An attractively furnished small living room in SOLNESS’s house. A glass door in the back wall opens on the veranda and garden. Diagonally cutting the right-hand corner is a broad bow window with flower stands before it. The left-hand corner is similarly cut by a wall containing a door papered to match. In each of the side walls, an ordinary door. In the right foreground, a console table and a large mirror. Flowers and plants richly displayed. In the left foreground, a sofa, along with table and chairs. Further back, a bookcase. Out in the room in front of the bow window, a little table and a couple of chairs. It is early in the morning.
SOLNESS is sitting at the little table with RAGNAR BROVIK’S portfolio open before him. He is leafing through the drawings and now and then looks sharply at one. MRS. SOLNESS moves silently about with a small watering can, freshening the flowers. She wears black, as before. Her hat, coat, and parasol lie on a chair by the mirror. Unnoticed by her, SOLNESS follows her several times with his eyes. Neither of them speaks.
KAJA FOSLI comes quietly in by the door on the left.
SOLNESS (turns his head and speaks with careless indifference). Oh, is that you?
KAJA. I just wanted to tell you I’m here.
SOLNESS. Yes, that’s fine. Isn’t Ragnar there too?
KAJA. No, not yet. He had to wait a bit for the doctor. But he’ll be along soon to find out—
SOLNESS. How’s the old man getting on?
KAJA. Poorly. He’s so very sorry, but he can’t leave his bed today.
SOLNESS. Of course not. He mustn’t stir. But you go on to your work.
KAJA. Yes. (Pauses at the door.) Will you want to speak to Ragnar when he gets in?
SOLNESS. No—I’ve nothing special to say.
MRS. SOLNESS (over by the plants). I wonder if he won’t die now, he too.
SOLNESS (looking at her). He—and who else?
MRS. SOLNESS (not answering). Yes, old Brovik—he’s going to die now too, Halvard. You wait and see.
SOLNESS. Aline dear, couldn’t you do with a little walk?
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, I really suppose I could. (She goes on tending the flowers.)
SOLNESS (bent over the drawings). Is she still sleeping?
MRS. SOLNESS (looking at him). Is it Miss Wangel you’re sitting there thinking about?
SOLNESS (casually). I just happened to remember her.
MRS. SOLNESS. Miss Wangel’s been up for hours.
SOLNESS. Oh, she has?
MRS. SOLNESS. When I looked in, she was busy arranging her things. (She goes to the mirror and begins slowly putting her hat on.)
SOLNESS (after a short silence). So we did find use for one of the nurseries after all, Aline.
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, we did.
SOLNESS. And I think that’s better, really, than all of them standing empty.
MRS. SOLNESS. You’re right—that emptiness, it’s horrible.
SOLNESS (closes the portfolio, rises, and approaches her). You’re only going to see this, Aline—that from now on things’ll go better for us. Much pleasanter. Life will be easier—especially for you.
MRS. SOLNESS (looking at him). From now on?
SOLNESS. Yes, believe me, Aline—
MRS. SOLNESS. You mean—because she’s come?
SOLNESS (restraining himself). I mean, of course, once we’re in the new house.
MRS. SOLNESS (taking her coat). Yes, do you think so, Halvard? That things will go better there?
SOLNESS. I’m sure of it. And you, don’t you have the same feeling?
MRS. SOLNESS. I feel absolutely nothing about the new house.
SOLNESS (dejected). Well, that’s certainly hard for me to hear. It’s mostly for your sake that I built it. (He makes a motion toward helping her on with her coat.)
MRS. SOLNESS (evading him). As it is, you do all too much for my sake.
SOLNESS (rather heatedly). No, no, Aline, don’t talk like that! I can’t stand hearing you say such things.
MRS. SOLNESS. All right, then I won’t say them, Halvard.
SOLNESS. But I swear I’m right. You’ll see, it’ll go so well for you over there.
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh, Lord—so well for me—!
SOLNESS (eagerly). Oh yes, it will! Just trust that it will. Because over there—you’ll see, there’ll be so very much to remind you of your own old home—
MRS. SOLNESS. Of what was Mother and Father’s—that burned to the ground.
SOLNESS (gently). Yes, my poor Aline. That was a terrible blow for you.
MRS. SOLNESS (breaking out in lamentation). You can build as much as you ever want, Halvard—but for me you can never build up a real home again.
SOLNESS (pacing across the room). Then, for God’s sake, let’s not discuss it anymore.
MRS. SOLNESS. We don’t ordinarily discuss it at all. Because you only push it aside—
SOLNESS (stops short and looks at her). Do I? And why should I do that? Push it aside?
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh, don’t you think I know you, Halvard? You want so much to spare me—to find excuses for me, all that you can.
SOLNESS (eyes wide in amazement). For you! Is it you—yourself you’re talking of, Aline?
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, it has to be me, of course.
SOLNESS (involuntarily, to himself). That, too!
MRS. SOLNESS. After all, with the old house—it couldn’t have happened otherwise. Once disaster’s on the wind, then—
SOLNESS. Yes, you’re right. There’s no running away from trouble—they say.
MRS. SOLNESS. But it’s the horror after the fire—that’s the thing! That, that, that!
SOLNESS (vehemently). Don’t think about it, Aline!
MRS. SOLNESS
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh, but it’s what I have to think about, exactly that. And finally talk about for once, too. Because I don’t see how I can bear it any longer. And then, never the least chance to forgive myself—!
SOLNESS (exclaiming). Yourself!
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, you know I had my duties on both sides—both to you and to the babies. I should have made myself strong. Not let fear take hold of me so. Or grief either, because my old home had burned. (Wringing her hands.) Oh, if I’d only been strong enough, Halvard!
SOLNESS (softly, moved, coming closer). Aline—you must promise me never to think these thoughts again. Promise me now.
MRS. SOLNESS. Good heavens—promise! Promise! Anyone can promise—
SOLNESS (clenching his fists and crossing the room). Oh, how hopeless it is! Never a touch of sun! Not the least glimmer of light in this home!
MRS. SOLNESS. This is no home, Halvard.
SOLNESS. No, that’s true enough. (Heavily.) And God knows if you’re not right that it’ll be no better for us in the new place.
MRS. SOLNESS. It can never be different. Just as empty— just as barren—there as here.
SOLNESS (fiercely). But why in the world did we build it, then? Tell me that?
MRS. SOLNESS. No, that answer you’ll have to find in yourself.
SOLNESS (glancing at her suspiciously). What do you mean by that, Aline?
MRS. SOLNESS. What do I mean?
SOLNESS. Yes, damn it—! You said it so strangely—as if you were holding something back.
MRS. SOLNESS. No, I can assure you—
SOLNESS (coming closer). Ah, thanks a lot! I know what I know. I’ve got eyes and ears, Aline, don’t forget.
MRS. SOLNESS. But what’s this about? What is it?
SOLNESS (planting himself in front of her). Aren’t you out to discover some sly, hidden meaning in the most innocent thing I say?
MRS. SOLNESS. I, you say? I do that?
SOLNESS (laughing). Of course that’s only natural, Aline—when you’ve got a sick man around to deal with—
MRS. SOLNESS (anxiously). Sick? Are you ill, Halvard?
SOLNESS (in an outburst). Half mad, then. A crazy man. Anything you want to call me.
MRS. SOLNESS (groping for a chair and sitting). Halvard—for God’s sake—!
SOLNESS. But you’re wrong, both of you. Both you and the doctor. It’s no such thing with me. (He paces back and forth, MRS. SOLNESS following him anxiously with her eyes, until he goes over and speaks quietly to her.) In fact, there’s nothing the matter with me at all.
MRS. SOLNESS. No, of course not. But what is it, then, that’s upsetting you?
SOLNESS. It’s this, that I often feel that I’m going to sink under this awful burden of debt—
MRS. SOLNESS. Debt? But you’re not in debt to anyone, Halvard.
SOLNESS (softly, with emotion). Infinitely in debt to you—to you, Aline—to you.
MRS. SOLNESS (rising slowly). What’s back of all this? Might as well tell me right now.
SOLNESS. But nothing’s back of it. I’ve never done anything against you—not that I’ve ever known. And yet—there’s this sense of some enormous guilt hanging over me, crushing me down.
MRS. SOLNESS. A guilt toward me?
SOLNESS. Toward you most of all.
MRS. SOLNESS. Then you are—ill, after all, Halvard.
SOLNESS (wearily). I suppose so—something like that. (Looks toward the door to the right, as it opens.) Ah! But it’s brightening up.
(HILDA WANGEL comes in. She has made some changes in her clothes and let down her skirt.)
HILDA. Good morning, Mr. Solness!
SOLNESS (nodding). Sleep well?
HILDA. Beautifully! Like a child in a cradle. Oh—I lay and stretched myself like—like a princess.
SOLNESS (smiling a little). Just the thing for you.
HILDA. I expect so.
SOLNESS. And I suppose you dreamed?
HILDA. Oh yes. But that was awful.
SOLNESS. So?
HILDA. Yes, ‘cause I dreamed I was falling over a terribly high, steep cliff. You ever dream such things?
SOLNESS. Oh yes—now and then—
HILDA. It’s wonderfully thrilling—just to fall and fall.
SOLNESS. It makes my blood run cold.
HILDA. You pull your legs up under you while you fall?
SOLNESS. Of course, as high as possible.
HILDA. Me too.
MRS. SOLNESS (taking her parasol). I’ve got to go down into town now, Halvard. (To HILDA.) And I’ll try to pick up a few of the things you need.
HILDA (about to throw her arms around her). Oh, Mrs. Solness, you’re a dear! You’re really too kind—terribly kind—
MRS. SOLNESS (deprecatingly, freeing herself). Oh, not at all. It’s simply my duty, so I’m quite happy to do it.
HILDA (piqued and pouting). Actually, I don’t see any reason why I can’t go out myself—with my clothes all neat again. Why can’t I?
MRS. SOLNESS. To tell the truth, I rather think people would be staring at you a bit.
HILDA (sniffing). Pooh! Is that all? But that’s fun.
SOLNESS (with suppressed bad temper). Yes, but you see people might get the idea that you were mad too.
HILDA. Mad? Are there so many mad people in town here?
SOLNESS (points at his forehead). Here’s one, at least.
HILDA. You—Mr. Solness!
MRS. SOLNESS Oh, Halvard, really!
SOLNESS. You mean you haven’t noticed that?
HILDA. No, I certainly have not. (Reflects a moment and laughs a little.) Well, maybe in just one thing.
SOLNESS. Ah, hear that, Aline?
MRS. SOLNESS. What sort of thing, Miss Wangel?
HILDA. I’m not saying.
SOLNESS. Oh yes, come on!
HILDA. No thanks—I’m not that crazy.
MRS. SOLNESS. When Miss Wangel and you are alone, I’m sure she’ll tell you, Halvard.
SOLNESS. Oh—you think so?
MRS. SOLNESS. Why, of course. After all, you’ve known her so well in the past. Ever since she was a child—you tell me. (She goes out by the door on the left.)
HILDA (after a brief pause). Does your wife not like me at all?
SOLNESS. Does it seem so to you?
HILDA. Couldn’t you see it yourself?
SOLNESS (evasively). These last years Aline’s become very shy around people.
HILDA. Has she really?
SOLNESS. But if only you got to know her well—Because underneath, she’s so kind—so good—such a fine person—
HILDA (impatiently). But if she is all that—why does she run on so about duty!
SOLNESS. Duty?
HILDA. Yes. She said she’d go out and buy me some things because that was her duty. Oh, I can’t stand that mean, ugly word!
SOLNESS. Why not?
HILDA. No, it sounds so cold and sharp and cutting. Duty, duty, duty! Don’t you feel it too? As if it’s made to cut.
SOLNESS. Hm—never thought of it, really.
HILDA. But it’s true! And if she’s so kind—the way you say—why would she put it like that?
SOLNESS. But, my Lord, what would you want her to say?
HILDA. She could have said she’d do it because she liked me a lot. Something like that she could have said. Something really warm and straight from the heart—you know?
SOLNESS (looking at her). Is that what you’d want?
HILDA. Yes, just that. (She strolls around the room, stopping at the bookcase and examining the books.)
HILDA. You have an awful lot of books.
SOLNESS. Oh, I’ve picked up a fair number.
HILDA. Do you read them all, too?
SOLNESS. I used to try, in the old days. Do you do much reading?
HILDA. No, never! At least, not now. I can’t connect with them anymore.
SOLNESS. It’s exactly the same for me.
(HILDA wanders about a little, stops by the small table, opens the portfolio and turns over some sketches.)
HILDA. Did you do all these designs?
SOLNESS. No, they’re done by a young man I’ve had helping me.
HILDA. Someone you’ve been teaching?
SOLNESS. Oh yes, I guess he’s learned something from me, all right.
HILDA (sitting). Then he must be quite clever, hm? (Studies one of the sketches a moment.) Isn’t he?
SOLNESS. Oh, could be worse. For my work, though—
HILDA. Oh yes! He must be dreadfully clever.
SOLNESS. You think you can see it in the drawings?
HILDA. Ffft! These scribbles! But if he’s been studying with you, then—
SOLNESS. Oh, for that matter, there’ve been plenty of others who’ve studied with me, and none of them have ever come to much.
HILDA (looks at him, shaking her head). For the life of me, I don’t understand how you can be so stupid.
SOLNESS. Stupid? You really think I’m so stupid?
HILDA. Yes, really I do. When you can take time to go on teaching these fellows—
SOLNESS (with a start). Well, why not?
HILDA (rising, half serious, half laughing). Oh, come on, Mr. Solness! What’s the point of it? Nobody but you should have a right to build. You should be all alone in that. Have the field to yourself. Now you know.
SOLNESS (involuntarily). Hilda—!
HILDA. Well?
SOLNESS. What on earth gave you that idea?
HILDA. Am I so very wrong, then?
SOLNESS. No, that’s not it. But let me tell you something.
HILDA. What?
SOLNESS. Here, in my solitude and silence—endlessly—I’ve been brooding on that same idea.
HILDA. Well, it seems only natural to me.
SOLNESS (looks rather sharply at her). And I’m sure you’ve already noticed it.
SOLNESS. But before—when you said you thought I was—unbalanced, there was one thing—
HILDA. Oh, I was thinking of something quite different.
SOLNESS. What do you mean, different?
HILDA. Never you mind, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS (crossing the room). All right—have it your way. (Stops at the bow window.) Come over here, and I’ll show you something.
HILDA (approaching). What’s that?
SOLNESS. You see—out there in the garden—?
HILDA. Yes?
SOLNESS (pointing). Right above that big quarry?
HILDA. The new house, you mean?
SOLNESS. The one under construction, yes. Nearly finished.
HILDA. I think it’s got a very high tower.
SOLNESS. The scaffolding’s still up.
HILDA. That’s your new house?
SOLNESS. Yes.
HILDA. The one you’re about to move into?
SOLNESS. Yes.
HILDA (looking at him). Are there nurseries in that house too?
SOLNESS. Three, same as here.
HILDA. And no children.
SOLNESS. Not now—nor ever.
HILDA (half smiling). So, isn’t that just what I said—?
SOLNESS. Namely—?
HILDA. Namely, that you are a little—sort of mad, after all.
SOLNESS. Was that what you were thinking of?
HILDA. Yes, of all those empty nurseries I slept in.
SOLNESS (dropping his voice). We did have children—Aline and I.
HILDA (looking intently at him). You did—?
SOLNESS. Two little boys. Both the same age.
HILDA. Twins.
SOLNESS. Yes, twins. That’s some eleven, twelve years ago now.
HILDA (cautiously). And both of them are—? The twins—they’re not with you anymore?
SOLNESS (with quiet feeling). We had them only about three weeks. Not even that. (In an outburst.) Oh, Hilda, how amazingly lucky for me that you’ve come! Now at last I’ve got someone I can talk to.
HILDA. You can’t talk with—her?
SOLNESS. Not about this. Not the way I want to and need to. (Heavily.) And there’s so much else I can never talk out.
HILDA (her voice subdued). Was that all you meant when you said you needed me?
SOLNESS. Mostly that, I guess. Yesterday, anyhow. Today I’m not so sure—(Breaking off.) Come here, Hilda, and let’s get settled. Sit there on the sofa—then you can look out in the garden. (HILDA sits in the corner of the sofa. SOLNESS draws over a chair.) Would you care to hear about it?
HILDA. Yes, I like listening to you.
SOLNESS (sitting). Then I’ll give you the whole story.
HILDA. Now I’m looking at both the garden and you, Mr. Solness. So tell me. Now!
SOLNESS (pointing out the bow window). Over on that ridge there—where you see the new house—
HILDA. Yes.
SOLNESS. That’s where Aline and I lived in those early years. There was an old house up there then, one that had belonged to her mother—and then passed on to us. And this whole enormous garden came with it.
HILDA. Did that house have a tower too?
SOLNESS. No, not at all. From the outside it was an ugly, dark, overgrown packing case. And yet, for all that, it was snug and cozy enough inside.
HILDA. Did you tear the old crate down, then?
SOLNESS. No, it burned.
HILDA. To the ground?
SOLNESS. Yes.
HILDA. Was it a terrible loss for you?
SOLNESS. Depends how you look at it. As a builder, the fire put me in business—
HILDA. Well, but—?
SOLNESS. We’d just had the two little boys at the time—
HILDA. The poor little twins, yes.
SOLNESS. They’d come so plump and healthy into life. And every day you could see them growing.
HILDA. Babies grow fast at the start.
SOLNESS. There was nothing finer in the world to see than Aline, lying there, holding those two— But then it came, the night of the fire—
HILDA (excitedly). What happened? Go on! Was anyone burned?
SOLNESS. No, not that. They were all rescued out of the house—
HILDA. Well, but then what—?
SOLNESS. The fright shook Aline to the core. The alarms—getting out of the house—and all the confusion—the whole thing at night, in the freezing cold to boot. They had to be carried out just as they lay—both she and the babies.
HILDA. And they didn’t survive?
SOLNESS. Oh, they pulled through it all right. But Aline came down with fever—and it affected her milk. Nurse them herself, she insisted on that. It was her duty, she said. And both of our little boys, they— (Knotting his hands.) they—oh!
HILDA. They couldn’t survive that.
SOLNESS. No, that they couldn’t survive. It’s how we lost them.
HILDA. It must have been terribly hard for you.
SOLNESS. Hard enough for me—but ten times harder for Aline. (Clenching his fists in suppressed fury.) Oh, why are such things allowed to happen in life! (Brusquely and firmly.) From the day I lost them, I never wanted to build another church.
HILDA. And the church tower in our town—you disliked doing that?
SOLNESS. Very much. I remember when it was finished how relieved I felt.
HILDA. I remember too.
SOLNESS. And now I’ll never build those things anymore—never! No church towers, or churches.
HILDA (nodding slowly). Only houses for people to live in.
SOLNESS. Homes for human beings, Hilda.
HILDA. But homes with high towers and spires on them.
SOLNESS. If possible. (In a lighter tone.) Anyhow—as I said before—the fire put me in business. As a builder, I mean.
HILDA. Why don’t you call yourself an architect like the others?
SOLNESS. Never went through the training. Almost all I know I’ve had to find out for myself.
HILDA. But still you’ve made a success.
SOLNESS. Out of the fire, yes. I subdivided nearly the whole garden into small lots, where I could build exactly the way I wanted. And after that, things really began to move for me.
HILDA (looking at him searchingly). How happy you must be—with the life you’ve made.
SOLNESS (darkly). Happy? You say it too? Same as all the others.
HILDA. Yes, you have to be, I really think so. If you just could stop thinking about the little twins—
SOLNESS (slowly). The little twins—they’re not so easy to forget, Hilda.
HILDA (with some uncertainty). They really still bother you? After so many years?
SOLNESS (regarding her steadily, without answering). A happy man, you said—
HILDA. Yes, but aren’t you—I mean, otherwise?
SOLNESS (continues to look at her). When I told you all that about the fire—
HILDA. Yes?
SOLNESS. Did nothing strike you then—nothing special?
HILDA (puzzling a moment). No. Was there something special?
SOLNESS (quietly stressing his words). By means of that fire, and that alone, I won my chance to build homes for human beings. Snug, cozy, sunlit homes, where a father and mother and a whole drove of children could live safe and happy, feeling what a sweet thing it is to be alive in this world. And mostly, knowing they belonged to each other—in the big things and the small.
HILDA (animated). Yes, but isn’t it really a joy for you then, to create these beautiful homes?
SOLNESS. The price, Hilda. The awful price I’ve had to pay for that chance.
HILDA. But can you never get over that?
SOLNESS. No. For this chance to build homes for others, I’ve had to give up—give up forever any home of my own—I mean a home for many children. And for their father and mother, too.
HILDA (delicately). But did you have to? Absolutely, that is?
SOLNESS (slowly nodding). That was the price for my famous luck. Luck—hm. This good luck, Hilda—it couldn’t be bought for less.
HILDA (as before). But still, mightn’t it all work out?
SOLNESS. Never in this world. Never. That also comes out of the fire. And Aline’s sickness after.
HILDA (looks at him with an enigmatic expression). And so you go and build all these nurseries.
SOLNESS (seriously). Have you ever noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it seems to whisper and call to you?
HILDA (reflecting). The impossible? (Vivaciously.) Oh yes! You know it too?
SOLNESS. Yes.
HILDA. Then I guess there’s—something of a troll in you as well?
SOLNESS. Why a troll?
HILDA. Well, what would you call it, then?
SOLNESS (getting up). Hm, yes, could be. (Furiously.) But why shouldn’t the troll be in me—the way things go for me all the time, in everything! In everything!
HILDA. What do you mean?
SOLNESS (hushed and inwardly stirred). Pay attention to what I tell you, Hilda. All I’ve been given to do, to build and shape into beauty, security, a good life—into even a kind of splendor— (Knotting his fists.) Oh, how awful just to think of it—!
HILDA. What’s so awful?
SOLNESS. That I’ve got to make up for it all. Pay up. Not with money, but with human happiness. And not just my own happiness. With others’, too. You understand, Hilda! That’s the price my name as an artist has cost me—and others. And every single day I’ve got to look on here and see that price being paid for me again and again—over and over and over, endlessly!
HILDA (rises, looking intently at him). Now you’re thinking of—of her.
SOLNESS. Yes, mostly of Aline. Because Aline—she had her lifework too—just as I had mine. (His voice trembles.) But her lifework had to be cut down, crushed, broken to bits, so that mine could win through to—to some kind of great victory. Aline, you know—she had a talent for building too.
HILDA. She! For building?
SOLNESS (shaking his head). Not houses and towers and spires—the kind of thing I do—
HILDA. What, then?
SOLNESS (gently, with feeling). For building up the small souls of children, Hilda. Building those souls up to stand on their own, poised, in beautiful, noble forms—till they’d grown into the upright human spirit. That’s what Aline had a talent for. And now, there it lies, all of it—unused and useless forever. And for what earthly reason. Just like charred ruins after a fire.
HILDA. Yes, but even if this were so—?
SOLNESS. It is so! It is! I know.
HILDA. Well, but in any case it’s not your fault.
SOLNESS (fixing his eyes on her and nodding slowly). Ah, you see—that’s the enormous, ugly riddle—the doubt that gnaws at me day and night.
HILDA. That?
SOLNESS. Put it this way. Suppose it was my fault, in some sense.
HILDA. You! For the fire?
SOLNESS. For everything, the whole business. And yet, perhaps—completely innocent all the same.
HILDA (looks at him anxiously). Mr. Solness—when you can talk like that, then it sounds like you are—ill, after all.
SOLNESS. Hm—I don’t think I’ll ever be quite sound in that department.
(RAGNAR BROVIK cautiously opens the small corner door at the left. HILDA crosses the room.)
RAGNAR (on seeing HILDA). Oh—excuse me, Mr. Solness. (He starts to leave.)
SOLNESS. No, no, don’t go. Let’s be done with it.
RAGNAR. Yes, if we only could!
SOLNESS. Your father’s no better, I hear.
RAGNAR. He’s going downhill fast now. And that’s why I’m begging you, please—give me a good word or two, just something on one of the drawings for Father to read before he—
SOLNESS (explosively). Stop talking to me about those drawings of yours!
RAGNAR. Have you looked them over?
SOLNESS. Yes—I have.
RAGNAR. And they’re worthless? And no doubt I’m worthless too?
SOLNESS (evasively). You stay on here with me, Ragnar. You’ll get everything the way you want it. You can marry Kaja then and have it easy—happy even. Just don’t think about doing your own building.
RAGNAR. Oh, sure, I should go home and tell that to my father. Because I promised to. Shall I tell him that—before he dies?
SOLNESS (with a groan). Oh, tell him—tell him—don’t ask me what to say! Anything. Better still to say nothing. (In an outburst.) I can’t do any more than I’m doing, Ragnar.
RAGNAR. May I take along my drawings, then?
SOLNESS. Yes, take them—help yourself! They’re on the table.
RAGNAR (going to the table). Thanks.
HILDA (putting her hand on the portfolio). No, no, leave them.
SOLNESS. Why?
HILDA. Because I want to see them too.
SOLNESS. But you’ve already— (To RAGNAR.) All right, then, just leave them.
RAGNAR. Gladly.
SOLNESS. And go right home to your father.
RAGNAR. Yes, I guess I’ll have to.
SOLNESS (with an air of desperation). Ragnar—don’t ask me for what I can’t give! You hear, Ragnar? You mustn’t!
RAGNAR. No, no. Excuse me— (He bows and goes out through the corner door. HILDA goes over and sits on a chair by the mirror.)
HILDA (looking angrily at SOLNESS). That was really mean of you.
HILDA. Yes, it was terribly mean. And hard and wicked and cruel.
SOLNESS. You don’t know my side of it.
HILDA. All the same. No, you shouldn’t be like that.
SOLNESS. You were only just now saying that no one but me should be allowed to build.
HILDA. I can say that—but you mustn’t.
SOLNESS. But I can, most of all—when I’ve paid such a price for my recognition.
HILDA. That’s right—with what you think of as the comortable life—that sort of thing.
SOLNESS. And my inner peace in the bargain.
HILDA (rising). Inner peace! (Intensely.) Yes, yes, you’re right! Poor Mr. Solness—you imagine that—
SOLNESS (with a quiet laugh). Sit down again, Hilda—if you want to hear something funny.
HILDA (expectantly, sitting down). Well?
SOLNESS. It sounds like such a ridiculous little thing. You see, the whole business revolves about no more than a crack in a chimney.
HILDA. Nothing else?
SOLNESS. No; at least, not at the start. (He moves a chair closer to HILDA and sits.)
HILDA (impatiently, tapping her knee). So—the crack in the chimney!
SOLNESS. I’d noticed that tiny opening in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I was up in the attic, I checked to see that it was still there.
HILDA. And was it?
SOLNESS. Yes. Because no one else knew.
HILDA. And you said nothing?
SOLNESS. No. Nothing.
HILDA. Never thought of fixing the flue, either?
SOLNESS. I thought, yes—but never got to it. Every time I wanted to start repairing it, it was exactly as if a hand were there, holding me back. Not today, I’d think. Tomorrow. So nothing came of it.
HILDA. But why did you keep on postponing?
SOLNESS. Because I went on thinking. (Slowly, in an undertone.) Through that little black opening in the chimney I could force my way to success—as a builder.
HILDA (looking straight ahead of her). That must have been thrilling.
SOLNESS. Irresistible, almost. Completely irresistible. Because the whole thing, then, seemed so easy and obvious to me. I wanted it to happen on some winter’s day, a little before noon. I’d be out with Aline for a drive in the sleigh. The people at home would have fires blazing in the stoves—
HILDA. Yes, because the day should be bitterly cold—
SOLNESS. Yes, quite raw. And they’d want it snug and warm for Aline when she got in.
HILDA. Because I’m sure her temperature’s normally low.
SOLNESS. It is, you know. So then, driving home it was, that we were supposed to see the smoke.
HILDA. Only the smoke?
SOLNESS. The smoke first. But when we’d pull in at the garden gate, there the old packing case would stand, a roaring inferno. At least, that’s how I wanted it.
HILDA. Oh, but if it only could have gone that way!
SOLNESS. Yes, you can say that well enough, Hilda.
HILDA. But wait a minute, Mr. Solness—how can you be so sure the fire started from that little crack in the chimney?
SOLNESS. I can’t, not at all. In fact, I’m absolutely certain it had nothing whatever to do with the fire.
HILDA. What!
SOLNESS. It’s been proved without a shadow of a doubt that the fire broke out in a clothes closet, in quite another part of the house.
HILDA. Then what’s the point in all this sitting and mooning around about a cracked chimney!
SOLNESS. You mind if I go on talking a bit, Hilda?
HILDA. No, if only you’ll talk sense—
SOLNESS. I’ll try. (He moves his chair in closer.)
HILDA. So—go on then, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS (confidingly). Don’t you believe with me, Hilda, that there are certain special, chosen people who have a gift and power and capacity to wish something, desire something, will something—so insistently and so—so inevitably—that at last it has to be theirs? Don’t you believe that?
HILDA (with an inscrutable look in her eyes). If that’s true, then we’ll see someday—if I’m one of the chosen.
SOLNESS. It’s not one’s self alone that makes great things. Oh no—the helpers and servers—they’ve got to be with you if you’re going to succeed. But they never come by themselves. One has to call on them, incessantly—within oneself, I mean.
HILDA. What are these helpers and servers?
SOLNESS. Oh, we can talk about that some other time. Let’s stay with the fire now.
HILDA. Don’t you think the fire still would have come—even if you hadn’t wished it?
SOLNESS. If old Knut Brovik had owned the house, it never would have burned down so conveniently for him—I’m positive of that. Because he doesn’t know how to call on the helpers, or the servers either. (Gets up restlessly.) So you see, Hilda—it is my fault that the twins had to die. And isn’t it my fault, too, that Aline’s never become the woman she could have and should have been? And wanted to be, more than anything?
HILDA. Yes, but if it’s really these helpers and servers, then—?
SOLNESS. Who called for the helpers and servers? I did! And they came and did what I willed. (In rising agitation.) That’s what all the nice people call “having the luck.” But I can tell you what this luck feels like. It feels as if a big piece of skin had been stripped, right here, from my chest. And the helpers and servers go on flaying the skin off other people to patch my wound. But the wound never heals—never! Oh, if you knew how sometimes it leeches and burns.
HILDA (looking at him attentively). You are ill, Mr. Solness. Very ill, I almost think.
SOLNESS. Insane. You can say it. It’s what you mean.
HILDA. No, I don’t think you’ve lost your reason.
SOLNESS. What, then? Out with it!
HILDA. I’m wondering if maybe you didn’t enter life with a frail conscience.
SOLNESS. A frail conscience? What in hell’s name does that mean?
HILDA. I mean your conscience is very fragile. Overrefined, sort of. It isn’t made to struggle with things—to pick up what’s heavy and bear it.
SOLNESS (growling). Hm! And what kind of conscience do you recommend?
HILDA. I could wish that your conscience was—well, quite robust.
SOLNESS. Oh? Robust? And I suppose you have a robust conscience?
HILDA. Yes, I think so. I’ve never noticed it wasn’t.
SOLNESS. I’d say you’ve never had a real test to face up to, either.
HILDA (with tremulous lips). Oh, it wasn’t so easy to leave Father, when I’m so terribly fond of him.
SOLNESS. Come on! Just for a month or two—
HILDA. I’m never going home again.
SOLNESS. Never? Why did you leave home, then?
HILDA (half serious, half teasing). You still keep forgetting that the ten years are up?
SOLNESS. Nonsense. Was something wrong there at home? Hm?
HILDA (fully serious). It was inside me, something goading and driving me here. Coaxing and luring me, too.
SOLNESS (eagerly). That’s it! That’s it, Hilda! There’s a troll in you—same as in me. It’s that troll in us, don’t you see—that’s what calls on the powers out there. And then we have to give in—whether we want to or not.
HILDA. I almost believe you’re right, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS (walking about the room). Oh, Hilda, there are so many devils one can’t see loose in the world!
HILDA. Devils, too?
SOLNESS (stops). Good devils and bad devils. Blond devils and black-haired ones. And if only you always knew if the light or the dark ones had you! (Pacing about; with a laugh.) Wouldn’t it be simple then!
HILDA (her eyes following him). Or if you had a really strong conscience, brimming with health—so you could dare what you most wanted.
SOLNESS (stopping by the console table). Still, I think most people, in this respect, are just as weak as I am.
HILDA. Probably.
SOLNESS (leaning against the table). In the sagas— Ever done any reading in the old sagas?
HILDA. Oh yes! In the days when I used to read books—
SOLNESS. In the sagas it tells about Vikings that sailed to foreign countries and plundered and burned and killed the men—
HILDA. And captured the women—
SOLNESS. And carried them off—
HILDA. Took them home in their ships—
SOLNESS. And treated them like—like the worst of trolls.
HILDA (looking straight ahead with half-veiled eyes). I think that must have been thrilling.
SOLNESS (with a short, deep laugh). Capturing women, hm?
HILDA. Being captured.
SOLNESS (studying her a moment). I see.
HILDA (as if breaking the train of thought). But what are you getting at with all these Vikings, Mr. Solness?
SOLNESS. Just that there’s your robust conscience—in those boys! When they got back home, they went on eating and drinking and living lighthearted as children. And the women as well! They soon had no urge, most of them, ever to give up their men. Does that make sense to you, Hilda?
HILDA. Those women make perfect sense to me.
SOLNESS. Aha! Perhaps you could go and do likewise?
HILDA. Why not?
SOLNESS. Live, of your own free will, with a barbarian like that?
HILDA. If it was a barbarian that I really loved—
SOLNESS. But could you ever love one?
HILDA. My Lord, you don’t just plan whom you’re going to love.
SOLNESS (gazing thoughtfully at her). No—I suppose it’s the troll within that decides.
HILDA (half laughing). Yes, and all those enchanting little devils—your friends. The blond and the black-haired both.
SOLNESS (with quiet warmth). Then I’ll ask that the devils choose tenderly for you, Hilda.
HILDA. For me they’ve already chosen. Now and forever.
SOLNESS (looks at her probingly). Hilda—you’re like some wild bird of the woods.
HILDA. Hardly. I don’t go hiding away under bushes.
SOLNESS. No. No, there’s more in you of the bird of prey.
HILDA. More that—perhaps. (With great vehemence.) And why not a bird of prey? Why shouldn’t I go hunting as well? Take the spoil I’m after? If I can once set my claws in it and have my own way.
SOLNESS. Hilda—you know what you are?
HILDA. Yes, I’m some strange kind of bird.
SOLNESS. No. You’re like a dawning day. When I look at you—then it’s as if I looked into the sunrise.
HILDA. Tell me, Mr. Solness—are you quite sure that you’ve never called for me? Within yourself, I mean?
SOLNESS (slowly and softly). I almost think I must have.
HILDA. What did you want with me?
SOLNESS. You, Hilda, are youth.
HILDA (smiles). Youth that you’re so afraid of?
SOLNESS (nodding slowly). And that, deep within me, I’m so much hungering for.
(HILDA rises, goes over to the small table, and takes up RAGNAR BROVIK’S portfolio.)
HILDA (holding the portfolio out toward him). Then, about these drawings—
SOLNESS (sharply, waving them aside). Put those things away! I’ve seen enough of them.
HILDA. Yes, but you’ve got to write your comment on them.
SOLNESS. Write a comment! Never!
HILDA. But now, with that poor old man near death! Can’t you do him and his son a kindness before they’re parted? And maybe later he could build from these drawings.
SOLNESS. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. The young pup’s made sure of that.
HILDA. But, my Lord, if that’s all—then can’t you tell a little white lie?
SOLNESS. A lie? (Furious.) Hilda—get away with those damned drawings!
HILDA (pulls back the portfolio a bit). Now, now, now— don’t bite me. You talk about trolls. I think you’re acting like a troll yourself. (Glancing about.) Where’s your pen and ink?
HILDA (going toward the door). But out there where that girl works—
SOLNESS. Hilda, stay here—! You said I could lie a little. Well, I guess, for the old man’s sake, I could manage it. I did beat him down in his time—and broke him—
HILDA. Him too?
SOLNESS. I had to have room for myself. But this Ragnar—he mustn’t be given the least chance to rise.
HILDA. Poor boy, his chances are slim enough—if he simply hasn’t got it in him—
SOLNSSS (comes closer, looks at her and whispers). If Ragnar Brovik gets his chance, he’ll hammer me to the ground. Break me—same as I broke his father.
HILDA. Break you? Can he do that?
SOLNESS. You bet he can! He’s all the youth that’s waiting to come thundering at my door—to do away with master builder Solness.
HILDA (with a quietly reproachful look). And so you’ll still try to lock him out. For shame, Mr. Solness!
SOLNESS. It’s cost me heart’s blood enough to fight my battle. And then—the helpers and servers, I’m afraid they won’t obey me anymore.
HILDA. Then you’ll have to get along on your own, that’s all.
SOLNESS. Hopeless, Hilda. The change, it’s coming. Maybe a little sooner, maybe later. But the retribution—it’s inescapable.
HILDA (pressing her hands to her ears in fright). Don’t say those things! You want to kill me? You want to take what’s even more than my life?
SOLNESS. And what’s that?
HILDA. I want to see you great. See you with a wreath in your hand—high, high up on a church tower! (Calm again.) So—out with your pencil. You do have a pencil on you?
SOLNESS (brings one out with his pocket sketchbook). Here’s one.
HILDA (puts the portfolio down on the table). Good. Now let’s get settled here, Mr. Solness, the two of us.
(SOLNESS sits at the table. HILDA, behind him, leans over the back of his chair.)
HILDA. And now let’s write on these drawings—something really warm and nice—for this nasty Roar—or whoever he is.
SOLNESS (writes a few lines, then turns his head and looks up at her). Tell me one thing, Hilda.
HILDA. Yes?
SOLNESS. If you’ve really been waiting for me all these ten years—
HILDA. Then what?
SOLNESS. Why didn’t you write to me? I could have answered you then.
HILDA (hurriedly). No, no, no! That’s just what I didn’t want.
SOLNESS. Why not?
HILDA. I was afraid then the whole thing’d be ruined— But we should be writing on the drawings, Mr. Solness.
SOLNESS. Yes, of course.
HILDA (bends forward, watching as he writes). Something heartfelt and kind. Oh, how I hate—how I hate this Roald—
SOLNESS (writing). Have you never really loved anyone, Hilda?
HILDA (harshly). What did you say?
SOLNESS. Have you never loved anyone?
HILDA. Anyone else. Is that what you mean?
SOLNESS (glancing up at her). Anyone else, yes. You never have—in ten whole years? Never?
HILDA. Oh yes, now and then. When I was really furious at you for not coming.
SOLNESS. So you did care for others too?
HILDA. A little bit—for a week or so. Oh, honestly, Mr. Solness, you ought to know that kind of thing.
SOLNESS. Hilda—what are you here for?
HILDA. Don’t waste time talking. That poor old man could easily be dying on us.
SOLNESS. Answer me, Hilda. What do you want from me?
HILDA. I want my kingdom.
SOLNESS. Hm—
(He gives a quick glance toward the door on the left and resumes writing on the drawings. At the same moment MRS. SOLNESS enters; she has several packages with her.)
MRS. SOLNESS. I brought along a little something here for you, Miss Wangel. They’ll send the big parcels out later.
HILDA. Oh, how wonderfully kind of you!
MRS. SOLNESS. No more than my duty, that’s all.
SOLNESS (reading over his comments). Aline.
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes?
SOLNESS. Did you notice if she—if the bookkeeper’s out there?
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh she’s there, don’t worry.
SOLNESS (sliding the drawings back in the portfolio). Hm—
MRS. SOLNESS. She’s right at her desk, as she always is— whenever I go through the room.
SOLNESS (getting up). Then I’ll give her this, and tell her that—
HILDA (taking the portfolio from him). Oh no, let me have the pleasure. (Goes toward the door, then turns.) What’s her name?
SOLNESS. Miss Fosli.
HILDA. Ah, that’s much too cold! I mean her first name.
SOLNESS. Kaja—I think.
HILDA (opens the door and calls). Kaja, come in here! Hurry up! The master builder wants to speak to you.
(KAJA FOSLI appears at the door.)
KAJA (looking fearfully at him). Here I am—?
HILDA (handing her the portfolio). See here, Kaja—you can have this now. The master builder’s written his opinion.
KAJA. Oh, at last!
SOLNESS. Get it to old Brovik soon as you can.
KAJA. I’ll go right over with it.
SOLNESS. Yes, go on. Now Ragnar can do some building.
KAJA. Oh, can he stop by and thank you for all—?
SOLNESS (sharply). I want no thanks! Tell him that, with my respects.
KAJA. Yes, I’ll—
SOLNESS. And tell him as well that hereafter I won’t be needing his services. Nor yours, either.
KAJA (her voice low and quavering). Nor mine, either?
SOLNESS. You’ll have other things to think about now. A lot to do. And that’s only right. So run along home with the drawings, Miss Fosli. Quick! Hear me?
KAJA (as before). Yes, Mr. Solness. (She goes out.)
MRS. SOLNESS. My, what scheming eyes she has.
SOLNESS. She? That poor little fool.
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh—I see just what I see, Halvard. Are you really letting them go?
SOLNESS. Yes.
MRS. SOLNESS. Her too?
SOLNESS. Isn’t that the way you wanted it?
MRS. SOLNESS. But to get rid of her—? Oh, well, Halvard, I’m sure you have one in reserve.
HILDA (playfully). As for me, I just can’t function behind a desk.
SOLNESS. There, there, now—it’ll all work out, Aline. Don’t think of anything now except moving into the new home—as soon as you can. We’ll be hanging the wreath up this evening—(Turning to HILDA.) way up high at the top of the tower. What do you say to that, Miss Hilda?
HILDA (gazing at him with sparkling eyes). It’ll be so marvelous seeing you high up there again!
SOLNESS. Me!
MRS. SOLNESS. For heaven’s sake, Miss Wangel, what are you thinking of! My husband—who gets so dizzy!
HILDA. He dizzy? Impossible!
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh yes, it’s true, though.
HILDA. But I’ve seen him myself, right at the top of a high church tower!
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, I’ve heard people talk about that. But it’s so completely impossible—
SOLNESS (forcefully). Impossible—yes, impossible! But all the same I stood there!
MRS. SOLNESS. Oh, Halvard, how can you say that? You can’t even bear going out on the second-story balcony here. You’ve always been like that.
SOLNESS. Maybe this evening you’ll see something new.
MRS. SOLNESS (terrified). No, no, no, I hope to God I never see that! I’m getting in touch with the doctor right away. He’ll know how to stop you from this.
SOLNESS. But Aline—!
MRS. SOLNESS. Yes, because you know you’re sick, Halvard. This only proves it! God—oh, God! (She goes hurriedly out to the right.)
HILDA (looking intently at him). Is it true, or isn’t it?
SOLNESS. That I get dizzy?
HILDA. That my master builder dares not—and can not climb as high as he builds?
SOLNESS. Is that the way you see it?
HILDA. Yes.
SOLNESS. I think soon I won’t have a corner in me safe from you.
HILDA (looking toward the bow window). So then, up. Right up there.
SOLNESS (coming closer). In the topmost room of the tower—that’s where you could live, Hilda—live like a princess.
HILDA (ambiguously; half playing, half serious). Sure, it’s what you promised.
SOLNESS. Did I really?
HILDA. Oh, come on, Mr. Solness! You said I’d be a princess—and you’d give me a kingdom. So you went and— well?
SOLNESS (warily). Are you quite positive this isn’t some kind of dream—some fantasy that’s taken hold of you?
HILDA (caustically). Meaning you didn’t do it, hm?
SOLNESS. I hardly know myself. (Dropping his voice.) But one thing I know for certain—that I
HILDA. That you—? Go on!
SOLNESS. That I ought to have done it.
HILDA (exclaiming spiritedly). You could never be dizzy!
SOLNESS. So we’ll hang the wreath this evening—Princess Hilda.
HILDA (with a wry face). Over your new home, yes.
SOLNESS. Over the new house—that’ll never be home for me. (He goes out by the garden door.)
HILDA (looks straight ahead with a veiled look, whispering to herself. The only words heard are:) Terribly thrilling—