Summerfolk

Full Text and Introduction

Maxim Gorky, Stephen Mulrine

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781788501811
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Drama
• Index: Literature

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price

Maxim Gorky's magnificent response to Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard, written in 1904, the year Chekhov died.

Summerfolk is a play about the Russian bourgeois social class and the changes occurring around them in the middle of the first decade of the twentieth century. It is set in a world of 'false hopes and unfulfilled promises', where dachas have been subdivided into summer colonies and the newly rich idle away their time in unhappy romantic alliances. Gorky's characters are still dreaming of a better life, but they are increasingly aware of impending revolution.

Gorky's play premiered in November 1904 at the Komissarzhevskaya Theatre in Saint Petersburg.

This English version, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Stephen Mulrine.

ACT ONE

The BASOVS’ summer villa. A large room, serving as both dining room and drawing room. Upstage left, an open door leads to BASOV’s study; a door on the right leads to his wife’s room. These rooms are separated by a corridor, the entrance to which is hung with dark portière curtains. At stage right is a window and a wide door opening out onto a veranda, and at stage left, two windows. In the centre of the room stands a large dining table, and there is a grand piano facing the study door. The other furniture is of wicker, all except a large sofa, with a grey dust cover, beside the entrance to the corridor. It is evening. BASOV is sitting at a desk in his study, behind a reading-lamp with a green shade. He is writing, facing sideways towards the door, and now and again turning his head to peer at something in the darkness of the large room, humming quietly to himself. VARYA emerges soundlessly from her own room, lights a match, holds it up in front of her, and looks around. The flame goes out. As she makes her way quietly towards the window in the darkness, she knocks against a chair.

BASOV. Who’s that?

VARYA. It’s me.

BASOV. Oh . . .

VARYA. Did you take the candle?

BASOV. No.

VARYA. Ring for Sasha.

BASOV. Has Vlas arrived yet?

VARYA (beside the veranda door). I don’t know.

BASOV. This is a ridiculous house. Electric bells all over the place, and great gaps in the walls . . . the floor creaks . . . (Hums a cheerful tune.) You still there, Varya?

VARYA. I’m here.

BASOV gathers up his papers and puts them away.

BASOV. Is your room draughty?

VARYA. Yes, it is.

BASOV. You see?

SASHA enters.

VARYA. Sasha, bring a light.

BASOV. Sasha, is Vlas Mikhailovich here yet?

SASHA. No, not yet.

SASHA goes out and returns with a lamp, which she places on the table beside the armchair. She cleans out the ashtray, and straightens the cloth on the dining table. VARYA lets down the blind, takes a book from the shelf, and sits in the armchair.

BASOV (good-naturedly). He’s got a bit careless of late, Vlas has. And lazy. This past while back he’s been acting . . . well, rather oddly. And that’s a fact.

VARYA. Would you like some tea?

BASOV. No, I’m going to the Suslovs’.

VARYA. Sasha, run over to Olga Alexeyevna’s. See if she’ll come and have tea with me.

Exit SASHA.

BASOV (tidies his papers away into the desk). Well, that’s that finished. (Emerges from his study, stretching himself.) You might have a word with him, Varya – tactfully, you know . . .

VARYA. About what?

BASOV. Well, you know . . . about being a bit more . . . conscientious . . . more attentive to his duties . . . don’t you think?

VARYA. I’ll speak to him. I just don’t think you should talk about him like that . . . not in front of Sasha . . .

BASOV (looking round the room). Oh, that’s nonsense. You can’t hide anything from the servants, you know. It’s so bald in here! Varya, we really must cover up these bare walls with something. Some sort of framed . . . oh, I don’t know – pictures, or whatever. It’s not exactly cosy, is it. Anyway, I’m off. Now, give me your paw . . . Mm . . . you’re rather cold with me, you know – a bit off-hand. And you’ve got such a bored expression, why’s that? Come on, tell me.

VARYA. Aren’t you in a hurry to get to the Suslovs’?

BASOV. Yes, I’ve got to go. I haven’t played chess with him for ages. And I haven’t kissed your little paw for ages either . . . now, why’s that? That’s odd, isn’t it.

VARYA (trying not to smile). Well, we’ll just have to postpone our little talk about my moods until you have more free time. I mean, it’s not important, is it?

BASOV. No, of course not. I just thought . . . well, maybe . . . You’re a wonderful woman, Varya . . . intelligent, sincere . . . and so forth. I mean, if you had anything against me, you’d say, wouldn’t you. There’s a sort of glint in your eye, now why’s that? Aren’t you feeling well?

VARYA. No, I’m fine.

BASOV. You know, you need something to keep you busy, my dear. You’re forever reading – you read far too much. And anything done to excess is harmful – that’s a fact.

VARYA. Yes, well, just don’t lose sight of that fact when you’re drinking at Suslov’s.

BASOV (laughing). Touché! I tell you, though, these spicy modern books’ll do you more harm than wine, and that’s the truth. They’re like a drug – there’s something narcotic about them. And the people who write them are a bunch of neurotics. (Yawns.) Anyway, we’ll soon have a visit from what children would call ‘a real live writer’. I wonder what he’s like now. Probably full of himself. All these celebrities are terribly conceited . . . I mean, they’re not normal, are they. Look at Kaleria – she’s not normal, though God knows, you could hardly call her a writer. She’ll be delighted to see Shalimov. Be a good thing if she married him, frankly. She’s too old, though. Mm, yes – getting on a bit. And always moaning, as if she’d chronic toothache. Not exactly a beauty, either.

VARYA. You know, you go over the score at times, Sergei.

BASOV. Really? Well, it doesn’t matter, there’s just the two of us. Yes, I suppose I do like to talk . . . (A dry cough is heard behind the curtain.) Who’s that?

SUSLOV (offstage). It’s me.

BASOV (going to meet him). And I was just on my way to your place!

SUSLOV (greets VARYA in silence). Let’s go, then. I was coming to fetch you. You weren’t in town today, no?

BASOV. No. Why?

SUSLOV (with a wry smile). Well, it seems that assistant of yours won two thousand roubles at the club.

BASOV. Oho!

SUSLOV. Yes, off some extremely drunk merchant . . .

VARYA. You always say that.

SUSLOV. Say what?

VARYA. That . . . that he won some money, and you stress the fact that it was off a drunk.

SUSLOV (grinning). No, I don’t.

BASOV. What’s so special about that? I mean, it’s not as if he’d said Zamyslov got the merchant drunk first, and then fleeced him – now, that would’ve been a pretty nasty business. Anyway, let’s go, Pyotr. Varya, when Vlas arrives . . . Aha! The man himself!

VLAS enters, carrying a battered briefcase.

VLAS. What, did you miss me, dear patron? That’s nice to know. (To SUSLOV, in a mock-threatening tone.) You’re being sought out, sir, by some new arrival. He’s going round all the villas, asking everybody where you live, in a very loud voice. (Goes up to his sister.) Hello, Varya.

VARYA. Hello.

SUSLOV. Oh, damn! That’ll be my uncle.

BASOV. So, this isn’t a good time to come over?

SUSLOV. Yes, yes, why not? You don’t imagine I’ll enjoy being stuck with an uncle I hardly know. I haven’t seen him in ten years.

BASOV (to VLAS). Come into my room . . . (Takes VLAS into his study.)

SUSLOV (lighting up a cigarette). Why not come over to our place, Varvara Mikhailovna?

VARYA. No, no . . . This uncle of yours, is he poor?

SUSLOV. No, he’s quite well off. A rich man. You think it’s only poor relations I don’t like?

VARYA. I don’t know.

SUSLOV (irritated, clearing his throat). You know, that Zamyslov’s going to get Sergei into trouble one of these days, you wait and see! He’s a real villain. Don’t you agree?

VARYA. (calmly). I don’t think I want to discuss him with you.

SUSLOV. Oh, well – we’ll leave it at that. (A pause.) You know, you make a thing out of being blunt – a bit of an act, I think. But watch out, it’s a difficult part to play . . . to make even a half-decent job of it you need lots of character – it takes guts, and brains. You don’t mind me saying this?

VARYA. No.

SUSLOV. What, you’re not going to argue? Maybe because deep down you agree with me?

VARYA (simply). I’m no good at arguing . . . I can’t even speak.

SUSLOV (gloomily). Don’t take offence. I just find it hard to accept that there are people in this world, with the courage to be themselves.

SASHA (enters). Olga Alexeyevna says she’ll be over soon. Shall I put on the tea?

VARYA. Yes, please.

SASHA. And Nikolai Petrovich is here. (Goes out.)

SUSLOV (going up to the study door). Sergei, will you be long? I’m going . . .

BASOV. I’ll be out in a minute!

ZAMYSLOV (enters). Greetings, dear lady! Pyotr Ivanovich, good evening!

SUSLOV (coughing). Charmed, I’m sure. Well, aren’t you the giddy creature!

ZAMYSLOV. Oh, the complete lightweight! Light-hearted, light-headed, light in pocket.

SUSLOV (with heavy irony). Heart and head, yes, I won’t dispute that, but they say you fleeced somebody at the club . . .

ZAMYSLOV (mildly). I won some money, that’s all. You say ‘fleeced’ about card sharps.

VARYA. We’re always hearing sensational stories about you. They say that’s the fate of all exceptional people.

ZAMYSLOV. Well, when I hear the gossip about myself, I’m almost convinced I am ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Introduction
• Gorky: Key Dates
• Characters
• Summerfolk
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information