will wonder, not so much that a translation 'should be so late in
forthcoming,' but that, of all things, there should exist a dramatic
literature worthy the name in that Ultima Thule. He is, indeed, not
in any way to be blamed for not suspecting the possibility of a highly
developed drama under conditions such as obtain in Iceland, even though
he may well be aware that lyric poetry has been cultivated there with
ardor and success.

When authors of small nations, such as Denmark and Holland, have been
known to complain about the limited circle they can hope to reach, how
true, how pathetically true, is this of Iceland, with its scant eighty
thousand inhabitants of poor fishermen and farmers thinly spread over
the lordly spaces of their far-away, rugged and barren island! What
audience can an author expect there? Nor is it to be thought that his
very difficult mother-tongue will permit a comprehension of his work
among the reading public of the other Scandinavian lands.

It stands to reason--whatever enthusiasts on the subject have said to
the contrary--that, by its very nature, the drama can attain independent
and legitimate growth only in centers of human habitation, where the
stage--very necessarily--epitomizes the tendencies of the times, and, if
occupied by a real literature in every sense, is the self-expression of
a great community. As late as 1886 a sober-minded author on Scandinavian
literature was able to say, with some justice, 'Iceland lacks all
conditions for a dramatic literature.' And the situation has not changed
essentially since. Whatever has been done in that line in recent times
is to all intents and purposes due to stimulation from abroad and, in so
far, artificial. So far, none of the more ambitious native efforts have
been on the program of the stage of Reykjavik to be performed by the
very estimable amateur players of that town.