The Wild Duck

Full Text and Introduction

Henrik Ibsen, Stephen Mulrine

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781788501828
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Drama
• Index: Literature

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

Should the truth be pursued, whatever the cost? The idealistic son of a wealthy businessman seeks to expose his father's duplicity and to free his childhood friend from the lies on which his happy home life is based.

Henrik Ibsen's play The Wild Duck, considered a masterpiece of modern tragicomedy, was premiered in January 1885 at Den Nationale Scene, Bergen, Norway.

This English translation by Stephen Mulrine is published in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, with a full introduction.

ACT ONE

HÅKON WERLE’s house. A luxuriously appointed and comfortable study; bookcases and upholstered furniture; in centre stage, a writing table with papers and documents; the room is illuminated by green-shaded lamps, producing a subdued light; upstage, the folding doors stand open, and the portières are drawn back. A spacious, elegant drawing room can be seen within, brilliantly lit by lamps and candelabra. Downstage right in the study, a baize-covered door leads to the offices. Downstage left is a fireplace with a glowing coal fire, and further up, a double door leading to the dining room.

PETTERSEN, HÅKON WERLE’s manservant, is in livery and, along with the hired waiter JENSEN, in black, is tidying up the study. In the drawing room, two or three other hired waiters are putting the room in order and lighting some more candles. There is a murmur of conversation from the dining room, and several voices raised in laughter. Someone taps a knife against a glass; a silence ensues, and a toast is proposed; the company cheers, and the conversation resumes.

PETTERSEN (lights a lamp on the mantelpiece and puts the shade over it). Just listen to them, eh, Jensen? That’s the old man up on his feet now, toasting Mrs Sørby.

JENSEN (pushing an armchair downstage). So is it true what people say? That there’s something going on between them?

PETTERSEN. God knows.

JENSEN. I mean, he was a bit of a lad in his day, wasn’t he?

PETTERSEN. Maybe.

JENSEN. He’s supposed to be giving this party for his son, so I’m told.

PETTERSEN. Yes, his son arrived home yesterday.

JENSEN. I’d no idea old Werle even had a son.

PETTERSEN. Oh yes, he’s got a son all right. But he keeps himself well hidden up at Høydal, at the sawmill. All the years I’ve been in service here, he’s never once been to town.

WAITER (at the drawing-room door). Hey, Pettersen, there’s an old man here, and he’s . . .

PETTERSEN (muttering). Oh, for God’s sake, not now – what’s he want?

EKDAL appears in the drawing room at upstage right, dressed in a shabby greatcoat with a high collar, and woollen mittens; he is carrying a stick and a fur cap, and has a brown paper parcel under his arm; he wears a scruffy, reddish-brown wig, and has a little grey moustache. PETTERSEN goes towards him.

Good God! What are you doing in here?

EKDAL (in the doorway). I really need to get into the office, Pettersen.

PETTERSEN. The office closed an hour ago, and anyway . . .

EKDAL. That’s what they told me at the gates, old man. But Gråberg’s still in there. Be a decent chap, Pettersen, and let me just slip in through here. (Points to the baize-covered door.) I’ve gone in this way before.

PETTERSEN. Oh, all right – on you go. (Opens the door.) But make sure you leave by the proper way. We’ve got guests.

EKDAL. I know, I know – hm, yes! Thanks, Pettersen, old man. You’re a good friend. Thanks. (Mutters to himself.) Halfwit! (He goes into the office, and PETTERSEN closes the door behind him.)

JENSEN. What, does he work in the office too?

PETTERSEN. No, they farm out the odd copying job to him when it’s urgent. Mind you, he used to be somebody in his day, did old Ekdal.

JENSEN. Well, he’s got that sort of look about him.

PETTERSEN. Yes, indeed. Used to be an officer in the army, would you believe.

JENSEN. You’re joking! Him, an officer?

PETTERSEN. Honest to God. Then he went into the timber business or something. Supposed to have done the dirty on old Werle – at least, so they say. They were partners up at Høydal at one time, you see. Oh yes, I know old Ekdal all right. Many’s the glass of schnapps or beer we’ve had together, down at Ma Eriksen’s.

JENSEN. He can’t have money to throw around, surely?

PETTERSEN. Good God, Jensen, it’s me that does the throwing around, you can believe that. No, I just think people should show a bit of respect for somebody that’s come down in the world.

JENSEN. So, he went bankrupt, is that it?

PETTERSEN. No, worse than that. He went to jail – hard labour.

JENSEN. Hard labour?

PETTERSEN. Or put in prison, anyway . . . (Listens.) Sshh – that’s them getting up from the table now.

The dining-room doors are opened from the inside by two SERVANTS. MRS SØRBY emerges, chatting with two of the GUESTS, and followed gradually by all the others, including HÅKON WERLE. Last to appear are HJALMAR EKDAL and GREGERS WERLE.

MRS SØRBY. (in passing, to PETTERSEN). We’ll take the coffee in the music room, Pettersen.

PETTERSEN. Very good, Mrs Sørby.

MRS SØRBY and the two GUESTS go into the drawing room, and then off to the right. PETTERSEN and JENSEN exit the same way.

STOUT GUEST (to BALDING GUEST). Phew! That was some dinner, eh. Hard work, getting through all that.

BALDING GUEST. Well, it’s amazing what you can manage in three hours, if you put your mind to it.

STOUT GUEST. Ah, but it’s what comes after, my dear sir!

THIRD GUEST. I believe they’re serving coffee and liqueurs in the music room.

STOUT GUEST. Bravo! And perhaps Mrs Sørby will play something for us.

BALDING GUEST (in an undertone). As long as she doesn’t play fast and loose with us.

STOUT GUEST. Oh, I think not. Berta would never do that to her old friends. (They laugh and go into the drawing room.)

WERLE (in an undertone, testily). I don’t think anybody noticed, Gregers.

GREGERS. Noticed what?

WERLE. You mean you didn’t notice either?

GREGERS. What was there to notice?

WERLE. We were thirteen at table.

GREGERS. Really? Thirteen of us?

WERLE (glancing over at HJALMAR EKDAL). We’re usually only twelve. (To the other GUESTS.) Come through here, gentlemen, please. (WERLE and the others, with the exception of HJALMAR and GREGERS, exit upstage right.)

HJALMAR (who has overheard their conversation). You shouldn’t have invited me, Gregers.

GREGERS. What? I’m told this dinner party’s in my honour. So why shouldn’t I invite the only good friend I’ve got?

HJALMAR. I don’t think your father’s too happy about it. I never come to the house any other time.

GREGERS. No, so I hear. Anyway, I had to see you and have a chat. I’m likely to be going away again soon. Well, well – here we are, two old schoolmates – we’ve drifted a long way apart, haven’t we. We can’t have seen each other for what – sixteen, seventeen years now?

HJALMAR. Is it that long?

GREGERS. It is indeed. So, how are you doing these days? You’re looking well. You’ve put on weight – one might even say you’ve got stout.

HJALMAR. Well, you’d hardly call it stout, but I daresay I look a bit more of a man than I did in those days.

GREGERS. Yes, you do. Outwardly, you don’t seem to have suffered much.

HJALMAR (gloomily). Ah, but inwardly, Gregers – in here! It’s a different story, believe me. I mean, you know all the terrible things that have happened to us since we last met.

GREGERS (in a hushed voice). So how is your father getting along now?

HJALMAR. Let’s not talk about it, dear friend. My poor unfortunate father has to live with us these days, of course. There’s nobody else in the world he can turn to. Actually, I find the whole business extremely painful. Let’s change the subject – how have you been getting on up at the mill?

GREGERS. Oh, I’ve had a wonderful, solitary life. It’s given me a chance to think – about all sorts of things. Come over here – let’s make ourselves comfortable. (He sits down in an armchair by the fire, and pulls HJALMAR down into another beside him.)

HJALMAR (moved). I must thank you all the same, Gregers, for inviting me to your father’s dinner party. I now know you no longer hold anything against me.

GREGERS (surprised). Why should you think I held anything against you?

HJALMAR. For the first few years, yes, you did.

GREGERS. What first few years?

HJALMAR. After our great misfortune. And it was only natural that you should. I mean, your own father came within a hair’s breadth of being dragged into it – that whole dreadful affair!

GREGERS. And I was supposed to hold that against you? Whatev...