Written in 1881, when melodrama and farce were still at their peak of popularity, Ibsen’sGhosts is a three-act tragedy that explores uncomfortable, even forbidden themes. It is also a highly critical commentary on the morality of the day. The play centers around the widow of a prominent Norwegian sea captain whose son returns home and, with tragic consequences, revives the ghosts of the past that she has long labored to put to rest.
Ghosts immediately became a source of controversy for its inclusion of topics like venereal disease, incest, and euthanasia, and it was banned from being performed in England for many years. Its arrival signals a shift in the nature of theatre and, despite negative criticism, it was translated into other languages and performed in Sweden, Germany, and New York within a few years of its debut. It stands now as one of the works considered to have ushered in the era of modern drama.
with ghosts, both within me and without.
Manders
Those without I shall help you to lay. After all the terrible things I have heard from you today, I cannot in conscience permit an unprotected girl to remain in your house.
Mrs. Alving
Don’t you think the best plan would be to get her provided for?—I mean, by a good marriage.
Manders
No doubt. I think it would be desirable for her in every respect. Regina is now at the age when—Of course I don’t know much about these things, but—
Mrs. Alving
Regina matured very early.
Manders
Yes, I thought so. I have an impression that she was remarkably well developed, physically, when I prepared her for confirmation. But in the meantime, she ought to be at home, under her father’s eye—Ah! but Engstrand is not—That he—that he—could so hide the truth from me! A knock at the door into the hall.
Mrs. Alving
Who can this be? Come in!
Engstrand
In his Sunday clothes, in the doorway. I humbly beg your pardon, but—
Manders
Aha! H’m—
Mrs. Alving
Is that you, Engstrand?
Engstrand
—there was none of the servants about, so I took the great liberty of just knocking.
Mrs. Alving
Oh, very well. Come in. Do you want to speak to me?
Engstrand
Comes in. No, I’m obliged to you, ma’am; it was with his Reverence I wanted to have a word or two.
Manders
Walking up and down the room. Ah—indeed! You want to speak to me, do you?
Engstrand
Yes, I’d like so terrible much to—
Manders
Stops in front of him. Well; may I ask what you want?
Engstrand
Well, it was just this, your Reverence: we’ve been paid off down yonder—my grateful thanks to you, ma’am—and now everything’s finished, I’ve been thinking it would be but right and proper if we, that have been working so honestly together all this time—well, I was thinking we ought to end up with a little prayer-meeting tonight.
Manders
A prayer-meeting? Down at the Orphanage?
Engstrand
Oh, if your Reverence doesn’t think it proper—
Manders
Oh yes, I do; but—h’m—
Engstrand
I’ve been in the habit of offering up a little prayer in the evenings, myself—
Mrs. Alving
Have you?
Engstrand
Yes, every now and then just a little edification, in a manner of speaking. But I’m a poor, common man, and have little enough gift, God help me!—and so I thought, as the Reverend Mr. Manders happened to be here, I’d—
Manders
Well, you see, Engstrand, I have a question to put to you first. Are you in the right frame of mind for such a meeting! Do you feel your conscience clear and at ease?
Engstrand
Oh, God help us, your Reverence! we’d better not talk about conscience.
Manders
Yes, that is just what we must talk about. What have you to answer?
Engstrand
Why—a man’s conscience—it can be bad enough now and then.
Manders
Ah, you admit that. Then perhaps you will make a clean breast of it, and tell me—the real truth about Regina?
Mrs. Alving
Quickly. Mr. Manders!
Manders
Reassuringly. Please allow me—
Engstrand
About Regina! Lord, what a turn you gave me! Looks at Mrs. Alving. There’s nothing wrong about Regina, is there?
Manders
We will hope not. But I mean, what is the truth about you and Regina? You pass for her father, eh!
Engstrand
Uncertain. Well—h’m—your Reverence knows all about me and poor Johanna.
Manders
Come now, no more prevarication! Your wife told Mrs. Alving the whole story before quitting her service.
Engstrand
Well, then, may—! Now, did she really?
Manders
You see we know you now, Engstrand.
Engstrand
And she swore and took her Bible oath—
Manders
Did she take her Bible oath?
Engstrand
No; she only swore; but she did it that solemn-like.
Manders
And you have hidden the truth from me all these years? Hidden it from me, who have trusted you without reserve, in everything.
Engstrand
Well, I can’t deny it.
Manders
Have I deserved this of you, Engstrand? Have I not always been ready to help you in word and deed, so far as it lay in my power? Answer me. Have I not?
Engstrand
It would have been a poor lookout for me many a time but for the Reverend Mr. Manders.
Manders
And this is how you reward me! You cause me to enter falsehoods in the Church Register, and you withhold from me, year after year, the explanations you owed alike to me and to the truth. Your conduct has been wholly inexcusable, Engstrand; and from this time forward I have done with you!
Engstrand
With a sigh. Yes! I suppose there’s no help for it.
Manders
How can you possibly justify yourself?
Engstrand
Who could ever have thought she’d have gone and made bad worse by talking about it? Will your Reverence just fancy yourself in the same trouble as poor Johanna—
Manders
I!
Engstrand
Lord bless you, I don’t mean just exactly the same. But I mean, if your Reverence had anything to be ashamed of in the eyes of the world, as the saying goes. We menfolk oughtn’t to judge a poor woman too hardly, your Reverence.
Manders
I am not doing so. It is you I am reproaching.
Engstrand
Might I make so bold as to ask your Reverence a bit of a question?
Manders
Yes, if you want to.
Engstrand
Isn’t it right and proper for a man to raise up the fallen?
Manders
Most certainly it is.
Engstrand
And isn’t a man bound to keep his sacred word?
Manders
Why, of course he is; but—
Engstrand
When Johanna had got into trouble through that Englishman—or it might have been an American or a Russian, as they call them—well, you see, she came down into the town. Poor thing, she’d sent me about my business once or twice before: for she couldn’t bear the sight of anything as wasn’t handsome; and I’d got this damaged leg of mine. Your Reverence recollects how I ventured up into a dancing saloon, where seafaring men was carrying on with drink and devilry, as the saying goes. And then, when I was for giving them a bit of an admonition to lead a new life—
Mrs. Alving
At the window. H’m—
Manders
I know all about that, Engstrand; the ruffians
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