PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 100.

May 23, 1891.

MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

(Condensed and Revised Version, by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.)

No. IV.—THE WILD DUCK.

ACT I.

At WERLE's house. In front a richly-upholstered study. (R.) a green-baize door leading to WERLE's office. At back, open folding doors, revealing an elegant dining-room, in which a brilliant Norwegian dinner-party is going on. Hired Waiters in profusion. A glass is tapped with a knife. Shouts of "Bravo!" Old Mr. WERLE is heard making a long speech, proposing—according to the custom of Norwegian society on such occasions—the health of his Housekeeper, Mrs. SÖRBY. Presently several short-sighted, flabby, and thin-haired Chamberlains, enter from the dining-room, with HIALMAR EKDAL, who writhes shyly under their remarks.

A Chamberlain. As we are the sole surviving specimens of Norwegian nobility, suppose we 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?

"Father, a word with you in private. I loathe you!"

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 min 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 "Puh" 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. Sörby (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!

Old Werle. True—but then no more is Mrs. SÖRBY. 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 stepmother 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 cannot 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 housekeeper, 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!

ACT II.

HIALMAR EKDAL's Photographic Studio. Cameras, neck-rests, and other instruments of torture lying about. GINA EKDAL and HEDWIG, 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 shortsighted 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,