Henrik Ibsen.

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In Five Volumes.

vol. I.






"EMPEROR AND GALILEAN." With an Introductory

Note by William Archer.

vol. v.

"HEDDA GABLER." Translated by William Archer.

Uniform with the above—
PEER GYNT : A Dramatic Poem. By Henrik Ibsen.

The following Dramas may also be /tad in separate vols.
{Pocket Edition, Royal i6mo) :—


















GHOSTS. page

Translated by William Archer - 7


Translated by Mrs. E. Marx-Aveling - - 103


Translated by Mrs. F. E. Archer - - 239


Stockmann, found himself deserted by his friends, denied
his right of free utterance (on the stage), and denounced as
an enemy of society. It would be easy to carry this
analogy too far, and nothing could be more unjust than
to regard An Enemy of the People as a mere polemic
parable; but it certainly took its rise in a mood of half-
humorous indignation. Having so far unburdened his soul,
the poet apparently suffered a reaction, and passed from
vigorous, cheerful defiance into dejection and scepticism.
This mood dominates The Wild Duck, the gloomiest of all
Ibsen's plays, in which he seems to caricature his own
motives, and scoff at his own ideals. Gregers Werle, no
less than Thomas Stockmann, may be regarded as in some
sense a fantastic adumbration of the poet himself. With
The Wild Duck, however, he worked off the mingled
indignation and depression begotten by the Ghosts incident.
In his next play, Rosmersholm, he returns to the unqualified
objectivity of his earlier manner.

The following translation of Ghosts is to some extent
founded upon a version of that play by Miss Frances Lord,
which appeared several years ago in a magazine. The
Editor of the " Camelot Series " volume of Ibsen's plays,
having obtained Miss Lord's consent to the republication
of her version, requested me to revise it. I did so, very
carefully ; and I have since re-revised my revision, so that
scarcely a phrase of the original translation remains un-
altered. It would be equally unjust to Miss Lord and to
myself to represent as hers a text for which she is in no way
responsible. At the same time I have pleasure in acknow-
ledging my indebtedness to her rendering of the play. In
prose translation, the pioneer has always the hardest task.
The text of An Enemy of the People, as it now stands, differs
largely from that which appeared in the " Camelot Series"
volume. Foi all alterations, whether for the better or for


the worse, I alone am answerable. I hope, however, that
the essential merits of Mrs. Marx-Aveling's spirited and
ingenious rendering will be found intact The Wild Duck
is now for the first time translated into English. It is
probably the most difficult of all Ibsen's modern plays to
render satisfactorily. Gina Ekdal's speeches are especially
troublesome. Her language is that of an uneducated
woman of the small-shopkeeper class, full of vulgarisms and
Malapropisms. Some of her Malapropisms have been
reproduced ; others it would have been impossible to
indicate without departing altogether too widely from the
sense of the original. Dr. Relling's speeches, too, are full
of stumbling-blocks for the translator, who has, however,
spared no effort to remove them from the reader's path.

W. A.





Mrs. Alving (Helen), widow of Captain Alving^ Icic

Chamberlain * to the King.
Oswald Alving, her son, a painter.
Pastor Manders.
Jacob Engstrand, a carpenter.
Regina Engstrand, Mrs. Alving*s maid.

Tht action takes place at Mrs. Alving s country-house, beside one of the
large fjords in Western Norway.

* Chamberlain (Kammerherre) is the only title of honour now existing In
Norway. It is a distinction conferred by the King on men of wealth and
position, and Lb not hereditary.




Act First.

{A spacious garden-room, with one door to the left, and two
doors to the right. In the middle of the room a round table,
with chairs about it. On the table lie books, periodicals, and
newspapers. In the foreground to the left a window, and by
it a small sofa, with a work-table in front of it. In the back-
ground, the room is continued into a somewhat narrower
conservatory, which is shut in by glass walls with large panes.
In the right-hand wall of the conservatory is a door leading
down into the garden. Through the glass wall one catches a
glimpse of a gloomy fjord-landscape, veiled by steady rain.)

(Engstrand, the carpenter, stands by the garden-door. His left
leg is somewhat bent; he has a clump of wood under the sole of
his boot. Regina, with an empty garden syringe in her hand,
hinders him from advancing.)

Regina {in a low voice). What do you want?
Stop where you are. You're positively dripping.

Engstrand. It's the Lord's own rain, my girL

Regina. It's the devil's rain, / say.

Engstrand. Lord 1 how you talk, Regina.
{Limps a few steps forward into the room?) What
I wanted to say was this

Regina. Don't clatter so with that foot of yours,
I tell you ! The young master's asleep upstairs.

12 Ghosts. [Act I.

Regina. Haven't you many a time sworn at me
and called me a ? Ft done !

Engstrand. Curse me, now, if ever I used such
an ugly word.

Regina. Oh ! I know quite well what word you

Engstrand. Well, but that was only when I was
a bit on, don't you know? Hm! Temptations are
manifold in this world, Regina.

Regina. Ugh !

Engstrand. And besides, it was when your
mother rode her high horse. I had to find something
to twit her with, my child. She was always setting
up for a fine lady. {Mimics.) " Let me go,
Engstrand ; let me be. Remember I've been three
years in Chamberlain Alving's family at Rosenvold."
{Laughs?} Mercy on us ! She could never forget
that the Captain was made a Chamberlain while she
was in service here.

REGINA. Poor mother! you very soon worried
her into her grave.

Engstrand {turns on his heel). Oh, of course!
I'm to be blamed for everything.

Regina {turns away; half aloud). Ugh ! And
that leg too !

Engstrand. What do you say, girl ?

Regina. Pied de mouton.

Engstrand. Is that English, ch ?

Regina. Yes.

ENGSTRAND. Oh, ah ; you've picked up some
learning out here ; and that may come in useful now,

Act I.] Ghosts. 13

REGINA {after a short silence). What do you want
with me in town ?

ENGSTRAND. Can you ask what a father wants
with his only child ? Am I not a lonely and forsaken
widower ?

REGINA. Oh ! don't try on any nonsense like
that ! Why do you want me ?

ENGSTRAND. Well, let me tell you, I've been
thinking of starting a new line of business.

REGINA {contemptuously). You've tried that often
enough, and never done any good.

Engstrand. Yes, but this time you shall see,
Regina ! Devil take me

Regina {stamps). Don't swear !

ENGSTRAND. Hush, hush ; you're right enough
there, my girl. What I wanted to say was just this —
I've laid by a very tidy pile from this Orphanage job.

Regina. Have you ? That's a good thing for

Engstrand. What can a man spend his ha'pence
on here in the country ?

Regina. Well, what then ?

ENGSTRAND. Why, you see, I thought of putting
the money into some paying speculation. I thought
of a sort of sailors' tavern

Regina. Horrid !

Engstrand. A regular high-class affair, of
course ; not a mere pigstye for common sailors. No !
damn it! it would be for captains and mates, and —
and — all those swells, you know.

Regina. And I was to ?

Engstrand. You were to help, to be sure. Only

14 Ghosts. [Act I.

for appearance' sake, you understand. Devil a bit of
hard work shall you have, my girl. You shall do
exactly what you like.

Regina. Oh, indeed !

Engstrand. But there must be a petticoat in the
house ; that's as clear as daylight. For I want to
have it a little lively in the evenings, with singing and
dancing, and so forth. You must remember they're
weary wanderers on the ocean of life. (Nearer?) Now
don't be stupid and stand in your own light, Regina.
What can become of you out here ? Your mistress
has given you a lot of learning ; but what good is it
to you ? You're to look after the children at the new
Orphanage, I hear. Is that the sort of thing for you,
eh? Are you so desperately bent upon wearing
yourself out for the sake of the dirty brats ?

Regina. No ; if things go as I want them to,
then — well, there's no saying — there's no saying.

Engstrand. What do you mean by " there's no
saying " ?

Regina. Never you mind. How much money
have you saved up here ?

Engstrand. What with one thing and another,
a matter of seven or eight hundred crowns. 1

Regina. That's not so bad.

Engstrand. It's enough to make a start with,
my girl.

REGINA. Aren't you thinking of giving me any ?

Engstrand. No, I'm damned if I am !

REGINA. Not even of sending me a scrap of stuff
for a new dress ?

1 A " krone" is equal to one shilling and three-halfpence.

Act I.] Ghosts. 15

Engstrand. If you'll come to town with me, you
can get dresses enough.

Regina. Pooh ! I can do that on my own account
if I want to.

Engstrand. No, a father's guiding hand is what
you want, Regina. Now, I've my eye on a capital
house in Little Harbour Street It won't need much
ready-money, and it could be a sort of sailors' home,
you know.

REGINA. But I will not live with you. I have
nothing whatever to do with you. Be off !

Engstrand. You wouldn't remain long with me,
my girl. No such luck ! If you knew how to play
your cards, such a fine girl as you've grown in the last
year or two

Regina. Well ?

Engstrand. You'd soon get hold of some mate
perhaps even a captain-

Regina. I won't marry any one of that sort
Sailors have no savoir vivre.

Engstrand. What haven't they got ?

Regina. I know what sailors are, I tell you.
They're not the sort of people to marry.

Engstrand. Then never mind about marrying
them. You can make it pay all the same. (Afore
confidentially.) He — the Englishman — the man with
the yacht — he gave three hundred dollars, he did ;
and she wasn't a bit handsomer than you.

Regina (going towards him). Out you go !

Engstrand (falling back). Come, come ! You're
not going to strike me, I hope.

Regina Yes, if you begin to talk about

16 Ghosts. [Act I.

mother I shall strike you. Get away with you, I say
{Drives him back towards the garden door.) And

don't bang the doors. Young Mr. Alving

ENGSTRAND. He's asleep ; I know. It's curious
how you're taken up about young Mr. Alving — {more

softly) Oho ! it surely can't be he that ?

Regina. Be off at once! You're crazy, I tell
you ! No, not that way. There comes Pastor
Manders. Down the kitchen stairs with you.

ENGSTRAND {towards the right). Yes, yes, I'm
going. But just you talk to him that's coming there.
He's the man to tell you what a child owes its father.
For I am your father all the same, you know. I can
prove it from the church-register.

{He goes out through the second door to the right,
which REGINA lias opened, and fastens again
after him. REGINA glances hastily at herself
in the mirror, dusts Jierself with her pocket
handkerchief, and settles her collar ; then she
busies herself with the flowers. PASTOR
Manders, in an overcoat, with an umbrella,
and with a small travelling-bag on a strap over
his shoulder, comes through the garden door into
the conservatory^)
MANDERS. Good morning, Miss Engstrand.
Regina {turning round, surprised and pleased). No,
really! Good morning, Pastor Manders. Is the
steamer in already ?

MANDERS. It's just in. {Enters the sitting-room.)
Terrible weather we've been having lately.

Regina {follows him). It's such blessed weather
for the country, sir.

Act I.] Ghosts. 17

MANDERS. Yes, you're quite right. We towns-
people think too little about that {He begins to take
off his overcoat?)

REGINA. Oh, mayn't I help you ? There ! Why,
how wet it is ? I'll just hang it up in the hall. And
your umbrella, too — I'll open it and let it dry.

{She goes out with the things through tJte second
door on the right. PASTOR MANDERS takes off
his travelling-bag and lays it and his hat on a
chair. Meanwhile REGINA conies in again?)

MANDERS. Ah ! it's a comfort to get safe under
cover. Everything going on well here ?

REGINA. Yes, thank you, sir.

MANDERS. You have your hands full, I suppose,
in preparation for to-morrow ?

REGINA. Yes, there's plenty to do, of course.

MANDERS. And Mrs. Alving is at home, I trust ?

REGINA. Oh dear, yes. She's just upstairs
looking after the young master's chocolate.

M ANDERS. Yes, by-the-bye — I heard down at the
pier that Oswald had arrived.

REGINA. Yes, he came the day before yesterday.
We didn't expect him before to-day.
0^ MANDERS. Quite strong and well, I hope ?

REGINA. Yes, thank you, quite ; but dreadfully
tired with the journey. He has made one rush all
the way from Paris. I believe he came the whole
way in one train. He's sleeping a little now, I think ;
so perhaps we'd better talk a little quietly.

MANDERS. Hush ! — as quietly as you please.

REGINA {arranging an arm-diair beside the table).
Now, do sit down, Pastor Manders, and make yourself

vol. il 2

1 8 Ghosts. [Act I.

comfortable. {He sits dozen ; she puts a footstool
under his feet.) There ! are you comfortable now,
sir ?

Manders. Thanks, thanks, I'm most comfort-
able. {Looks at her.) Do you know, Miss Engstrand,
I positively believe you've grown since I last saw you.

REGINA. Do you think so, sir? Mrs. Alving
says my figure has developed too.

Manders. Developed ? Well, perhaps a little ;
just enough. {Short fa?tse.)

REGINA. Shall I tell Mrs. Alving you are here?

MANDERS. Thanks, thanks, there's no hurry, my
dear child. By-the-bye, Regina, my good girl, just
tell me : how is your father getting on out here ?

Regina. Oh, thank you, he's getting on well

Manders. He called upon me last time he was
in town.

REGINA. Did he, indeed ? He's always so glad
of a chance of talking to you, sir.

Manders. And you often look in upon him at
his work, I daresay ?

REGINA I? Oh, of course, when I have time,

Manders. Your father is not a man of strong
character, Miss Engstrand. He stands terribly in
need of a guiding hand.

Regina. Oh, yes ; I daresay he does.

MANDERS. He needs to have some one near him
whom he cares for, and whose judgment he respects.
He frankly admitted that when he last came to see

Act I.] Ghosts. 19

Regina. Yes, he mentioned something of the sort
to me. But I don't know whether Mrs. Alving can
spare me ; especially now that we've got the new
Orphanage to attend to. And then I should be so
sorry to leave Mrs. Alving ; she has always been so
kind to me.

M ANDERS. But a daughter's duty, my good

girl . Of course we must first get your mistress's


REGINA. But I don't know whether it would be
quite proper for me, at my age, to keep house for a
single man.

MANDERS. What ! My dear Miss Engstrand !
When the man is your own father !

Regina. Yes, that may be ; but all the same .

Now if it were in a thoroughly respectable house,
and with a real gentleman

Manders. But, my dear Regina

Regina. one I could love and respect, and

be a daughter to

Manders. Yes, but my dear, good child-

Regina. Then I should be glad to go to town.
It's very lonely out here ; you know yourself, sir,
what it is to be alone in the world. And I can assure
you I'm both quick and willing. Don't you know of
any such place for me, sir ?

Manders. I ? No, certainly not.

Regina. But, dear, dear sir, do remember me

Manders {rising). Yes, yes, certainly, Miss

Regina. For if I

20 Ghosts. [Act I.

Manders. Will you be so good as to fetch your
mistress ?

REGINA. I will, at once, sir. {She goes out to the

MANDERS {paces the room two or three times, stands
a moment in the background with his hands behind his
back, and looks out over the garden. Then he returns
to the table, takes up a book, a?id looks at the title-page;
starts, and looks at several). Hm — indeed !

(Mrs. ALVING enters by the door on the left ; she
is followed by REGINA, who immediately goes
out by the first door on the right.)

Mrs. Alving {holds out her hand). Welcome, my
dear Pastor.

Manders. How do you do, Mrs. Alving ? Here
I am as I promised.

Mrs. Alving. Always punctual to the minute.

Manders. You may believe it wasn't so easy for
me to get away. With all the Boards and Committees
I belong to

Mrs. Alving. That makes it all the kinder of
you to come so early. Now we can get through our
business before dinner. But where's your luggage?

MANDERS {quickly). I left it down at the inn. I
shall sleep there to-night

MRS. Alving {suppressing a smile). Are you really
not to be persuaded, even now, to pass the night
under my roof?

Manders. No, no, Mrs. Alving ; many thanks
I shall stay down there as usual. It's so convenient
for starting again.

Mrs. Alving. Well, you must have your own

Act I.] Ghosts. 21

way. But I really should have thought we two old

MANDERS. Now you're making fun of me. Ah !
you're naturally in great spirits to-day — what between
to-morrow's festival and Oswald's return.

Mrs. ALVING. Yes ; you can think what a delight
it is to me ! It's more than two years since he was
home last. And now he has promised to stay with
me all winter.

MANDERS. Has he really ? That's very nice and
dutiful of him. For I can well believe that life in
Rome and Paris has far more attractions.

Mrs. Alving. True. But here he has his mother,
you see. My own darling boy, he hasn't forgotten
his old mother !

MANDERS. It would be grievous indeed, if absence
and absorption in art and that sort of thing were to
blunt his natural feelings.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, you may well say so. But
there's nothing of that sort to fear in him. I'm quite
curious to see whether you'll know him again. He'll
be down presently ; he's upstairs just now, resting a
little on the sofa. But do sit down, my dear Pastor.

MANDERS. Thank you. Are you quite at
liberty ?

Mrs. Alving. Certainly. (She sits by the table)

MANDERS. Very well. Then you shall see

(He goes to the chair where his travelling-bag lies, takes
out a packet of papers, sits down on the opposite side of
the table, and tries to find a clear space for the papers)

Now, to begin with, here is [breaking off) — Tell

me, Mrs. Alving, how do these books come here ?

22 Ghosts. [Act I.

Mrs. Alving. These books ? They are books I
am reading.

Manders. Do you read this sort of literature?

Mrs. Alving. Certainly I do.

Manders. Do you feel better or happier for
reading of this kind ?

Mrs. Alving. I feel, so to speak, more secure.

Manders. That's strange. How do you mean ?

Mrs. Alving. Well, I seem to find explanation
and confirmation of all sorts of things I myself have
been thinking. For that's the wonderful part of it,
Pastor Manders ; there's really nothing new in these
books, nothing but what most people think and
believe. Only most people either don't formulate it to
themselves, or else keep quiet about it.

Manders. Great heavens ! Do you really believe
that most people ?

Mrs. Alving. I do, indeed.

MANDERS. But surely not in this country? Not
here, among us ?

MRS. Alving. Yes, certainly, among us too.

Manders. Well, I really must say !

Mrs. Alving. For the rest, what do you object
to in these books ?

MANDERS. Object to in them ? You surely don't
suppose that I have nothing to do but study such
productions as these ?

Mrs. Alving. That is to say, you know nothing
of what you are condemning.

MANDERS. I have read enough about these writings
to disapprove of them.

Mrs. Alving. Yes ; but your own opinion

Act I.] Ghosts. 23

Manders. My dear Mrs. Alving, there are many
occasions in life when one must rely upon others.
Things are so ordered in this world ; and it's well
that they are. How could society get on otherwise ?

Mrs. ALVING. Well, I daresay you're right

MANDERS. Besides, I of course don't deny that
there may be much that is interesting in such books.
Nor can I blame you for wishing to keep up with the
intellectual movements that are said to be going on in
the great world, where you have let your son pass so
much of his life. But

Mrs. Alving. But?

MANDERS {lowering his voice). But one shouldn't
talk about it, Mrs. Alving. One is certainly not
bound to account to everybody for what one reads
and thinks within one's own four walls.

Mrs. Alving. Of course not ; I quite think so.

Manders. Only think, now, how you are bound
to consider the interests of this Orphanage which you
decided on founding at a time when you thought very
differently on spiritual matters — so far as I can

Mrs. Alving. Oh yes ; I quite admit that But
it was about the Orphanage

Manders. It was about the Orphanage we were
to speak ; yes. All I say is : prudence, my dear lady !
And now we'll get to business. {Opens tJie packet \ and
takes out a number of papers?) Do you see these ?

Mrs. Alving. The documents ?

Manders. All — and in perfect order. I can tell you
it was hard work to get them in time. I had to put on

24 Ghosts. [Act I.

strong pressure. The authorities are almost painfully
scrupulous when you want them to come to the point.
But here they are at last. {Looks through the bundle?)
See ! here is the formal deed of gift of the parcel of
ground know as Solvik in the Manor of Rosenvold,
with all the newly-constructed buildings, schoolrooms,
master's house, and chapel. And here is the legal
fiat for the endowment and for the Regulations of the
Institution. Will you look at them? {Reads.)
" Regulations for the Children's Home to be known
as ' Captain Alving's Foundation.' "

MRS. ALVING {looks long at the paper). So there
it is.

Manders. I have chosen the designation " Cap-
tain " rather than " Chamberlain." " Captain " looks
less pretentious.

Mrs. ALVING. Oh, yes ; just as you think best.

MANDERS. And here you have the Bank Account
of the capital lying at interest to cover the current
expenses of the Orphanage.

Mrs. ALVING. Thank you ; but please keep it —
it will be more convenient.

MANDERS. With pleasure. I think we will leave
the money in the Bank for the present. The interest
is certainly not what we could wish — four per cent,
and six months' notice of withdrawal. If a good
mortgage could be found later on — of course it must
be a first mortgage and an undoubted security — then
we could consider the matter.

Mrs. ALVING. Certainly, my dear Pastor Manders.
You are the best judge in these things.

MANDERS. I will keep my eyes open at any rata

Act I.] Ghosts. 25

But now there's one thing more which I have several
times been intending to ask you.

Mrs. Alving. And what's that ?

MANDERS. Shall the Orphanage buildings be
insured or not ?

Mrs. Alving. Of course they must be insured.

Manders. Well, stop a minute, Mrs. Alving.
Let us look into the matter a little more closely.

Mrs. Alving. I have everything insured ; build-
ings and movables and stock and crops.

Manders. Of course you have — on your own
estate. And so have I — of course. But here, you
see, it's quite another matter. The Orphanage is to
be consecrated, as it were, to a higher purpose.

Mrs. Alving. Yes, but that's no reason

Manders. For my own part, I should not see the
smallest impropriety in guarding against all con-

Mrs. Alving. No, I should think not.

Manders. But what is the general feeling in the
neighbourhood ? You, of course, know better than I.

Mrs. Alving. Hm — the general feeling

Manders. Is there any considerable number of
people — really responsible people — who might be
scandalised ?

Mrs. Alving. What do you mean by " really
responsible people?"

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