THE PROPOSAL
A farce in one act
Characters
STEPAN STEPANOVICH CHUBUKOV, a landowner
NATALYA STEPANOVNA, his daughter, aged twenty-five
IVAN VASILIEVICH LOMOV, a neighbouring landowner, in robust good health, but a chronic hypochondriac
The action takes place in the drawing room of CHUBUKOVâs country house.
LOMOV enters, wearing a frock coat and white gloves. CHUBUKOV goes over to greet him warmly.
CHUBUKOV. Goodness me, if it isnât my dearest friend! Ivan Vasilievich, Iâm absolutely delighted! (Shakes his hand.) Heavens, what a surprise! How are you keeping?
LOMOV. Fine, thank you. And yourself, how are you?
CHUBUKOV. Oh, getting along, my angel, thanks to your prayers and all that. Sit down, have a seat, please do. Itâs not a good thing, dear heart, to forget oneâs neighbours, eh? But whatâs all this? Frock coat, white gloves â why so formal? I mean, youâre surely not going somewhere else, my precious?
LOMOV. No, just to see you, dear sir.
CHUBUKOV. Yes, but the frock coat, man, all the trimmings â anyone would think it was Christmas!
LOMOV. Well, you see, the thing is⊠(Takes him by the arm.) My dear Stepan Stepanovich, Iâve come to trouble you for a favour. This isnât the first time Iâve been privileged to approach you for assistance, and in the past youâve always⊠well, you know⊠Iâm sorry, this isnât easy⊠If I could have a drink of water, dear sir⊠(Takes a drink.)
CHUBUKOV (aside). Heâs after money. Well, heâs had it! (Aloud.) Tell me, my lovely â what is it?
LOMOV. The thing is⊠what I mean⊠Stepan Stepanovich⊠Good sir⊠My dear⊠Oh, Lord, Iâm getting all worked up⊠You see what a state Iâm in⊠The thing is⊠I mean, youâre the only one who can help me, though God knows I donât deserve it, and Iâve absolutely no right to count on your assistance eitherâŠ
CHUBUKOV. Stop beating about the bush, dear fellow! Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV. Yes, of course⊠in a minute⊠The fact is⊠Well, actually, Iâve come to ask for the hand of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriageâŠ
CHUBUKOV (ecstatic). Gracious me! Ivan Vasilievich! Say that again, Iâm not sure I heard right!
LOMOV. Sir, I have the honour to ask forâŠ
CHUBUKIN (interrupting him). My dearest friend! Iâm so pleased â absolutely thrilled, delighted, and all that! (Warmly embraces him.) Iâve been wanting this for ages. Itâs been my greatest wish, always⊠(Sheds a tear.) Iâve always loved you, dear heart, like my very own son. God bless you both with good counsel and love and all that â oh, yes, itâs what Iâve always wanted! But what am I standing here for, like an idiot? Iâm overcome with joy, absolutely overcome. From the bottom of my heart, I⊠Iâll go and call Natasha, and all thatâŠ
LOMOV (deeply moved). Dear Stepan Stepanovich, tell me â do you think I can count on her acceptance?
CHUBUKOV. What, a handsome fellow like you, and sheâd turn you down? Sheâs probably in love with you already, head over heels and all that⊠Iâll be back in a minute⊠(Goes out.)
LOMOV (alone). Itâs so cold. Iâm shaking like a leaf, as if I was sitting an exam or something. Make your mind up, thatâs the main thing. I mean, if you keep putting it off, dithering, mulling it over, waiting for the ideal match, true love or whatever, youâll never get married at all. Brrr â itâs so cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper, not bad looking, well educated â what more do I need? But with all this excitement, Iâm starting to get a buzzing in my ears. (Takes a drink of water.) I really should get married. In the first place, Iâm already thirty-five â at a critical stage, as they say. In the second place, I need a bit of order and regularity in my life. Iâve got a heart condition, constant palpitations, Iâm easily irritated, and I worry terribly all the time⊠I mean, this very minute my lips are trembling, and Iâve got a nervous tic in my right eye. Worst of all is sleep. No sooner do I lie down in bed and start nodding off, than I get some sort of stabbing pain in my left side that shoots straight up to my shoulder and into my head. I spring out of bed like a madman, pace the floor for a bit, then lie back down. And the instant I start to drop off â bang! There goes my side again! And itâs like that twenty times a nightâŠ
NATALYA STEPANOVNA enters.
NATALYA. Goodness me, itâs you! Papa said it was some merchant or other, to pick up some goods. Well, how are you, Ivan Vasilievich?
LOMOV. Very well, thank you, dear Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA. Youâll have to excuse me, in this apron and housecoat â weâve been shelling peas for drying. Itâs ages since weâve seen you â whyâs that? Sit down, do, pleaseâŠ
They sit down.
Will you have some lunch?
LOMOV. No, thank you â Iâve already eaten.
NATALYA. Or if you want to smoke⊠hereâs some matches. Isnât the weather lovely? Weâd so much rain yesterday the workers couldnât do a thing the whole day. Have you managed to cut much hay? Believe it or not, I was so keen to get started I cut the whole meadow, and now Iâm worried in case it all rots. Iâd have been better waiting. Anyway, whatâs all this? A frock coat? Thatâs new â are you going to a ball or something? It suits you very well, by the way, but whatâs the fancy dress for?
LOMOV (agitated). Well, you see, dear Natalya Stepanovna⊠The thing is, Iâve made up my mind to ask you⊠to⊠to hear me out⊠I mean, youâll no doubt be surprised, and possibly even angry, but I⊠(Aside.) Itâs terribly cold in here!
NATALYA. What is it? Well?
LOMOV. Iâll try and keep it short. Dear Natalya Stepanovna, as you are aware, Iâve had the great privilege of knowing your family a very long time, since I was a boy, in fact. My late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I inherited my land, always had the most profound respect for your father, and dear departed mother. The Lomovs and the Chubukovs have always been on the friendliest of terms â virtually family, one might say. Moreover, as you well know, my property very closely adjoins yours. And if I might remind you, my Ox Meadow actually borders your birch grove.
NATALYA. Excuse me, but I really must stop you there. You say your Ox Meadow. Is it actually yours?
LOMOV. It is, dear lady.
NATALYA. Well, thatâs rich! Ox Meadow is ours, not yours.
LOMOV. No no, dear Natalya Stepanovna â itâs mine.
NATALYA. Thatâs a new one on me. Since when has it been yours?
LOMOV. Since when? Iâm talking about Ox Meadow, which forms a wedge between your birch trees and Burnt Marsh.
NATALYA. Yes, yes, thatâs right. And itâs ours.
LOMOV. No, youâre mistaken, dear Natalya Stepanovna. Itâs mine.
NATALYA. Think again, Ivan Vasilievich! When did it become yours?
LOMOV. When? Itâs always been ours, as far back as I remember.
NATALYA. Oh, this is ridiculous!
LOMOV. Itâs all down on paper, dear Natalya Stepanovna. There was some dispute about Ox Meadow at one time, thatâs true, but everybody knows itâs mine now. Thereâs no argument. If youâll let me explain, my auntâs grandmother handed over that meadow, rent-free and without limit of time, for your fatherâs grandfatherâs peasants to use, because they made bricks for her. Your fatherâs grandfatherâs peasants had the use of it free of charge for about forty years, and came to regard it as their own. And then, after the EmancipationâŠ
NATALYA. Thatâs not how it was at all! My grandfather, and great-grandfather took it for granted that their land ran right up to the edge of Burnt Marsh, which means that Ox Meadow is ours, end of story. I donât understand you at all and this is really annoying.
LOMOV. I can show you the papers, Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA. No, youâre joking, surely, or trying to make a fool of me. Some sur...