A large, attractively furnished drawing room, decorated in dark colors. In the rear wall, a wide doorway with curtains drawn back. The doorway opens into a smaller room in the same style as the drawing room. In the right wall of the front room, a folding door that leads to the hall. In the left wall opposite, a glass door, with curtains similarly drawn back. Through the panes one can see part of an overhanging veranda and trees in autumn colors. In the foreground is an oval table with tablecloth and chairs around it. By the right wall, a wide, dark porcelain stove, a high-backed armchair, a cushioned footstool, and two taborets. In the right-hand corner, a settee with a small round table in front. Nearer, on the left and slightly out from the wall, a piano. On either side of the doorway in back, etagères with terra-cotta and majolica ornaments. Against the back wall of the inner room, a sofa, a table, and a couple of chairs can be seen. Above this sofa hangs a portrait of a handsome, elderly man in a general’s uniform. Over the table, a hanging lamp with an opalescent glass shade. A number of bouquets of flowers are placed about the drawing room in vases and glasses. Others lie on the tables. The floors in both rooms are covered with thick carpets. Morning light. The sun shines in through the glass door.
MISS JULIANA TESMAN, wearing a hat and carrying a parasol, comes in from the hall, followed by BERTA, who holds a bouquet wrapped in paper. MISS TESMAN is a lady around sixty-five with a kind and good-natured look, nicely but simply dressed in a gray tailored suit. BERTA is a maid somewhat past middle age, with a plain and rather provincial appearance.
MISS TESMAN (stops close by the door, listens, and says softly). Goodness, I don’t think they’re even up yet!
BERTA (also softly). That’s just what I said, Miss Juliana. Remember how late the steamer got in last night. Yes, and afterward! My gracious, how much the young bride had to unpack before she could get to bed.
MISS TESMAN. Well, then—let them enjoy a good rest. But they must have some of this fresh morning air when they do come down. (She goes to the glass door and opens it wide.)
BERTA (by the table, perplexed, with the bouquet in her hand). I swear there isn’t a bit of space left. I think I’ll have to put it here, miss. (Places the bouquet on the piano.)
MISS TESMAN. So now you have a new mistress, Berta dear. Lord knows it was misery for me to give you up.
BERTA (on the verge of tears). And for me, miss! What can I say? All those many blessed years I’ve been in your service, you and Miss Rina.
MISS TESMAN. We must take it calmly, Berta. There’s really nothing else to do. George needs you here in this house, you know that. You’ve looked after him since he was a little boy.
BERTA. Yes, but miss, I’m all the time thinking of her, lying at home. Poor thing—completely helpless. And with that new maid! She’ll never take proper care of an invalid, that one.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, I’ll manage to teach her. And most of it, you know, I’ll do myself. So you mustn’t be worrying over my poor sister.
BERTA. Well, but there’s something else too, miss. I’m really so afraid I won’t please the young mistress.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, well—there might be something or other at first—
BERTA. Because she’s so very particular.
MISS TESMAN. Well, of course. General Gabler’s daughter. What a life she had in the general’s day! Remember seeing her out with her father—how she’d go galloping past in that long black riding outfit, with a feather in her hat?
BERTA. Oh yes—I remember! But I never would have dreamed then that she and George Tesman would make a match of it.
MISS TESMAN. Nor I either. But now, Berta—before I forget: from now on, you mustn’t say George Tesman. You must call him Doctor Tesman.
BERTA. Yes, the young mistress said the same thing—last night, right after they came in the door. Is that true then, miss?
MISS TESMAN. Yes, absolutely. Think of it, Berta—they gave him his doctor’s degree. Abroad, that is—on this trip, you know. I hadn’t heard one word about it, till he told me down on the pier.
BERTA. Well, he’s clever enough to be anything. But I never thought he’d go in for curing people.
MISS TESMAN. No, he wasn’t made that kind of doctor. (Nods significantly.) But as a matter of fact, you may soon now have something still greater to call him.
BERTA. Oh, really! What’s that, miss?
MISS TESMAN (smiling). Hm, wouldn’t you like to know! (Moved.) Ah, dear God—if only my poor brother could look up from his grave and see what his little boy has become! (Glancing about.) But what’s this, Berta? Why, you’ve taken all the slipcovers off the furniture—?
BERTA. Madam told me to. She doesn’t like covers on chairs, she said.
MISS TESMAN. Are they going to make this their regular living room, then?
BERTA. It seems so—with her. For his part—the doctor—he said nothing.
(GEORGE TESMAN enters the inner room from the right, singing to himself and carrying an empty, unstrapped suitcase. He is a youngish-looking man of thirty-three, medium sized, with an open, round, cheerful face, blond hair and beard. He wears glasses and is somewhat carelessly dressed in comfortable lounging clothes.)
MISS TESMAN. Good morning, good morning, George!
TESMAN (in the doorway). Aunt Julie! Dear Aunt Julie! (Goes over and warmly shakes her hand.) Way out here—so early in the day—uh?
MISS TESMAN. Yes, you know I simply had to look in on you a moment.
TESMAN. And that without a decent night’s sleep.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, that’s nothing at all to me.
TESMAN. Well, then you did get home all right from the pier? Uh?
MISS TESMAN. Why, of course I did—thank goodness. Judge Brack was good enough to see me right to my door.
TESMAN. We were sorry we couldn’t drive you up. But you saw for yourself—Hedda had all those boxes to bring along.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, that was quite something, the number of boxes she had.
BERTA (to TESMAN). Should I go in and ask Mrs. Tesman if there’s anything I can help her with?
TESMAN. No, thanks, Berta—don’t bother. She said she’d ring if she needed anything.
BERTA (going off toward the right). All right.
TESMAN. But wait now—you can take this suitcase with you.
BERTA (taking it). I’ll put it away in the attic. (She goes out by the hall door.)
TESMAN. Just think, Aunt Julie—I had that whole suitcase stuffed full of notes. You just can’t imagine all I’ve managed to find, rummaging through archives. Marvelous old documents that nobody knew existed—
MISS TESMAN. Yes, you’ve really not wasted any time on your wedding trip, George.
TESMAN. I certainly haven’t. But do take your hat off, Auntie. Here—let me help you—uh?
MISS TESMAN (as he does so). Goodness—this is exactly as if you were still back at home with us.
TESMAN (turning the hat in his hand and studying it from all sides). My—what elegant hats you go in for!
MISS TESMAN. I bought that for Hedda’s sake.
TESMAN. For Hedda’s sake? Uh?
MISS TESMAN. Yes, so Hedda wouldn’t feel ashamed of me if we walked down the street together.
TESMAN (patting her cheek). You think of everything, Aunt Julie! (Laying the hat on a chair by the table.) Sh—look, suppose we sit down on the sofa and have a little chat till Hedda comes. (They settle themselves. She puts her parasol on the corner of the sofa.)
MISS TESMAN (takes both of his hands and gazes at him). How wonderful it is having you here, right before my eyes again, George! You—dear Jochum’s own boy!
TESMAN. And for me too, to see you again, Aunt Julie! You, who’ve been father and mother to me both.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, I’m sure you’ll always keep a place in your heart for your old aunts.
TESMAN. But Auntie Rina—hm? Isn’t she any better?
MISS TESMAN. Oh no—we can hardly expect that she’ll ever be better, poor thing. She lies there, just as she has all these years. May God let me keep her a little while longer! Because otherwise, George, I don’t know what I’d do with my life. The more so now, when I don’t have you to look after.
TESMAN (patting her on the back). There, there, there—
MISS TESMAN (suddenly changing her tone). No, but to think of it, that now you’re a married man! And that it was you who carried off Hedda Gabler. The beautiful Hedda Gabler! Imagine! She, who always had so many admirers!
TESMAN (hums a little and smiles complacently). Yes, I rather suspect I have several friends who’d like to trade places with me.
MISS TESMAN. And then to have such a wedding trip! Five—almost six months—
TESMAN. Well, remember, I used it for research, too. All those libraries I had to check—and so many books to read!
MISS TESMAN. Yes, no doubt. (More confidentially; lowering her voice.) But now listen, George—isn’t there something—something special you have to tell me?
TESMAN. From the trip?
MISS TESMAN. Yes.
TESMAN. No, I can’t think of anything beyond what I wrote in my letters. I got my doctor’s degree down there—but I told you that yesterday.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, of course. But I mean—whether you have any kind of—expectations—?
TESMAN. Expectations?
MISS TESMAN. My goodness, George—I’m your old aunt!
TESMAN. Why, naturally I have expectations.
MISS TESMAN. Ah!
TESMAN. I have every expectation in the world of becoming a professor shortly.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, a professor, yes—
TESMAN. Or I might as well say, I’m sure of it. But, Aunt Julie—you know that perfectly well yourself.
MISS TESMAN (with a little laugh). That’s right, so I do. (Changing the subject.) But we were talking about your trip. It must have cost a terrible amount of money.
TESMAN. Well, that big fellowship, you know—it took us a good part of the way.
MISS TESMAN. But I don’t see how you could stretch it enough for two.
TESMAN. No, that’s not so easy to see—uh?
MISS TESMAN. And especially traveling with a lady. For I hear tell that’s much more expensive.
TESMAN. Yes, of course—it’s a bit more expensive. But Hedda just had to have that trip. She had to. There was nothing else to be done.
MISS TESMAN. No, no, I guess not. A honeymoon abroad seems to be the thing nowadays. But tell me—have you had a good look around your house?
TESMAN. You can bet I have! I’ve been up since daybreak.
MISS TESMAN. And how does it strike you, all in all?
TESMAN. First-rate! Absolutely first-rate! Only I don’t know what we’ll do with the two empty rooms between the back parlor and Hedda’s bedroom.
MISS TESMAN (laughing again). Oh, my dear George, I think you can use them—as time goes on.
TESMAN. Yes, you’re quite right about that, Aunt Julie! In time, as I build up my library—uh?
MISS TESMAN. Of course, my dear boy. It was your library I meant.
TESMAN. I’m happiest now for Hedda’s sake. Before we were engaged, she used to say so many times there was no place she’d rather live than here, in Secretary Falk’s town house.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, and then to have it come on the market just after you’d sailed.
TESMAN. We really have had luck, haven’t we?
MISS TESMAN. But expensive, George dear! You’ll find it expensive, all this here.
TESMAN (looks at her, somewhat crestfallen). Yes, I suppose I will.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, Lord, yes!
TESMAN. How much do you think? Approximately? Hm?
MISS TESMAN. It’s impossible to say till the bills are all in.
TESMAN. Well, fortunately Judge Brack has gotten me quite easy terms. That’s what he wrote Hedda.
MISS TESMAN. Don’t worry yourself about that, dear. I’ve also put up security to cover the carpets and furniture.
TESMAN. Security? Aunt Julie, dear—you? What kind of security could you give?
MISS TESMAN. I took out a mortgage on our pension.
TESMAN (jumping up). What! On your—and Auntie Rina’s pension!
MISS TESMAN. I saw nothing else to do.
TESMAN (standing in front of her). But you’re out of your mind, Aunt Julie! That pension—it’s all Aunt Rina and you have to live on.
MISS TESMAN. Now, now—don’t make so much of it. It’s only a formality; Judge Brack said so. He was good enough to arrange the whole thing for me. Just a formality, he said.
TESMAN. That’s all well enough. But still—
MISS TESMAN. You’ll be drawing your own salary now. And, good gracious, if we have to lay out a bit, just now at the start—why, it’s no more than a pleasure for us.
TESMAN. Oh, Aunt Julie—you never get tired of making sacrifices for me!
MISS TESMAN (rises and places her hands on his shoulders). What other joy do I have in this world than smoothing the path for you, my dear boy? You, without father or mother to turn to. And now we’ve come to the goal, George! Things may have looked black at times; but now, thank heaven, you’ve made it.
TESMAN. Yes, it’s remarkable, really, how everything’s turned out for the best.
MISS TESMAN. Yes—and those who stood against you—who wanted to bar your way—they’ve gone down. They’ve fallen, George. The one most dangerous to you—he fell farthest. And he’s lying there now, in the bed he made—poor, misguided creature.
TESMAN. Have you heard any news of Eilert? I mean, since I went away.
MISS TESMAN. Only that he’s supposed to have brought out a new book.
TESMAN. What’s that? Eilert Løvborg? Just recently, uh?
MISS TESMAN. So they say. But considering everything, it can hardly amount to much. Ah, but when your new book comes out—it’ll be a different story, George! What will it be about?
TESMAN. It’s going to treat the domestic handicrafts of Brabant in the Middle Ages.
MISS TESMAN. Just imagine—that you can write about things like that!
TESMAN. Actually, the book may take quite a while yet. I have this tremendous collection of material to put in order, you know.
MISS TESMAN. Yes, collecting and ordering—you do that so well. You’re not my brother’s son for nothing.
TESMAN. I look forward so much to getting started. Especially now, with a comfortable home of my own to work in.
MISS TESMAN. And most of all, dear, now that you’ve won her, the wife of your heart.
TESMAN (embracing her). Yes, yes, Aunt Julie! Hedda—that’s the most beautiful part of it all! (Glancing toward the doorway.) But I think she’s coming—uh?
(HEDDA enters from the left through the inner room. She is a woman of twenty-nine. Her face and figure show breeding and distinction; her complexion is pallid and opaque. Her steel gray eyes express a cool, unruffled calm. Her hair is an attractive medium brown, but not particularly abundant. She wears a tasteful, rather loose-fitting gown.)
MISS TESMAN (going to meet HEDDA). Good morning, Hedda dear—how good to see you!
HEDDA (holding out her hand). Good morning, my dear Miss Tesman! Calling so early? This is kind of you.
MISS TESMAN (slightly embarrassed). Well—did the bride sleep well in her new home?
HEDDA. Oh yes, thanks. Quite adequately.
TESMAN. Adequately! Oh, I like that, Hedda! You were sleeping like a stone when I got up.
HEDDA. Fortunately. But of course one has to grow accustomed to anything new, Miss Tesman—little by little. (Looking toward the left.) Oh! That maid has left the door open—and the sunlight’s just flooding in.
MISS TESMAN (going toward the door). Well, we can close it.
HEDDA. No, no—don’t! (To TESMAN.) There, dear, draw the curtains. It gives a softer light.
TESMAN (by the glass door). All right—all right. Look, Hedda—now you have shade and fresh air both.
HEDDA. Yes, we really need some fresh air here, with all these piles of flowers— But—won’t you sit down, Miss Tesman?
MISS TESMAN. Oh no, thank you. Now that I know that everything’s fine—thank goodness—I will have to run along home. My sister’s lying there waiting, poor thing.
TESMAN. Give her my very, very best, won’t you? And say I’ll be looking in on her later today.
MISS TESMAN. Oh, you can be sure I will. But what do you know, George—(Searching in her bag.)—I nearly forgot. I have something here for you.
TESMAN. What’s that, Aunt Julie? Hm?
MISS TESMAN (brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper and hands it to him). There, dear. Look.
TESMAN (opening it). Oh, my—you kept them for me, Aunt Julie! Hedda! That’s really touching! Uh!
HEDDA (by the étagère on the right). Yes, dear, what is it?
TESMAN. My old bedroom slippers! My slippers!
HEDDA. Oh yes. I remember how often you spoke of them during the trip.
TESMAN. Yes, I missed them terribly. (Going over to her.) Now you can see them, Hedda!
HEDDA (moves toward the stove). Thanks, but I really don’t care to.
TESMAN (following her). Imagine—Auntie Rina lay and embroidered them, sick as she was. Oh, you couldn’t believe how many memories are bound up in them.
HEDDA (at the table). But not for me.
MISS TESMAN. I think Hedda is right, George.
TESMAN. Yes, but I only thought, now that she’s part of the family—
HEDDA (interrupting). We’re never going to manage with this maid, Tesman.
MISS TESMAN. Not manage with Berta?
TESMAN. But dear—why do you say that? Uh?
HEDDA (pointing). See there! She’s left her old hat lying out on a chair.
TESMAN (shocked; dropping the slippers). But Hedda—!
HEDDA. Suppose someone came in and saw it.
TESMAN. Hedda—that’s Aunt Julie’s hat!
HEDDA. Really?
MISS TESMAN (picking it up). That’s right, it’s mine. And what’s more, it certainly is not old—Mrs. Tesman.
HEDDA. I really hadn’t looked closely at it, Miss Tesman.
MISS TESMAN (putting on the hat). It’s actually the first time I’ve had it on. The very first time.
TESMAN. And it’s lovely, too. Most attractive!
MISS TESMAN. Oh, it’s hardly all that, George. (Looks about.) My parasol—? Ah, here. (Takes it.) For that’s mine too. (Murmurs.) Not Berta’s.
TESMAN. New hat and new parasol! Just imagine, Hedda!
HEDDA. Quite charming, really.
TESMAN. Yes, aren’t they, uh? But Auntie, take a good look at Hedda before you leave. See how charming she is!
MISS TESMAN. But George dear, there’s nothing new in that. Hedda’s been lovely all her life. (She nods and starts out, right.)
TESMAN (following her). But have you noticed how plump and buxom she’s grown? How much she’s filled out on the trip?
HEDDA (crossing the room). Oh, do be quiet—!
MISS TESMAN (who has stopped and turned). Filled out?
TESMAN. Of course, you can’t see it so well when she has that dressing gown on. But I, who have the opportunity to—
HEDDA (by the glass door, impatiently). Oh, you have no opportunity for anything!
TESMAN. It must have been the mountain air, down in the Tyrol—
HEDDA (brusquely interrupting). I’m exactly as I was when I left.
TESMAN. Yes, that’s your claim. But you certainly are not. Auntie, don’t you agree?
MISS TESMAN (gazing at her with folded hands). Hedda is lovely—lovely—lovely. (Goes up to her, takes her head in both hands, bends it down and kisses her hair.) God bless and keep Hedda Tesman—for George’s sake.
HEDDA (gently freeing herself). Oh—! Let me go.
MISS TESMAN (with quiet feeling). I won’t let a day go by without looking in on you two.
TESMAN. Yes, please do that, Aunt Julie! Uh?
MISS TESMAN. Good-bye—good-bye!
(She goes out by the hall door. TESMAN accompanies her, leaving the door half open. He can be heard reiterating his greetings to Aunt Rina and his thanks for the slippers. At the same time, HEDDA moves about the room, raising her arms and clenching her fists as if in a frenzy. Then she flings back the curtains from the glass door and stands there, looking out. A moment later TESMAN comes back, closing the door after him.)
TESMAN (retrieving the slippers from the floor). What are you standing and looking at, Hedda?
HEDDA (again calm and controlled). I’m just looking at the leaves—they’re so yellow—and so withered.
TESMAN (wraps up the slippers and puts them on the table). Yes, well, we’re into September now.
HEDDA (once more restless). Yes, to think—that already we’re in—in September.
TESMAN. Didn’t Aunt Julie seem a bit strange? A little—almost formal? What do you suppose was bothering her? Hm?
HEDDA. I hardly know her at all. Isn’t that how she usually is?
TESMAN. No, not like this, today.
HEDDA (leaving the glass door). Do you think this thing with the hat upset her?
TESMAN. Oh, not very much. A little, just at the moment, perhaps—
HEDDA. But really, what kind of manners has she—to go throwing her hat about in a drawing room! It’s just not proper.
TESMAN. Well, you can be sure Aunt Julie won’t do it again.
HEDDA. Anyhow, I’ll manage to smooth it over with her.
TESMAN. Yes, Hedda dear, I wish you would!
HEDDA. When you go in to see them later on, you might ask her out for the evening.
TESMAN. Yes, I’ll do that. And there’s something else you could do that would make her terribly happy.
HEDDA. Oh?
TESMAN. If only you could bring yourself to speak to her warmly, by her first name. For my sake, Hedda? Uh?
HEDDA. No, no—don’t ask me to do that. I told you this once before. I’ll try to call her “Aunt.” That should be enough.
TESMAN. Oh, all right. I was only thinking, now that you belong to the family—
HEDDA. Hm—I really don’t know— (She crosses the room to the doorway.)
TESMAN (after a pause). Is something the matter, Hedda? Uh?
HEDDA. I’m just looking at my old piano. It doesn’t really fit in with all these other things.
TESMAN. With the first salary I draw, we can see about trading it in on a new one.
HEDDA. No, not traded in. I don’t want to part with it. We can put it there, in the inner room, and get another here in its place. When there’s a chance, I mean.
TESMAN (slightly cast down). Yes, we could do that, of course.
HEDDA (picks up the bouquet from the piano). These flowers weren’t here when we got in last night.
TESMAN. Aunt Julie must have brought them for you.
HEDDA (examining the bouquet). A visiting card. (Takes it out and reads it.) “Will stop back later today.” Can you guess who this is from?
TESMAN. No. Who? Hm?
HEDDA. It says “Mrs. Elvsted.”
TESMAN. No, really? Sheriff Elvsted’s wife. Miss Rysing, she used to be.
HEDDA. Exactly. The one with the irritating hair that she was always showing off. An old flame of yours, I’ve heard.
TESMAN (laughing). Oh, that wasn’t for long. And it was before I knew you, Hedda. But imagine—that she’s here in town.
HEDDA. It’s odd that she calls on us. I’ve hardly seen her since we were in school.
TESMAN. Yes, I haven’t seen her either—since God knows when. I wonder how she can stand living in such an out-of-the-way place. Hm?
HEDDA (thinks a moment, then bursts out). But wait—isn’t it somewhere up in those parts that he—that Eilert Løvborg lives?
TESMAN. Yes, it’s someplace right around there. (BERTA enters by the hall door.)
BERTA. She’s back again, ma’am—that lady who stopped by and left the flowers an hour ago. (Pointing) The ones you have in your hand, ma’am.
HEDDA. Oh, is she? Good. Would you ask her to come in.
(BERTA opens the door for MRS. ELVSTED and goes out. MRS. ELVSTED is a slender woman with soft, pretty features. Her eyes are light blue, large, round, and somewhat prominent, with a startled, questioning look. Her hair is remarkably light, almost a white-gold, and unusually abundant and wavy. She is a couple of years younger than HEDDA. She wears a dark visiting dress, tasteful, but not quite in the latest fashion.)
HEDDA (going to greet her warmly). Good morning, my dear Mrs. Elvsted. How delightful to see you again!
MRS. ELVSTED (nervously; struggling to control herself). Yes, it’s a very long time since we last met.
TESMAN (gives her his hand). Or since we met, uh?
HEDDA. Thank you for your beautiful flowers—
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, that’s nothing—I would have come straight out here yesterday afternoon, but then I heard you weren’t at home—
TESMAN. Have you just now come to town? Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. I got in yesterday toward noon. Oh, I was in desperation when I heard that you weren’t at home.
HEDDA. Desperation! Why?
TESMAN. But my dear Mrs. Rysing—Mrs. Elvsted, I mean—
HEDDA. You’re not in some kind of trouble?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, I am. And I don’t know another living soul down here I can turn to.
HEDDA (putting the bouquet down on the table). Come, then—let’s sit here on the sofa—
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, I can’t sit down. I’m really too much on edge!
HEDDA. Why, of course you can. Come here.
(She draws MRS. ELVSTED down on the sofa and sits beside her.)
TESMAN. Well? What is it, Mrs. Elvsted?
HEDDA. Has anything particular happened at home?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, that’s both it—and not it. Oh, I do want so much that you don’t misunderstand me—
HEDDA. But then the best thing, Mrs. Elvsted, is simply to speak your mind.
TESMAN. Because I suppose that’s why you’ve come. Hm?
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh yes, that’s why. Well, then, I have to tell you—if you don’t already know—that Eilert Løvborg’s also in town.
HEDDA. Løvborg—!
TESMAN. What! Is Eilert Løvborg back! Just think, Hedda!
HEDDA. Good Lord, I can hear.
MRS. ELVSTED. He’s been back all of a week’s time now. A whole week—in this dangerous town! Alone! With all the bad company that’s around.
HEDDA. But my dear Mrs. Elvsted, what does he have to do with you?
MRS. ELVSTED (glances anxiously at her and says quickly). He was the children’s tutor.
HEDDA. Your children’s?
MRS. ELVSTED. My husband’s. I have none.
HEDDA. Your stepchildren’s, then.
TESMAN (somewhat hesitantly). But was he—I don’t know quite how to put it—was he sufficiently—responsible in his habits for such a job? Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. In these last two years, there wasn’t a word to be said against him.
TESMAN. Not a word? Just think of that, Hedda!
HEDDA. I heard it.
MRS. ELVSTED. Not even a murmur, I can assure you! Nothing. But anyway—now that I know he’s here—in this big city—and with so much money in his hands—then I’m just frightened to death for him.
TESMAN. But why didn’t he stay up there where he was? With you and your husband? Uh?
MRS. ELVSTED. After the book came out, he just couldn’t rest content with us.
TESMAN. Yes, that’s right—Aunt Julie was saying he’d published a new book.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, a great new book, on the course of civilization—in all its stages. It’s been out two weeks. And now it’s been bought and read so much—and it’s made a tremendous stir—
TESMAN. Has it really? It must be something he’s had lying around from his better days.
MRS. ELVSTED. Years back, you mean?
TESMAN. I suppose.
MRS. ELVSTED. No, he’s written it all up there with us. Now—in this last year.
TESMAN. That’s marvelous to hear. Hedda! Just imagine!
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, if only it can go on like this!
HEDDA. Have you seen him here in town?
MRS. ELVSTED. No, not yet. I had such trouble finding out his address. But this morning I got it at last.
HEDDA (looks searchingly at her). I must say it seems rather odd of your husband—
MRS. ELVSTED (with a nervous start). Of my husband—! What?
HEDDA. To send you to town on this sort of errand. Not to come and look after his friend himself.
MRS. ELVSTED. No, no, my husband hasn’t the time for that. And then I had—some shopping to do.
HEDDA (with a slight smile). Oh, that’s different.
MRS. ELVSTED (getting up quickly and uneasily). I beg you, please, Mr. Tesman—be good to Eilert Løvborg if he comes to you. And he will, I’m sure. You know—you were such good friends in the old days. And you’re both doing the same kind of work. The same type of research—from what I can gather.
TESMAN. We were once, at any rate.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, and that’s why I’m asking you, please—you too—to keep an eye on him. Oh, you will do that, Mr. Tesman—promise me that?
TESMAN. I’ll be only too glad to, Mrs. Rysing—
HEDDA. Elvsted.
TESMAN. I’ll certainly do everything in my power for Eilert. You can depend on that.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, how terribly kind of you! (Pressing his hands.) Many, many thanks! (Frightened.) He means so much to my husband, you know.
HEDDA (rising). You ought to write him, dear. He might not come by on his own.
TESMAN. Yes, that probably would be the best, Hedda? Hm?
HEDDA. And the sooner the better. Right now, I’d say.
MRS. ELVSTED (imploringly). Oh yes, if you could!
TESMAN. I’ll write him this very moment. Have you got his address, Mrs.—Mrs. Elvsted?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes. (Takes a slip of paper from her pocket and hands it to him.) Here it is.
TESMAN. Good, good. Then I’ll go in— (Looking about.) But wait—my slippers? Ah! Here. (Takes the package and starts to leave.)
HEDDA. Write him a really warm, friendly letter. Nice and long, too.
TESMAN. Don’t worry, I will.
MRS. ELVSTED. But please, not a word that I asked you to!
TESMAN. No, that goes without saying. Uh? (Leaves by the inner room, to the right.)
HEDDA (goes over to MRS. ELVSTED, smiles, and speaks softly). How’s that! Now we’ve killed two birds with one stone.
MRS. ELVSTED. What do you mean?
HEDDA. Didn’t you see that I wanted him out of the room?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, to write the letter—
HEDDA. But also to talk with you alone.
MRS. ELVSTED (confused). About this same thing?
HEDDA. Precisely.
MRS. ELVSTED (upset). But Mrs. Tesman, there’s nothing more to say! Nothing!
HEDDA. Oh yes, but there is. There’s a great deal more—I can see that. Come, sit here—and let’s speak openly now, the two of us. (She forces MRS. ELVSTED down into the armchair by the stove and sits on one of the taborets.)
MRS. ELVSTED (anxiously glancing at her watch). But Mrs. Tesman, dear—I was just planning to leave.
HEDDA. Oh, you can’t be in such a rush— Now! Tell me a little about how things are going at home.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, that’s the last thing I’d ever want to discuss.
HEDDA. But with me, dear—? After all, we were in school together.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, but you were a class ahead of me. Oh, I was terribly afraid of you then!
HEDDA. Afraid of me?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, terribly. Because whenever we met on the stairs, you’d always pull my hair.
HEDDA. Did I really?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, and once you said you would burn it off.
HEDDA. Oh, that was just foolish talk, you know.
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, but I was so stupid then. And, anyway, since then—we’ve drifted so far—far apart from each other. We’ve moved in such different circles.
HEDDA. Well, let’s try now to come closer again. Listen, at school we were quite good friends, and we called each other by our first names—
MRS. ELVSTED. No, I’m sure you’re mistaken.
HEDDA. Oh, I couldn’t be! I remember it clearly. And that’s why we have to be perfectly open, just as we were. (Moves the stool nearer MRS. ELVSTED.) There now! (Kissing her cheek.) You have to call me Hedda.
MRS. ELVSTED (pressing and patting her hands). Oh, you’re so good and kind—! It’s not at all what I’m used to.
HEDDA. There, there! And I’m going to call you my own dear Thora.
MRS. ELVSTED. My name is Thea.
HEDDA. Oh yes, of course. I meant Thea. (Looks at her compassionately.) So you’re not much used to goodness or kindness, Thea? In your own home?
MRS. ELVSTED. If only I had a home! But I don’t. I never have.
HEDDA (glances quickly at her). I thought it had to be something like that.
MRS. ELVSTED (gazing helplessly into space). Yes—yes—yes.
HEDDA. I can’t quite remember now—but wasn’t it as a housekeeper that you first came up to the Elvsteds?
MRS. ELVSTED. Actually as a governess. But his wife—his first wife—she was an invalid and mostly kept to her bed. So I had to take care of the house too.
HEDDA. But finally you became mistress of the house yourself.
MRS. ELVSTED (heavily). Yes, I did.
HEDDA. Let me see—about how long ago was that?
MRS. ELVSTED. That I was married?
HEDDA. Yes.
MRS. ELVSTED. It’s five years now.
HEDDA. That’s right. It must be.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, these five years—! Or the last two or three, anyway. Oh, if you only knew, Mrs. Tesman—
HEDDA (gives her hand a little slap). Mrs. Tesman! Now, Thea!
MRS. ELVSTED. I’m sorry; I’ll try— Yes, if you could only understand—Hedda—
HEDDA (casually). Eilert Løvborg has lived up there about three years too, hasn’t he?
MRS. ELVSTED (looks at her doubtfully). Eilert Løvborg? Yes—he has.
HEDDA. Had you already known him here in town?
MRS. ELVSTED. Hardly at all. Well, I mean—by name, of course.
HEDDA. But up there—I suppose he’d visit you both?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, he came to see us every day. He was tutoring the children, you know. Because, in the long run, I couldn’t do it all myself.
HEDDA. No, that’s obvious. And your husband—? I suppose he often has to be away?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, you can imagine, as sheriff, how much traveling he does around in the district.
HEDDA (leaning against the chair arm). Thea—my poor, sweet Thea—now you must tell me everything—just as it is.
MRS. ELVSTED. Well, then you have to ask the questions.
HEDDA. What sort of man is your husband, Thea? I mean—you know—to be with. Is he good to you?
MRS. ELVSTED (evasively). He believes he does everything for the best.
HEDDA. I only think he must be much too old for you. More than twenty years older, isn’t he?
MRS. ELVSTED (irritated). That’s true. Along with everything else. I just can’t stand him! We haven’t a single thought in common. Nothing at all—he and I.
HEDDA. But doesn’t he care for you all the same—in his own way?
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, I don’t know what he feels. I’m no more than useful to him. And then it doesn’t cost much to keep me. I’m inexpensive.
HEDDA. That’s stupid of you.
MRS. ELVSTED (shaking her head). It can’t be otherwise. Not with him. He really doesn’t care for anyone but himself—and maybe a little for the children.
HEDDA. And for Eilert Løvborg, Thea.
MRS. ELVSTED (looking at her). Eilert Løvborg! Why do you think so?
HEDDA. But my dear—it seems to me, when he sends you all the way into town to look after him— (Smiles almost imperceptibly.) Besides, it’s what you told my husband.
MRS. ELVSTED (with a little nervous shudder). Really? Yes, I suppose I did. (In a quiet outburst.) No—I might as well tell you here and now! It’s bound to come out in time.
HEDDA. But my dear Thea—?
MRS. ELVSTED. All right, then! My husband never knew I was coming here.
HEDDA. What! Your husband never knew—
MRS. ELVSTED. Of course not. Anyway, he wasn’t at home. Off traveling somewhere. Oh, I couldn’t bear it any longer, Hedda. It was impossible! I would have been so alone up there now.
HEDDA. Well? What then?
MRS. ELVSTED. So I packed a few of my things together—the barest necessities—without saying a word. And I slipped away from the house.
HEDDA. Right then and there?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes, and took the train straight into town.
HEDDA. But my dearest girl—that you could dare to do such a thing!
MRS. ELVSTED (rising and walking about the room). What else could I possibly do!
HEDDA. But what do you think your husband will say when you go back home?
MRS. ELVSTED (by the table, looking at her). Back to him?
HEDDA. Yes, of course.
MRS. ELVSTED. I’ll never go back to him.
HEDDA (rising and approaching her). You mean you’ve left, in dead earnest, for good?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes. There didn’t seem anything else to do.
HEDDA. But—to go away so openly.
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, you can’t keep a thing like that secret.
HEDDA. But what do you think people will say about you, Thea?
MRS. ELVSTED. God knows they’ll say what they please. (Sitting wearily and sadly on the sofa.) I only did what I had to do.
HEDDA (after a short silence). What do you plan on now? What kind of work?
MRS. ELVSTED. I don’t know yet. I only know I have to live here, where Eilert Løvborg is—if I’m going to live at all.
HEDDA (moves a chair over from the table, sits beside her, and strokes her hands). Thea dear—how did this—this friendship—between you and Eilert Løvborg come about?
MRS. ELVSTED. Oh, it happened little by little. I got some kind of power, almost, over him.
MRS. ELVSTED. He gave up his old habits. Not because I’d asked him to. I never dared do that. But he could tell they upset me, and so he dropped them.
HEDDA (hiding an involuntary, scornful smile). My dear little Thea—just as they say—you rehabilitated him.
MRS. ELVSTED. Well, he says so, at any rate. And he—on his part—he’s made a real human being out of me. Taught me to think—and understand so many things.
HEDDA. You mean he tutored you also?
MRS. ELVSTED. No, not exactly. But he’d talk to me—talk endlessly on about one thing after another. And then came the wonderful, happy time when I could share in his work! When I could help him!
HEDDA. Could you really?
MRS. ELVSTED. Yes! Whenever he wrote anything, we’d always work on it together.
HEDDA. Like two true companions.
MRS. ELVSTED (eagerly). Companions! You know, Hedda—that’s what he said too! Oh, I ought to feel so happy—but I can’t. I just don’t know if it’s going to last.
HEDDA. You’re no more sure of him than that?
MRS. ELVSTED (despondently). There’s a woman’s shadow between Eilert Løvborg and me.
HEDDA (looks at her intently). Who could that be?
MRS. ELVSTED. I don’t know. Someone out of his—his past. Someone he’s really never forgotten.
HEDDA. What has he said—about this!
MRS. ELVSTED. It’s only once—and just vaguely—that he touched on it.
HEDDA. Well! And what did he say!
MRS. ELVSTED. He said that when they broke off she was going to shoot him with a pistol.
HEDDA (with cold constraint). That’s nonsense! Nobody behaves that way around here.
MRS. ELVSTED. No. And that’s why I think it must have been that redheaded singer that at one time he—
HEDDA. Yes, quite likely.
MRS. ELVSTED. I remember they used to say about her that she carried loaded weapons.
HEDDA. Ah—then of course it must have been her.
MRS. ELVSTED (wringing her hands). But you know what, Hedda—I’ve heard that this singer—that she’s in town again! Oh, it has me out of my mind—
HEDDA (glancing toward the inner room). Shh! Tesman’s coming. (Gets up and whispers.) Thea—keep all this just between us.
MRS. ELVSTED (jumping up). Oh yes! In heaven’s name—!
(GEORGE TESMAN, with a letter in his hand, enters from the right through the inner room.)
TESMAN. There, now—the letter’s signed and sealed.
HEDDA. That’s fine. I think Mrs. Elvsted was just leaving. Wait a minute. I’ll go with you to the garden gate.
TESMAN. Hedda, dear—could Berta maybe look after this?
HEDDA (taking the letter). I’ll tell her to.
(BERTA enters from the hall.)
BERTA. Judge Brack is here and says he’d like to greet you and the Doctor, ma’am.
HEDDA. Yes, ask Judge Brack to come in. And, here—put this letter in the mail.
BERTA (takes the letter). Yes, ma’am.
(She opens the door for JUDGE BRACK and goes out. BRACK is a man of forty-five, thickset, yet well-built, with supple movements. His face is roundish, with a distinguished profile. His hair is short, still mostly black, and carefully groomed. His eyes are bright and lively. Thick eyebrows; a mustache to match, with neatly clipped ends. He wears a trimly tailored walking suit, a bit too youthful for his age. Uses a monocle, which he now and then lets fall.)
JUDGE BRACK (hat in hand, bowing). May one dare to call so early?
HEDDA. Of course one may.
TESMAN (shakes his hand). You’re always welcome here. (Introducing him.) Judge Brack—Miss Rysing—
HEDDA. Ah—!
BRACK (bowing). I’m delighted.
HEDDA (looks at him and laughs). It’s really a treat to see you by daylight, Judge!
BRACK. You find me—changed?
HEDDA. Yes. A bit younger, I think.
BRACK. Thank you, most kindly.
TESMAN. But what do you say for Hedda, uh? Doesn’t she look flourishing? She’s actually—
HEDDA. Oh, leave me out of it! You might thank Judge Brack for all the trouble he’s gone to—
BRACK. Nonsense—it was a pleasure—
HEDDA. Yes, you’re a true friend. But here’s Thea, standing here, aching to get away. Excuse me, Judge; I’ll be right back.
(Mutual good-byes. MRS. ELVSTED and HEDDA go out by the hall door.)
BRACK. So—is your wife fairly well satisfied, then—?
TESMAN. Yes, we can’t thank you enough. Of course—I gather there’s some rearrangement called for here and there. And one or two things are lacking. We still have to buy a few minor items.
BRACK. Really?
TESMAN. But that’s nothing for you to worry about. Hedda said she’d pick up those things herself. Why don’t we sit down, hm?
BRACK. Thanks. Just for a moment. (Sits by the table.) There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Tesman.
TESMAN. What? Oh, I understand! (Sitting.) It’s the serious part of the banquet we’re coming to, uh?
BRACK. Oh, as far as money matters go, there’s no great rush—though I must say I wish we’d managed things a bit more economically.
TESMAN. But that was completely impossible! Think about Hedda, Judge! You, who know her so well— I simply couldn’t have her live like a grocer’s wife.
BRACK. No, no—that’s the trouble, exactly.
TESMAN. And then—fortunately—it can’t be long before I get my appointment.
BRACK. Well, you know—these things can often hang fire.
TESMAN. Have you heard something further? Hm?
BRACK. Nothing really definite— (Changing the subject.) But incidentally—I do have one piece of news for you.
TESMAN. Well?
BRACK. Your old friend Eilert Løvborg is back in town.
TESMAN. I already know.
BRACK. Oh? How did you hear?
TESMAN. She told me. The lady that left with Hedda.
BRACK. I see. What was her name again? I didn’t quite catch it—
TESMAN. Mrs. Elvsted.
BRACK. Aha—Sheriff Elvsted’s wife. Yes—it’s up near them he’s been staying.
TESMAN. And, just think—what a pleasure to hear that he’s completely stable again!
BRACK. Yes, that’s what they claim.
TESMAN. And that he’s published a new book, uh?
BRACK. Oh yes!
TESMAN. And it’s created quite a sensation.
BRACK. An extraordinary sensation.
TESMAN. Just imagine—isn’t that marvelous? He, with his remarkable talents—I was so very afraid that he’d really gone down for good.
BRACK. That’s what everyone thought.
TESMAN. But I’ve no idea what he’ll find to do now. How on earth can he ever make a living? Hm?
(During the last words, HEDDA comes in by the hall door.)
HEDDA (to BRACK, laughing, with a touch of scorn). Tesman always goes around worrying about how people are going to make a living.
TESMAN. My Lord—it’s poor Eilert Løvborg we’re talking of, dear.
HEDDA (glancing quickly at him). Oh, really? (Sits in the armchair by the stove and asks casually.) What’s the matter with him?
TESMAN. Well—he must have run through his inheritance long ago. And he can’t write a new book every year. Uh? So I was asking, really, what’s going to become of him.
BRACK. Perhaps I can shed some light on that.
TESMAN. Oh?
BRACK. You must remember that he does have relatives with a great deal of influence.
TESMAN. Yes, but they’ve washed their hands of him altogether.
BRACK. They used to call him the family’s white hope.
TESMAN. They used to, yes! But he spoiled all that himself.
HEDDA. Who knows? (With a slight smile.) He’s been rehabilitated up at the Elvsteds—
BRACK. And then this book that he’s published—
TESMAN. Oh, well, let’s hope they really help him some way or other. I just now wrote to him. Hedda dear, I asked him out here this evening.
BRACK. But my dear fellow, you’re coming to my stag party this evening. You promised down on the pier last night.
HEDDA. Had you forgotten, Tesman?
TESMAN. Yes, I absolutely had.
BRACK. For that matter, you can rest assured that he’d never come.
TESMAN. What makes you say that, hm?
BRACK (hesitating, rising and leaning on the back of the chair). My dear Tesman—and you too, Mrs. Tesman—I can’t, in all conscience, let you go on without knowing something that—that—
TESMAN. Something involving Eilert—?
BRACK. Both you and him.
TESMAN. But my dear Judge, then tell us!
BRACK. You must be prepared that your appointment may not come through as quickly as you’ve wished or expected.
TESMAN (jumping up nervously). Has something gone wrong? Uh?
BRACK. It may turn out that there’ll have to be a competition for the post—
TESMAN. A competition! Imagine, Hedda!
HEDDA (leaning further back in the chair). Ah, there—you see!
TESMAN. But with whom! You can’t mean—?
BRACK. Yes, exactly. With Eilert Løvborg.
TESMAN (striking his hands together). No, no—that’s completely unthinkable! It’s impossible! Uh?
BRACK. Hm—but it may come about, all the same.
TESMAN. No, but, Judge Brack—that would just be incredibly inconsiderate toward me! (Waving his arms.) Yes, because—you know—I’m a married man! We married on my prospects, Hedda and I. We went into debt. And even borrowed money from Aunt Julie. Because that job—my Lord, it was as good as promised to me, uh?
BRACK. Easy now—I’m sure you’ll get the appointment. But you will have to compete for it.
HEDDA (motionless in the armchair). Just think, Tesman—it will be like a kind of championship match.
TESMAN. But Hedda dearest, how can you take it so calmly!
HEDDA (as before). I’m not the least bit calm. I can’t wait to see how it turns out.
BRACK. In any case, Mrs. Tesman, it’s well that you know now how things stand. I mean—with respect to those little purchases I hear you’ve been threatening to make.
HEDDA. This business can’t change anything.
BRACK. I see! Well, that’s another matter. Good-bye. (To TESMAN.) When I take my afternoon walk, I’ll stop by and fetch you.
TESMAN. Oh yes, please do—I don’t know where I’m at.
HEDDA (leaning back and reaching out her hand). Good-bye, Judge. And come again soon.
BRACK. Many thanks. Good-bye now.
TESMAN (accompanying him to the door). Good-bye, Judge! You really must excuse me—
BRACK goes out by the hall door.)
TESMAN (pacing about the room). Oh, Hedda—one should never go off and lose oneself in dreams, uh?
HEDDA (looks at him and smiles). Do you do that?
TESMAN. No use denying it. It was living in dreams to go and get married and set up house on nothing but expectations.
HEDDA. Perhaps you’re right about that.
TESMAN. Well, at least we have our comfortable home, Hedda! The home that we always wanted. That we both fell in love with, I could almost say. Hm?
HEDDA (rising slowly and wearily). It was part of our bargain that we’d live in society—that we’d keep a great house—
TESMAN. Yes of course—how I’d looked forward to that! Imagine—seeing you as a hostess—in our own select circle of friends! Yes, yes—well, for a while, we two will just have to get on by ourselves, Hedda. Perhaps have Aunt Julie here now and then. Oh, you—for you I wanted to have things so—so utterly different—!
HEDDA. Naturally this means I can’t have a butler now.
TESMAN. Oh no—I’m sorry, a butler—we can’t even talk about that, you know.
HEDDA. And the riding horse I was going to have—
TESMAN (appalled). Riding horse!
HEDDA. I suppose I can’t think of that anymore.
TESMAN. Good Lord, no—that’s obvious!
HEDDA (crossing the room). Well, at least I have one thing left to amuse myself with.
TESMAN (beaming). Ah, thank heaven for that! What is it, Hedda? Uh?
HEDDA (in the center doorway, looking at him with veiled scorn). My pistols, George.
TESMAN (in fright). Your pistols!
HEDDA (her eyes cold). General Gabler’s pistols. (She goes through the inner room and out to the left.)
TESMAN (runs to the center doorway and calls after her). No, for heaven’s sake, Hedda darling—don’t touch those dangerous things! For my sake, Hedda! Uh?