In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.Hedda Gabler by Henrik Ibsen (best summer reads of all time txt) đź“–
- Author: Henrik Ibsen
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BRACK.
That was another piece of stupidity.
HEDDA.
Well, we must just settle down here—and wait. Tesman is not likely to be back for some time yet.
BRACK.
Never mind; I shall not be impatient.
overcoat over the back of the nearest chair, and sits down, but
keeps his hat in his hand. A short silence. They look at each
other.
HEDDA.
Well?
BRACK.
[In the same tone.] Well?
HEDDA.
I spoke first.
BRACK.
[Bending a little forward.] Come, let us have a cosy little chat, Mrs. Hedda.(8)
HEDDA.
[Leaning further back in the sofa.] Does it not seem like a whole eternity since our last talk? Of course I don't count those few words yesterday evening and this morning.
BRACK.
You mean since out last confidential talk? Our last tete-a-tete?
HEDDA.
Well yes—since you put it so.
BRACK.
Not a day passed but I have wished that you were home again.
HEDDA.
And I have done nothing but wish the same thing.
BRACK.
You? Really, Mrs. Hedda? And I thought you had been enjoying your tour so much!
HEDDA.
Oh yes, you may be sure of that!
BRACK.
But Tesman's letters spoke of nothing but happiness.
HEDDA.
Oh, Tesman! You see, he thinks nothing is so delightful as grubbing in libraries and making copies of old parchments, or whatever you call them.
BRACK.
[With a smile of malice.] Well, that is his vocation in life—or part of it at any rate.
HEDDA.
Yes, of course; and no doubt when it's your vocation—. But I! Oh, my dear Mr. Brack, how mortally bored I have been.
BRACK.
[Sympathetically.] Do you really say so? In downright earnest?
HEDDA.
Yes, you can surely understand it—! To go for six whole months without meeting a soul that knew anything of our circle, or could talk about things we were interested in.
BRACK.
Yes, yes—I too should feel that a deprivation.
HEDDA.
And then, what I found most intolerable of all—
BRACK.
Well?
HEDDA.
—was being everlastingly in the company of—one and the same person—
BRACK.
[With a nod of assent.] Morning, noon, and night, yes—at all possible times and seasons.
HEDDA.
I said "everlastingly."
BRACK.
Just so. But I should have thought, with our excellent Tesman, one could—
HEDDA.
Tesman is—a specialist, my dear Judge.
BRACK.
Undeniable.
HEDDA.
And specialists are not at all amusing to travel with. Not in the long run at any rate.
BRACK.
Not even—the specialist one happens to love?
HEDDA.
Faugh—don't use that sickening word!
BRACK.
[Taken aback.] What do you say, Mrs. Hedda?
HEDDA.
[Half laughing, half irritated.] You should just try it! To hear of nothing but the history of civilisation, morning, noon, and night—
BRACK.
Everlastingly.
HEDDA.
Yes yes yes! And then all this about the domestic industry of the middle ages—! That's the most disgusting part of it!
BRACK.
[Looks searchingly at her.] But tell me—in that case, how am I to understand your—? H'm—
HEDDA.
My accepting George Tesman, you mean?
BRACK.
Well, let us put it so.
HEDDA.
Good heavens, do you see anything so wonderful in that?
BRACK.
Yes and no—Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA.
I had positively danced myself tired, my dear Judge. My day was done— [With a slight shudder.] Oh no—I won't say that; nor think it either!
BRACK.
You have assuredly no reason to.
HEDDA.
Oh, reasons— [Watching him closely.] And George Tesman—after all, you must admit that he is correctness itself.
BRACK.
His correctness and respectability are beyond all question.
HEDDA.
And I don't see anything absolutely ridiculous about him.—Do you?
BRACK.
Ridiculous? N—no—I shouldn't exactly say so—
HEDDA.
Well—and his powers of research, at all events, are untiring.—I see no reason why he should not one day come to the front, after all.
BRACK.
[Looks at her hesitatingly.] I thought that you, like every one else, expected him to attain the highest distinction.
HEDDA.
[With an expression of fatigue.] Yes, so I did.—And then, since he was bent, at all hazards, on being allowed to provide for me—I really don't know why I should not have accepted his offer?
BRACK.
No—if you look at it in that light—
HEDDA.
It was more than my other adorers were prepared to do for me, my dear Judge.
BRACK.
[Laughing.] Well, I can't answer for all the rest; but as for myself, you know quite well that I have always entertained a—a certain respect for the marriage tie—for marriage as an institution, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA.
[Jestingly.] Oh, I assure you I have never cherished any hopes with respect to you.
BRACK.
All I require is a pleasant and intimate interior, where I can make myself useful in every way, and am free to come and go as—as a trusted friend—
HEDDA.
Of the master of the house, do you mean?
BRACK.
[Bowing.] Frankly—of the mistress first of all; but of course of the master too, in the second place. Such a triangular friendship—if I may call it so—is really a great convenience for all the parties, let me tell you.
HEDDA.
Yes, I have many a time longed for some one to make a third on our travels. Oh—those railway-carriage tete-a-tetes—!
BRACK.
Fortunately your wedding journey is over now.
HEDDA.
[Shaking her head.] Not by a long—long way. I have only arrived at a station on the line.
BRACK.
Well, then the passengers jump out and move about a little, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA.
I never jump out.
BRACK.
Really?
HEDDA.
No—because there is always some one standing by to—
BRACK.
[Laughing.] To look at your ankles, do you mean?
HEDDA.
Precisely.
BRACK.
Well but, dear me—
HEDDA.
[With a gesture of repulsion.] I won't have it. I would rather keep my seat where I happen to be—and continue the tete-a-tete.
BRACK.
But suppose a third person were to jump in and join the couple.
HEDDA.
Ah—that is quite another matter!
BRACK.
A trusted, sympathetic friend—
HEDDA.
—with a fund of conversation on all sorts of lively topics—
BRACK.
—and not the least bit of a specialist!
HEDDA.
[With an audible sigh.] Yes, that would be a relief indeed.
BRACK.
[Hears the front door open, and glances in that direction.] The triangle is completed.
HEDDA.
[Half aloud.] And on goes the train.
enters from the hall. He has a number of unbound books under
his arm and in his pockets.
TESMAN.
[Goes up to the table beside the corner settee.] Ouf—what a load for a warm day—all these books. [Lays them on the table.] I'm positively perspiring, Hedda. Hallo—are you there already, my dear Judge? Eh? Berta didn't tell me.
BRACK.
[Rising.] I came in through the garden.
HEDDA.
What books have you got there?
TESMAN.
[Stands looking them through.] Some new books on my special subjects —quite indispensable to me.
HEDDA.
Your special subjects?
BRACK.
Yes, books on his special subjects, Mrs. Tesman.
HEDDA.
Do you need still more books on your special subjects?
TESMAN.
Yes, my dear Hedda, one can never have too many of them. Of course one must keep up with all that is written and published.
HEDDA.
Yes, I suppose one must.
TESMAN.
[Searching among his books.] And look here—I have got hold of Eilert Lovborg's new book too. [Offering it to her.] Perhaps you would like to glance through it, Hedda? Eh?
HEDDA.
No, thank you. Or rather—afterwards perhaps.
TESMAN.
I looked into it a little on the way home.
BRACK.
Well, what do you think of it—as a specialist?
TESMAN.
I think it shows quite remarkable soundness of judgment. He never wrote like that before. [Putting the books together.] Now I shall take all these into my study. I'm longing to cut the leaves—! And then I must change my clothes. [To BRACK.] I suppose we needn't start just yet? Eh?
BRACK.
Oh, dear no—there is not the slightest hurry.
TESMAN.
Well then, I will take my time. [Is going with his books, but stops in the doorway and turns.] By-the-bye, Hedda—Aunt Julia is not coming this evening.
HEDDA.
Not coming? Is it that affair of the bonnet that keeps her away?
TESMAN.
Oh, not at all. How could you think such a thing of Aunt Julia? Just fancy—! The fact is, Aunt Rina is very ill.
HEDDA.
She always is.
TESMAN.
Yes, but to-day she is much worse than usual, poor dear.
HEDDA.
Oh, then it's only natural that her sister should remain with her. I must bear my disappointment.
TESMAN.
And you can't imagine, dear, how delighted Aunt Julia seemed to be— because you had come home looking so flourishing!
HEDDA.
[Half aloud, rising.] Oh, those everlasting Aunts!
TESMAN.
What?
HEDDA.
[Going to the glass door.] Nothing.
TESMAN.
Oh, all right. [He goes through the inner room, out to the right.
BRACK.
What bonnet were you talking about?
HEDDA.
Oh, it was a little episode with Miss Tesman this morning. She had laid down her bonnet on the chair there—[Looks at him and smiles.]—and I pretended to think it was the servant's.
BRACK.
[Shaking his head.] Now my dear Mrs. Hedda, how could you do such a thing? To the excellent old lady, too!
HEDDA.
[Nervously crossing the room.] Well, you see—these impulses come over me all of a sudden; and I cannot resist them. [Throws herself down in the easy-chair by the stove.] Oh, I don't know how to explain it.
BRACK.
[Behind the easy-chair.] You are not really happy—that is at the bottom of it.
HEDDA.
[Looking straight before her.] I know of no reason why I should be— happy. Perhaps you can give me one?
BRACK.
Well-amongst other things, because you have got exactly the home you had set your heart on.
HEDDA.
[Looks up at him and laughs.] Do you too believe in that legend?
BRACK.
Is there nothing in it, then?
HEDDA.
Oh yes, there is something in it.
BRACK.
Well?
HEDDA.
There is this in it, that I made use of Tesman to see me home from evening parties last summer—
BRACK.
I, unfortunately, had to go quite a different way.
HEDDA.
That's true. I know you were going a different way last summer.
BRACK.
[Laughing.] Oh fie, Mrs. Hedda! Well, then—you and Tesman—?
HEDDA.
Well, we happened to pass here one evening; Tesman, poor fellow, was writhing in the agony of having to find conversation; so I took pity on the learned man—
BRACK.
[Smiles doubtfully.] You took pity? H'm—
HEDDA.
Yes, I really did. And so—to help him out of his torment—I happened to say, in pure thoughtlessness, that I should like to live in this villa.
BRACK.
No more than that?
HEDDA.
Not that evening.
BRACK.
But afterwards?
HEDDA.
Yes, my thoughtlessness had consequences, my dear Judge.
BRACK.
Unfortunately that too often happens, Mrs. Hedda.
HEDDA.
Thanks! So you see it was this enthusiasm for Secretary Falk's villa that first constituted a bond of sympathy between George Tesman and me. From that came our engagement and our marriage, and our wedding journey, and all the rest of it. Well, well, my dear Judge—as you make your bed so you must lie, I could almost say.
BRACK.
This is exquisite! And you really cared not a rap about it all the time?
HEDDA.
No, heaven knows I didn't.
BRACK.
But now? Now that we have made it so homelike for you?
HEDDA.
Uh—the rooms all seem to smell of lavender and dried rose-leaves.—But perhaps it's Aunt Julia that has brought that scent with her.
BRACK.
[Laughing.] No, I think it must be a legacy from the late Mrs. Secretary Falk.
HEDDA.
Yes, there is an odour of mortality about it. It reminds me of a bouquet—the day after the ball. [Clasps her hands behind her head, leans back in her chair and looks at him.] Oh, my dear Judge—you cannot imagine how horribly I shall bore myself here.
BRACK.
Why should not you, too, find some sort of vocation in life, Mrs. Hedda?
HEDDA.
A vocation—that should attract me?
BRACK.
If possible, of course.
HEDDA.
Heaven knows what sort of a vocation that could be. I often wonder whether— [Breaking off.] But that would never do either.
BRACK.
Who can tell? Let me hear what it is.
HEDDA.
Whether I might not get Tesman to go into politics, I mean.
BRACK.
[Laughing.] Tesman? No really now, political life is not the thing for him—not at all in his line.
HEDDA.
No, I daresay not.—But if I could get him into it all the same?
BRACK.
Why—what satisfaction could you find in that? If he is not fitted for that sort of thing, why should you want to drive him into it?
HEDDA.
Because I am bored, I tell you! [After a pause.] So you think it quite out of the question that Tesman should ever get into the ministry?
BRACK.
H'm—you see, my dear Mrs. Hedda—to get into the ministry, he would have to be a tolerably rich man.
HEDDA.
[Rising impatiently.] Yes, there we have it! It is this genteel poverty I have managed to drop into—! [Crosses the room.] That is what makes life so pitiable! So utterly ludicrous!—For that's what it is.
BRACK.
Now I should say the fault lay elsewhere.
HEDDA.
Where, then?
BRACK.
You have never gone through any really stimulating experience.
HEDDA.
Anything serious, you mean?
BRACK.
Yes, you may call it so. But now you may perhaps have one in store.
HEDDA.
[Tossing her head.] Oh, you're thinking of the annoyances about this wretched professorship! But that must be Tesman's own affair. I assure
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