PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 100.

April 25th, 1891.

MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

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

No. III.—HEDDA GABLER.

ACT I.

SCENE—A Sitting-room cheerfully decorated in dark colours. Broad doorway, hung with black crape, in the wall at back, leading to a back Drawing-room, in which, above a sofa in black horsehair, hangs a posthumous portrait of the late General GABLER. On the piano is a handsome pall. Through the glass panes of the back Drawing-room window are seen a dead wall and a cemetery. Settees, sofas, chairs, &c., handsomely upholstered in black bombazine, and studded with small round nails. Bouquets of immortelles and dead grasses are lying everywhere about.

Enter Aunt JULIE (a good-natured looking lady in a smart hat).

Aunt J. Well, I declare, if I believe GEORGE or HEDDA are up yet! (Enter GEORGE TESMAN, humming, stout, careless, spectacled.) Ah, my dear boy, I have called before breakfast to inquire how you and HEDDA are after returning late last night from your long honeymoon. Oh, dear me, yes; am I not your old Aunt, and are not these attentions usual in Norway?

George. Good Lord, yes! My six months' honeymoon has been quite a little travelling scholarship, eh? I have been examining archives. Think of that! Look here, I'm going to write a book all about the domestic interests of the Cave-dwellers during the Deluge. I'm a clever young Norwegian man of letters, eh?

Aunt J. Fancy your knowing about that too! Now, dear me, thank Heaven!

George. Let me, as a dutiful Norwegian nephew, untie that smart, showy hat of yours. (Unties it, and pats her under the chin.) Well, to be sure, you have got yourself really up,—fancy that!      [He puts hat on chair close to table.

Aunt J. (giggling). It was for HEDDA'S sake—to go out walking with her in. (HEDDA approaches from the back-room; she is pallid, with cold, open, steel-grey eyes; her hair is not very thick, but what there is of it is an agreeable medium brown.) Ah, dear HEDDA!      [She attempts to cuddle her.

Hedda (shrinking back). Ugh, let me go, do! (Looking at Aunt JULIE'S hat.) TESMAN, you must really tell the housemaid not to leave her old hat about on the drawing-room chairs. Oh, is it your hat? Sorry I spoke, I'm sure!

Aunt J. (annoyed). Good gracious, little Mrs. HEDDA; my nice new hat that I bought to go out walking with you in!

George (patting her on the back). Yes, HEDDA, she did, and the parasol too! Fancy, Aunt JULIE always positively thinks of everything, eh?

Hedda (coldly). You hold your tongue. Catch me going out walking with your aunt! One doesn't do such things.

George (beaming). Isn't she a charming woman? Such fascinating manners! My goodness, eh? Fancy that!

Aunt J. Ah, dear GEORGE, you ought indeed to be happy—but (brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper) look here, my dear boy!

George (opens it). What? my dear old morning shoes! my slippers! (Breaks down.) This is positively too touching, HEDDA, eh? Do you remember how badly I wanted them all the honeymoon? Come and just have a look at them—you may!

Hedda. Bother your old slippers and your old aunt too! (Aunt JULIE goes out 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. E. (nervous). Oh, please, I'm so perfectly in despair. EJLERT LÖVBORG, 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. LÖVBORG. 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. E. 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. LÖVBORG 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. LÖVBORG 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. E. 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!

"I am a gay Norwegian dog."

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.

George. Asked out—without my wife! Think of that! Eh? Oh, dear me, yes, I'll come!

Brack. By the way, LÖVBORG is here; he has written a wonderful book, which has made a quite extraordinary sensation. Bless me, yes!

George. LÖVBORG—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 LÖVBORG, too, who hasn't even been respectable, eh? One