annoyed, followed by_ GEORGE, _still thanking her warmly for the
slippers;_ HEDDA _yawns;_ GEORGE _comes back and places his old slippers
reverently on the table._] Why, here comes Mrs. Elvsted--_another_ early
caller! She had irritating hair, and went about making a sensation with
it--an old flame of yours, I've heard.
[_Enter_ MRS. ELVSTED; _she is pretty and gentle, with copious wavy
white-gold hair and round prominent eyes, and the manner of a
frightened rabbit._
MRS. ELVSTED.
[_Nervous._] Oh, please, I'm so perfectly in despair. Ejlert Loevborg,
you know, who was our tutor; he's written such a large new book. I
inspired him. Oh, I know I don't look like it--but I did--he told me so.
And, good gracious! now he's in this dangerous wicked town all alone,
and he's a reformed character, and I'm _so_ frightened about him; so, as
the wife of a sheriff twenty years older than me, I came up to look
after Mr. Loevborg. Do ask him here--then I can meet him. You will? How
perfectly lovely of you! My husband's _so_ fond of him!
HEDDA.
George, go and write an invitation at once; do you hear? [GEORGE _looks
around for his slippers, takes them up and goes out._] Now we can talk,
my little Thea. Do you remember how I used to pull your hair when we met
on the stairs, and say I would scorch it off? Seeing people with copious
hair always _does_ irritate me.
MRS. ELVSTED.
Goodness, yes, you were always so playful and friendly, and I was so
afraid of you. I am still. And please, I've run away from my husband.
Everything around him was distasteful to me. And Mr. Loevborg and I were
comrades--he was dissipated, and I got a sort of power over him, and he
made a real person out of me--which I wasn't before, you know; but, oh,
I do hope I'm real now. He talked to me and taught me to think--chiefly
of him. So, when Mr. Loevborg came here, naturally I came too. There was
nothing else to do! And fancy, there is another woman whose shadow still
stands between him and me! She wanted to shoot him once, and so, of
course, he can never forget her. I wish I knew her name--perhaps it was
that red-haired opera-singer?
HEDDA.
[_With cold self-command._] Very likely--but nobody does that sort of
thing here. Hush! Run away now. Here comes Tesman with Judge Brack.
[MRS. ELVSTED _goes out;_ GEORGE _comes in with_ JUDGE BRACK, _who is a
short and elastic gentleman, with a round face, carefully brushed hair,
and distinguished profile._] How awfully funny you do look by daylight,
Judge!
BRACK.
[_Holding his hat and dropping his eye-glass._] Sincerest thanks. Still
the same graceful manners, dear little Mrs. Hed--Tesman! I came to
invite dear Tesman to a little bachelor-party to celebrate his return
from his long honeymoon. It is customary in Scandinavian society. It
will be a lively affair, for I am a gay Norwegian dog.
[Illustration: "I am a gay Norwegian dog."]
GEORGE.
Asked out--without my wife! Think of that! Eh? Oh, dear me, yes, _I_'ll
come!
BRACK.
By the way, Loevborg is here; he has written a wonderful book, which has
made a quite extraordinary sensation. Bless me, yes!
GEORGE.
Loevborg--fancy! Well, I _am_--glad. Such marvellous gifts! And I was so
painfully certain he had gone to the bad. Fancy that, eh? But what will
become of him _now_, poor fellow, eh? I am so anxious to know!
BRACK.
Well, he may possibly put up for the Professorship against you, and,
though you _are_ an uncommonly clever man of letters--for a
Norwegian--it's not wholly improbable that he may cut you out!
GEORGE.
But, look here, good Lord, Judge Brack!--[_gesticulating_]--that would
show an incredible want of consideration for me! I married on my chance
of _getting_ that professorship. A man like Loevborg, too, who hasn't
even been respectable, eh? One doesn't do such things as that!
BRACK.
Really? You forget we are all realistic and unconventional persons here,
and do all kinds of odd things. But don't worry yourself!
[_He goes out._
GEORGE.
[_To_ HEDDA.] Oh, I say, Hedda, what's to become of our fairyland now,
eh? We can't have a liveried servant, or give dinner parties, or have a
horse for riding. Fancy that!
HEDDA.
[_Slowly, and wearily._] No, we shall really have to set up as fairies
in reduced circumstances, now.
GEORGE.
[_Cheering up._] Still, we shall see Aunt Julie every day, and _that_
will be something, and I've got back my old slippers. We shan't be
altogether without some amusements, eh?
HEDDA.
[_Crosses the floor._] Not while I have one thing to amuse myself with,
at all events.
GEORGE.
[_Beaming with joy._] Oh, Heaven be praised and thanked for that! My
goodness, so you have! And what may _that_ be, Hedda, eh?
HEDDA.
[_At the doorway, with suppressed scorn._] Yes, George you have the old
slippers of the attentive aunt, and I have the horse-pistols of the
deceased general!
GEORGE.
[_In an agony._] The pistols! Oh, my goodness! _what_ pistols?
HEDDA.
[_With cold eyes._] General Gabler's pistols--same which I
shot--[_recollecting herself_]--no, that's Thackeray, not Ibsen--a
_very_ different person.
[_She goes through the back drawing-room._
GEORGE.
[_At doorway, shouting after her._] Dearest Hedda, _not_ those dangerous
things, eh? Why, they have never once been known to shoot straight yet!
Don't! Have a catapult. For _my_ sake, have a catapult!
[_Curtain._
* * * * *
ACT SECOND
SCENE--_The cheerful dark drawing-room. It is afternoon._ HEDDA _stands
loading a revolver in the back drawing-room_.
HEDDA.
[_Looking out and shouting._] How do you do, Judge? [_Aims at him._]
Mind yourself!
[_She fires._
BRACK.
[_Entering._] What the devil! Do you usually take pot-shots at casual
visitors?
[_Annoyed._
HEDDA.
Invariably, when they come by the back-garden. It is my unconventional
way of intimating that I am at home. One does do these things in
realistic dramas, you know. And I was only aiming at the blue sky.
BRACK.
Which accounts for the condition of my hat. [_Exhibiting it._] Look
here--_riddled!_
HEDDA.
Couldn't help myself. I am so horribly bored with Tesman. Everlastingly
to be with a professional person!
BRACK.
[_Sympathetically._] Our excellent Tesman is certainly a bit of a bore.
[_Looks searchingly at her._] What on earth made you marry him?
HEDDA.
Tired of dancing, my dear, that's all. And then I used Tesman to take me
home from parties; and we saw this villa; and I said I liked it, and so
did he; and so we found some common ground, and here we are, do you
see! And I loathe Tesman, and I don't even like the villa now; and I do
feel the want of an entertaining companion so!
BRACK.
Try me. Just the kind of three-cornered arrangement that I like. Let me
be the third person in the compartment--[_confidentially_]--the tried
friend, and, generally speaking, cock of the walk!
HEDDA.
[_Audibly drawing in her breath._] I cannot resist your polished way of
putting things. We will conclude a triple alliance. But hush!--here
comes Tesman.
[_Enter_ GEORGE _with a number of books under his arm._
GEORGE.
Puff! I _am_ hot, Hedda. I've been looking into Loevborg's new book.
Wonderfully thoughtful--confound him! But I must go and dress for your
party, Judge.
[_He goes out._
HEDDA.
I wish I could get Tesman to take to politics, Judge. Couldn't he be a
Cabinet Minister, or something?
BRACK.
H'm!
[_A short pause; both look at one another, without speaking. Enter_
GEORGE, _in evening dress with gloves._
GEORGE.
It is afternoon, and your party is at half-past seven--but I like to
dress early. Fancy that! And I am expecting Loevborg.
EJLERT LOeVBORG _comes in from the hall; he is worn and pale, with red
patches on his cheek-bones, and wears an elegant perfectly new
visiting-suit and black gloves._
GEORGE.
Welcome! [_Introduces him to_ BRACK.] Listen--I have got your new book,
but I haven't read it through yet.
LOeVBORG.
You needn't--it's rubbish. [_Takes a packet of MSS. out._] This _isn't_.
It's in three parts; the first about the civilising forces of the
future, the second about the future of the civilising forces, and the
third about the forces of the future civilisation. I thought I'd read
you a little of it this evening?
BRACK _and_ GEORGE.
[_Hastily._] Awfully nice of you--but there's a little party this
evening--so sorry we can't stop! Won't you come too?
HEDDA.
No, he must stop and read it to me and Mrs. Elvsted instead.
GEORGE.
It would never have occurred to me to think of such clever things! Are
you going to oppose me for the professorship, eh?
LOeVBORG.
[_Modestly._] No; I shall only triumph over you in the popular
judgment--that's all!
GEORGE.
Oh, is that all? Fancy! Let us go into the back drawing-room and drink
cold punch.
LOeVBORG.
Thanks--but I am a reformed character, and have renounced cold punch--it
is poison.
[GEORGE _and_ BRACK _go into the back-room and drink punch, whilst_
HEDDA _shows_ LOeVBORG _a photograph album in the front._
LOeVBORG.
[_Slowly, in a low tone._] Hedda Gabler! how _could_ you throw yourself
away like this!--Oh, is _that_ the Ortler Group? Beautiful!----Have you
forgotten how we used to sit on the settee together behind an
illustrated paper, and--yes, very picturesque peaks--I told you all
about how I had been on the loose?
HEDDA.
Now, none of that here! These are the Dolomites.--Yes, I remember; it
was a beautiful fascinating Norwegian intimacy--but it's over now. See,
we spent a night in that little mountain village, Tesman and I.
LOeVBORG.
Did you, indeed? Do you remember that delicious moment when you
threatened to shoot me down? [_Tenderly._] I do!
HEDDA.
[_Carelessly._] Did I! I have done that to so many people. But now all
that is past, and you have found the loveliest consolation in dear,
good, little Mrs. Elvsted--ah, here she is! [_Enter_ MRS. ELVSTED.] Now,
Thea, sit down and drink up a good glass of cold punch. Mr. Loevborg is
going to have some. If you don't, Mr. Loevborg, George and the Judge will
think you are afraid of taking too much if you once begin.
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, please, Hedda! When I've inspired Mr. Loevborg so--good gracious!
_don't_ make him drink cold punch!
HEDDA.
You see, Mr. Loevborg, our dear little friend can't trust you!
LOeVBORG.
So _that_ is my comrade's faith in me! [_Gloomily._] _I'll_ show her if
I am to be trusted or not. [_He drinks a glass of punch._] Now I'll go
to the Judge's party. I'll have another glass first. Your health, Thea!
So you came up to spy on me, eh? I'll drink the Sheriff's
health--_everybody's_ health!
[_He tries to get more punch._
HEDDA.
[_Stopping him._] No more now. You are going to a party, remember.
[GEORGE _and_ TESMAN _come in from back-room._
LOeVBORG.
Don't be angry, Thea. I was fallen for a moment. Now I'm up again!
[MRS. ELVSTED _beams with delight._] Judge, I'll come to your party,
as you _are_ so pressing, and I'll read George my manuscript all the
evening. I'll do all in _my_ power to make that party go!
GEORGE.
No? fancy! that _will_ be amusing!
HEDDA.
There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures! But Mr. Loevborg must be
back at ten, to take dear Thea home!
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, goodness, yes! [_In concealed agony._] Mr. Loevborg, I shan't go away
till you do!
[_The three men go out laughing merrily; the Act-drop is lowered for
a minute; when it is raised, it is 7_ A.M., _and_ MRS. ELVSTED
_and_ HEDDA _are discovered sitting up, with rugs around them._
MRS. ELVSTED.
[_Wearily._] Seven in the morning, and Mr. Loevborg not here to take me
home _yet_! what can he be doing?
HEDDA.
[_Yawning._] Reading to Tesman, with vine-leaves in his hair, I suppose.
Perhaps he has got to the third part.
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, do you _really_ think so, Hedda. Oh, if I could but hope he was
doing that!
HEDDA.
You silly little ninny! I should like to scorch your hair off. Go to
bed!
[MRS. ELVSTED _goes_.
[_Enter_ GEORGE.
GEORGE.
I'm a little late, eh? But we made _such_ a night of it. Fancy! It was
most amusing. Ejlert read his book to me--think of that! Astonishing
book! Oh, we really had great fun! I wish _I'd_ written it. Pity he's
so irreclaimable.
HEDDA.
I suppose you mean he has more of the courage of life than most people?
GEORGE.
Good Lord! He had the courage to get more drunk than most people. But,
altogether, it was what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy. We
finished up by going to have early coffee with some of these jolly
chaps, and poor old Loevborg dropped his precious manuscript in the mud,
and I picked it up--and here it is! Fancy if anything were to happen to
it! He never could write it again. _Wouldn't_ it be sad, eh? Don't tell
any one about it.
[_He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, and rushes out_; HEDDA
_hides the packet as_ BRACK _enters._
BRACK.
_Another_ early call, you see! My party was such a singularly animated
_soiree_ that I haven't undressed all night. Oh, it was the liveliest
affair conceivable! And, like a true Norwegian host, I tracked Loevborg
home; and it is only my duty, as a friend of the house, and cock of the
walk, to take the first opportunity of telling you that he finished up
the evening by coming to mere loggerheads with a red-haired
opera-singer, and being taken off to the police-station! You mustn't
have him here any more. Remember our little triple alliance!
HEDDA.
[_Her smile fading away._] You are certainly a dangerous person--but you
must not get a hold over _me_!
BRACK.
[_Ambiguously._] What an idea! But I might--I am an insinuating dog.
Good morning!
[_Goes out._
LOeVBORG.
[_Bursting in, confused and excited._] I suppose you've heard where
_I've_ been?
HEDDA.
[_Evasively._] I heard you had a very jolly party at Judge Brack's.
[MRS. ELVSTED _comes in._
LOeVBORG.
It's all over. I don't mean to do any more work. I've no use for a
companion now, Thea. Go home to your sheriff!
MRS. ELVSTED.
[_Agitated._] Never! I want to be with you when your book comes out!
LOeVBORG.
It won't _come_ out--I've torn it up! [MRS. ELVSTED _rushes out,
wringing her hands._] Mrs. Tesman, I told her a lie--but no matter. I
haven't torn my book up--I've done worse! I've taken it about to
several parties, and it's been through a police-row with me--now I've
lost it. Even if I found it again, it wouldn't be the same--not to me! I
am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar. So I must make an end of it
altogether!
[Illustration: "I am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar."]
HEDDA.
Quite so--but look here, you must do it beautifully. I don't insist on
your putting vine-leaves in your hair--but do it beautifully. [_Fetches
pistol._] See, here is one of General Gabler's pistols--do it with
_that_!
LOeVBORG.
Thanks!
[_He takes the pistol, and goes out through the hall-door; as soon
as he has gone_, HEDDA _brings out the manuscript, and puts it on
the fire, whispering to herself, as Curtain falls._
* * * * *
ACT THREE
SCENE.--_The same room, but_--_it being evening_--_darker than ever.
The crape curtains are drawn. A servant, with black ribbons in her
cap, and red eyes, comes in and lights the gas quietly and
carefully. Chords are heard on the piano in the back drawing-room.
Presently_ HEDDA _comes in and looks out into the darkness. A short
pause. Enter_ GEORGE TESMAN.
GEORGE.
I am _so_ uneasy about poor Loevborg. Fancy! he is not at home. Mrs.
Elvsted told me he has been here early this morning, so I suppose you
gave him back his manuscript, eh?
HEDDA.
[_Cold and immovable, supported by arm-chair._] No, I put it on the fire
instead.
GEORGE.
On the fire! Loevborg's wonderful new book that he read to me at Brack's
party, when we had that wild revelry last night! Fancy _that_! But, I
say, Hedda--isn't that _rather_--eh? _Too_ bad, you know--really. A
great work like that. How on earth did you come to think of it?
HEDDA.
[_Suppressing an almost imperceptible smile._] Well, dear George, you
gave me a tolerably strong hint.
GEORGE.
Me? Well, to be sure--that _is_ a joke! Why, I only said that I envied
him for writing such a book, and it would put me entirely in the shade
if it came out, and if anything was to happen to it, I should never
forgive myself, as poor Loevborg couldn't write it all over again, and so
we must take the greatest care of it! And then I left it on a chair and
went away--that was all! And you went and burnt the book all up! Bless
me, who _would_ have expected it?
HEDDA.
Nobody, you dear simple old soul! But I did it for your sake--it was
_love_, George!
GEORGE.
[_In an outburst between doubt and joy._] Hedda, you don't mean that!
Your love takes such queer forms sometimes. Yes, but yes--[_laughing in
excess of joy_]--why, you _must_ be fond of me! Just think of that now!
Well, you _are_ fun, Hedda! Look here, I must just run and tell the
housemaid that--she will enjoy the joke so, eh?
HEDDA.
[_Coldly, in self-command._] It is surely not necessary even for a
clever Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social drama, to make
quite such a fool of himself as all that.
GEORGE.
No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep it quiet--though I _must_
tell Aunt Julie--it will make her so happy to hear that you burnt a
manuscript on my account! And, besides, I should like to ask her whether
that's a usual thing with young wives. [_Looks uneasy and pensive
again._] But poor old Ejlert's manuscript! Oh Lor', you know! Well,
well!
[MRS. ELVSTED _comes in._
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. Loevborg. Something has happened
to him, I'm sure!
[JUDGE BRACK _comes in from the hall, with a new hat in his hand._
BRACK.
You have guessed it, first time. Something _has_!
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, dear, good gracious! What is it? Something distressing, I'm certain
of it!
[_Shrieks aloud._
BRACK.
[_Pleasantly._] That depends on how one takes it. He has shot himself,
and is in a hospital now, that's all!
GEORGE.
[_Sympathetically._] That's sad, eh? poor old Loevborg! Well, I _am_ cut
up to hear that. Fancy, though, eh?
HEDDA.
Was it through the temple, or through the breast? The breast? Well, one
can do it beautifully through the breast, too. Do you know, as an
advanced woman, I like an act of that sort--it's so positive to have the
courage to settle the account with himself--it's beautiful, really!
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, Hedda, what an odd way to look at it! But never mind poor dear Mr.
Loevborg now. What _we've_ got to do is to see if we can't put his
wonderful manuscript, that he said he had torn to pieces, together
again. [_Takes a bundle of small pages out of the pocket of her
mantle._] There are the loose scraps he dictated it to me from. I hid
them on the chance of some such emergency. And if dear Mr. Tesman and I
were to put our heads together, I _do_ think something might come of it.
GEORGE.
Fancy! I will dedicate my life--or all I can spare of it--to the task. I
seem to feel I owe him some slight amends, perhaps. No use crying over
spilt milk, eh, Mrs. Elvsted? We'll sit down--just you and I--in the
back drawing-room, and see if you can't inspire me as you did him, eh?
MRS. ELVSTED.
Oh, goodness, yes! I should like it--if it only might be possible!
[GEORGE _and_ MRS. ELVSTED _go into the back drawing-room and become
absorbed in eager conversation_; HEDDA _sits in a chair in the
front room, and a little later_ BRACK _crosses over to her_
HEDDA.
[_In a low tone._] Oh, Judge, _what_ a relief to know that
everything--including Loevborg's pistol--went off so well! In the breast!
Isn't there a veil of unintentional beauty in that? Such an act of
voluntary courage, too!
BRACK.
[_Smiles._] H'm!--perhaps, dear Mrs. Hedda----
HEDDA.
[_Enthusiastically._] But _wasn't_ it sweet of him! To have the courage
to live his own life after his own fashion--to break away from the
banquet of life--_so_ early and _so_ drunk! A beautiful act like that
_does_ appeal to a superior woman's imagination!
BRACK.
Sorry to shatter your poetical illusions, little Mrs. Hedda, but, as a
matter of fact, our lamented friend met his end under other
circumstances. The shot did _not_ strike him in the _breast_--but----
[_Pauses._
HEDDA.
[_Excitedly._] General Gabler's pistols! I might have known it! Did they
_ever_ shoot straight? Where _was_ he hit, then?
BRACK.
[_In a discreet undertone._] A little lower down!
HEDDA.
Oh, _how_ disgusting!--how vulgar!--how ridiculous!--like everything
else about me!
BRACK.
Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and all that--but a trifle
squalid, perhaps. And why did you give Loevborg your pistol, when it was
certain to be traced by the police? For a charming cold-blooded woman
with a clear head and no scruples, wasn't it just a leetle foolish!
HEDDA.
Perhaps; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, and he didn't! Oh, I've
just admitted that I _did_ give him the pistol--how annoyingly unwise of
me! Now I'm in _your_ power, I suppose?
BRACK.
Precisely--for some reason it's not easy to understand. But it's
inevitable, and you know how you dread anything approaching scandal. All
your past proceedings show that. [_To_ GEORGE _and_ MRS. ELVSTED _who
come in together from the back-room._] Well, how are you getting on with
the reconstruction of poor Loevborg's great work, eh?
GEORGE.
Capitally; we've made out the first two parts already. And really,
Hedda, I do believe Mrs. Elvsted _is_ inspiring me; I begin to feel it
coming on. Fancy that!
MRS. ELVSTED.
Yes, goodness! Hedda, _won't_ it be lovely if I can. I mean to try _so_
hard!
HEDDA.
Do, you dear little silly rabbit; and while you are trying I will go
into the back drawing-room and lie down.
[_She goes into the back room and draws the curtains. Short pause.
Suddenly she is heard playing_ "The Bogie Man" _within on the
piano._
GEORGE.
But, dearest Hedda, don't play "_The Bogie Man_" this evening. As one of
my aunts is dead, and poor old Loevborg has shot himself, it seems just a
little pointed, eh?
HEDDA.
[_Puts her head out between the curtains._] All right.
I'll be quiet after this. I'm going to practise with the late General
Gabler's pistol!
[_Closes the curtains again;_ GEORGE _gets behind the stove_, JUDGE
BRACK _under the table, and_ MRS. ELVSTED _under the sofa. A shot
is heard within._
GEORGE.
[_Behind the stove._] Eh, look here, I tell you what--she's hit me!
Think of that!
[_His legs are visibly agitated for a short time. Another shot is
heard._
MRS. ELVSTED.
[_Under the sofa._] Oh, please, not me! Oh, goodness, now I can't
inspire anybody any more. Oh!
[_Her feet, which can be seen under the valance, quiver a little and
then are suddenly still._
BRACK.
[_Vivaciously, from under the table._] I say, Mrs. Hedda, I'm coming in
every evening--we will have great fun here togeth----[_Another shot is
heard._] Bless me! to bring down the poor old cock-of-the-walk--it's
unsportsmanlike!--people don't _do_ such things as that!
[_The table-cloth is violently agitated for a minute, and presently
the curtains open, and_ HEDDA _appears._
HEDDA.
[_Clearly and firmly._] I've been trying in there to shoot myself
beautifully--but with General Gabler's pistol--[_She lifts the
table-cloth, then looks behind the stove and under the sofa._] What! the
accounts of all those everlasting bores settled? Then my suicide becomes
unnecessary. Yes, I feel the courage of life once more!
[_She goes into the back-room and plays_ "The Funeral March of a
Marionette" _as the Curtain falls._]
[Illustration: "What! the accounts of all those everlasting bores
settled?"]
* * * * *
THE WILD DUCK
ACT FIRST
_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 House-keeper, Mrs._ SOeRBY. _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.