Chapter 21

Hilda.

Yes, of all the empty nurseries I slept in.

Solness.

[Lowers his voice.] Wehavehad children—Aline and I.

Hilda.

[Looks eagerly at him.] Have you——?

Solness.

Two little boys. They were of the same age.

Hilda.

Twins, then.

Solness.

Yes, twins. It’s eleven or twelve years ago now.

Hilda.

[Cautiously.] And so both of them——? You have lost both the twins, then?

Solness.

[With quiet emotion.] We kept them only about three weeks. Or scarcely so much. [Bursts forth.] Oh, Hilda, I can’t tell you what a good thing it is for me that you have come! For now at last I have some one I can talk to!

Hilda.

Can you not talk to—her, too?

Solness.

Not about this. Not as I want to talk and must talk. [Gloomily.] And not about so many other things, either.

Hilda.

[In a subdued voice.] Was that all you meant when you said you needed me?

Solness.

That was mainly what I meant—at all events, yesterday. For to-day I am not so sure—[Breaking off.] Come here and let us sit down, Hilda. Sit there on the sofa—so that you can look into the garden. [Hildaseats herself in the corner of the sofa.Solnessbrings a chair closer.] Should you like to hear about it?

Hilda.

Yes, I shall love to sit and listen to you.

Solness.

[Sits down.] Then I will tell you all about it.

Hilda.

Now I can see both the garden and you, Mr. Solness. So now, tell away! Begin!

Solness.

[Points towards the bow-window.] Out there on the rising ground—where you see the new house——

Hilda.

Yes?

Solness.

Aline and I lived there in the first years of our married life. There was an old house up there that had belonged to her mother; and we inherited it, and the whole of the great garden with it.

Hilda.

Was there a tower onthathouse, too?

Solness.

No, nothing of the kind. From the outside it looked like a great, dark, ugly wooden box; but all the same, it was snug and comfortable enough inside.

Hilda.

Then did you pull down the ramshackle old place?

Solness.

No, it was burnt down.

Hilda.

The whole of it?

Solness.

Yes.

Hilda.

Was that a great misfortune for you?

Solness.

That depends on how you look at it. As a builder, the fire was the making of me——

Hilda.

Well, but——?

Solness.

It was just after the birth of the two little boys——

Hilda.

The poor little twins, yes.

Solness.

They came healthy and bonny into the world.And they were growing too—you could see the difference from day to day.

Hilda.

Little children do grow quickly at first.

Solness.

It was the prettiest sight in the world to see Aline lying with the two of them in her arms.—But then came the night of the fire——

Hilda.

[Excitedly.] What happened? Do tell me! Was any one burnt?

Solness.

No, not that. Every one got safe and sound out of the house——

Hilda.

Well, and what then——?

Solness.

The fright had shaken Aline terribly. The alarm—the escape—the break-neck hurry—and then the ice-cold night air—for they had to be carried out just as they lay—both she and the little ones.

Hilda.

Was it too much for them?

Solness.

Oh no,theystood it well enough. But Aline fell into a fever, and it affected her milk. She would insist on nursing them herself; because itwas her duty, she said. And both our little boys, they—[Clenching his hands.]—they—oh!

Hilda.

They did not get overthat?

Solness.

No,thatthey did not get over.Thatwas 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 hands in suppressed fury.] Oh, that such things should be allowed to happen here in the world! [Shortly and firmly.] From the day I lost them, I had no heart for building churches.

Hilda.

Did you not like building the church-tower in our town?

Solness.

I didn’t like it. I know how free and happy I felt when that tower was finished.

Hilda.

Iknow that, too.

Solness.

And now I shall never—never build anything of that sort again! Neither churches nor church-towers.

Hilda.

[Nods slowly.] Nothing but houses for people to live in.

Solness.

Homes for human beings, Hilda.

Hilda.

But homes with high towers and pinnacles upon them.

Solness.

If possible. [Adopts a lighter tone.] But, as I said before, that fire was the making of me—as a builder, I mean.

Hilda.

Why don’t you call yourself an architect, like the others?

Solness.

I have not been systematically enough taught for that. Most of what I know I have found out for myself.

Hilda.

But you succeeded all the same.

Solness.

Yes, thanks to the fire. I laid out almost the whole of the garden in villa lots; andthereI was able to build after my own heart. So I came to the front with a rush.

Hilda.

[Looks keenly at him.] You must surely be a very happy man, as matters stand with you.

Solness.

[Gloomily.] Happy? Doyousay that, too—like all the rest of them?

Hilda.

Yes, I should say you must be. If you could only cease thinking about the two little children——

Solness.

[Slowly.] The two little children—they are not so easy to forget, Hilda.

Hilda.

[Somewhat uncertainly.] Do you still feel their loss so much—after all these years?

Solness.

[Looks fixedly at her, without replying.] A happy man you said——

Hilda.

Well, now,areyou not happy—in other respects?

Solness.

[Continues to look at her.] When I told you all this about the fire—h’m——

Hilda.

Well?

Solness.

Was there not one special thought that you—that you seized upon?

Hilda.

[Reflects in vain.] No. What thought shouldthatbe?

Solness.

[With subdued emphasis.] It was simply and solely by that fire that I was enabled to build homes forhuman beings. Cosy, comfortable, bright homes, where father and mother and the whole troop of children can live in safety and gladness, feeling what a happy thing it is to be alive in the world—and most of all to belong to each other—in great things and in small.

Hilda.

[Ardently.] Well, and is it not a great happiness for you to be able to build such beautiful homes?

Solness.

The price, Hilda! The terrible price I had to pay for the opportunity!

Hilda.

But can youneverget over that?

Solness.

No. That I might build homes for others, I had to forego—to forego for all time—the home that might have been my own. I mean a home for a troop of children—and for father and mother, too.

Hilda.

[Cautiously.] Butneedyou have done that? For all time, you say?

Solness.

[Nods slowly.]Thatwas the price of this happiness that people talk about. [Breathes heavily.] This happiness—h’m—this happiness was not to be bought any cheaper, Hilda.

Hilda.

[As before.] But may it not come right even yet?

Solness.

Never in this world—never. That is another consequence of the fire—and of Aline’s illness afterwards.

Hilda.

[Looks at him with an indefinable expression.] And yet you build all these nurseries?

Solness.

[Seriously.] Have you never noticed, Hilda, how the impossible—how it seems to beckon and cry aloud to one?

Hilda.

[Reflecting.] The impossible? [With animation.] Yes, indeed! Is that howyoufeel too?

Solness.

Yes, I do.

Hilda.

Then there must be—a little of the troll in you too.

Solness.

Why of the troll?

Hilda.

What would you call it, then?

Solness.

[Rises.] Well, well, perhaps you are right. [Vehemently.] But how can I help turning into a troll, when this is how it always goes with me in everything—in everything!

Hilda.

How do you mean?

Solness.

[Speaking low, with inward emotion.] Mark what I say to you, Hilda. All that I have succeeded in doing, building, creating—all the beauty, security, cheerful comfort—ay, and magnificence too—[Clenches his hands.] Oh, is it not terrible even to think of——!

Hilda.

Whatis so terrible?

Solness.

That all this I have to make up for, to pay for—not in money, but in human happiness. And not with my own happiness only, but with other people’s too. Yes, yes, do you seethat, Hilda? That is the price which my position as an artist has cost me—and others. And every single day I have to look on while the price is paid for me anew. Over again, and over again—and over again for ever!

Hilda.

[Rises and looks steadily at him.] Now I can see that you are thinking of—ofher.

Solness.

Yes, mainly of Aline. For Aline—she, too, had her vocation in life, just as much as I had mine. [His voice quivers.] But her vocation has had to be stunted, and crushed, and shattered—in order that mine might force its way to—to a sort of great victory. For you must know that Aline—she, too, had a talent for building.

Hilda.

She! For building?

Solness.

[Shakes his head.] Not houses and towers, and spires—not such things as I work away at——

Hilda.

Well, butwhatthen?

Solness.

[Softly, with emotion.] For building up the souls of little children, Hilda. For building up children’s souls in perfect balance, and in noble and beautiful forms. For enabling them to soar up into erect and full-grown human souls.Thatwas Aline’s talent. And there it all lies now—unused and unusable for ever—of no earthly service to any one—just like the ruins left by a fire.

Hilda.

Yes, but even if this were so——?

Solness.

It is so! It is so! I know it!

Hilda.

Well, but in any case it is notyourfault.

Solness.

[Fixes his eyes on her, and nods slowly.] Ah,thatis the great, the terrible question.Thatis the doubt that is gnawing me—night and day.

Hilda.

That?

Solness.

Yes. Suppose the faultwasmine—in a certain sense.

Hilda.

Your fault! The fire!

Solness.

All of it; the whole thing. And yet, perhaps—I may not have had anything to do with it.

Hilda.

[Looks at him with a troubled expression.] Oh, Mr. Solness—if you can talk like that, I am afraid you must be—ill, after all.

Solness.

H’m—I don’t think I shall ever be of quite sound mind on that point.

Ragnar Brovikcautiously opens the little door in the left-hand corner.Hildacomes forward.

Ragnar.

[When he seesHilda.] Oh. I beg pardon, Mr. Solness——

[He makes a movement to withdraw.

Solness.

No, no, don’t go. Let us get it over.

Ragnar.

Oh, yes—if only we could.

Solness.

I hear your father is no better?

Ragnar.

Father is fast growing weaker—and therefore I beg and implore you to write a few kind wordsfor me on one of the plans! Something for father to read before he——

Solness.

[Vehemently.] I won’t hear anything more about those drawings of yours!

Ragnar.

Have you looked at them?

Solness.

Yes—I have.

Ragnar.

And they are good for nothing? AndIam good for nothing, too?

Solness.

[Evasively.] Stay here with me, Ragnar. You shall have everything your own way. And then you can marry Kaia, and live at your ease—and happily too, who knows? Only don’t think of building on your own account.

Ragnar.

Well, well, then I must go home and tell father what you say—I promised I would.—Is this what I am to tell father—before he dies?

Solness.

[With a groan.] Oh tell him—tell him what you will, for me. Best to say nothing at all to him! [With a sudden outburst.] Icannotdo anything else, Ragnar!

Ragnar.

May I have the drawings to take with me?

Solness.

Yes, take them—take them by all means! They are lying there on the table.

Ragnar.

[Goes to the table.] Thanks.

Hilda.

[Puts her hand on the portfolio.] No, no; leave them here.

Solness.

Why?

Hilda.

Because I want to look at them, too.

Solness.

But youhavebeen——[ToRagnar.] Well, leave them here, then.

Ragnar.

Very well.

Solness.

And go home at once to your father.

Ragnar.

Yes, I suppose I must.

Solness.

[As if in desperation.] Ragnar—youmustnot ask me to do what is beyond my power! Do you hear, Ragnar? Youmustnot!

Ragnar.

No, no. I beg your pardon——

[He bows, and goes out by the corner door.Hildagoes over and sits down on a chair near the mirror.

Hilda.

[Looks angrily atSolness.] That was a very ugly thing to do.

Solness.

Doyouthink so, too?

Hilda.

Yes, it was horribly ugly—and hard and bad and cruel as well.

Solness.

Oh, you don’t understand my position.

Hilda.

No matter——. I say you ought not to be like that.

Solness.

You said yourself, only just now, that no one butIought to be allowed to build.

Hilda.

Imay say such things—butyoumust not.

Solness.

I most of all, surely, who have paid so dear for my position.

Hilda.

Oh yes—with what you call domestic comfort—and that sort of thing.

Solness.

And with my peace of soul into the bargain.

Hilda.

[Rising.] Peace of soul! [With feeling.] Yes, yes, you are right in that! Poor Mr. Solness—you fancy that——

Solness.

[With a quiet, chuckling laugh.] Just sit down again, Hilda, and I’ll tell you something funny.

Hilda.

[Sits down; with intent interest.] Well?

Solness.

It sounds such a ludicrous little thing; for, you see, the whole story turns upon nothing but a crack in a chimney.

Hilda.

No more than that?

Solness.

No, not to begin with.

[He moves a chair nearer toHildaand sits down.

Hilda.

[Impatiently, taps on her knee.] Well, now for the crack in the chimney!

Solness.

I had noticed the split in the flue long, long before the fire. Every time I went up into the attic, I looked to see if it was still there.

Hilda.

And itwas?

Solness.

Yes; for no one else knew about it.

Hilda.

And you said nothing?

Solness.

Nothing.

Hilda.

And did not think of repairing the flue either?

Solness.

Oh yes, I thought about it—but never got any further. Every time I intended to set to work, it seemed just as if a hand held me back. Not to-day, I thought—to-morrow; and nothing ever came of it.

Hilda.

But why did you keep putting it off like that?

Solness.

Because I was revolving something in my mind. [Slowly, and in a low voice.] Through that little black crack in the chimney, I might, perhaps, force my way upwards—as a builder.

Hilda.

[Looking straight in front of her.] That must have been thrilling.

Solness.

Almost irresistible—quite irresistible. For at that time it appeared to me a perfectly simple and straightforward matter. I would have had it happen in the winter-time—a little before midday. I was to be out driving Aline in the sleigh. The servants at home would have made huge fires in the stoves.

Hilda.

For, of course, it was to be bitterly cold that day?

Solness.

Rather biting, yes—and they would want Aline to find it thoroughly snug and warm when she came home.

Hilda.

I suppose she is very chilly by nature?

Solness.

Sheis. And as we drove home, we were to see the smoke.

Hilda.

Only the smoke?

Solness.

The smoke first. But when we came up to the garden gate, the whole of the old timber-box was to be a rolling mass of flames.—That is how I wanted it to be, you see.

Hilda.

Oh why,whycould it not have happened so!

Solness.

You may well say that, Hilda.

Hilda.

Well, but now listen, Mr. Solness. Are you perfectly certain that the fire was caused by that little crack in the chimney!

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