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.
all, remember he is her father—
Mrs. Alving
Oh, I know very well what sort of a father he has been to her. No! She shall never go to him with my goodwill.
Manders
Rising. My dear lady, don’t take the matter so warmly. You sadly misjudge poor Engstrand. You seem to be quite terrified—
Mrs. Alving
More quietly. It makes no difference. I have taken Regina into my house, and there she shall stay. Listens. Hush, my dear Mr. Manders; say no more about it. Her face lights up with gladness. Listen! there is Oswald coming downstairs. Now we’ll think of no one but him.
Oswald Alving, in a light overcoat, hat in hand, and smoking a large meerschaum, enters by the door on the left; he stops in the doorway.
Oswald
Oh, I beg your pardon; I thought you were in the study. Comes forward. Good morning, Pastor Manders.
Manders
Staring. Ah—! How strange—!
Mrs. Alving
Well now, what do you think of him, Mr. Manders?
Manders
I—I—can it really be—?
Oswald
Yes, it’s really the Prodigal Son, sir.
Manders
Protesting. My dear young friend—
Oswald
Well, then, the Lost Sheep Found.
Mrs. Alving
Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so much opposed to his becoming a painter.
Manders
To our human eyes many a step seems dubious, which afterwards proves—Wrings his hand. But first of all, welcome, welcome home! Do not think, my dear Oswald—I suppose I may call you by your Christian name?
Oswald
What else should you call me?
Manders
Very good. What I wanted to say was this, my dear Oswald—you must not think that I utterly condemn the artist’s calling. I have no doubt there are many who can keep their inner self unharmed in that profession, as in any other.
Oswald
Let us hope so.
Mrs. Alving
Beaming with delight. I know one who has kept both his inner and his outer self unharmed. Just look at him, Mr. Manders.
Oswald
Moves restlessly about the room. Yes, yes, my dear Mother; let’s say no more about it.
Manders
Why, certainly—that is undeniable. And you have begun to make a name for yourself already. The newspapers have often spoken of you, most favourably. Just lately, by the by, I fancy I haven’t seen your name quite so often.
Oswald
Up in the conservatory. I haven’t been able to paint so much lately.
Mrs. Alving
Even a painter needs a little rest now and then.
Manders
No doubt, no doubt. And meanwhile he can be preparing himself and mustering his forces for some great work.
Oswald
Yes.—Mother, will dinner soon be ready?
Mrs. Alving
In less than half an hour. He has a capital appetite, thank God.
Manders
And a taste for tobacco, too.
Oswald
I found my father’s pipe in my room—
Manders
Aha—then that accounts for it!
Mrs. Alving
For what?
Manders
When Oswald appeared there, in the doorway, with the pipe in his mouth, I could have sworn I saw his father, large as life.
Oswald
No, really?
Mrs. Alving
Oh, how can you say so? Oswald takes after me.
Manders
Yes, but there is an expression about the corners of the mouth—something about the lips—that reminds one exactly of Alving: at any rate, now that he is smoking.
Mrs. Alving
Not in the least. Oswald has rather a clerical curve about his mouth, I think.
Manders
Yes, yes; some of my colleagues have much the same expression.
Mrs. Alving
But put your pipe away, my dear boy; I won’t have smoking in here.
Oswald
Does so. By all means. I only wanted to try it; for I once smoked it when I was a child.
Mrs. Alving
You?
Oswald
Yes. I was quite small at the time. I recollect I came up to father’s room one evening when he was in great spirits.
Mrs. Alving
Oh, you can’t recollect anything of those times.
Oswald
Yes, I recollect it distinctly. He took me on his knee, and gave me the pipe. “Smoke, boy,” he said; “smoke away, boy!” And I smoked as hard as I could, until I felt I was growing quite pale, and the perspiration stood in great drops on my forehead. Then he burst out laughing heartily—
Manders
That was most extraordinary.
Mrs. Alving
My dear friend, it’s only something Oswald has dreamt.
Oswald
No, Mother, I assure you I didn’t dream it. For—don’t you remember this?—you came and carried me out into the nursery. Then I was sick, and I saw that you were crying.—Did father often play such practical jokes?
Manders
In his youth he overflowed with the joy of life—
Oswald
And yet he managed to do so much in the world; so much that was good and useful; although he died so early.
Manders
Yes, you have inherited the name of an energetic and admirable man, my dear Oswald Alving. No doubt it will be an incentive to you—
Oswald
It ought to, indeed.
Manders
It was good of you to come home for the ceremony in his honour.
Oswald
I could do no less for my father.
Mrs. Alving
And I am to keep him so long! That is the best of all.
Manders
You are going to pass the winter at home, I hear.
Oswald
My stay is indefinite, sir. But, ah! it is good to be at home!
Mrs. Alving
Beaming. Yes, isn’t it, dear?
Manders
Looking sympathetically at him. You went out into the world early, my dear Oswald.
Oswald
I did. I sometimes wonder whether it wasn’t too early.
Mrs. Alving
Oh, not at all. A healthy lad is all the better for it; especially when he’s an only child. He oughtn’t to hang on at home with his mother and father, and get spoilt.
Manders
That is a very disputable point, Mrs. Alving. A child’s proper place is, and must be, the home of his fathers.
Oswald
There I quite agree with you, Pastor Manders.
Manders
Only look at your own son—there is no reason why we should not say it in his presence—what has the consequence been for him? He is six or seven and twenty, and has never had the opportunity of learning what a well-ordered home really is.
Oswald
I beg your pardon, Pastor; there you’re quite mistaken.
Manders
Indeed? I thought you had lived almost exclusively in
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