The people of Scandinavia, in spite of their small numbers and their unfavorable location, have played a part in history quite out of proportion to their numerical rank. Twice they have, indeed, been the leaders of Europe. The first time was in 1630, when Gustavus Adolfus placed Sweden on a pinnacle from which she soon had to descend. Again, two and a half centuries later, Scandinavia was an arbiter, but this time in the field of letters. Ibsen, Strindberg, Bjornson formed a mighty trio of dramatists; and the greatest of these was Ibsen.

Norway is now observing the centenary of its greatest author's birth, at a time when his plays, though written for an audience of fifty years ago, are being revived with success. Ibsen's frankness no longer causes sensitive theatre-goers to shudder, for he has long since been surpassed in that respect by lesser men, playing loudly the chord that formed only a fragment of his symphony. Ibsen, like Shakespeare, is in no great danger of growing antiquated; but if he were, his services in throwing aside the torpid and illusive glow of Romanticism, that had so long held European literature entranced, would still be invaluable. As so often happens, the Naturalistic movement introduced by this glant degenerated to vulgarity, but not before Hauptmann, Shaw, and Strindberg, following Ibsen, had established its importance in literature. Not often does true genius receive its due while its possessor lives; Ibsen, however, was fortunate enough to be hailed as great during his lifetime, and posterity has continued the applause of his generation.