Repeated images and symbols are frequently used in dramas to contribute to the development of the themes. The repetition of a certain image in the context of the play attaches metaphorical significance to a physical object. “Hedda Gabler,” a play written by Henrik Ibsen contains many such elements, all of which further the critical analysis of the constraint exerted by a patriarchal, bourgeois society of nineteenth century Norway on a woman who “thirsts for life.” The resulting struggle between her inner desires for freedom and her own conformist attitudes has corrupted her perception of the meaning of life.

The setting of “Hedda Gabler,” which remains unchanged through the play, is significant symbolically as it demonstrates the domestic cage into which Hedda, as a woman and wife, had been cast. The dark, sombre colours of the drawing room presents the “monotonous landscape” that constitutes her prison, relieved by a glass door that looks out onto “autumn foliage.” Through the entire play, the audience is visually reminded of the symbolic representation of the spiritual barrenness of the house, which opens out to deteriorating life – “all yellow and withered,” nearing the season of death. This casts ominous overtones on the actions of the characters in this setting.

In addition to this effect is the origins of the house itself, revealed through dialogue that it had once belonged to the late Mr Falk, a cabinet minister. This draws the concept of class stratification into the society of the time and the class-consciousness that is ingrained into every member. That the house “reminds one of the departed” symbolises the decline of the power of the aristocracy in the 1890’s, taken over by the stoical bourgeoisie. Hedda, once a former member of the higher classes, has been forced to marry down into a lower class, which she speaks contemptibly of. She finds her life to be one without purpose besides “boring herself to death” and that middle class morality has effectively eliminated whatever social power she once had as General Gabler’s daughter – in effect, a “lady.”

Her frustration at her powerlessness and dependence on an obtuse scholar is best represented by the repeated image of her “looking out the glass door.” The glass door, in itself, presents only a tenuous, easily breakable barrier between her entrapment and the outside world. She longs for freedom, to catch a “glimpse of a world that one wasn’t allowed to know about” but this transparent barrier confines Hedda. The image of her “walking nervously” across the enclosed, claustrophobic space of the drawing room to look out or “tap nervously” on the glass door stresses that the society in general has imprisoned her due to its restrictive definition of femininity.

That Hedda struggles against the role of subservient wife and loving mother can be explained by her masculine upbringing and the strong father figure that dominates her sub-conscious. Both these are symbolized by the portrait of General Gabler which peers imposingly from the inner room, representative of Hedda’s sub-conscious, to dominate the entire stage setting. Though she never once mentions her father, it is obvious that her craving for power and alignment with male desires are stemmed from him. Hence, Hedda’s character and life seem to be wholly determined through this strong connection with a military past, which emphasizes conformity and discipline. There lies the chief reason as to her mortal fear of scandal – “I never jump out.” She, then, is also a woman trapped by her past.

The pistols, giver to her by her father, are symbols of masculine power and aggression. They give Hedda the power of life and death, one she uses to the detriment of others around her in the selfish desire to give meaning to her life. They inspired momentary fear in Judge Brack in his first visit to Hedda, his unsavory intentions indicated by his using the back way. More importantly, they are the instruments through which Hedda can exert her control over another “human being’s fate,” Lovborg’s – not to life but to death, which has to “shimmer with spontaneous beauty.” The idea of beauty in suicide reveals the distorted ideals that Hedda holds. Ironically, the pistol also brings about her downfall as it was used as the medium through which Brack could bring her under his control.

Towards the end, as the illusion of her power over another is shattered, shown by her disgust in response to Lovborg’s accidental death, she reaches out to the final illusion wherein she commits an act, which she deems courageous. In her distorted ideals, shooting herself through the temple with the pistol was necessary for her to gain freedom but it in itself is also an act derived from her past. Committing suicide by shooting oneself through the temple is glorified and deemed the highest form of honour in the military code when all is lost. The act could also be romantically beautified – an idea again taken from her father’s influence. Hedda has finally retreated deep into her inner sanctum, where, in the presence of the General, allowed the past to ultimately reclaim her life.

Objects in the room presents a host of repeated images, most important of which are the easy chair and the stove. The easy chair connotes a throne, that is, the seat of power. The power play in the interactions of the characters is conveyed through possession of this seat. Originally, Hedda is the one who sits in it, connoting the fact that she holds the power although it is restricted to the domestic sphere. She is the stronger figure in her relationship with Tesman as he serves her like a loyal, admiring subject – “It’s so jolly waiting on you, Hedda.” Further, when Brack first comes to call in Act 1, her actions “[lying back and reaching out her hand]” seem to indicate her regal aura she held his audience from the throne.

Shifts in power as the play progresses can be demonstrated through the easy chair. On Brack’s later visit, Hedda is again sitting on the chair but Brack grasps the back of it, leaning over her to claim proprietorship and hence, control of her. At the end, the stage direction – “[in the easy chair, calling out gaily]” shows that Brack, through manipulative methods, has seized the throne and now holds power over Hedda. Deposed and powerless, Hedda is driven to suicide. The dramatic shift in power leads to her inevitable demise.

The other object, the stove, holds fire and is symbolic of destructiveness, a character trait most associated with Hedda. She is most often seen to be incessantly moving and standing by it besides the glass door. Thea’s negative to Berte’s offer to raise the fire is contrasted with Hedda’s desire to refuel it, contrasting creation and destruction which both characters are respective embodiments of. The scene where Hedda maniacally burns the manuscript in the stove shows the true extent of her malice and selfishness. The development of Hedda’s somewhat twisted psychology is near completion through the stove as a symbolic device.

What utterly appalls the reader in the burning of the manuscript is that Hedda has destroyed Lovborg’s “vision of the future,” his hope of spiritual redemption and realization of his Bohemian ideals. Ejlert Lovbory, through his words to Hedda, is frantic – “devil knows what hands it’s fallen into” as he sees his loss of the manuscript to be worse than killing a child. This is because, with the act of killing, one knows for certain that a child is dead. But with its loss, its fate is uncertain, the future is precarious and all hopes are lost.

The manuscript is referred to symbolically as a child, the product of creation, love and inspiration between Thea and Lovborg. With the personification of an inanimate object to an innocent child, the last straw of condemnation against Hedda’s malignant act is thrown. The deliberate, cold-blooded murder of a child is inexcusable despite the social repression of her independence and sterility of her spirit, which have led her to such a crime.

Description of the characters’ physical appearances present continuous images through the play; notably, the description of the women’s’ hair. The fact that Hedda’s hair is “not noticeably abundant” signifies her lack of spiritual substance, her incapability to experience depth of emotion and her fear of commitment and responsibility, especially such pertaining to motherhood. In this instance, she is revealed to be an unconventional woman who despises her own femaleness. On the other hand, Thea is a woman very much in touch with her feminine side, her hair being “remarkably fair… exceptionally thick and wavy.” Her hair highlights her femininity and she is capable of love, serving to inspire Lovborg and to contribute to the creation of their spiritual child.

Basically, these explicit descriptions show that Hedda and Thea are the antithesis of each other. Both characters are composed of contradictions. Though Hedda is obviously the stronger of the two, as she forcefully pushes, pulls and corners Thea into difficult situations, she paradoxically admits that she is a “coward at heart.” This indicates that it is because of the fear of scandal that dictates her life, that she has sought to control someone else’s life to satiate her need for revenge against society.

Thea on the other hand, though shown to be weaker than Hedda and compliant to the progress of events, has demonstrated great bravery in defying society by leaving a loveless, miserable marriage. In this aspect, she is unconventional in the context of the time. It is in the quality that she is willing to sacrifice a stable and respectable position in society to pursue what Lovborg offers, that the audience is positioned to admire her.

“Vineleaves in the hair” is a repeated image made by Hedda in relation to her former lover. It is a symbol of victory, heroism and conquest. Hedda wants this of Lovborg because she desires to vicariously witness his success and empowerment. Her self-centred nature is highlighted as whatever emotion she feels for him is ruthlessly pushed aside in the view that he promises her personal power. The image is also reminiscent of Dionysus, the Greek god of wine, fertility and pleasure. Excessive behaviour is freedom to Hedda’s corrupted view, just as beauty exists in death only through suicide.

Hedda’s “passion for life” and “hunger for freedom” have been stunted by conformity to a patriarchal society that marginalises women. Her response to this disempowerment is to seek her sense of power through destructive means. Such a portrait of a woman, her fiendish desires and her somewhat convoluted psychological state cannot be adequately developed without these symbols and repeated images. Each has a set part to play in this tragedy to draw the strings of the protagonist’s inevitable death close.

Her isolation from society, the perpetual struggle within herself to gain freedom, her oppressive terror of scandal – all generate sympathy for her pitiable plight. However, an overpowering sense of horror is evoked from her wanton destruction of all that was creative and idealistic – representatives of a beauty that she cannot and will not be able to see or understand. Indeed, what the reader is left with is an ambiguous mixture of emotions which serves to undermine the present comfort and ease with which many members of society have accepted its grossly inequitable power structure of the time.