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.
a-doing of, ma’am.
Mrs. Alving
Then sit down meanwhile.
Engstrand
Thank you, ma’am; I’d as soon stand.
Mrs. Alving
To Manders. I suppose you are going by the steamer?
Manders
Yes; it starts in an hour.
Mrs. Alving
Then be so good as to take all the papers with you. I won’t hear another word about this affair. I have other things to think of—
Manders
Mrs. Alving—
Mrs. Alving
Later on I shall send you a Power of Attorney to settle everything as you please.
Manders
That I will very readily undertake. The original destination of the endowment must now be completely changed, alas!
Mrs. Alving
Of course it must.
Manders
I think, first of all, I shall arrange that the Solvik property shall pass to the parish. The land is by no means without value. It can always be turned to account for some purpose or other. And the interest of the money in the Bank I could, perhaps, best apply for the benefit of some undertaking of acknowledged value to the town.
Mrs. Alving
Do just as you please. The whole matter is now completely indifferent to me.
Engstrand
Give a thought to my Sailors’ Home, your Reverence.
Manders
Upon my word, that is not a bad suggestion. That must be considered.
Engstrand
Oh, devil take considering—Lord forgive me!
Manders
With a sigh. And unfortunately I cannot tell how long I shall be able to retain control of these things—whether public opinion may not compel me to retire. It entirely depends upon the result of the official inquiry into the fire—
Mrs. Alving
What are you talking about?
Manders
And the result can by no means be foretold.
Engstrand
Comes close to him. Ay, but it can though. For here stands old Jacob Engstrand.
Manders
Well well, but—?
Engstrand
More softy. And Jacob Engstrand isn’t the man to desert a noble benefactor in the hour of need, as the saying goes.
Manders
Yes, but my good fellow—how—?
Engstrand
Jacob Engstrand may be likened to a sort of a guardian angel, he may, your Reverence.
Manders
No, no; I really cannot accept that.
Engstrand
Oh, that’ll be the way of it, all the same. I know a man as has taken others’ sins upon himself before now, I do.
Manders
Jacob! Wrings his hand. Yours is a rare nature. Well, you shall be helped with your Sailors’ Home. That you may rely upon. Engstrand tries to thank him, but cannot for emotion.
Manders
Hangs his travelling bag over his shoulder. And now let us set out. We two will go together.
Engstrand
At the dining room door, softly to Regina. You come along too, my lass. You shall live as snug as the yolk in an egg.
Regina
Tosses her head.Merci! She goes out into the hall and fetches Manders’ overcoat.
Manders
Goodbye, Mrs. Alving! and may the spirit of Law and Order descend upon this house, and that quickly.
Mrs. Alving
Goodbye, Pastor Manders. She goes up towards the conservatory, as she sees Oswald coming in through the garden door.
Engstrand
While he and Regina help Manders to get his coat on. Goodbye, my child. And if any trouble should come to you, you know where Jacob Engstrand is to be found. Softly. Little Harbour Street, h’m—! To Mrs. Alving and Oswald. And the refuge for wandering mariners shall be called “Chamberlain Alving’s Home,” that it shall! And if so be as I’m spared to carry on that house in my own way, I make so bold as to promise that it shall be worthy of the Chamberlain’s memory.
Manders
In the doorway. H’m—h’m!—Come along, my dear Engstrand. Goodbye! Goodbye! He and Engstrand go out through the hall.
Oswald
Goes towards the table. What house was he talking about?
Mrs. Alving
Oh, a kind of Home that he and Pastor Manders want to set up.
Oswald
It will burn down like the other.
Mrs. Alving
What makes you think so?
Oswald
Everything will burn. All that recalls father’s memory is doomed. Here am I, too, burning down. Regina starts and looks at him.
Mrs. Alving
Oswald! You oughtn’t to have remained so long down there, my poor boy.
Oswald
Sits down by the table. I almost think you are right.
Mrs. Alving
Let me dry your face, Oswald; you are quite wet. She dries his face with her pocket-handkerchief.
Oswald
Stares indifferently in front of him. Thanks, Mother.
Mrs. Alving
Are you not tired, Oswald? Should you like to sleep?
Oswald
Nervously. No, no—not to sleep! I never sleep. I only pretend to. Sadly. That will come soon enough.
Mrs. Alving
Looking sorrowfully at him. Yes, you really are ill, my blessed boy.
Regina
Eagerly. Is Mr. Alving ill?
Oswald
Impatiently. Oh, do shut all the doors! This killing dread—
Mrs. Alving
Close the doors, Regina.
Regina shuts them and remains standing by the hall door. Mrs. Alving takes her shawl off: Regina does the same. Mrs. Alving draws a chair across to Oswald’s, and sits by him.
Mrs. Alving
There now! I am going to sit beside you—
Oswald
Yes, do. And Regina shall stay here too. Regina shall be with me always. You will come to the rescue, Regina, won’t you?
Regina
I don’t understand—
Mrs. Alving
To the rescue?
Oswald
Yes—when the need comes.
Mrs. Alving
Oswald, have you not your mother to come to the rescue?
Oswald
You? Smiles. No, Mother; that rescue you will never bring me. Laughs sadly. You! ha ha! Looks earnestly at her. Though, after all, who ought to do it if not you? Impetuously. Why can’t you say “thou”5 to me, Regina? Why don’t you call me “Oswald”?
Regina
Softly. I don’t think Mrs. Alving would like it.
Mrs. Alving
You shall have leave to, presently. And meanwhile sit over here beside us.
Regina seats herself demurely and hesitatingly at the other side of the table.
Mrs. Alving
And now, my poor suffering boy, I am going to take the burden off your mind—
Oswald
You, Mother?
Mrs. Alving
—all the gnawing remorse and self-reproach you speak of.
Oswald
And you think you can do that?
Mrs. Alving
Yes, now I can, Oswald. A
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