cause! If my father with his stick – ouch! – if my grandfather with his stick – ouch-ouch! – could see that their Yermolay, could see that their ‘half-wit’ has bought the whole place where they were ignorant slaves. Is it a dream, am I fan-tis-ising? (Sing-songs.) ’Tis a figment of your mind in a shroud of misteree.’
The musicians, off, are tuning up.
Yes, music, let’s have some music, and see the trees come ‘tumbelling’ down to the tune of Yermolay Lopakhin’s axe! And he’ll build cottages – all over! – and our children or our grandchildren will see a new life here. Heigh-yeigh, musicians, play!
The band is playing. Lyubov has sat in a chair to weep. (Lopakhin’s wild gesture on his very last nearly has him fall on top of her? )
. . . Why wouldn’t you listen to me? . . . My kind friend . . . Someone had to buy it . . . It’s changing. [‘the world is’] You can’t stop the clock . . . Lyubov Andreyevna . . . I’m not happy either . . . If only the changing wasn’t so dragged out in this unhappy life of ours. (He touches her hand, perhaps.) If only everything could be put right all at once.
Pishchik (takes his arm; quietly) She’s crying. She’d rather be alone. Dear heart, let’s go out here. (He leads Lopakhin towards the ballroom.)
Lopakhin What’s the matter with that band? (He bumps into a small table, almost knocking over its contents.) It’s all right, I can pay for it, I can buy anything! You out here, play up! – Decent music! (Going into the ballroom.) Here comes the new squire! Let everything be as I say! Heigh-yeigh, musicians play! . . .
Lyubov now sits alone, weeping. Anya stands in the archway.
Anya Don’t cry. (She comes to her mother.) Why are you crying? Cherryorchard is gone, that’s true, but your life too is out there in the future. My beautiful mother, I’m so grateful to you. I’m so grateful for you. Come with me, pure good soul: we shall plant a new orchard, a better one, you’ll see, you will, and like the sun in the evening it’ll all make sense. And you’ll smile. Come with me, my dear.
Act Four
The same as Act One, but now the emptiness: the room has been stripped. The furniture that remains is stacked in a corner, and there is a pile of luggage.
Varya’s and Anya’s voices can be heard in Anya’s room.
Lopakhin stands by, waiting; Yasha, too, with a tray of glasses of champagne.
In the background [‘in the front hall’ ] Yepikhodov is roping up a box, unsuccessfully. (In a while he will enlist the aid of a hammer and a nail, to his regret? )
Gayev (off) Goodbye! Goodbye! My good people, goodbye! Thank you, my brothers, my little brothers! Yes, goodbye! . . .
Yasha It’s touching: the simple folk saying their goodbyes. Salt of the earth, Mr Lopakhin, but – ah! – lack of education.
Lyubov and Gayev are coming in from outside, to pass through the room. She looks pale, she doesn’t want to speak.
Gayev That’s not the way, Lyubov –
Lopakhin Please? (Inviting them to have a drink.)
Gayev You gave them your purse.
She gestures ‘I couldn’t help it’, and continues off.
Lopakhin Won’t you?
Gayev You shouldn’t do that, Lyubov. (He’s off, too.) That’s not the way . . .
Lopakhin (calling after them) Have a glass together before we all go?! (Calls again.) Champagne! A parting glass, my friends?! They don’t want any. (Calls.) What?! . . . All right, I won’t have any either, then. (To Yasha.) You have a glass.
Yasha To those that are leaving, to those we leave behind! (Drinks.) Take my word for it: this isn’t the real article.
Lopakhin That bottle cost me eight roubles. It’s bloody cold in here.
Yasha They didn’t light the stoves today: No point!
Lopakhin October, and it’s still sunny out there. Good building weather. (Looks at his watch and calls.) Forty-six minutes until the train leaves! That means, ladies and gentlemen, we must be out of here to get to the station in twenty! (To Yasha.) Why are you smirking?
Yasha Because I’m glad.
During the above, carriages drawing up outside, and Petya is coming in dressed in his overcoat, to search about the place.
Petya The carriages have been brought round. But where are my galoshes? Where-oh-where?
Lopakhin (calls) A little haste, please! If you would! I’ll be on the train with them for a few stops, then I get off to get to Kharkov. I’m spending the winter there. Mm, Kharkov. (It’s not his favourite place.) But better than the nothing I’ve been doing, hanging around here with you lot.
Petya (calls) Anya, I still can’t find my galoshes! (To himself.) They’ve vanished.
Lopakhin I’m worn out doing nothing. My hands are fed up with me. (Waving his hands.) They’d prefer to be someone else’s.
Petya Well, shut of us, they’ll be your own again and you can set them to making more money.
Lopakhin Have a drink.
Petya No.
Lopakhin Fine. You’re off to Moscow.
Petya I’m accompanying them to town. Then the Moscow train for me. (Continues his search for the galoshes.)
Lopakhin The professors at the university suspend everything, I suppose, when you’re not there?
Petya Stale, Monsieur Lopakhin, can you come up with something new?
Lopakhin How many years – how many, Peter – have you been a student? No, I’m interested.
Petya You know, we’ll probably never see each other again, so may I give you a parting piece of advice?
Lopakhin Do.
Petya Stop waving your hands about. (Lopakhin mouths a silent ‘what?’, waving his hands, then he laughs at himself.) And building all these cottages, your calculations and projections about how long it will take the tenant to become the owner, small-holder, self-producer on his hectare, well, that’s just, that’s just –
Lopakhin Yes?
Pety
a More hand-waving.
Lopakhin (laughs and hugs him warmly) My young old friend!
Petya And you are a sensitive man, you’ve a sensitive soul! I like you. You could’ve been an artist.
Lopakhin (flattered/touched, but dismissive of himself) Ah! (Then.) Thank you. (Then, a silent:) Oh! Take some money from me – I mean, if you would?
Petya What for?
Lopakhin The journey, you’ll need it –
Petya Where are my galoshes?
Varya Here are your galoshes.
Petya Thanks! (Pleased.)
Varya Take your muck! (She has appeared briefly to throw galoshes into the room and is gone again.)
Petya Why is she always angry?
Lopakhin But you don’t have any money?
Petya I do. Here. (In his pocket.) I just got paid for a translation.
Lopakhin And I just got paid for –
Petya These are not my galoshes!
Lopakhin Peter – Peter, last spring I sowed three thousand acres of poppies. That was some picture, three thousand acres of poppies in flower. And I just made forty thousand clear on them, so, won’t you let me give you –
Petya Put away your purse.
Lopakhin A loan, then, no strings attached, why turn up your nose at it? Merciful hour, I’m only a simple man! My father –
Petya Was a peasant, your grandfather was a – so what? Mine was a chemist – so what? In debate, can conclusions be drawn from the basis of what your father was? Can they?
Lopakhin (opening his purse/wallet) Ah, here –
Petya Offer me two hundred thousand! Put it down there in front of me, now, this minute, and will I take it? (He most certainly won’t.) Offer me anything you like – everything you have! All that you prize so highly has no power over me, not the slightest influence – no more than fluff in the air. Why? Why?
Lopakhin Why?
Petya Because I am a free man.
Lopakhin I see.
Petya I can do without all that. Why? Because I am truly free. And I’m strong.
Lopakhin You are.
Petya And proud.
Lopakhin Yes. (He puts away his wallet; contains a sigh.)
Petya Humanity, Yermolay, is moving forward towards the highest truth and I am in the first ranks.
Lopakhin And you’ll get there.
Petya Yes, I shall. Or if I shan’t, I’ll show others how to. Now, galoshes.
And he’s scratching his head again over his missing galoshes. Outside, off, the sound of an axe striking a tree, which they don’t register.
Lopakhin Well, whatever, farewell, far-thee-well, my friend. You and I are always squaring up to each other and the sun out there is just shining down on us. Life will go on its own sweet way no matter what. I don’t know, it’s only when I’m working that anything makes sense. How many people are there living who believe that there’s no sense in anything? A great many, I think. But that’s neither here nor there. I hear Leonid is taking up that job in the bank in town. He won’t last it, he’s too lazy.
Anya (in the doorway) Mama asks that you don’t start cutting down the trees before she leaves.
Petya (registers the sound of the axe; then to Lopakhin) Really! (And he goes out.)
Lopakhin (is embarrassed. Going out.) Tck, stupid!
Anya Has Firs been taken to hospital?
Yasha I told them to this morning so what d’you think?
Anya (to Yepikhodov) Simon Panteleyevich, when you’ve done there, would you please find out if Firs has been taken to hospital?
Yasha I said I told Yegor to this morning.
Varya (off) Has Firs been taken to hospital?
Yasha How many times does it have to be spoken?
Anya He has!
Varya (off or in the doorway) Why then – why! – wasn’t this letter taken with him for the doctor?
Anya (going out) We’ll send it after him.
Dunyasha passes through on some ostensible business; Yepikhodov looks after her.
Yepikhodov In the matter of the ill and aged Mr Firs, I can only express my envy at his going off to meet his maker. (He sets to hammering and hits his thumb or some accident befalls him.)
Yasha Two-and-Twenty! (Laughs derisively.)
Varya (off, angrily) And where is that Yasha! His mother has come to say goodbye!
Yasha Give-me-patience. (He gets another glass of champagne for himself.)
During the above, Yepikhodov has been hopping about on one foot, silently – afraid of Varya’s voice – holding his thumb under his arm. Now, he thinks to sit down quietly and finds he has sat on a hatbox, squashing it. He limps off.
Dunyasha has returned. Now that she’s alone with Yasha:
Dunyasha (silently or a whisper: an experiment in drama) My love!
Yasha knocks back the champagne.
Dunyasha Yasha, look at me. Look at what you’ve brought me to. (She starts to cry, or an experiment with tears.) Look at me once before you leave. You’re abandoning me. (She throws herself around him.) Why?
Yasha Alors! – Mon Dieu! – D’accord! – Comment allez vous! That’s why! Un instant. (He gets more champagne.) I cannot live here, it doesn’t suit me. Cannot you see that? I was made for Paris – Vive la France! (And his logic.) So what’re you crying for? (He drinks.)
Dunyasha Sensitivity, I suppose.
Yasha (confidentially) Don’t mind that. Just – yeh know? – if something comes up, play your cards right – Comprendez? – get someone to behave decently, and you’ll be fine.
Dunyasha (looking at herself in her compact-mirror) Well, will you write to me? Because I did, did, love you and I’d love to get a letter from Paris.
Yasha Of course I will – Certainement. They’re coming. Scoot!
Lyubov, Gayev, Anya and Charlotta come in in silence and stand.
Gayev . . . We ought to be going.
Lyubov These walls have seen so much . . . We’ll do the traditional thing: sit for a few minutes. (She moves about, slowly.)
Gayev Anyone get the – (He sniffs the air.) Smell of herrings. (A quiet dig at Yasha. He sits.)
Lyubov Dear old grandfather house, winter will pass, spring will come, and you won’t be here either. They’ll have laid you to rest. (To Anya.) You look radiant, your eyes are sparkling, are you happy?
Anya New life, mama!
Gayev And it’s quite true. Everything’s fine now. Until it was sold we were worrying and fretting – up in a wretched heap. Now that it’s all been decided, once for all, we’re calm. We’re even quite cheerful, hmm? (And.) I’ve landed on my feet: banker now, financier now. Yellow! Cannon off the red, middle pocket! And you, Lulu, say what you like, but you’re looking better, no getting away from it.
Lyubov It is true. My nerves are better. (Dunyasha is now helping her on with her coat and hat.) I’m sleeping well again. Take my things out, Yasha, it’s time. (To Anya.) My little girl, and we’ll see each other soon. I’ll live – while I can – in Paris on that money from your great-grandauntie. Long live our Yaroslavl cousin!
Gayev God bless her.
Anya And you’ll come back soon, mama, soon, won’t you?
Lyubov I shall, my darling, I shall.
Anya And I’ll get my exams –
Lyubov Yes!
Anya Oh, I’ll get my exams!
Lyubov Yes!
Anya And I’ll get – a job! I’ll have a salary! And I’ll be able to help you. And we’ll do all sorts of things together, read all sorts of books – read in the winter evenings!
Charlotta is singing to herself. Lopakhin is returning. Gayev indicates Charlotta: more evidence of their happiness.
Gayev Charlotta too: Happy.
Baby’s Voice Waaw! Waaw! (Charlotta’s ventriloqiosm.)
Charlotta (picks up a bundle from the luggage, holds it as if it were a baby) ‘Hush, little baby, shush, don’t cry,/Poor little munchkin, all is well, little boy’ – And you will find a position for me in town.
Lopakhin That’ll be arranged, Charlotta, don’t worry.
Charlotta Because I do not exist without a position.
Baby’s Voice Waaw! Waaw!
Gayev (to himself) And Varya’s leaving.
Charlotta Town of course is nowhere, there is no one there. Nothing, no one. It’s a mystery. (Dumps the bundle, unceremoniously.) Goodbye, little maggot, I’m going away.
Gayev (to himself) Everyone’s leaving. Suddenly, we’re not needed. (Like a momentary realisation.)
Lopakhin What have we here? – Who is this arriving?
Pishchik is coming in, out of breath.
Lopakhin Wonders of nature will never cease!
Pishchik Dearest friends – Out of [‘breath’] – Let me get my [‘breath back’] –
Gayev Wha-oo?!
Pishchik Can only stay a – stay a minute. Give me some – give me some –
Gayev Money. I’ll forgo this honour, thank you! (He leaves.)
Pishchik Beautiful lady –
Lyubov Boris?
Pishchik Some water. I haven’t visited you in so long. (To Lopakhin.) Glad you’re here – Dearest heart – so pleased to see you – This for you. (He gives money to Lopakhin.) Four hundred. I owe you another eight-forty: To come.
Lopakhin ’Tis a figment of my mind in a shroud of! Where’d you get this?!
Pishchik Hold on – I’m hot – Phew! Most extraordinary thing. Englishmen. They found a sort of white clay on my land. And four hundred for you, most beautiful lady. (Money to Lyubov. He drinks water.) The rest later.
Lopakhin Who are the Englishmen?
Pishchik Extraordinary! White clay! They came to see me. I’ve leased them the land it’s on for twenty-four years. I’ll tell you again – I have to gallop, call on the others. I owe money to everyone. God bless you! I’ll – (He drinks again.) I’ll call again on Thursday.
Lyubov We’re leaving for town, Boris, and tomorrow I’m going abroad.
Pishchik What’s that?! (Only now noticing the stripped room and the luggage.) Oh. I see. Yes. Well, that’s all right. Never mind, what! People of the highest intelligence the English. (Tears are running down his face.) So, be happy. God bless you, everything has to end, what? (He kisses Lyubov’s hands.) And if the rumour ever reaches you that this old horse has met his end, you might remember me. Say, ‘There was such a person once, Pishchik, God rest him.’ Wonderful weather, what! Yes. (Leaving. He turns back.) Oh, Dashenka sends her regards. (He goes.)
