sustain our reputation as aristocratic sparklers by enlarging upon the
enormous amount we have eaten, and chaffing Hialmar Ekdal, the friend of
our host's son, for being a professional photographer?
THE OTHER CHAMBERLAINS.
Bravo! We will.
[_They do; delight of_ HIALMAR. OLD WERLE _comes in, leaning on his
Housekeeper's arm, followed by his son,_ GREGERS WERLE.
OLD WERLE.
[_Dejectedly._] Thirteen at table! [_To_ GREGERS, _with a meaning glance
at_ HIALMAR.] This is the result of inviting an old college friend who
has turned photographer! Wasting vintage wines on _him_, indeed. [_He
passes on gloomily._
HIALMAR.
[_To_ GREGERS.] I am almost sorry I came. Your old man is _not_
friendly. Yet he set me up as a photographer fifteen years ago. _Now_ he
takes me down! But for him, I should never have married Gina, who, you
may remember, was a servant in your family once.
GREGERS.
What? my old college friend married fifteen years ago--and to our Gina,
of all people! If I had not been up at the works all these years, I
suppose I should have heard something of such an event. But my father
never mentioned it. Odd!
[_He ponders_; OLD EKDAL _comes out through the green baize-door,
bowing, and begging pardon, carrying copying work_. OLD WERLE
_says "Ugh" and "Pah" involuntarily._ HIALMAR _shrinks back, and
looks another way. A_ CHAMBERLAIN _asks him pleasantly if he knows
that old man._
HIALMAR.
I--oh no. Not in the least. No relation!
GREGERS.
[_Shocked._] What, Hialmar, you, with your great soul, deny your own
father!
HIALMAR.
[_Vehemently._] Of course--what else _can_ a photographer do with a
disreputable old parent, who has been in a penitentiary for making a
fraudulent map? I shall leave this splendid banquet. The Chamberlains
are not kind to me, and I feel the crushing hand of fate on my head!
[_Goes out hastily, feeling it._
MRS. SOeRBY.
[_Archly._] Any nobleman here say "Cold Punch"?
[_Every nobleman says "Cold Punch" and follows her out in search of
it with enthusiasm._ GREGERS _approaches his father, who wishes he
would go_.
GREGERS.
Father, a word with you in private. I loathe you. I am nothing if not
candid. Old Ekdal was your partner once, and it's my firm belief you
deserved a prison quite as much as he did. However, you surely need not
have married our Gina to my old friend Hialmar. You know very well she
was no better than she should have been!
[Illustration:
"Father, a word with you in private: I loathe you." ]
OLD WERLE.
True--but then no more is Mrs. Soerby. And _I_ am going to marry
_her_--if you have no objection, that is.
GREGERS.
None in the world! How can I object to a step-mother who is playing
Blind Man's Buff at the present moment with the Norwegian nobility? I am
not so overstrained as all that. But really I can_not_ allow my old
friend Hialmar, with his great, confiding, childlike mind, to remain in
contented ignorance of Gina's past. No, I see my mission in life at
last! I shall take my hat, and inform him that his home is built upon a
lie. He will be _so_ much obliged to me!
[_Takes his hat, and goes out._
OLD WERLE.
Ha!--I am a wealthy merchant, of dubious morals, and I am about to marry
my house-keeper, who is on intimate terms with the Norwegian
aristocracy. I have a son who loathes me, and who is either an Ibsenian
satire on the Master's own ideals, or else an utterly impossible prig--I
don't know or care which. Altogether, I flatter myself my household
affords an accurate and realistic picture of Scandinavian Society!
[_Curtain._
* * * * *
ACT SECOND
HIALMAR EKDAL'S _Photographic Studio. Cameras, neck-rests, and other
instruments of torture lying about._ GINA EKDAL _and_ HEDVIG, _her
daughter, aged 14, and wearing spectacles, discovered sitting up
for_ HIALMAR.
HEDVIG.
Grandpapa is in his room with a bottle of brandy and a jug of hot water,
doing some fresh copying work. Father is in society, dining out. He
promised he would bring me home something nice!
HIALMAR.
[_Coming in, in evening dress._] And he has not forgotten his promise,
my child. Behold! [_He presents her with the menu card_; HEDVIG _gulps
down her tears_; HIALMAR _notices her disappointment, with annoyance_.]
And this all the gratitude I get! After dining out and coming home in a
dress-coat and boots, which are disgracefully tight! Well well, just to
show you how hurt I am, I won't have any _beer_ now! What a selfish
brute I am! [_Relenting._] You may bring me just a little drop. [_He
bursts into tears._] I will play you a plaintive Bohemian dance on my
flute. [_He does._] No beer at such a sacred moment as this! [_He
drinks._] Ha, this is real domestic bliss!
[GREGERS WERLE _comes in, in a countrified suit_.
GREGERS.
I have left my father's home--dinner-party and all--for ever. I am
coming to lodge with you.
HIALMAR.
[_Still melancholy._] Have some bread and butter. You won't?--then I
_will_. I want it, after your father's lavish hospitality. [HEDVIG
_goes to fetch bread and butter_.] My daughter--a poor short-sighted
little thing--but mine own.
GREGERS.
My father has had to take to strong glasses, too--he can hardly see
after dinner. [_To_ OLD EKDAL, _who stumbles in very drunk_.] How can
you, Lieutenant Ekdal, who were such a keen sportsman once, live in this
poky little hole?
OLD EKDAL.
I am a sportsman still. The only difference is that once I shot bears in
a forest, and now I pot tame rabbits in a garret. Quite as amusing--and
safer. [_He goes to sleep on a sofa._
HIALMAR.
[_With pride._] It is quite true. You shall see.
[_He pushes back sliding doors, and reveals a garret full of
rabbits and poultry--moonlight effect._ HEDVIG _returns with
bread and butter_.
HEDVIG.
[_To_ GREGERS.] If you stand just there, you get the best view of our
Wild Duck. We are very proud of her, because she gives the play its
title, you know, and has to be brought into the dialogue a good deal.
Your father peppered her out shooting, and we saved her life.
HIALMAR.
Yes, Gregers, our estate is not large--but still we preserve, you see.
And my poor old father and I sometimes get a day's gunning in the
garret. He shoots with a pistol, which my illiterate wife here _will_
call a "pigstol." He once, when he got into trouble, pointed it at
himself. But the descendant of two lieutenant-colonels who had never
quailed before living rabbit yet, faltered then. He _didn't_ shoot. Then
I put it to my own head. But at the decisive moment, I won the victory
over myself. I remained in life. Now we only shoot rabbits and fowls
with it. After all I am very happy and contented as I am.
[_He eats some bread and butter._
GREGERS.
But you ought _not_ to be. You have a good deal of the Wild Duck about
you. So have your wife and daughter. You are living in marsh vapours.
Tomorrow I will take you out for a walk and explain what I mean. It is
my mission in life. Good night!
[_He goes out._
GINA AND HEDVIG.
What _was_ the gentleman talking about, father?
HIALMAR.
[_Eating bread and butter._] He has been dining, you know. No
matter--what _we_ have to do now, is to put my disreputable old
whitehaired pariah of a parent to bed.
[_He and_ GINA _lift_ OLD ECCLES--_we mean_ OLD EKDAL--_up by the
legs and arms, and take him off to bed as the Curtain falls_.
* * * * *
ACT THREE
HIALMAR'S _Studio. A photograph has just been taken._ GINA _and_
HEDVIG _are tidying up._
GINA.
[_Apologetically._] There _should_ have been a luncheon-party in this
act, with Dr. Relling and Moelvik, who would have been in a state of
comic "chippiness," after his excesses overnight. But, as it hadn't much
to do with such plot as there is, we cut it out. It came cheaper. Here
comes your father back from his walk with that lunatic, young Werle--you
had better go and play with the Wild Duck.
[HEDVIG _goes_.
HIALMAR.
[_Coming in._] I have been for a walk with Gregers; he meant well--but
it was tiring. Gina, he has told me that, fifteen years ago, before I
married you, you were rather a Wild Duck, so to speak. [_Severely._] Why
haven't you been writhing in penitence and remorse all these years, eh?
GINA.
[_Sensibly._] Why? Because I have had other things to do. _You_ wouldn't
take any photographs, so I _had_ to.
HIALMAR.
All the same--it was a swamp of deceit. And where am I to find
elasticity of spirit to bring out my grand invention now? I used to shut
myself up in the parlour, and ponder and cry, when I thought that the
effort of inventing anything would sap my vitality. [_Pathetically._] I
_did_ want to leave you an inventor's widow; but I never shall now,
particularly as I haven't made up my mind what to invent yet. Yes, it's
all over. Rabbits are trash, and even poultry palls. And I'll wring that
cursed Wild Duck's neck!
GREGERS.
[_Coming in beaming._] Well, so you've got it over. _Wasn't_ it soothing
and ennobling, eh? and _ain't_ you both obliged to me?
GINA.
No; it's my opinion you'd better have minded your own business.
[_Weeps._
GREGERS.
[_In great surprise._] Bless me! Pardon my Norwegian _naivete_, but this
ought really to be quite a new starting-point. Why, I confidently
expected to have found you both beaming!--Mrs. Ekdal, being so
illiterate, may take some little time to see it--but you, Hialmar, with
your deep mind, surely _you_ feel a new consecration, eh?
HIALMAR.
[_Dubiously._] Oh--er--yes. I suppose so--in a sort of way.
[HEDVIG _runs in, overjoyed._
HEDVIG.
Father, only see what Mrs. Soerby has given me for a birthday present--a
beautiful deed of gift! [_Shows it._
HIALMAR.
[_Eluding her._] Ha! Mrs. Soerby, the family house-keeper. My father's
sight failing! Hedvig in goggles! What vistas of heredity these
astonishing coincidences open up! _I_ am not short-sighted, at all
events, and I see it all--all! _This_ is my answer. [_He takes the deed,
and tears it across._] Now I have nothing more to do in this house.
[_Puts on overcoat._] My home has fallen in ruins about me. [_Bursts
into tears._] My hat!
GREGERS.
Oh, but you _mustn't_ go. You must be all three together, to attain the
true frame of mind for self-sacrificing forgiveness, you know!
HIALMAR.
Self-sacrificing forgiveness be blowed!
[_He tears himself away, and goes out._
HEDVIG.
[_With despairing eyes._] Oh, he said it might be blowed! Now he'll
_never_ come home any more!
GREGERS.
Shall I tell you how to regain your father's confidence, and bring him
home surely? Sacrifice the Wild Duck.
HEDVIG.
Do you think that will do any good?
GREGERS.
You just _try_ it!
[_Curtain._
* * * * *
ACT FOURTH
_Same Scene._ GREGERS _enters, and finds_ GINA _retouching photographs_.
GREGERS.
[_Pleasantly._] Hialmar not come in yet, after last night, I suppose?
GINA.
Not he! He's been out on the loose all night with Relling and Moelvik.
Now he's snoring on their sofa.
GREGERS.
[_Disappointed._] Dear!--dear!--when he ought to be yearning to wrestle
in solitude and self-examination!
GINA.
[_Rudely._] Self-examine your grandmother!
[_She goes out_; HEDVIG _comes in_.
GREGERS.
[_To_ HEDVIG.] Ah, I see you haven't found courage to settle the Wild
Duck yet!
HEDVIG.
No--it seemed such a delightful idea at first. Now it strikes me as a
trifle--well, _Ibsenish_.
GREGERS.
[_Reprovingly._] I _thought_ you hadn't grown up quite unharmed in this
house! But if you really had the true, joyous spirit of self-sacrifice,
you'd have a shot at that Wild Duck, if you died for it!
HEDVIG.
[_Slowly._] I see; you mean that my constitution's changing, and I ought
to behave as such?
GREGERS.
Exactly, I'm what Americans would term a "crank"--but _I_ believe in
you, Hedvig.
[HEDVIG _takes down the pistol from the mantelpiece, and goes into
the garret with flashing eyes_; GINA _comes in_.
HIALMAR.
[_Looking in at door with hesitation; he is unwashed and dishevelled._]
Has anybody happened to see my hat?
GINA.
Gracious, what a sight you are! Sit down and have some breakfast, do.
[_She brings it._
HIALMAR.
[_Indignantly._] What! touch food under _this_ roof? Never! [_Helps
himself to bread-and-butter and coffee._] Go and pack up my scientific
uncut books, my manuscripts, and all the best rabbits, in my
portmanteau. I am going away for ever. On second thoughts, I shall stay
in the spare room for another day or two--it won't be the same as living
with you!
[_He takes some salt meat._
GREGERS.
_Must_ you go? Just when you've got nice firm ground to build
upon--thanks to me! Then there's your great invention, too.
HIALMAR.
Everything's invented already. And I only cared about my invention
because, although it doesn't exist yet, I thought Hedvig believed in it,
with all the strength of her sweet little short-sighted eyes! But now I
don't believe in Hedvig!
[_He pours himself out another cup of coffee._
GREGERS.
[_Earnestly._] But, Hialmar, if I can prove to you that she is ready to
sacrifice her cherished Wild Duck? See!
[_He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers_ HEDVIG _aiming at the_
Wild Duck _with the butt-end of the pistol. Tableau._
GINA.
[_Excitedly._] But don't you _see_? It's the pigstol--that fatal
Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian dramas, _never_ shoots straight! And
she has got it by the wrong end too. She will shoot herself!
GREGERS.
[_Quietly._] She will! Let the child make amends. It will be a most
realistic and impressive finale!
GINA.
No, no--put down the pigstol, Hedvig. Do you hear, child?
HEDVIG.
[_Still aiming._] I hear--but I shan't unless father tells me to.
GREGERS.
Hialmar, show the great soul I always _said_ you had. This sorrow will
set free what is noble in you. Don't spoil a fine situation. Be a man!
Let the child shoot herself!
HIALMAR.
[_Irresolutely._] Well, really, I don't know. There's a good deal in
what Gregers says. H'm!
GINA.
A good deal of tomfool rubbish! I'm illiterate, I know. I've been a Wild
Duck in my time, and I waddle. But for all that, I'm the only person in
the play with a grain of common-sense. And I'm sure--whatever Mr. Ibsen
or Gregers choose to say--that a screaming burlesque like this ought
_not_ to end like a tragedy--even in this queer Norway of ours! And it
shan't, either! Tell the child to put that nasty pigstol down, and come
away--do!
[Illustration: "Put that nasty pigstol down!"]
HIALMAR.
[_Yielding._] Ah, well, I am a farcical character myself, after all.
Don't touch a hair of that duck's head, Hedvig. Come to my arms and all
shall be forgiven!
[HEDVIG _throws down the pistol--which goes off and kills a rabbit--and
rushes into her father's arms_. Old EKDAL _comes out of a corner
with a fowl on each shoulder, and bursts into tears. Affecting
family picture._
GREGERS.
[_Annoyed._] It's all very pretty, I dare say--but it's not Ibsen! My
real mission is to be the thirteenth at table. I don't know what I
mean--but I fly to fulfil it! [_He goes._
HIALMAR.
And now we've got rid of _him_, Hedvig, fetch me the deed of gift I tore
up, and a slip of paper, and a penny bottle of gum, and we'll soon make
a valid instrument of it again.
[_He pastes the torn deed together as the Curtain slowly descends._
* * * * *
PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL
[PREFATORY NOTE.--The original title--_Mester-Pjil-droegster
Herdal_--would sound a trifle too uncouth to the Philistine ear, and is
therefore modified as above, although the term "droegster," strictly
speaking, denotes a practitioner who has not received a regular
diploma].
ACT FIRST
_An elegantly furnished drawing-room at_ Dr. HERDAL'S. _In front, on
the left, a console-table, on which is a large round bottle full
of coloured water. On the right a stove, with a banner-screen made
out of a richly-embroidered chest-protector. On the stove, a
stethoscope and a small galvanic battery. In one corner, a hat and
umbrella stand: in another, a desk, at which stands_ SENNA BLAKDRAF,
_making out the quarterly accounts. Through a glass-door at the
back is seen the Dispensary, where_ RUeBUB KALOMEL _is seated,
occupied in rolling a pill. Both go on working in perfect silence
for four minutes and a half._
DR. HAUSTUS HERDAL.
[_Enters through hall-door; he is elderly, with a plain sensible
countenance, but slightly weak hair and expression._] Come here Miss
Blakdraf. [_Hangs up hat, and throws his mackintosh on a divan._] Have
you made out all those bills yet?
[_Looks sternly at her._
SENNA.
[_In a low hesitating voice._] Almost. I have charged each patient with
three attendances daily. Even when you only dropped in for a cup of tea
and a chat. [_Passionately._] I felt I _must_--I _must_!
DR. HERDAL.
[_Alters his tone, clasps her head in his hands, and whispers._] I wish
you could make out the bills for me, _always_.
SENNA.
[_In nervous exaltation._] How lovely that would be! Oh, you are so
unspeakably good to me! It is too enthralling to be here!
[_Sinks down and embraces his knees._
DR. HERDAL.
So I've understood. [_With suppressed irritation._] For goodness' sake,
let go my legs! I do _wish_ you wouldn't be so confoundedly neurotic!
[Illustration: "For goodness' sake, let go my legs!"]
RUeBUB.
[_Has risen, and comes in through glass-door, breathing with difficulty;
he is a prematurely bald young man of fifty-five, with a harelip, and
squints slightly._] I beg pardon, Dr. Herdal, I see I interrupt you.
[_As_ SENNA _rises_.] I have just completed this pill. Have you looked
at it?
[_He offers it for inspection, diffidently._
DR. HERDAL.
[_Evasively._] It appears to be a pill of the usual dimensions.
RUeBUB.
[_Cast down._] All these years you have never given me one encouraging
word! _Can't_ you praise my pill?
DR. HERDAL.
[_Struggles with himself._] I--I cannot. You should not attempt to
compound pills on your own account.
RUeBUB.
[_Breathing laboriously._] And yet there was a time when _you_, too----
DR. HERDAL.
[_Complacently._] Yes, it was certainly a pill that came as a lucky
stepping stone--but not a pill like that!
RUeBUB.
[_Vehemently._] Listen! Is that your last word? _Is_ my aged mother to
pass out of this world without ever knowing whether I am competent to
construct an effective pill or not?
DR. HERDAL.
[_As if in desperation._] You had better try it upon your mother--it
will enable her to form an opinion. Only mind--I will not be responsible
for the result.
RUeBUB.
I understand. Exactly as you tried _your_ pill, all those years ago,
upon Dr. Ryval.
[_He bows and goes out._
DR. HERDAL.
[_Uneasily._] He said that so strangely, Senna. But tell me now--when
are you going to marry him?
SENNA.
[_Starts--half glancing up at him._] I--I don't know. This year--next
year--now--_never_! I cannot marry him ... I cannot--I _cannot_--it is
so utterly impossible to leave you!
DR. HERDAL.
Yes, I can understand _that_. But, my poor Senna, hadn't you better take
a little walk?
SENNA.
[_Clasps her hands gratefully._] How sweet and thoughtful you are to me!
I _will_ take a walk.
DR. HERDAL.
[_With a suppressed smile._] Do! And--h'm!--you needn't trouble to come
back. I have advertised for a male book-keeper--they are less emotional.
Good-night, my little Senna!
SENNA.
[_Softly and quiveringly._] Good-night, Dr. Herdal!
[_Staggers out of hall-door, blowing kisses._
MRS. HERDAL.
[_Enters through the window, plaintively._] Quite an acquisition for
you, Haustus, this Miss Blakdraf!
DR. HERDAL.
She's--h'm--extremely civil and obliging. But I am parting with her,
Aline--mainly on _your_ account.
MRS. HERDAL.
[_Evades him._] Was it on my account, indeed, Haustus? You have parted
with so many young persons on my account--so you tell me!
DR. HERDAL.
[_Depressed._] Oh, but this is hopeless! When I have tried so hard to
bring a ray of sunlight into your desolate life! I must give Ruebub
Kalomel notice too--his pill is really too preposterous!
MRS. HERDAL.
[_Feels gropingly for a chair, and sits down on the floor._] Him, _too_!
Ah, Haustus, you will never make my home a real home for me. My poor
first husband, Halvard Solness, tried--and _he_ couldn't! When one has
had such misfortunes as I have--all the family portraits burnt, and the
silk dresses, too, and a pair of twins, and nine lovely dolls.
[_Chokes with tears._
DR. HERDAL.
[_As if to lead her away from the subject._] Yes, yes, yes, that must
have been a heavy blow for you, my poor Aline. I can understand that
your spirits can never be really high again. And then for poor Master
Builder Solness to be so taken up with that Miss Wangel as he was--that,
too, was so wretched for you. To see him topple off the tower, as he did
that day ten years ago----
MRS. HERDAL.
Yes, that too, Haustus. But I did not mind it so much--it all seemed so
perfectly natural in both of them.
DR. HERDAL.
Natural! For a girl of twenty three to taunt a middle-aged architect,
whom she knew to be constitutionally liable to giddiness, never to let
him have any peace till he had climbed a spire as dizzy as himself--and
all for the fun of seeing him fall off--how in the world----!
MRS. HERDAL.
[_Laying the table for supper with dried fish and punch._] The younger
generation have a keener sense of humour than we elder ones, Haustus,
and perhaps after all, she was only a perplexing sort of allegory.
DR. HERDAL.
Yes, that would explain her to some extent, no doubt. But how _he_ could
be such an old fool!
MRS. HERDAL.
That Miss Wangel was a strangely fascinating type of girl. Why, even I
myself----
DR. HERDAL.
[_Sits down and takes some fish._] Fascinating? Well, goodness knows, I
couldn't see _that_ at all. [_Seriously._] Has it never struck you,
Aline, that elderly Norwegians are so deucedly impressionable--mere
bundles of overstrained nerves, hypersensitive ganglia. Except, of
course, the Medical Profession.
MRS. HERDAL.
Yes, of course; those in that profession are not so inclined to gangle.
And when one has succeeded by such a stroke of luck as you have----
DR. HERDAL.
[_Drinks a glass of punch._] You're right enough there. If I had not
been called in to prescribe for Dr. Ryval, who used to have the leading
practice here, I should never have stepped so wonderfully into his
shoes as I did. [_Changes to a tone of quiet chuckling merriment._] Let
me tell you a funny story, Aline; it sounds a ludicrous thing--but all
my good fortune here was based upon a simple little pill. For if Dr.
Ryval had never taken it----
MRS. HERDAL.
[_Anxiously._] Then you _do_ think it was the pill that caused him
to----?
DR. HERDAL.
On the contrary; I am perfectly sure the pill had nothing whatever to do
with it--the inquest made it quite clear that it was really the
liniment. But don't you see, Aline, what tortures me night and day is
the thought that it _might_ unconsciously have been the pill which----
Never to be free from _that_! To have such a thought gnawing and burning
always--always, like a moral mustard plaster!
[_He takes more punch._
MRS. HERDAL.
Yes; I suppose there is a poultice of that sort burning on every
breast--and we must never take it off either--it is our simple duty to
keep it on. I too, Haustus, am haunted by a fancy that if this Miss
Wangel were to ring at our bell now----
DR. HERDAL.
After she has been lost sight of for ten years? She is safe enough in
some sanatorium, depend upon it. And what if she _did_ come? Do you
think, my dear good woman, that I--a sensible clear-headed general
practitioner, who have found out all I know for myself--would let her
play the deuce with me as she did with poor Halvard? No, general
practitioners don't _do_ such things--even in Norway!
MRS. HERDAL.
Don't they indeed, Haustus? [_The surgery-bell rings loudly._] Did you
hear _that_? There she is! I will go and put on my best cap. It is my
duty to show her _that_ small attention.
DR. HERDAL.
[_Laughing nervously._] Why, what on earth!---- It's the night-bell. It
is most probably the new book-keeper! [MRS. HERDAL _goes out_; Dr.
HERDAL _rises with difficulty, and opens the door_.] Goodness
gracious!--it is that girl, after all!
[HILDA WANGEL _enters through the dispensary door. She wears a divided
skirt, thick boots, and a Tam o' Shanter with an eagle's wing in it.
Somewhat freckled. Carries a green tin cylinder slung round her, and a
rug in a strap. Goes straight up to_ HERDAL, _her eyes sparkling with
happiness_.] How are you? I've run you down, you see! The ten years are
up. Isn't it scrumptiously thrilling, to see me like this?
DR. HERDAL.
[_Politely retreating._] It is--very much so--but still I don't in the
least understand----
HILDA.