Hedda Gabler: Act 1 Summary & Analysis

September, as the beginning of autumn, is symbolic for decline and death— appropriate here, given Ibsen’s subject (which is not only a tragedy, but also begins here with the signs of nobility in decline). General Gabler’s aristocratic, warlike spirit presides over the action of the play, as every act opens in this same drawing room.

Hedda’s insistence on unpacking her things late at night is an expression of her power and caprice: she gives commands not in accordance with need, but rather on a whim. Tellingly, we start to get a sense of Hedda’s nature before she even appears in person, as the other characters’ conversation revolves around her.

The women in the world of Hedda Gabler largely serve as caregivers, prioritizing the needs of men over their own needs. Miss Tesman, in particular, seems only fulfilled if she is taking care of someone else (particularly her nephew), and this is why she puts Berte into Tesman’s service. Berte’s difficulty in accommodating Hedda suggests just how different Hedda’s past life was from her present one. As is represented by the portrait of General Gabler, Hedda is used to an aristocratic lifestyle and getting everything she wanted. Just as Tesman struggles to finance such a lifestyle, so too does Berte struggle to tend to her mistress’s every whim.

Hedda is from a higher stratum of society than Tesman is, which is why their marriage seems improbable. Power and influence affect every facet of life in Hedda Gabler, so much so that it is important even to Miss Tesman to remind Berte to call Tesman by his new, prestigious title. Hedda’s preoccupation and even obsession with power are not unique in kind, only in degree—even the play’s characters that seem the kindliest are still concerned with prestige and influence.

Hedda clearly requires a vibrant, rich social life, and we will see that this is her usual way of killing time and exercising her intelligence. Having the covers removed from the furniture indicates her expectation of socializing often, an expectation later frustrated.

Tesman’s beloved aunt has made many sacrifices on her nephew’s behalf, but Tesman can be obliviously neglectful of her, particularly when Hedda is involved. Miss Tesman meekly accepts this, as if acknowledging that catering to Hedda’s whims should be Tesman’s main concern. The sheer quantity of Hedda’s suitcases again suggests the lavish lifestyle she is intent on maintaining, even though Tesman’s finances cannot maintain it. The Tesmans’ power over Berte is a mundane instance of the kind of control Hedda later fantasizes about.

The Tesmans’ honeymoon was clearly not very romantic, as Tesman is more interested in books, it would seem, than his wife’s company. This might be one of the reasons why the (seemingly) sexually cold Hedda married him, but she also craves excitement and a more idealized kind of romance—and spending time at the library does not fulfill these desires. Aunt Julle, in buying her new hat, reveals the extent to which she feels socially inferior to Hedda. Is Hedda awake and overhearing this conversation? Later events suggest that this is quite likely.

Ibsen writes thoroughly “modern” plays—that is, the characters all have to deal with what is seen as the malaise of modern life: a combination of boredom, depression, and alienation. Most of the characters find purpose in this environment through pursuing petty ambitions and maintaining the status quo. Aunt Julle, for her part, finds a sense of purpose and staves off boredom by constantly caring for others, like Aunt Rina or Tesman himself. (This will be contrasted to individuals like Hedda and Lövborg, who truly feel aimless and alienated in modern society.) The result of all this is that the play investigates a kind of “existentialism”—how we can create purpose for ourselves, and then both believe in and pursue that purpose. On another level, caregiving is a role primarily occupied by women (like Aunt Julle) in the society of Hedda Gabler.

Aunt Julle lives for others (though not altogether in a healthy or authentic way): this is why, instead of dwelling on her troubles, she turns the conversation again and again back to her nephew’s goings-on and prospects. In his inability to detect his aunt’s allusions to Hedda’s pregnancy, Tesman proves himself to be a bit inept socially, and single-mindedly focused on his work. He is portrayed as a kindly but also somewhat bumbling and self-absorbed figure—a poor match for the elegant, imposing, heartless Hedda.

Aunt Julle is necessarily worried about her nephew’s finances: after all, she is helping him pay off his mounting debts. It’s suggested that it is because Hedda is so “out of his league” that Tesman felt pressured to provide her with a lavish honeymoon and home. Tesman’s confusion of babies and books here foreshadows Ibsen’s treatment of Lövborg’s manuscript as his and Mrs. Elvsted’s child.

We later learn that Hedda was bored during her honeymoon and doesn’t especially like her house, both of these facts suggesting that she pursues such things only to prove her power over Tesman. Judge Brack is very involved in the Tesmans’ affairs, and seems likewise interested in having an influence on other people’s lives. Even in this brief description, Tesman seems naïve about Brack’s intentions.

Aunt Julle finds self-sacrifice to be so meaningful for her that she goes so far as to sacrifice the money she needs to live on for Tesman’s sake. Not only is she coddling Tesman, but she’s also doing so to her own detriment, almost pathologically so. This suggests the extent to which a patriarchal society is structured so that women undervalue themselves and are taught to instead focus on what’s best for the men in their lives.

Aunt Julle seems to take great satisfaction in the fall of Tesman’s enemies. She has been forced (or forced herself), to live vicariously through her nephew. Tesman condescendingly asks about Lövborg here, but no doubt his insecurities are inflamed when he learns that his old rival is publishing again. The very topic of Tesman’s book suggests how small-minded and boring it probably is.

The conversation between Tesman and his aunt gives us a brief but telling glimpse of the world that Hedda feels so bored and stifled by. Hedda finally enters in person, and immediately disrupts this world by ordering Tesman about. Bright light symbolically offends Hedda’s sensibility: she prefers to hide her true nature in obscurity.

The gift of the slippers represents everything Hedda loathes: humble domesticity, women providing for men, and vulgar, sappy sentimentality. By saying the slippers have no interest for her, Hedda also implies that Tesman’s family has no interest for her.

The slippers also act as a plot device, giving Hedda a reason to change the subject and be purposefully nasty about Miss Tesman’s hat. Hedda’s cold snobbishness then further emphasizes just how socially superior she feels in relation to the family she’s married into. It also reveals her capricious cruelty, and how she manipulates others (we get the sense that she knew it was Aunt Julle’s hat, not Berte’s) for no good reason other than because she can.

Hedda represses her pregnancy throughout the play, perhaps because the idea of sacrificing herself to the “common” state of motherhood is dismal to her—and so is the idea that having a child will bind her closer to the plodding Tesman. It might also be the case that Hedda is disgusted to think of other people thinking about her in a sexual way of any kind. Aunt Julle probably looks forward to Hedda’s pregnancy because then she’ll have yet another person to care for.

When she doesn’t have to wear a social mask, Hedda reveals herself to be violently frustrated with the pettiness of bourgeois life. The yellow leaves are images of endless repetition, decline, and death.

Aunt Julle behaves affectedly in Hedda’s company because she feels socially inferior to her. Hedda’s critique of Aunt Julle’s behavior is mostly a power play on her part. Hedda is afraid that if she “stoops” to kissing Aunt Julle, she will indeed become a part of Tesman’s undistinguished family.

That Hedda wants her piano moved to the back room—which Aunt Julle has just suggested will become a nursery—is something of a psychological defense: she wants to block the space a child would otherwise occupy in her life.

Hedda is rather jealous, it would seem, of Mrs. Elvsted—even if she doesn’t care much for Tesman herself. Hedda still remembers how men were attracted to Mrs. Elvsted’s beautiful hair, and it angers her to think of another woman rivaling her in sexual influence over men. This is all about the power of sexuality, of course, not any kind of real desire. Hedda seems sexually cold, but still enjoys manipulating others through her own sexuality. Notice the tightness of Ibsen’s plotting: he introduced the flowers Mrs. Elvsted left at the beginning of the act to prepare us for Mrs. Elvsted’s eventual entrance.

Mrs. Elvsted lives out of town, and so she is not able to keep up with the fashions as closely as someone like Hedda—hence her outdated dress (a very fine detail on Ibsen’s part). Like Aunt Julle, Mrs. Elvsted has come to the Tesmans’ villa in order to care for a man in her life: the recovering alcoholic Lövborg. The big city represents society at its most “modern,” and these are the conditions that most suffocate nonconforming, sensitive individuals like Hedda and Lövborg.

Hedda has extraordinary social intuitions: she senses at once that Mrs. Elvsted is interested in Lövborg because she is scandalously in love with him. That being said, Hedda doesn’t announce this intuition right away, because she wants Mrs. Elvsted to continue to confide in her and trust her. In this way, Hedda gains power over the seemingly hapless Mrs. Elvsted.

Tesman feels increasingly insecure about Lövborg’s new book and, out of anxiety, he asks questions about it quite irrelevant to Mrs. Elvsted’s reason for calling. He no doubt thinks it is bad news indeed that his old rival is publishing new material—especially because, as we come to see, Lövborg has a natural creativity that Tesman lacks.

Hedda asks about Mr. Elvsted to confirm her intuition that Mrs. Elvsted is here without her husband’s permission, and also just to play with Mrs. Elvsted, like a cat toying with a mouse.

Mrs. Elvsted is so concerned about losing her good influence over Lövborg—and worried that he will fall back under the dangerous influence of alcohol—that she begs the Tesmans to help her control him. Hedda is interested in speaking to Mrs. Elvsted alone, and also in seeing Lövborg himself (her old flame, as we learn). Tesman’s use of Mrs. Elvsted’s maiden name implies too much familiarity for Hedda’s jealousy to tolerate.

Hedda wants to get Mrs. Elvsted alone so that she can interrogate her and extort information from her to use as leverage. Hedda seems to seek exploitative intimacy with people like this as a matter of course—instinctively, and as an aggressive social tactic. Notice that she forces Mrs. Elvsted to sit—Hedda is not above physically exerting power over people.

Mrs. Elvsted seems to see through Hedda’s tactics, but is still helpless to resist them—Hedda has always had a frightening kind of power over Elvsted. We also see that Hedda’s coldness, cruelty, and jealousy were present even years earlier. The image of Hedda burning something precious to Mrs. Elvsted foreshadows her later burning of Lövborg’s manuscript.

Hedda lies even in the face of the facts in order to insinuate herself into another person’s life. She can feign gentleness and imitate kindness in order to get the information she wants—and with information comes power. Mrs. Elvsted’s marriage must be a deeply unhappy one for Hedda to seem kinder than Mr. Elvsted.

That Hedda doesn’t know (or pretends not to know) Mrs. Elvsted’s first name suggests the extent of her self-absorption, and seems like a similar act to her “confusion” about Aunt Julle’s hat. Mrs. Elvsted’s sense of homelessness is not unlike Hedda’s absolute dissatisfaction with her marriage and domestic life.

It is again emphasized that in the world of Hedda Gabler women are forced into the role of caregiver, whether they be governesses or wives. Hedda keeps insisting on being called by her first name, because it is her developing intimacy with Thea that gives her power over her.

Hedda tries to seem casual about her interest in Lövborg, but we will soon see that she is very interested indeed. Hedda asks about Mr. Elvsted’s travels to get a sense of how much time Lövborg and Mrs. Elvsted have spent alone with one another—that is, how much opportunity they’ve had for an affair.

Mr. Elvsted takes advantage of Thea as a woman and as his wife. He has all the control in their relationship, and doesn’t sacrifice anything of himself. Mrs. Elvsted might as well be his servant, for she is certainly not treated as his equal. Hedda at last wins the confession she has been hunting for: Mrs. Elvsted scandalously left her husband, without his permission, for the sake of another man. This confession fully places her under Hedda’s power, if Hedda should choose to abuse Thea’s trust.

Thea herself has apparently replaced alcohol as the outside force influencing Lövborg’s soul. Hedda is no doubt jealous of just how much control Thea has over Lövborg, given that Hedda herself once wielded such power over him, long ago. Note that Hedda’s familiarity with the word “companions” suggests her own past relationship with Lövborg. Hedda must feel as though Mrs. Elvsted has replaced her in Lövborg’s heart.

Hedda—who is, in fact, the other woman who threatened to shoot Lövborg when they parted—is presumably pleased to learn that she is still a prominent if shadowy presence in Lövborg’s life. The reference to Diana (a woman who runs a brothel) foreshadows the debauchery and violence that will soon occur in her salon.

Hedda promises to keep her discussion with Thea a secret—but it is precisely this discussion that she brings up later to emotionally destabilize Lövborg. Hedda has no sense of loyalty or compassionate discretion—she remembers other people’s words only to use them as weapons later.

Tesman again exhibits too much familiarity with Mrs. Elvsted in calling her by her maiden name. Based on Hedda’s comment, we might infer that Mr. Brack visits the Tesmans mostly at night, which is vaguely suggestive of his devious, lecherous character. When Tesman boasts about Hedda’s pregnancy, Hedda responds by reminding him of his debts—an attempt to emasculate him.

Judge Brack knows, as Tesman does not, that Tesman’s appointment to the professorship is not a sure thing anymore. Brack’s comment on the household’s finances, then, is designed to prepare Tesman for this news, and also to suggest delicately that the Tesmans need to be more moderate from here on.

Tesman says that it’s wonderful that Lövborg is sober and working again—but his happiness is mostly social politeness. Tesman is really threatened by his rival’s improbable resurgence, as he seems to recognize that he lacks Lövborg’s creativity.

Hedda takes pleasure in subtly belittling her husband in the company of others. She herself feels above such trifles as professorships and finances, which don’t fit her idealistic (yet terrifying) vision of beauty and drama. Ibsen introduces the bachelor party here so as to prepare us for the action of the play hinging on this very party.

Tesman is genuinely worried about the state of his finances, and Hedda seems to look forward to watching her husband wrestle with Lövborg for the professorship. She is detached from the important matters in Tesman’s life, and considers them entertainment for her, like a game. She is so selfish that she will keep spending no matter how much money Tesman actually has—she feels that she is above the necessities society imposes.

It would be hell on earth for Hedda were she to be deprived of the stimulation and opportunity afforded by a rich social life. The prospect of having no one to confide in or gain control over is one possible motive for her outrageous, desperate last act (the plot of the play to come).

The manservant and horse Hedda wants have this in common: they are both things she could dominate and control (the horse in particular is associated with the aristocracy and warfare). General Gabler’s pistols will be important symbols within the play, representing Hedda’s aristocratic past, her desire for agency (something generally reserved only for men in her society), and her potential for destruction.