Chapter 7

(_The 'Great Hall' at Flugumyr, with raised seats along both walls and a dais at the gable end. The entrance door is at the right, in the side wall towards_ _the background. The upper part of the walls is draped with hangings, the lower part with shields hung up. Along the side walls are benches; two high seats in the foreground on either side; in front of the higher one a little table. In the middle of the dais is the seat of_ LADY HELGA, _with benches behind it. The evening candles are lit on all sides_.) (HELGA _and_ SALVOR.)

_Helga_.--You do well to take a part of the domestic work off my shoulders.

_Salvor_.--You have been very kind to me, Lady Helga.

_Helga_.--To-morrow early I need breakfast for five hundred men.

_Salvor_.--All hands are at work, lady!

_Helga_.--To-morrow the chieftains are to do battle; have you bandages enough, ready? A good physician is worth half an army.

_Salvor_.--There will not be any want of bandages. (_She embraces_ HELGA, _half weeping_.) Let the chieftains make peace, lady!

_Helga_.--That would amount to humbling my husband! (_Seats herself on her chair on the dais_.) Bishop Botolf has promised to sit with us in the hall here to-night; have two tapers, large and thick, placed on the table in front of the high seat.

(EINAR THE RICH _enters hurriedly and runs up on the dais. He lays his head on the knees of_ LADY HELGA. SALVOR _shrieks in fright_.)

_Einar_.--I am bringing you my head, lady!

_Helga_.--Why shriek so, Salvor?--Who are you?

_Einar_.--I am Einar of Vik.

_Helga_.--Good is your gift, and I shall gladly accept it! Salvor! Ask Asbjorn Illugason to come here. I desire that he shall behead Einar the Rich. (_Exit_ SALVOR.)

_Einar_ (_quickly takes_ THOROLF'S _ring from his arm_).--Spare my life; for God's sake, mercy, mercy, mercy!

_Helga_.--You shall obtain the same mercy as did Thorolf Bjarnason!

_Einar_.--Do you know this ring, lady?

_Helga_ (_attentively looking at the ring_).--That ring I know; did you steal it from the body of Thorolf?

_Einar_.--Steal? As rich a man as I am? No, Thorolf bade me give you this ring, lady, with this message----

_Helga_ (_approaching him, eagerly_).--What message? What message? Was that just before he was slain?

_Einar_.--Yes, just before that!

_Helga_.--And the message? Are you tongue-tied?

_Einar_.--That I should be spared, life and limb, although I had been among his assailants.

_Helga_.--Did Thorolf mention any others to be spared beside you?

_Einar_.--No, none!

_Helga_.--The ring is the right sign. If Thorolf has forgiven you, why should I not do likewise? (_Leads him out_.) Wait here in that corner; I shall spare you.

_Asbjorn_ (_comes in hurriedly_).--Are you in danger, lady?

_Helga_.--No. A man's life was given me which I did not wish to take, though.

_Asbjorn_.--I feared it might be some attack by Broddi and his men.

_Helga_.--Broddi will soon become peacefully inclined. (_Enter_ KOLBEIN THE YOUNG, BISHOP BOTOLF _in his pontifical robes_, HAF, _and_ SALVOR, _bearing two big, stout tapers which are lit. The hall becomes half filled with armed men_.)

_Botolf_.--Pax tecum, filia!

_Helga_ (_bows before the bishop and leads him to the higher seat of honor_).--Be seated on this higher seat of honor this evening, my lord. To-morrow an army of my husband's will accompany you to Holar and re-establish you in your see, as soon as we shall have driven from thence Broddi's and Brand's troop of rebels.

_Botolf_.--A captive bishop is content to be seated on the lower high seat, my daughter!

_Helga_.--As you wish, my lord. (_Leads him to the lower seat of honor, where he is seated_. SALVOR _moves the table to the lower high seat and puts the tapers upon it. Most of the men are sitting; drink-horns and ale are brought in_.)

_Kolbein_ (_is given a drinking-horn_, BOTOLF _another, from whom they are passed on from man to man_. KOLBEIN _seats himself on the higher seat of honor_).--There is courage in our men; they all are minded to do battle in order to be rid of that horde of rebels.

_Botolf_.--You take much power upon yourself, Kolbein, to begin war and kill so many men without law and its decrees.

_Kolbein_.--Why do you speak thus, my lord? You freed the slayers of Thorolf from the interdict; and yet they slew him without the law and its decrees.

_Botolf_.--It is a labor of love for the Holy Church to pardon the guilty. We do it for God's sake.

_Kolbein_.--And it is the task of chieftains to administer the laws themselves, and to begin hostilities in order to make others submit to their will.

(_The horns pass around until_ HAF _has finished reciting his lay_.)

_Botolf_.--An ill task and a disastrous one. To me it seems that parliament ought to administer the laws and pronounce judgment according to them.

_Kolbein_.--We chieftains have all power over law and decrees in parliament. It would only delay sentence to seek a decision there.

_Botolf_.--It has come to my ears that Brand Kolbeinsson owns by rights the greater part of the dominions you now govern, and that, for this reason you are not rightfully chieftain here.

_Kolbein_.--I, as well as Brand, am of the race of Asbjorn, and Sighvat Sturluson put me in possession of the land when I was but fifteen years old.

_Botolf_.--And therefore had you Sighvat and his sons killed in the battle of Orlygsstad.

_Kolbein_.--Sighvat wanted to lure my constituents from me by his wiles. The yeomen chose me their chieftain twenty years ago, and ever since I have performed, now this, now that deed, so that the yeomen would not choose another chieftain in my stead. Therefore is it right that I should be chieftain here. But to my ears it has come that you, my lord, have not lawfully come to be bishop at Holar!

_Helga_ (_drinks from the horn and smiles_).--To your health, sir bishop!

_Botolf_ (_responds after a while to her toast_).--You astonish me! The archbishop appointed me!

_Kolbein_.--No one becomes lawfully bishop of Holar until we of the North Quarter have chosen him. And you we have not chosen, my lord! You are bishop here as long as I will, and no longer. Another matter it is that I shall do all to be at peace with the Holy Church, because the days of my life are probably counted.

_Botolf_.--I have now learned how strong your desire for peace is, Kolbein.

_Helga_.--Remember, my lord, that Kolbein thought it a matter of necessity that you should be his guest for a few days. I have treated you as well, sir, as my work would permit me and you would accept.

_Botolf_.--And yet they say that you more than any other were cause of the state of war that now exists, and that your flattering of me is but dissimulation.

_Helga_.--They are my enemies who tell you that, sir bishop! (HELGA _leaves her seat_. ASBJORN, _who has been speaking with a man, approaches her. They converse together in subdued voice in the foreground_.)

_Asbjorn_.--Shall I tell Kolbein that Brand Kolbeinsson is riding to Flugumyr with eleven followers?

_Helga_.--No! Remember Helgi Skaftason, should he come with Brand.

_Asbjorn_.--Come he will if he is fated to death.

_Helga_.--Is Broddi along?

_Asbjorn_.--He is likely to be at Holar in the fort.

_Helga_ (_goes to her seat. Raises her voice_). There is no cheer here to-night. Haf! Have you no song to recite or some tale to tell?

_Haf_ (_advancing to middle of floor_).--I have put together a little song about the present feud.

_Helga_.--Let men hear it, Haf!

_Haf_.--Hither I see the ravens winging, They steer their flight to Holar's steeple On their errand bent death bringing; Hard the bishop's bells are ringing: Longest peals great Likabong:[A] 'The Peace of God shall save the people.'

[Footnote A: 'Lyke-knell,' name of the great bell of the Holar Cathedral.]

Heroes head their warlike forces, Mailed fists 'gainst shields are clashing, Over Herad's water-courses Thunder thousand hoofs of horses, Over fords and bridges dashing. Long afar moans Likabong.

Death foretells the cock's dawn-greeting: Many a fey man's fair limbs mangles Soon the sword and spear in meeting. Hot the Northland blood is beating! Low and dull weeps Likabong. The shiv'ring Southron sea-cod angles.

_Helga_.--Excellent! That's aimed at Hjalti, the son of the bishop,--the cod-biter!

_Haf_.--Peace,--how many a foe will crave her! In Woden's spoor the sward is bloody-- Many a head the swords dissever; Be our host victorious ever! Silent lastly Likabong-- Women weep for men once ruddy.

_Botolf_.--Little your skald's song contributes to the honor of the Church as it seems to me, Lady Helga.

_Helga_ (_lifts the drinking-horn to her lips; the bishop responds in silence_).--To your health, sir bishop! When at Oddi I listened to the opinions of Snorri Sturluson and of Sæmund, my father, about poetics, but I doubt whether they would have thought that Haf had said ought derogatory to the Holy Church, in particularly mentioning in the burthen what Likabong does.

_Botolf_.--I shall not discuss the more hidden meanings; but in the last stanza Likabong certainly is silent with shame.

_Helga_.--Far from it, sir bishop! Likabong is Moses, who is praying with outstretched arms whilst Josua is giving battle. When the battle is won his hands drop with weariness.

_Botolf_ (_to_ KOLBEIN THE YOUNG).--Likabong did not weep when you fled from Broddi and the Holy Church at Holar, which was preparing to resist worldly insolence.

_Kolbein_.--No, excepting it shed tears at having to part with its bishop in such headlong haste!

_Helga_.--I had heard before that the 'Peace of God' which the bishop let be pealed over the land had saved us from complete rout at the beginning of the feud. But now I hear for the first time that my husband fled before Broddi and the Holy Church of Holar.

_Kolbein_.--Never did I flee, but at that occasion I was forced to avoid trouble. (_Advances on the floor and mounts with one foot on the dais on which_ HELGA _is seated_.) Here I place my foot on the beam and make a vow that I shall never flee before Broddi Thorleifsson. (_Returns to his seat_.)

_Asbjorn_.--And here I place my foot on the beam and make a vow that if battle there will be I shall exchange blows with Broddi Thorleifsson until one of us fall dead.

_Helga_.--Well spoken, Asbjorn!

_Haf_ (_comes from the door_).--Brand Kolbeinsson is approaching with an armed band.

_Kolbein_.--Is my kinsman beside himself?

_Helga_.--To arms! To arms!

_Kolbein_ (_laughs_).--Why, it seems as if the people of Oddi want to enter the fray!

_Helga_.--You have forgotten, my husband, that my father threw down the glove single-handed to all the burghers of Bergentown, because of the drowning of my brother Paul.

(_The men are standing with drawn swords along both sides of the hall, leaving a lane in the middle_. BRAND, BRODDI, ALF, _and the other slayers of_ THOROLF _pass up it_. LADY JORUN _in a man's apparel and_ DEACON SIGURD _follow them. Last of all_ HELGI SKAFTASON.)

_Helga_.--There we see each other again, Helgi Skaftason! (_Points down with the thumb of her right hand_. HELGI _is killed and dragged out without the other slayers of_ THOROLF _becoming aware of it_. EINAR THE RICH _enters again with the men of_ KOLBEIN, _who dragged out_ HELGI. _He joins the band of_ BRAND. _The axe of_ HELGI _remains lying on the spot where he fell_.)

_Brand_.--Hail, Kolbein kinsman!

_Broddi_.--Hail, brother-in-law! What truce shall we have?

_Helga_.--The same as had Thorolf Bjarnason!

_Broddi_.--I care not to quarrel with women about my life!

_Helga_.--It is too late for the fox to fight for life, once he has gone into the trap.

_Kolbein_.--Why, Brand Kolbeinsson, did you attack and slay Thorolf, our friend?

_Broddi_.--I did more to incite men to that than did Brand Kolbeinsson, and we offer to atone for his slaying with much money, if you are willing.

_Helga_.--More will be needful than only money.

_Brand_.--I thought there was great necessity to do away with Thorolf.

_Helga_.--'Perjured men, murder-wolves.'[A] Jorun, your wife, egged you on to take revenge for her father and her brother.

[Footnote A: Quotation from the Eddic poem Voluspo.]

_Brand_.--It is entirely untrue that my wife Jorun egged me on to revenge either her father or brother, even if men have told you so, Kolbein. About absent people most things can be told. But for this reason was Thorolf deprived of life, because you had set him as chieftain over the Eyafirth, to succeed you.

_Kolbein_.--Never did I do that!

_Brand_.--Helga, your wife, affirmed that you had done so.

_Helga_.--Certainly you did, my husband. But, well it may be that at the time you were not in full possession of your senses.

_Einar_.--I heard it, my lord, how you set Thorolf chieftain over Eyafirth. And so no one dare blame Lady Helga for having misheard or mis-stated the matter.

_Sigurd_.--You here, Einar the Rich!

_Brand_.--Notwithstanding Thorolf's low descent you gave him preference over chieftains, you gave him authority over men, and you let him journey with you to Rome. No peacemaker was your Thorolf among men; but a bad companion he was, and me he nicknamed.

_Kolbein_.--All that has Thorolf atoned for with his life. Why, Broddi, did you attack my friend Thorolf?

_Broddi_.--I am your brother-in-law, Kolbein, and I owed it to you to avenge insults heaped upon you. Long had he been faithless to you and cunningly served both you and been a treacherous follower to you both here and abroad.

_Helga_.--Easy it is to perceive that Thorolf no longer dwells among the living since he is thus slandered. For this reason you killed him, because you thought Kolbein to be dead and that Eyafirth had gotten too brave a leader in him.

_Brand_.--It casts no good light upon you, my lady, to praise Thorolf Bjarnason thus highly!

_Kolbein_.--And what moved you, Alf, to attack Thorolf, my friend?

_Alf_.--My hatred of the dog!

_Helga_.--Little hope I see of a reconciliation. One of Thorolf's slayers dried his blood on the fringes of my veil. And you, Alf of Grof, you reviled me like the worst witch; you wanted to have a sack pulled over my head.

_Kolbein_ (_furious_).--Boor!--have a sack pulled over her! A sack,--you devilish fiend! What did you cattle mean? I shall have your skin flayed off you and pull it over your ears after you are dead! I shall never make peace with Alf of Grof!

_Helga_.--A loutish rustic should never take part in the dealings of men of great account!

_Alf_.--I offer all my property as ransom!

_Broddi_.--Silence, you coward--all your property!

_Alf_.--Have I no right to live, if I can?

_Helga_.--I cannot see what use there is in your living, Alf!

_Kolbein_.--Alf of Grof and I shall never be reconciled.

_Brand_.--I journeyed hither with Thorolf's slayers in order to reach an agreement with you. If it be not your will to accept reconciliation with us, I demand that you hand over to me possession of all those districts that are mine by rights, so that I in that manner may obtain sufficient resources to be able to sustain the fine which you will impose on us for the slaying.

_Helga_.--Now it is clear that your men have no scruples to kill each the other, but will by no means be ready to atone for it. With demands such as these, Brand Kolbeinsson foregoes all chance of reaching an agreement. You promised me a man's life in this feud, Kolbein. Take Brand's life, then, and that will take away the inclination for further rebellion against you. (_Silence_.)

_Botolf_.--And you intend to take Brand's life, when the Peace of God is at an end?

_Kolbein_.--For the welfare of our Quarter I know no better counsel than that which Lady Helga has given.

_Helga_.--Less cause even there was against Kalf Guttormsson, and yet has he been mouldering in his grave these ten years. Asbjorn and Haf, seize hold of my kinsman Brand!

_Sigurd_.--I have heard that you would spare Brand Kolbeinsson's life if another man were willing to die for him.

_Helga_.--I did make that condition. (_Laughs_.) Will you fulfill it, deacon?

_Sigurd_.--No. Because I know you will show no mercy.

_Jorun_ (_leaps up on the dais and lays her head on_ HELGA'S _knee_).--Take my life instead of Brand Kolbeinsson's life.

_Helga_.--You are out of your senses, lad!

_Jorun_ (_arises, looking at_ LADY HELGA).--You cut close to me ten years ago; take now my life also!

_Helga_ (_shades her eyes_).--You, were beheaded ten years ago! Has the lad Guttorm Kalfsson risen from his grave?

_Kolbein_.--Do we see apparitions in the light?

_Broddi_ (_to_ BRAND).--How did your wife Jorun come among our company? (BRAND _leaps up on the dais and carries_ JORUN _down on his arm. About all the hall men are heard to say in a low voice_, 'LADY JORUN.' _While she is being carried down to the floor she extends her arms toward_ HELGA.)

_Jorun_.--Take my life as you have taken my father's and my brother's; then you need fear no longer that I am egging on my kinsmen to avenge me on you. (BRAND _sets her down on the floor. They embrace each other fervently_.)

_Helga_.--Of little worth I hold your life, Jorun; but in order to keep my promise I shall take it instead of your husband's life. (_Calls out_.) Take my prisoner away from Brand Kolbeinsson!

_Broddi_.--Let us protect her with our bodies!

_Brand_.--Look you, Helga my kinswoman, you will not reach your prisoner so very easily for the first. (DEACON SIGURD _picks up_ HELGI SKAFTASON'S _axe, for he is weaponless. They take_ JORUN _in their midst_.)

_Helga_.--To arms! Wrest my prisoner from among them!

_Broddi_.--Hold my place for a moment, my men, if it should be vacant a short while.--Is it really so, Kolbein the Young, that your wife has made you so senselessly mad that you are about to attack us in order to butcher a woman?

_Kolbein_.--Lady Helga's matter this is, not mine. If we cannot reach terms of peace, it is because of Helgi Skaftason and Alf of Grof!

_Broddi_.--And you let her attack us in order to butcher a woman?

_Kolbein_.--I let it come as it may.

_Broddi_.--Then more will have to come as it may. Be on your guard, Kolbein!

(KOLBEIN _has been sitting in his high seat without drawing his sword, but has had it lying on his knees and now and then unsheathed it halfways_. BRODDI _rushes at him to deliver a blow_; KOLBEIN _dodges the blow and grasps_ BRODDI'S _wrist with both hands, so that his sword drops on the floor. Then he forces_ BRODDI _to sit beside him on the high seat_.)

_Kolbein_.--Be calm now, Broddi! The slaying of Thorolf was an ill deed and a needless one.

_Broddi_.--Let go of me, you hell-hound!

_Kolbein_ (_laughs_).--How furious you are now, brother-in-law!

_Helga_.--What fell there to the floor?

_Kolbein_.--The action for avenging Thorolf Bjarnason, which slipped from your hands, lady!

_Helga_.--That would not have made so great a sound.

_Brand_.--Lady Helga! you who once were my mother's sister! I shall surrender my arms and myself to you if all others will then be granted to make atonement for the slaying of Thorolf.

_Helga_.--Keep your arms yourself, for no one does less harm with them than you. My promise to your wife I shall keep; I wonder only that she goes not herself voluntarily from among your midst, in order to save us difficulties.

_Jorun_.--I cannot, for they hold me.

_Helga_ (_calls out_).--Fetch my captive Jorun from among them! (HAF ASBJORN _and the men of_ KOLBEIN _surround_ BRAND _and his followers_.)

_Asbjorn_.--We shall set upon you now!

_Botolf_.--Bide a little. (_Takes the candles from the table_.) Now I shall lay in the Norse language the interdict on Kolbein and Helga.

_Helga_.--Say what you please, bishop. But you will have to revoke your interdict before you go from hence.

_Botolf_.--That shall I never. No priest shall ever say service for you, and, you shall have no lasting dwelling place but hell. (_Holds the candles with the flame downward_.)

_Helga_.--Haf, you stand near enough to the bishop! Gag him with the end of your spear.

_Kolbein_ (_jumps up without letting go of_ BRODDI).--Hear me, sir bishop! Desist from laying the interdict on me, because not far is the time when I shall need the mercy of God and his Holy Church. Lady Helga has been insulted in such fashion as no high-born lady would endure. But I, for my part, shall be ready to make atonement for the insult offered by her to you and the Holy Church now for the first time.

_Botolf_.--Easy it is to reach an agreement with me, Kolbein, if this larger matter which you have been warring about so long could be settled to-night to the satisfaction of all.

_Kolbein_.--Then hear my decision: For the murder of Thorolf Bjarnason. I decree a fine of eighteen marks silver, and also that those men who may have fallen as part of the vengeance for Thorolf shall not be atoned for.

_Brand_.--Agreed, kinsman Kolbein; the sum you demand for the slaying of Thorolf shall be paid.

_Helga_.--How may this be, my husband? You have promised me a man's life before this feud would be ended.

_Kolbein_.--Have I not demanded an exceedingly high compensation for Thorolfs death?

_Helga_.--But Thorolf was slain in a pledged truce.

_Broddi_.--That truce was made under compulsion.

_Kolbein_.--The man's life you stipulated for yourself you have chosen and taken yourself, or else, where is Helgi Skaftason?

(HELGA _is silent_.)

_Brand_.--Helgi Skaftason! Where is he?

_Botolf_.--His axe is there! (DEACON SIGURD _looks around_.) Are you still carrying weapons, Deacon Sigurd? Clercs are not permitted to bear arms.

_Sigurd_.--Great need I thought there was to do so now. The danger in which was my lady Jorun and you also, sir bishop, and the axe lay before my feet.

_Botolf_.--Nevermore carry arms, deacon!

_Brand_.--Is Helgi Skaftason still alive? If so, is it not possible that his deed be atoned for?

_Helga_.--I shall no longer conceal from you, Brand Kolbeinsson, that Helgi Skaftason will no more dry his axe on the fringe of my veil! In order now that this our reconciliation be kept well I desire to have your son Kalf, to foster him up with me.

_Jorun_.--That shall never be, that you train my boy to be a disturber of the peace.

_Botolf_.--That shall never be; the boy is a hopeful man for a chieftain and ought to be trained up to love peace and abide by the law.

_Kolbein_.--What punishment would you inflict on her, if she got the boy?

_Botolf_.--The excommunication of the Holy Church; the Church wants peace! (_Short silence_.)

_Helga_ (_furiously_).--You stand there still, Alf of Grof; do you still wish to have a sack pulled over my head?

_Kolbein_.--It will never do that a lout insult a high-born woman with impunity. Therefore, I decree that Alf of Grof shall leave the country, never more to return whilst she is in living life.

_Alf_.--Why not rather have me put to death?

_Helga_.--You fear death too much, you coward!

_Broddi_.--And under what conditions shall I make peace with you?

_Kolbein_.--You shall have your sword back, and sit in the high seat for the remainder of the evening, but as soon as the sea is open again (_slaps_ BRODDI _on his shoulder_) we shall, both of us, go to meet Thord Kakali and his Westfirthings.

_Brand_.--Much has your fame grown through these happenings, kinswoman Helga! Exceeding precious must be all your finery, if every spot on the fringes of your veil shall cost a man's life.

_Helga_.--You will remember, kinsman, that I am a descendant in the fourth generation from King Magnus Bareleg. Lady Jorun, come hither and share the dais with us women. (_Woman's garments are put on_ JORUN _when she joins the women_. BRAND _and_ BOTOLF _share the lower seat of honor. The men sheathe their swords, hang up their shields, and seat themselves_. KOLBEIN THE YOUNG _takes up a drinking-horn; horns are passed among the men_.)

_Kolbein_.--To-day we have brought to a happy end a feud, the like of which has not been within this district.

_Brand_.--And the quarrel has ended with full reconciliation.

_Alf_.--Indeed, we have been fully reconciled, Helgi Skaftason and I; he going to hell and I into exile.

_Helga_.--Worse condition you might have got, Alf of Grof.

_Kolbein_.--And to-morrow we shall accompany Bishop Botolf to Holar together, with five hundred men, and shall reinstate him with the greatest honors. Then we shall furlough the greater part of our men. (_The men raise shouts of joy_.) And after that we hope that we may dwell in peace for some time.

_Salvor_.--Meanwhile we women shall heal the wounds of the men.

_Botolf_.--And then there will be peace on earth.

_Sigurd_.--And good will among men!

(_Curtain_)

INDRIDI EINARSSON: ICELANDIC DRAMATIST AND HIS SAGA DRAMA

BY LEE M. HOLLANDER

Indridi Einarsson's 'Sword and Crozier' is the first Icelandic play to be done into English. Very probably, the well-informed reader 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.

The above is by no means said in a spirit of reproach. On the contrary, all honor to the patriotic men who, by writing dramas in their mother-tongue, are willing to forego the emoluments and recognition to be gained from audiences in more favored lands: for the sake of enriching their native literature; for the sake of showing both the world and their own people that neither in this art are they inferior to other nations; for the sake of demonstrating to their satisfaction that a contribution of Iceland to world-literature is no more an impossibility now than in the older times, when it enriched us with lore and history, and gave the world what Greece and Rome did not, the realistic novel.

Three authors divide the honors in this field: Matthías Jochumsson, a gifted lyric poet, now in his old age; the promising young playwright, Jóhann Sigurjónsson; and Indridi Einarsson, now in his prime, whose most original contribution to Icelandic literature is herewith presented. The poet having excellent command of English, I am fortunate to be able (with his permission) to quote _ipsissima verba_ on his life and development.

'I was born in the North of Iceland, on April 30, 1851, and was a farmer's boy of good old family. My chief work at home was haymaking in summer, and in winter being a shepherd. Every spring I was up all the long bright nights, watching the flock that they should not damage the cultivated soil by eating the young grass. I think that solitude (from the eighth to fourteenth year of my life) has fostered my fancy and imagination and dipped me deep in the romanticism of that time (1858-64). In 1865 I went to Reykjavik, and was initiated at the Lyceum (Latin school) in the spring of 1866. I went through the Lyceum in ordinary course. When I began to read Virgilius I felt as if I got wings on my immortal soul, and I think I shall never lose them wholly again. I began to read the poets, starting with the comedies of Old Holberg the Dane, and passing to Schiller and Goethe and Heine. I read all plays of Shakespeare (in Danish translation, then). I studied "Oidipous Tyrannos," Sophocles' awful tragedy, in the original, and read Plautus and Terentius as other boys, Icelandic and Danish fiction.

'During my first year at college I saw Matthías Jochumsson's "Utilegumenn" (The Outlaws) performed at Reykjavik: they had then very fine Icelandic scenery, and went home in ecstasy over the performance, feeling that I had seen the brightest and strongest play in the world. Of my reading I thought "Macbeth," "Gretchen im Carcer" ("Faust" I), and "Oidipous Tyrannos" finest and fullest. While at Reykjavik I wrote "Nyársnóttin" (New Year's Night) and got it acted at the college, with the greatest possible success. That drama formed a turning point in my life--as the author of it I went to Copenhagen to pursue my studies as graduate student. I left college made to half of what I am.

'While studying Political Science at Copenhagen I wrote the drama, "Hellismenn" (The Cave-dwellers). I had come south with two other dramas in my mind. But the atmosphere in Copenhagen was strongly realistic at that time; my Romanticism was not able to withstand it. Without my knowledge I turned to Realism, and when I began to think about my intended dramas I could not write on them because all my thoughts had taken another direction. After completing my examinations I returned, Copenhagen having made the other half of what I am. In 1880 I was appointed auditor of the Official Accounts of Iceland, and got married. During the ten ensuing years I was buried under an avalanche of accounts and official documents and could hardly hold my head up above the waters. The wings of my soul drooped with exhaustion. My dramatic muse awakened several times, but I could not receive her visits. At last, in 1890, I began to write "Skipit sekkur" [The Ship is Sinking,--a naturalistic drama], parts of which I rewrote seven times; so badly had I treated my muse that she began to work so slowly....'

To this I shall only add that the poet has modestly omitted to state that in his capacity of Chief of the Department of Statistics he is the compiler of an excellent year-book on the trade relations and industries of his native isle; that he is the author of several dramas not mentioned by him; and that 'Sword and Crozier,' his latest drama (1899), has already been translated into German and Danish.

I subjoin a synopsis of this play, in order to facilitate an appreciation of it at the first reading.