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KNUT HAMSUN 
 HIS PERSONALITY AND HIS OUTLOOK UPON LIFE 
 BY t 
 JOSEF WIEHR 
 
 Associate Professor of German, Smith College 
 
Vor. II, Nos. 1-2 Ocr., 1921-Jan., 1922 
 
 Smith College Studies in 
 Modern Languages 
 
 > 
 
 KNUT HAMSUN 
 HIS PERSONALITY AND HIS OUTLOOK UPON LIFE 
 BY 
 JOSEF WIEHR 
 Associate Professor af German, Smith College 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, MASS. PARIS 
 SMITE COLLEGE LIBRAIRIE E. CHAMPION 
 Published Quarterly by the 
 
 Departments of Modern Languages of Smith College 
 
 86942 
 
Knut Hamsun 
 His PERSONALITY AND His OUTLOOK UPON LIFE 
 I 
 
 Among the Scandinavian novelists of the present day, Knut 
 Hamsun stands in the foremost rank, and by the nature of his 
 productions he is sharply distinguished from all the rest. The 
 manner of his rise and development, as well as the experiences of 
 his earlier years have also been unusual, and, all in all, Hamsun 
 is a unique figure in the literary world of to-day. 
 
 Knut Hamsun was born on August 4, 1860, at Lom, in Gud- 
 brandsdalen, in the eastern part of Norway. His parents were of 
 an old peasant family in which artistic talent had cropped out 
 repeatedly. Hamsun’s grandfather, a blacksmith, was an expert 
 in ornamental work. The parents did not prosper in Gudbrands- 
 dalen and removed to the Lofoten Islands when Hamsun was 
 but four years old. Here the boy grew up, surrounded by the 
 wild, rugged, and mighty nature of Nordland with its light summer 
 nights, throbbing with intense life in man, beast, and vegetation, 
 only to sink back again into sleep and oblivion on the approach 
 of the long, dark winter. During the last decades many changes 
 have taken place in the mode of life of the people dwelling in these 
 latitudes. The development of natural water power has resulted 
 in an abundant and cheap supply of electricity, and the long 
 winter nights have been made thereby more endurable, some 
 industries have been established, improved means of transporta- 
 tion have brought about speedier, more regular, and dependable 
 communication with the rest of the world. Civilization has been 
 brought closer to the people of Nordland, but their habits of life 
 have remained simple and their emancipation from the influences 
 and forces of nature has as yet not progressed very far. Sixty 
 years ago, i.e. in the childhood of Hamsun, life in Nordland was 
 still more primitive. 
 
 On the Lofoten Islands, fishing is almost the sole occupation of 
 the people. The lives of the fishermen are full of hardship, uncer- 
 
 S6I4 2 
 
2 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 tainty, danger, daring, and adventure. Though periods of want 
 are not infrequent, these men enjoy a high degree of independence 
 and personal liberty. The local merchant, who usually buys 
 up the fish and supplies the necessaries of life, is virtually their 
 only overlord. Of course, they are always at the mercy of the 
 elements, but since man has no share in shaping these conditions, 
 the inevitable dependence upon them is borne more easily. Inas- 
 much as the people of Nordland were left to shift for themselves 
 by the state, they were exempt from many of the duties which 
 the government ordinarily exacts from the individual. It is a 
 significant fact that they were not required to render military 
 service until the beginning of the present century. 
 
 There cannot be any doubt that Hamsun was deeply impressed 
 by the life about him and strongly imbued with the spirit of free- 
 dom from social restraint, and when he afterwards came again 
 in contact with civilization and highly organized society, he 
 rebelled against the many restrictions and limitations which he 
 encountered and, being of a highly sensitive nature, he was often 
 driven to exasperation by mere trifles. This fact must be borne 
 in mind in judging his literary productions, especially those of 
 his earlier years. 
 
 The conditions under which he spent his childhood drove him 
 early into isolation. For several years he lived with an uncle 
 who was a preacher of the state church, a very stern and rigorous 
 man, who was thoroughly convinced of the truth of the old adage: 
 spare the rod and spoil the child. Hamsun’s intellectual develop- 
 ment may have benefited by his stay with this man, but his boy- 
 hood was thereby despoiled of all happiness. In the short story 
 Et Spøkelse (A Spook) Hamsun relates: "Several years I spent 
 with an uncle of mine in a rectory in Nordland.» It was a hard 
 time for me, a great deal of work, many floggings and rarely an 
 hour for play and amusement. Since my uncle held me so strictly, 
 it became gradually my only joy to steal away and be alone; 
 when I had an hour to myself, a thing which rarely happened, I 
 betook myself to the woods or I went up to the cemetery and 
 
 In the rural parts of Norway the preachers of the state church derive a large 
 , part of their income from the farm and pasture lands belonging to each parsonage. 
 Prestegaarden comprises aside from the parsonage a number of outbuildings and 
 usually appears like the place of a more or less prospefous gentleman farmer. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 3 
 
 roamed among the crosses and tombstones, dreamed, pondered, 
 and talked aloud to myself. 
 
 “The rectory was in an unusually pretty location, close to the 
 Glimma channel, a broad ocean current with large rocks, the roar 
 of which resounded day and night, without a let-up. The current 
 ran part of the time southward, part of the time northward, 
 according to the conditions of the tide, but its eternal song rose 
 unceasingly, and the waters flowed with the same swiftness 
 summer and winter, whichever way they ran. 
 
 “Upon a hill, the church was situated and the cemetery. The 
 church was an old wooden structure in the form of a cross and 
 the cemetery was without trees or shrubs and there were never 
 any flowers on the graves; but at the stone-wall forming the 
 enclosure there used to grow the most delicious raspberries, large 
 and juicy berries, which grew there and drew nourishment from the 
 fertile dust of the dead. I knew each grave and every inscription 
 and witnessed how crosses newly erected began to lean as time 
 went on and finally fell over some stormy night. 
 
 “But though there were no flowers on the graves, during the 
 summer the grass grew luxuriantly over the whole cemetery. It 
 was a tall and stiff kind of grass, and I often sat there and listened 
 to the wind rustling in this terribly hard grass which reached clear 
 up to my waist. And in the midst of this rustling the weather- 
 vane would swing around, and the sound of the rusty iron rang 
 out over the whole place. It sounded as though an iron mouth was 
 gnashing its teeth. 
 
 “When the grave-digger was at work, I often had a talk with 
 him. He was a serious man and rarely smiled, but he was very 
 kind towards me and when he stood there, casting up earth from 
 a grave, he occasionally would warn me that I must get out of 
 the way, for now he had a large femur on his spade, or a grinning 
 skull.””* 
 
 The cemetery was Hamsun’s favorite haunt in those years. 
 He thus was early impressed with the ephemeralness of human: 
 life, but his joy in living and his desire for the humble pleasures 
 of existence were by no means impaired. One can easily imagine’ 
 what effect this sort of life must have had on the sensitive boy. 
 
 2 Samlede Verker, Gyldendalske Boghandel, Kristiania og København, 1918, 
 III, Kratskog, pp. 50 i. 
 
4 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 At the age of seventeen, Hamsun was apprenticed to a shoe- 
 maker in Bodö, the chief town of the province of Nordland. Here 
 he found spare time enough to carry on literary pursuits. Already 
 in 1878 he published a solemn, gloomy poem entitled Et Gensyn 
 (Meeting Again), a naively romantic production, which, however, 
 already manifested an unusual nature sense. Shortly afterwards 
 there appeared Bjørger. Fortelling af Knud Pedersen Hamsund. 
 Eget forlag. Bodø, 1878. (Björger. A Story by Knud Pedersen 
 Hamsund. Published by the Author.) In regard to style this 
 story clearly showed the influence of Bjérnson’s peasant tales. 
 The theme, the objective and emotional experiences of an orphaned 
 peasant lad, lent itself admirably to the introduction of many 
 personal elements; a few passages revealed for the first time the 
 skill in lyric prose which is the chief charm of many of the later 
 works from the pen of Hamsun. But this early attempt of his to 
 break into literature naturally failed. 
 
 Hamsun’s roaming disposition made him ill-suited for a seden- 
 tary occupation and he terminated his apprenticeship long before 
 he had entered into the mysteries of the shoemaker’s trade. For 
 a few months he worked as a coal heaver at the Bodö pier, but 
 finally pulled up stakes altogether and disappeared. Drifting 
 from place to place he spent several years in various forms of 
 occupation. He worked as quarryman, at road-making, taught 
 school, and acted as sheriff’s assistant. Finally he landed in 
 America. Here he earned his living as street-car conductor, grocery 
 clerk, farm laborer, and whatnot. In the summer of 1885 Hamsun 
 appeared in Christiania, where he managed to keep from starving 
 to death by some newspaper work and an occasional inconoclastic 
 lecture on literary topics. 
 
 In the fall of 1886 we find him back in the United States, 
 this time as correspondent for a daily, Verdens Gang (Current 
 Events), a position which proved so little remunerative that he 
 had to abandon it and fall back on hard, manual labor to keep 
 body and soul together. It was during his second stay in the 
 United States that he, among other things, worked for many 
 months on a Russian fishing vessel off the Newfoundland banks. 
 His main haunts were, however, in the region between Chicago 
 and the Dakotas. Cecil Kröger, a journalist, has given the fol- 
 lowing account of a chance meeting he had with Hamsun at 
 Minneapolis: ; 
 
Knut HAMSUN 5 
 
 “One autumn evening there appeared at Janson’s Church,’ 
 at one of the weekly discussion meetings, a stranger whom I had 
 not seen before and whom one could not fail to notice. His refined 
 and well-chiseled features, his tall, strong figure, his lively manners 
 and animated conversation, his whole unique personality, sharply 
 contrasted with his surroundings. He bore a striking resemblance 
 to Björnson, and it seemed as though he strove to make the most 
 of this fact and copy Björnson, which was irritating, as imitation 
 alwaysis. He was evidently acquainted here from former occasions, 
 for he greeted and nodded recognition all around the gathering. 
 This man was Knut Hamsun; he was then twenty-eight years 
 old. He had just come in from the country, from a farm up in 
 Dakota, where he had been working as a laborer. Immediately 
 before that time, he had been employed as a street-car conductor 
 in Chicago. Now he had saved enough, he thought, that he could 
 pull through the winter without utterly starving. 
 
 "He intended to make use of this spell of leisure to deliver a 
 number of lectures on literary topies in the city, nothing less would 
 do. . . . And if admission was fixed as low as ten cents, and if 
 he could get the least bigoted Scandinavian papers to give him 
 a wee little bit of advertising, and if Janson, moreover, announced 
 the matter to his congregation, one should be able to count on 
 large enough a number of people that after paying for the hall 
 enough would be left to provide him with tobacco through the 
 winter and very likely it would suffice to buy a pair of overshoes, 
 which he indeed was greatly in need of. He believed—he asserted 
 with a mild oath—that he knew more about literature than any 
 other man in Minnesota. It was, so to speak, his field, and he 
 was honestly convinced that he possessed indisputable talent in 
 that direction. 
 
 “For general farm labor and work on the street-cars he had no 
 ability at all. He had earned anything but praise this summer 
 in Dakota. He had strength enough, he was as powerful as a 
 lion, and he was not altogether an idiot, either, but if a certain 
 kind of work could not completely engage his attention, his 
 thoughts ran off with him. When he had filled his wheel-barrow, 
 
 3 Kristoffer Janson, a Norwegian clergyman, founded in the early eighties of 
 last century a Norwegian Unitarian congregation at Minneapolis. For about a 
 year Hamsun served him as a sort of secretary. Cf. Scandinavian Studies, III, 3, 
 pp. 241 ff. 
 
6 Knut Hamsun 
 
 he wheeled it away with perfect ease, that required no thought, 
 no concentration; but when his brain was unoccupied, it began 
 to busy itself with other matters, he again and again forgot to 
 dump his load at the proper spot and came very near causing 
 complete confusion in this task of clearing up there in Dakota. 
 
 "And he had not fared any better as street-car conductor in 
 Chicago. He knew the names of the streets which he passed to 
 perfection and in orderly sequence, forward and backward. Here 
 he never made a mistake and he sang them out with a strong, 
 melodious voice for which many a conductor could envy him. 
 In day-time, he had, moreover, the street signs, which he could 
 consult. But when it became dark, and when he for some reason 
 or other had not noticed that a certain street had been passed, he 
 was completely at a loss. He was wholly devoid of a sense of location 
 and it was impossible for him to somehow get his bearings and 
 find out where he was, until he came to the end of his run. He 
 accordingly would pick out one of the street names in his list, 
 hit or miss, and sing it out complacently. One can imagine the 
 surprise of the good Chicago people when they were let off the 
 car in the most impossible places. Naturally, they complained to 
 the company.’”* 
 
 Hamsun, the dreamer and wanderer, did not find economic 
 and social conditions in the United States to his liking, and it is 
 not surprising that he failed to win a place for himself. He endured 
 during this period of roaming many hardships and privations, 
 often lacking the bare necessities of existence, but he also gained an 
 insight into human life, vouchsafed only to very few men of genius, 
 and hardly, if ever, to those living in undisturbed material pros- 
 perity. At the same time, he worked in his spare moments at the 
 development of his literary talent, and amidst all the adversity 
 which fell to his lot, he never lost sight of his lofty goal, nor the 
 hope of ultimately attaining it. In some respects, Knut Hamsun’s 
 course reminds one of Zola’s, but his rise must be considered even 
 more phenomenal, since Hamsun was almost completely denied 
 the advantages of a formal education. 
 
 Two successive attempts had convinced him that the United 
 States very likely would never become his El Dorado and he again 
 set his course homeward. 
 
 4 Dagbladet, January 1903. Cf. Illustreret Norsk Litteraturhistorie. Siste Tids- 
 rum, 1890-1904, ved Carl Nærup, Kristiania, 1905, pp. 99 f. 
 
Knut HAMSUN i 
 
 “In the summer of 1888, Mr. R. B. Anderson, now editor of 
 the Norwegian weekly newspaper Amerika, published at Madison, 
 Wis., then American minister at the court of Denmark, was 
 returning to his post after a short vacation. One day in mid- 
 Atlantic, as he lounged about on the lower deck among the steer- 
 age passengers, he suddenly noticed a young fellow who had come 
 to his home in Madison some years before with a letter of intro- 
 duction from Björnson. He recognized Hamsun. He was not 
 an inviting figure—dirty, ragged, and worse than unkempt, and at 
 that moment he was gambling for small stakes with equally dis- 
 reputable companions on the cover of one of the hatches. Mr. 
 Anderson invited him to the promenade deck, talked with him and 
 did his best to be friendly. Hamsun wore in his coat lapel a bit 
 of black ribbon. Mr. Anderson inquired solicitously for whom he 
 was mourning—for some relative perhaps? 
 
 * ‘No,’ said Hamsun defiantly, for the martyrs of Haymarket.’ 
 After that the respectable scholar and diplomat shut his heart 
 and the door of the American legation against this radical vaga- 
 bond. Hamsun tried to interest Mr. Anderson in a large mass 
 of manuscript, enough, it seemed to him, to make a book of a 
 thousand pages. But in vain. ‘Knut Hamsun is in my mind an 
 anarchist, and I had no use for people of that ilk.’ He lost the 
 opportunity of further nourishing his dislike by reading the 
 grotesque satire of Hamsun's first complete book, Fra det moderne 
 Amerikas Aandsliv.”” 
 
 “Of American Culture” came out in the spring of 1889. With 
 this book Hamsun really made his debut in literature. Itisa very 
 witty, often caustic attack upon American culture. In a discon- 
 nected, rambling fashion, Hamsun deals here with a large number 
 of heterogeneous topics. 
 
 The initial chapter treats of American patriotism. Ifa resident 
 of the United States had written and published a similar attack 
 in this country during the war, he surely would have been put 
 in the federal penitentiary—if he had not been lynched without 
 much ado. | 
 
 “Patriotism engendered by means of tin-fifes has permeated 
 their (the people’s) conceptions from their very childhood and has 
 transformed a justifiable national pride into an indefensible 
 
 5 Cf. Scandinavian Studies, III, 3, pp. 242 f. 
 
& Kxvur Hawsvun 
 
 national conceit, which no one and nothing can budge.”* Materi- 
 alism rules supreme. ““There has been evolved in America a form 
 of life which aims singly and solely at the acquisition of comfort, 
 the gain of material possessions, wealth.”” Wealth constitutes the 
 basis of a kind of aristocracy. But “this American aristocracy, to 
 which all people render homage with an outright religious fervor, 
 possesses the power of the ‘genuine’ aristocracy of the middle ages, 
 without any of the latter’s nobility. It meams, coarsely and 
 brutally, a certain number of horse-power of economic resistance. 
 A European cannot form the slightest conception of it—even if 
 he knows the power of money from his native country—to what 
 extent this aristocracy rules in America, he cannot even imagine 
 that money could become so omnipotent.””* 
 
 American liberty is a most deficient instrument. “Such is 
 true in particular in regard to all matters where religious stulti- 
 fication and patriotic fanaticism co-operate with each other. . . . 
 There is an enormous gap in American liberty, a chasm which is 
 kept open by the thick-headed democracy which controls liberty 
 in America in such absolute fashion.” 
 
 Hamsun seems here to contradict himself, in as much as he 
 asserts, on the one hand, that the moneyed aristocracy rules, on 
 the other hand, that democracy holds supreme sway. But aside 
 from its larger economic power, this aristocracy is in his opinion 
 not really elevated above the masses of the people and easily 
 blends with the latter on all occasions in which the interests of 
 the few and the many are not the dominating feature-—Immi- 
 grants become quickly Americanized, because it is of the utmost 
 economic importance for them. To have Americanized millions 
 upon millions of immigrants does, however, not constitute a 
 cultural achievement. Hamsun holds that the human material 
 with which the United States has to work, is of a very inferior 
 kind and finds it natural that the results leave a great deal to be 
 desired, though by implication he criticizes the chief aim striven 
 for. “America has first and foremost made Americans of riffraff, 
 has enrolled them in a state and has made citizens of them; they 
 
 Fra dei moderne Amerikas Aandslix. Af Knut Hamsun. København, 1889. 
 
 5 Jbid., p. 30. 
 ? Ibid., pp. 1821. 
 
Knvur Hausun a 
 
 may develop into human beings when time and opportunity come 
 about.’ 
 
 Cultural life there is none; “the most original and vigorous 
 manifestation” in this realm, Hamsun sees in American jour- 
 nalism, in spite of the fact that it reflects only the consciousness 
 of the masses, by the interests of which it is also controlled. And 
 the lives of the American people are governed by coarse material 
 ism, which is not without a certain grandeur, but utterly selfish 
 and inimical to culture. The last vestige of the latter existing 
 in the United States was destroyed by the Civil War. “This 
 was a war against aristocracy, and was waged with the intense, 
 mad hatred of democracy agaimst the aristocracy of the South.”™ 
 
 Prudishness in the realm of art, the rule of women, self- 
 satisfied ignorance about the rest of the world inculcated by our 
 schools, are some of our additional shortcomimgs mentioned. 
 The easiest way to dispose of the charges set forth by Hamsun’s 
 “Of American Culture” is, of course, to pick out some of the most 
 obvious errors and exaggerations im his presentation and make 
 them the basis of a general refutation. But even such a procedure 
 would mean a waste of effort, since the book refers to conditions 
 of a generation ago. It is different with his appraisal of Ralph 
 Waldo Emerson, to which more than forty pages are devoted, 
 and which, in essence, is surely correct. 
 
 Hamsun’s criticism throughout the entire book is one-sided, 
 and often unjust, but the grotesque humor of the presentation 
 should prevent the reader from taking him too seriously, unless 
 he should feel too hard hit by the proverbial grain of truth, which 
 is by no means lacking. 
 
 The experiences of Hamsun in the United States explain only 
 in part his severe verdict upon American culture. If he had met 
 here with eminent success instead of dismal failure, he might have 
 been perhaps a little more tolerant in his judgment. But im its 
 essence it would have remained the same, because of Hamsun’s 
 general attitude towards human values. The publication of his 
 book about America produced some echo and made Hamsun’s 
 name known, but possessing no esthethic merit, it did not give him 
 a literary reputation. This latter was, however, now at hand. 
 
 10 Aandsliz, p. 32. 
 2 Jbid., p. 230. 
 
10 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 II 
 
 Hamsun won name and fame almost over night upon the 
 appearance of Sult (Hunger), which in book form came out in 
 1890.7 The work is commonly designated as a psychological 
 novel. It is, indeed, psychological in every fibre, inasmuch as 
 it is a running account of the states of consciousness of the hero, 
 but it cannot very well be regarded as a novel. It is completely 
 lacking in plot, development, and action; it does not even deline- 
 ate character and there is no real conclusion. Swlt is a very skilful, 
 minute analysis and portrayal of the physiologic and psychic 
 experiences of a young man with literary ambition and real 
 poetic talent, but lacking all means of subsistence and the practical 
 ability to obtain them, and consequently doomed to starvation. 
 Needless to say, Hamsun has here freely drawn on his own experi- 
 ences, and the work is in a certain limited sense autobiographic. 
 The future biographer of Hamsun, to be sure, would search the 
 book in vain for so-called facts. The external and material condi- 
 tions of existence were of little concern to Hamsun at that period. 
 In Sult, the changing moods of the nameless hero are the dominat- 
 ing feature from the beginning to the end. 
 
 Moments of hope and inspiration alternate with days and 
 weeks of physical and spiritual distress and bleak despair. Things 
 go from bad to worse, and the struggling young author finally 
 hires out as a sailor—in the unconscious endeavor to escape 
 starvation. He acts here, as always, from sheer momentary 
 impulse and, so to speak, tumbles on board the vessel by pure 
 accident. Indeed, most of the characters which Hamsun has 
 created in his earlier works are primarily governed by blind 
 impulses, instincts, and feelings. 
 
 Sult is written in the first person, the form which is unques- 
 tionably best suited for this narrative, and the structure is exceed- 
 ingly simple and artless. Each of the four sections describes a 
 particular crisis in the life of the young man, separated by intervals 
 of a few weeks from each other. The one and only theme dealt 
 with is treated at great length, and a certain painful impression 
 upon the reader is inevitable. But Hamsun’s mastery of style 
 is such that our interest never lags in the perusal of his*pages. 
 
 12 Å fragment of this work had appeared in the Danish periodical Ny Jord 
 (New Soil), in the October number for the year 1888. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 11 
 
 The best passages of this work are really lyric prose, a form of 
 expression which Hamsun employed with consummate skill in 
 subsequent productions. And every sentence is pulsating with 
 intense life and conveys the impression of absolute sincerity and 
 truthfulness. 
 
 It is ordinarily difficult to convince the reader, or the audience 
 in a theater, of the real superiority of a supposed genius without 
 name or fame. But Hamsun has succeeded where many others 
 have failed. The wild, feverish flights of fancy in which his hero 
 again and again indulges are so evidently the product of a highly 
 poetic imagination that we concede at once the real genius of the 
 young man. 
 
 As has been said before, his character is not delineated and it 
 is not the immediate source of his actions. But we may draw a 
 number of reliable inferences in regard to the character of the 
 man. At first sight, he seems to be lacking in will power, but on 
 closer analysis one comes to the conclusion that he possesses a 
 remarkably strong will. The tenacity with which he carries on 
 his literary efforts in spite of their seeming futility is in itself 
 sufficient proof of it. He exhibits the pride of the intellectual 
 and ethical aristocrat, but is singularly modest in the evaluation 
 of his own merits. Although he is not concerned about morality 
 at all, he never stoops to an actually low deed. Asa matter of fact, 
 he is little else but a passive sufferer. Himself of a very sensitive 
 nature, he shows delicate regard for the rights and feelings of 
 others—if some mad impulse does not get the better of him; 
 and whenever he has wronged any one under the influence of some 
 strange, instinctive compulsion, he experiences afterwards the 
 deepest remorse. In spite of his own sufferings, he has compassion 
 for the misfortune of others, although he tries frequently to conceal 
 it under a harsh exterior. When, on rare occasions, he gets into 
 possession of a few dollars, he bestows the money upon others 
 in such indiscriminate fashion as to make the trained social worker 
 throw up his hands in holy horror and disgust. He shows entire 
 disregard of the consequences of his acts, but conventional morals 
 and even social prejudices win influence upon his conduct fre- 
 quently. Like Hamsun himself, the hero shows often a desire 
 to dazzle and dumbfound, and even when in deepest distress, 
 he cannot resist the temptation to play some innocent prank 
 on some one. 
 
12 Knut Hamsun 
 
 When he is under the influence of such compelling instincts, 
 his consciousness seems to be divided, his logical ego stands by, 
 as it were, as a spectator and critic of the strange antics in which 
 the other half of his self indulges, apparently without any power 
 of interfering. But Hamsun only portrays states of consciousness, 
 he does not try to explain them. The underlying causes do not 
 concern him. 
 
 The setting of Sult is Christiania, but local color is lacking, 
 it would seem. The environment of the hero is brought in only 
 in as far as it is inseparable from the portrayal of his moods and 
 physical and mental states. A naturalist would have found a 
 rich harvest in the very features which Hamsun largely ignores. 
 But he has not shrunk from depicting some repulsive scences 
 and incidents, simply because these are an organic part of the 
 whole. Hamsun has always opposed, at the beginning of his 
 literary career, indeed, with a great deal of vehemence, the vogue 
 of making narrative and dramatic art the vehicle for the presenta- 
 tion of some problem, claim, or theory, which was dominant in 
 Scandinavian literature as well as elsewhere in the eighties of 
 last century. To bea work of art, a novel or a drama must above 
 all else be poetic. It should not deal with material things and the 
 external occurrences of life, but depict the roaming of thoughts 
 and feelings in the infinite sky, the airy flights of fancy, of heart 
 and brain, strange psychological influences of the nerves, the blood, 
 of flesh and bone, in short, the subconscious and unconscious life 
 of the human soul. He has, on several occasions, not been able to 
 resist the temptation to make his works the means of propaganda 
 against certain tendencies of the time; but in Sult he has scrupu- 
 lously adhered to his own program. There is no criticism or con- 
 demnation of a society so constituted that some of its truly superior 
 members must perish. Not society, but Providence, is made re- 
 sponsible by the young author for his wretched fate. At times, he is, 
 indeed, resigned and submissive, but again and again, he breaks 
 into wild, blasphemous defiance of the Supreme Being, as in the 
 following: 
 
 “T tell thee, Apis in heaven above, I know that I shall die, 
 and yet I mock thee, with death staring into my face. Thou 
 hast used might against me and thou dost not know that I shall 
 never humble myself in adversity. Shouldst thou not know this? 
 Hast thou created my heart whilst thou wert asleep? I tell thee, 
 
Knut HAMSUN 13 
 
 all my life’s energy and every drop of my blood delights in mocking 
 thee and in spurning thy mercy. From this hour on I forsake 
 all thy doings and thy whole being, I shall curse my thoughts 
 if they stray to thee again, and tear off my lips if they again 
 pronounce thy name. If thou art, I speak to thee the last word 
 in life and death; I bid thee farewell.” 
 
 Hamsun then knew but defiance, though he has since become 
 resigned and calm towards the Power that sustains the universe. 
 He is far from being an infidel, but the teachings of Christianity, 
 or rather the creeds and dogmas of the various religions, he rejects. 
 And he still maintains that misfortune, wretchedness, and want 
 do not bring a man nearer to God, but, on the contrary, debase 
 him. 
 
 The outstanding feature in Sult is the absolute, unsparing 
 truthfulness of the picture presented. By the production of this 
 work, Hamsun, no doubt, sought to free his mind from terrible 
 memories of the past that were haunting him, and the identity 
 of the author with the hero goes very far. 
 
 In the treatment of a theme like that of Sulf, one would hardly 
 expect to find much poetic beauty, and yet this quality is already 
 present. It breaks forth like a strange, elusive light from certain 
 parts of Mysterier (Mysteries), which appeared in 1892. This 
 novel has many traits in common with Sult. In the first place, 
 Mysterier is also primarily a psychological study, and the main 
 character seems to be identical with that of Sult. What little 
 we learn about the age, the past, and similar features of Johan 
 Nilsen Nagel, the central figure in Mysterier, makes it perfectly 
 possible to regard him as the same young man who one winter 
 evening fled in so strange a fashion from the scene of his misery. 
 The young author of Sult is, to be sure, a very strange, eccentric 
 individual, whose queer mental vagaries seem to result, however, 
 chiefly from sheer starvation. Nagel, on the other hand, must be 
 considered a man of hopelessly unbalanced mind. Yet the former 
 is evidently drifting towards ultimate insanity, and in his entire 
 mental and moral make-up he is virtually identical with Nagel. 
 One trait is apparently new in the latter: his attitude towards 
 nature; but traces of this nature-feeling are to be found in Sult, 
 despite the fact that the setting of this work affords virtually no 
 
 18 Verker, I, Sult, p. 120. 
 
14 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 opportunity to reveal it. In traits of character and mode of 
 conduct, the two men bear a striking resemblance. 
 
 Nagel plumps down into the little coast town, which is the 
 scene of the novel, so to speak, from a clear sky. He has no inten- 
 tion of making a stop here when he comes in on the steamer. He 
 acts entirely on impulse when he decides to land. But prompt 
 action does not lie in his nature, and so he fails to get off in time, 
 though his baggage is already on the pier. Thenext day, he arrives 
 overland with horse and team. He does not know the place, 
 nor any of the people, but he must come to meet his destiny. 
 It has been so ordained by the mysterious forces which govern 
 human life. 
 
 We learn virtually nothing about his antecedents, his place 
 in society, his aims in life, and are given only a few, in part con- 
 tradictory hints about his past. Immediately after his arrival, 
 he falls desperately in love with Dagny Kielland, the daughter 
 of the pastor, who very recently has become engaged to a young 
 naval officer. There seems to be no hope for Nagel, and yet he 
 is on the point of winning Dagny when he gives up in despair. 
 He then seeks to find peace of mind and humble bliss by a union 
 with Martha Gude, a poor and elderly maiden, whose chief traits 
 of character are innocence, kindness, and humility. She is the 
 opposite of Dagny, who is ambitious, proud, and coquettish. 
 Dagny interferes in the matter, actuated by jealousy, and Martha 
 retracts her promise to marry Nagel. To make doubly sure, 
 Dagny spirits her away. So Nagel loses his last foothold in life. 
 After an unsuccessful attempt at suicide by means of poison—a 
 solicitous soul had found a chance to substitute water for the Prus- 
 sic acid which Nagel always carried with him—he contracts a 
 fever because of the excitement and exposure. Haunted by voices 
 and omens from the unknown, he drowns himself in a fit of despair. 
 The events which lead to the catastrophe are comprised in a few 
 brief weeks. The plot of the novel is meager, but there is action, 
 a certain development, a number of the minor characters are well 
 depicted, and we find here, moreover, a fairly complete portrayal 
 of the mode of life and manners prevailing in a certain stratum of 
 Norwegian society. Mysterier is therefore actually a novel. The 
 suggestion has been made repeatedly that "mystifications” would 
 be a more appropiate title for this work. But such an appraisal 
 is based on externalities and superficialities. Nagel, indeed, inten- 
 
Knut HAMSUN 15 
 
 tionally mystifies the good people, but Hamsun’s concern about 
 the mysterious forces which govern the life of his hero is a far 
 weightier fact. The oddity of Nagel does not detract in the least 
 from it. Asin Suit, no attempt is made to show up the underlying 
 causes of his abnormal conduct. In Mysterier, Hamsun has laid 
 bare his own self perhaps more than in any other of his works; 
 Nagel is above all the mouth-piece for the views which the author 
 then held and which only very gradually underwent a modifica- 
 tion. Mysterier makes it very evident that Hamsun had not yet 
 been able to adjust himself to the world as it is. 
 
 Johan Nilsen Nagel is hopelessly bankrupt. Life is devoid 
 for him of any higher meaning; it seems to him but one big, dis- 
 gusting farce. Men in general are egoists, hypocrites, and fools. 
 Mediocrity swells out in blatant pride and poses for real greatness, 
 and the masses in their imbecility willingly render tribute. So- 
 called men of genius, the leaders in the various fields of human 
 endeavor, build their successes upon ridiculously small achieve- 
 ments, upon which they, moreover, stumble by accident pure 
 and simple. And genius has become nauseatingly commonplace, 
 that is, what is acclaimed as genius by public opinion. 
 
 “There soon will be a great man in each community, while 
 perhaps not even a thousand years suffice to produce a single 
 really great man.”* And even such a superman is not entitled 
 to any veneration on the part of his fellow-beings, since his superior 
 genius is but the common product and possession of all mankind. 
 
 “No, his views were confirmed again and again. Nothing 
 but lice, old-milk cheese and Luther’s catechism everywhere. 
 And the good people were medium-sized citizens dwelling in three- 
 story huts; they ate and drank sufficiently, treated themselves to 
 toddy and election talk and dealt in soft soap, brass combs and 
 fish all the year around. But at night, when a thunder storm came 
 up, they lay there and read Johann Arndt! out of pure anxiety. 
 Yes, let us have a single, real exception, see if it can be done! 
 Give us, for example, a great crime, a salient sin! But not these 
 ridiculous abc-transgressions, no, let us have the rare and hair- 
 raising debauch, this delicious profligacy, the arch-sin, full of hell’s 
 
 4 Verker, II, Mysterier, p. 252. 
 15 A Protestant theologian, died 1621, who wrote a number of books of devotion 
 which still enjoy popularity, especially in pietistic circles. 
 
16 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 wild splendor. No, life was petty everywhere. What do you 
 think of the elections, sir? I am very much afraid for Buskerud.” 
 
 A number of the "giants” of the eighties are singled out, and 
 the cloak of greatness with which they drape themselves is torn 
 from their shoulders. For the most part, these are literary men. 
 Tolstoy is a great novelist, but considered from the philosophic 
 point of view, he is a mere fool. He is not a creator of new 
 thoughts, but merely a popularizer of old ideas, conceived long ago 
 by other and greater men. And it is not surprising that he, in 
 his declining years, should preach renunciation; many other men 
 have done so in their declining years when nature compelled 
 them to renounce. Moreover, Tolstoy has humanly and selfishly 
 set a limit to his renunciation, only he makes Countess Tolstoy 
 shoulder the responsibility. 
 
 *Tbsen has been spoken of as a thinker; wouldn't it be well 
 to differentiate a little between popular reasoning and actual 
 thinking? Ibsen's fame has been mentioned, his courage has been 
 thrown into our teeth; wouldn’t it be well to differentiate a little 
 between theoretical and practical courage, between the unselfish, 
 blind spirit of rebellion and this sort of domestic, mutinous 
 impudence? The former blazes forth in actual life, the latter 
 dumbfounds us in the theater. The Norwegian author who does 
 not puff himself up and wield a pin as though it were a lance, 
 is not accounted a full-fledged Norwegian author at all; each one 
 must find for himself some gate-post or other to tilt with, or he 
 would not be considered a courageous chap. Yes, indeed, it was 
 awfully amusing to look on from a distance. It was verily a din of 
 battle and a display of courage as in one of the combats of the 
 great Napoleon, but a danger and a risk as in a French duel. . . . 
 No, a man who wanted to revolt must not be a little, scribbling 
 curiosity, a mere literary concept for the Germans, but a struggling, 
 acting individual in the midst of the turmoil of life. Ibsen's 
 
 16 Verker, II, Mysterier, p. 55. 
 
 It is interesting to note that Nagel sees his fellow countrymen much in the 
 same light as' Ibsen’s Brand. They are but pigmies in their virtues and vices, 
 in their aims and lives. Both men plead for greatness, for whole-hearted, fearless 
 
 ‘devotion to a single aim. But here their ways part. For Brand, the ideal is renun- 
 ciation, the conquest of the animal in man, though he, too, would prefer outright 
 wickedness to a faltering, lukewarm course; for Nagel, the ideal would seem to be a 
 reckless surrender to those very forces which Brand combats. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 17 
 
 revolutionary courage would, indeed, never lead any one into a 
 risky place.’’’ 
 
 It would be of little importance what such an eccentric man 
 as Nagel—he quite correctly describes himself as "at variance 
 with all about everything”—says and thinks, if it were not for the 
 fact that his iconoclastic views are identical with those to which 
 Hamsun subscribed at that time. That Nagel allots a.niche in the 
 hall of fame to Björnson is also entirely in keeping with Hamsun’s 
 own estimate. He was appealed to by Björnson”s strong person- 
 ality, his keen interest in the actual affairs of life, his vigorous 
 participation in them, and the positive, fearless stand he often 
 took. Björnson did not keep himself aloof and did not confine 
 himself to theorizing from a distance, like Ibsen, but was always 
 to be found in the midst of the battle. Hamsun paid unstinted 
 praise. to Bjérnson’s greatness in a poem which he wrote on the 
 occasion of the seventieth birthday of the latter. The final stanzas 
 of it read: 
 
 Han er Tolken født og baaren 
 for vor Nød og Lyst. 
 Ingens Arm som hans at føre, 
 
 ingens Ord som hans at røre. 
 Naar han tier er det tyst. 
 
 Saa en Kvæld vil Stumhet ruge 
 langs vor lange Kyst. 
 
 Fjældet staar og lytter, bier— 
 ingen svarer, Landet tier. 
 
 Naar han tier blir det tyst.* 
 
 Björnson”s services to his country and to mankind are summed 
 up in the following verses written by Hamsun on the death of his 
 great compatriot: 
 
 Aldrig saa lød det en blødere Fløte fra nogen, 
 aldrig et mere alvorlig og varslende Horn: 
 Kvidder og Uveir og Lek ifra Fjældet til Skogen, 
 et Syvstjærnesus over Enger og bølgende Korn. 
 
 1" Verker, II, Mysterier, p. 177. 
 
 *Interpreter born and bred he is / Of our grief and joy. / No one is like him 
 as a leader, / No one’s word as stirring as his. / He being silent, all are mute. 
 
 Thus one day will silence brood / All along our coast. / The mountains stand 
 and listen, waiting— / No one answers, the land is hushed. / When he ceases, all 
 stay mute. 
 
18 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 Et Kor fra hans Hjærtes Grupe, 
 
 men forrest en glad Tenor— 
 
 og Sangen fløt fra hans Strupe, 
 
 og Blomster og Sol og Barmhjærtighet 
 strødde han ned i sit Spor. 
 
 Ja Blomster og Sol og Barmhjærtighet 
 strødde han ned i sit Spor. 
 
 Landskjendt i Verden, huskjendt i Landene vide 
 talte han bærende Ord til den lyttende Slægt, 
 drev som en Sommersolshverv over Hardvinters Tide, 
 løftet og lettet og løste de Lænkedes Vægt. 
 
 Her var han Landets Hyrde, 
 
 hist de Forsaktes Tolk, 
 
 han stod under Vaabenbyrde 
 
 for alle de Trængte i Verden var 
 
 og alle kjempende Folk. 
 
 Han stod under Vaabenbyrde 
 for alle kjæmpende Folk.* 
 
 Of other than literary men, Nagel derides Gladstone as a self- 
 righteous bigot, whose reputation rests on the power of his lungs 
 and whose whole cleverness consists in being able to prove to the 
 masses that two times two are four. 
 
 Nagel is at odds with life in general, or at least with all human 
 institutions. Peace and harmony come to him only on rare 
 occasions in close communion with nature. One bright summer 
 day, he is lying in the woods. "He wasin a strange state, filled 
 with physical satisfaction; each nerve of his was wide awake, 
 he heard music in his blood, felt akin to all nature, to the sun and 
 the mountains and everything else, perceived the feeling of his 
 own ego streaming upon him from the trees, the knolls, and the 
 
 *Never heard we gentler tune from the flute of any, / Never more serious call 
 from the warning horn: / Twitter and storm-blast and play from the mountains 
 and woodlands, / A zephyr-like breeze over meadows and billowing grain. / A choir 
 from the depths of his heart, / A jubilant tenor foremost— / And song flowed 
 forth from his throat, / And flowers and sun and kindheartedness / He strewed 
 wherever he strode. 
 
 Known the wide world over, in each home of many a land, / Uplifting words 
 
 ‘he spoke to all the listening race, / Passed like the summer sun’s splendor through 
 stern winter’s night, / Bore up and relieved and made free from their weight the 
 oppressed. / Now he was our country’s guardian, / Now the spokesman of all 
 the forsaken / Ever he bore the shining armor / For all on earth who are wronged / 
 And for all the striving host. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 19 
 
 grass. His soul expanded within him and became sonorous like an 
 organ and he never forgot how this gentle music actually rose and 
 fell in his blood.’’!8 
 
 But such states are most ephemeral, life intrudes upon them 
 and they vanish. And Nagel does not really seek solitude and 
 nature; he is drawn to his fellow men, but is unable to adapt 
 himself to the rules and conventions governing social intercourse. 
 He cannot play the game since it is contrary to his nature and he, 
 moreover, will not play it since it seems sheer humbug to him. 
 Very likely his inability is the chief reason for his adverse appraisal. 
 He is, indeed, *a stranger, a foreigner in human life, a whim of the 
 creator.” 
 
 The personal element is strong in all the works of Hamsun, 
 but it seems nowhere more pronounced than in Mysterier. The 
 novel is an unsparing self-revelation and confession. In regard 
 to style and composition, it is akin to Sulit, but the characters 
 and situations are depicted in a more concrete and objective 
 fashion—of course, seen through the eyes of Hamsun. Even in 
 ‘his later works, where the personality of the author is more sup- 
 pressed, we do not have objective pictures in the strict sense of 
 the word. But Hamsun can make his characters stand out with a 
 few bold strokes as if from a canvas and shows superior skill 
 in characterization. 
 
 III 
 
 In Redaktør Lynge (Editor Lynge), 1893, he has departed 
 from his own rule: art for art’s sake, for this novel constitutes 
 an attack upon certain features of present-day journalism, such as 
 it has developed in Norway. There is virtually no plot, no develop- 
 ment, no conclusion. The portrayal, or exposure, of editor Lynge 
 is the main purpose of the story. As the name implies (lyng= 
 heather), Lynge is of peasant stock. In his student days, he has 
 suffered from want and obscurity, but things have changed now, 
 thanks to the determination of Lynge to succeed—by means foul 
 or fair. He now enjoys material prosperity, the widest possible 
 publicity, and a great deal of influence, all through his paper, the 
 Gazette, a yellow journal of the worst type, which owes its popu- 
 larity to the novelties, sensations, and scandals which it purveys 
 
 18 Verker, II, Mysterier, p. 54. 
 19 Jbid., p. 253. 
 
20 ; Knur HAMSUN 
 
 to its readers. But in order not to lose any ground, Lynge must 
 keep himself and his paper perpetually in the lime-light. Any 
 means suitable to accomplish this he uses; the dispensing of scandals’ 
 is the most effective, and as a scandal-monger Lynge excels. 
 
 "His happy talent to intrude everywhere and to nose into the 
 smallest crevices after something to put into his paper enabled 
 Lynge continually to bring something unsavory into the light of 
 day. . . . And the public honored him according to his deserts; 
 the eyes of the crowd were upon him when he passed through the 
 streets on the way to and from his office. . . . The days were 
 over, those cheerless student days, when he had been compelled 
 to push ahead by many a dubious expedient, and finally had 
 squeezed through the examination fairly satisfactorily. He was 
 then a young and enthusiastic country lad, quick to learn, and 
 with a mind clever and nimble in any sort of a pinch; he felt his 
 strength and was teeming with plans, he offered his services, 
 sighed when turned down, and fell asleep at night with clenched 
 fists. But just wait, just wait, his time was sure to come. And 
 those who waited lived to see that he now governed a whole city 
 and could overthrow the cabinet of the country. . . . There was 
 really not a hole so small that Lynge could not crawl into it and 
 bring forth from it some interesting idea. And if one in addition to 
 this took into account all the painters and humorists who wrote 
 for the Gazette in the jargon of the masses, it was not in the least 
 surprising that the paper was read eagerly everywhere.’””° 
 
 Høibro, a poor bank clerk and uncompromising radical, who 
 primarily serves the purpose of voicing Hamsun’s own opinions 
 and convictions, says of the shrewd editor: 
 
 "Lynge is one of us peasant students who has deteriorated 
 morally and spiritually by being transplanted into a strange soil 
 and atmosphere. He isa little country jay from a provincial town 
 who wants to pose as a liberal and top-notcher, a part for which 
 ‘he was not born. The man is lacking nobility of heart, his blood 
 is tainted. To be more exact, he is a talented, boyish rascal who 
 never will attain to a man’s stature. . . . Wemay say that he 
 always acts from some ephemeral artistic impulse, or from small, 
 calculating selfishness, or from both of these motives combined. 
 He does everything from the desire to get his name before the 
 
 20 Verker, IV, Lynge, pp. 17 f. and 169. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 21 
 
 people of Christiania, to be considered a deucedly clever editor of 
 his little sheet and out of peasant-like, greedy covetousness for a 
 few hundred dollars more in annual profits. That’s all there is 
 to this man and his psychology.’’ 
 
 Bondesen (bonde=peasant), a student, serves as a sort of 
 understudy to Lynge, into whose place he steps in later works of 
 Hamsun. The attack of the author seems to be directed against a 
 particular individual rather than against a certain section of the 
 country’s press. It is partial and full of apparently personal 
 bitterness and thereby loses weight. The press and political 
 manceuvering, also touched upon in Editor Lynge, had been assailed 
 before in Norwegian literature by men like Ibsen, Björnson and 
 Arne Garborg, to mention only the most important names. In 
 Bondestudentar, Garborg has dealt also with the perils to morals 
 and character which threaten the impecunious students from 
 the rural districts. Editor Lynge calls forth reminiscences, but 
 does not show pronounced influences, from the earlier works. 
 A practice which crops out here for the first time in Hamsun’s 
 productions is the re-introduction of characters from previous 
 works. They very likely had their prototypes in life. Garborg 
 and Kielland also are fond of this device. 
 
 Høibro, the young bank clerk already referred to, is made the 
 mouth-piece of Hamsun’s radicalism. At a political meeting, he 
 lays down his creed, though he is well aware that he will make no 
 friends and find no response. To make profession of his views 
 seems a moral necessity for him. 
 
 "He only wishes to implore from the bottom of his heart those 
 strict adherents to the several parties to have mercy on all those 
 unfortunate individuals who belong to no party, those homeless 
 souls, those radicals, whom neither the liberals nor the comserva- 
 tives can get into their folds. There are, you know, as many 
 minds as there are heads, some moving fast and others slowly; 
 there are those who put their trust in liberal policies and a republic, 
 and consider this the most radical conception existing on our 
 globe, while others may have thought over these matters and may 
 have gotten beyond them long ago. The human soul cannot well 
 be expressed in the form of a whole number, it consists of many 
 different shades, of contradictions, of hundreds of fractional 
 
 1 Verker, IV, Lynge, p. 72. 
 
22 Knur HAMSUN 
 
 parts, and the more modern a soul is, the larger the number of 
 shades composing it. But such a complex soul cannot very well 
 find a permanent place within any of the parties. What the 
 different parties teach and believe, these souls have long since 
 cast off, they are radicals who in the course of their development 
 have used up the store of adherence to parties which they once 
 possessed; comets without orbits they are which follow their own 
 paths, since they left those of all others. . . . They are, as a rule, 
 men of will-power, strong men, they have a goal: happiness, the 
 largest degree of happiness attainable, and they have also the 
 means: honesty, absolute integrity, contempt for all personal ad- 
 vantage. They fight desperately for their convictions, they sacrifice 
 themselves for them, and they do not believe in fixed political 
 creeds, therefore they cannot be members of any party, but they 
 believe in nobility of the heart, in the culture of their ethical 
 beings. Their words may be stern and hard, their weapons 
 cruel and dangerous, why not? But they are pure of heart, an 
 
 that is the only thing which matters.” 
 
 We may be sure that this was Hamsun’s own creed, and there 
 is no evidence in his works that it has undergone any important 
 changes. 
 
 Considered from the esthetic point of view, Editor Lynge is 
 too abstract, too polemic; the work is also lacking in purely human 
 interest. Ny Jord (Shallow Soil), which came out the same year, 
 is of a similar nature, but stands higher as a work of art and makes 
 a stronger appeal to our sympathy or antipathy. Whether the 
 characters, conditions, and events here depicted may be considered 
 as true to life, it is difficult to decide. The plot is more elaborate 
 than in any of the preceding works; there are two currents of 
 action, interlaced with each other and yet distinct. We have, 
 in the first place, the fate of Ole Henriksen, a most able, generous, 
 indeed, magnanimous young merchant, who is driven to suicide 
 when Aagot Lynun, his betrothed, is lured to ruin by one of the 
 young literary lights: and running parallel to it, the going astray 
 of Mrs. Hanka Lange Tidemand, the wife of Ole’s best friend, 
 the unfaltering love, devotion and forebearance of Tidemand 
 ‘towards his unfaithful spouse, and the final reconciliation of the 
 two. The action is interesting, but the chief purpose of the author 
 
 2 Verker, IV, Lynge, pp. 31 f. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 23 
 
 was the portrayal of the literary coterie, which he represents as a 
 festering sore on the social organism of the Norwegian capital. 
 There is not a single individual with the divine spark of genius 
 burning within his soul in the entire clique. The productions 
 of these would-be artists are the results of laborious efforts, 
 mediocre, shallow, and insincere. And yet these young men con- 
 sider themselves the very salt of the earth, and the public seems 
 in no manner to question their claims. Their mode of life is that 
 of the bohéme, though some of their number strive to dress in the 
 hight of fashion. They spend their time at cafés and restaurants, 
 in the parks, and on the street. To turn night into day is for them 
 the natural thing and constitutes the chief evidence of their superi- 
 ority. Most of these men are nothing but parasites, who brazenly 
 exploit the prosperous young businessmen, whom they not only 
 inwardly look down upon, but whom they treat with contempt 
 to their very faces. To contract debts to the amount of thousands 
 of dollars, without the slightest intention of ever paying them, 
 is in their estimation an exceptionally commendable accomplish- 
 ment. The world not only owes them a living, but one on the fat 
 of the land. 
 
 In their relations towards each other, they manifest little else 
 but selfishness, envy, underhandedness, malice, and spite. There 
 are, of course, gradations and variations in this group. Paulsberg, 
 who has already succeeded in establishing his fame, chiefly by 
 keeping his name before the public through the skilful use of the 
 daily press, affects a certain dignity and reserve, and impresses 
 people by his taciturnity, or rare, sphinx-like utterances. The 
 painter Milde is brutally coarse and vulgar, and stupidly frank. 
 Øien, whom we have met already in the two preceding novels, 
 is effeminate, sentimental, and inoffensive. The worst rascal 
 is the lyric poet Irgens, a man, it would seem, without scruples of 
 any sort, full of arrogant conceit, and entirely lacking in self- 
 respect and merit as a poet. It is Irgens who leads Mrs. Hanka 
 astray and seduces and utterly ruins Aagot Lynum. He, more- 
 over, exploits both financially. 
 
 It seems strange that a man like Ole Henriksen, a clear-sighted, 
 cool-headed businessman, so utterly fails to see through the 
 members of the clique. Hamsun has depicted Ole as a naive, 
 confiding young man with the purest of motives, the best of inten- 
 tions, and a high regard for all men of supposed genius. His 
 
24 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 very modest opinion of himself leads him to accept the verdict 
 of the public, and he considers it almost a duty of men of means 
 to help the struggling talents. Evidently, he is not attracted to 
 this group of esthetic lights by the atmosphere of licentiousness, 
 frivolity, and debauchery in which they live, but rather by genuine 
 admiration for art, and, tosome extent perhaps, by their ever-ready 
 wit. The same is also true of Tidemand. These young business- 
 men have both a most sensitive regard for the rights of others 
 and they are models of unselfish lovers. Tidemand makes studied 
 efforts to lead the people to think that he himself, and not his 
 wife, is to blame for the breaking-up of his family and home. 
 His regard for the individual liberty of his wife amounts really to a 
 fault. He fails to see, however, the grave danger which is threat- 
 ening Hanka and believes to be promoting her true happiness in 
 according her perfect freedom. His devotion to her never ceases, 
 and when she at last repents, he makes reconciliation easy for 
 her. 
 
 Ole, his friend, shows the trustfulness of an innocent child. 
 Judging others by himself, he simply laughs when he is told that 
 it is perhaps unwise to permit Aagot so often to roam with Irgens. 
 He rates his friend, the noble-minded poet Irgens, and Aagot, his 
 betrothed, so high that any sort of suspicion would seem to him an 
 insult to both. When the incredible does happen, the shock is so 
 severe that his efforts to recover from it are vain. In the daily rou- 
 tine of the coterie it does not produce a ripple when Ole ends his 
 life by means of a bullet. He and his friend Tidemand, these two 
 supposedly materialistic businessmen, are shown to be really 
 idealists with exceptional modesty, inward nobility, and great 
 depth of feeling. They possess the full sympathy of the author, 
 who has bestowed upon them in a large measure his own attitude 
 towards life. We find in the works of Hamsun other figures from 
 the commercial life, past and present, as, for instance, Ferdinand 
 Mack and Consul C. A. Johnsen, but never again such superior 
 characters as Ole Henriksen and Tidemand. 
 
 The women characters are, judged from the ethical point of 
 view, inferior to them. Hanka is evidently the product of a mis- 
 directed striving for emancipation; she seems to acknowledge 
 no duty except the duty to herself. Her ideals are those of Ibsen’s 
 Nora. But it is not so much her moral sense as her reasoning 
 power which is poorly developed, and sentimentality rather than 
 
Knut Hamsun 25 
 
 sensuality makes her an easy prey for Irgens. Lack of any serious 
 occupation, an abundance of material means, and the foolish 
 indulgence her husband shows towards her vagaries are contrib- 
 uting causes. It is not made quite clear how she first came in 
 contact with the artist clique by which she becomes infected 
 with such a distaste for simple and quiet home life, but it was 
 probably Tidemand himself who introduced her to this circle. 
 Since he, in spite of his greater maturity and wider horizon, 
 allowed himself to be misled by public opinion into the belief 
 that these artist really were what they claim to be, men of true 
 and superior genius, it is not surprising that Hanka becomes the 
 victim of the same delusion. But this consideration hardly lessens 
 her moral guilt. That she ultimately regains her balance results 
 from external causes. When Tideman finally agrees to a divorce, 
 Hanka is ready to marry Irgens, only to be coldly and brutally 
 rejected by him. The case of Aagot is somewhat different. She 
 is hardly nineteen, has grown up in the country, is very inex- 
 perienced, confiding, naive, and innocent. Ole introduces her on 
 the very day of her arrival at the capital to this group of artists 
 and almost encourages her frequent expeditions with Irgens. 
 But the fact remains that Aagot very soon becomes conscious of 
 it that her associations with Irgens contain a certain element of 
 the clandestine and forbidden. She makes some effort to over- 
 come his seductive influence, but ultimately becomes his victim. 
 
 _ In Redaktør Lynge, the young enthusiast and radical idealist 
 Høibro voices the views of the author. In Ny Jord, Hamsun’s 
 own attitude is finding emphatic expression through the blunt, 
 unsparing observations of Coldevin, a man well along in years 
 and Aagot’s former tutor. It is quite clear that he really loves 
 the young girl, though in an entirely unselfish manner. To pro- 
 mote her happiness is his only goal; when he misses it, life has 
 become meaningless and barren for him. A better judge of men 
 than Ole, he at once perceives the danger to Aagot resulting from 
 frequent contact with the clever, superficially brilliant, but unprin- 
 cipled Irgens. He does not have the heart to warn her or Ole 
 in plain language and his roundabout ways prove ineffective. 
 Though endowed with a keen insight into human nature, which 
 is considerably quickened by his secret love for Aagot, he is unable 
 to cope with the situation and forestall disaster, for like many of 
 Hamsun’s characters enjoying the especial sympathy of the author, 
 
26 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 he is an unpractical man. In his tender, unselfish devotion to 
 Aagot and his grief over her ruin, he is a quaint, pathetic figure. 
 
 Coldevin holds "that the women, in the very first place, should 
 endeavor to make themselves useful in their homes. It is alto- 
 gether wrong that the women care less and less for making a 
 home for husband and children. They prefer a den by themselves 
 if thereby they can make themselves what they call independent. 
 They, too, must fit themselves out with eye-glasses; if they can- 
 not do any better, they go to some commercial college.” 
 
 But it is not the women alone who are at fault. “It would 
 be inexact to say that men and women are depraved, they only 
 have become shallow and empty to a certain degree, they are small 
 and degenerate. New soil, meager soil, without fertility and 
 vigor. And the women, too, live along easily, without at all 
 tiring of life, but also without staking anything. But how could 
 they possibly stake anything? They possess nothing which they 
 could stake. They squirm around like blue flames, like so many 
 will-o’-the-wisps, they nibble a little of everything, both joys 
 and sorrows, and they are not conscious of the fact that they are 
 becoming insignificant. They have ceased cherishing lofty ambi- 
 tions, and their hearts cause them little trouble, they beat lively 
 enough, but expand not more for one thing than for the other, 
 not more for one man than for the other. And what has become of 
 the pride in the eyes of our young women? There was a great deal 
 of delicate meaning in those proud glances, but now-a-days one 
 no longer meets them, they look just as kindly upon mediocrity as 
 upon superiority. . . . Our young woman has lost her power, 
 her rich and lovable simplicity, the great passion, the hall-mark 
 _ of racial superiority. She has lost the genuine joy over the only 
 man, her hero, her idol, she has been worn smooth, she is interested 
 in anybody, and has a loving glance for everybody.’™ 
 
 Coldevin declares that the Norwegian people are passing 
 through a period of decline, only the commercial life shows vigor 
 and enterprise. The young businessmen are far superior to those 
 would-be poets that are nothing but parasites. 
 
 “In our country (Norway), literary men are accorded enormous 
 ‘significance by the people, literary achievement is the quintes- 
 sence of the greatest and best we know. There are, perhaps, not 
 
 2 Verker, III, Ny Jord, p. 119. 
 % Tbid., 204. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 27 
 
 many countries on the globe where the whole intellectual and 
 spiritual life is so completely in the hands of the literary man as 
 in ours.”> 
 
 And what is worse, these men pose as experts in all fields of 
 intellectual endeavor, no one challenges their authority, and the 
 great poets of past ages are forgotten over the mediocrity of 
 to-day. 
 
 “Tt is unfortunate that we lose sight of great achievements 
 and proclaim the small as something grand. Just take a survey of 
 our young people, the literary men included, they are clever 
 enough, but. . . . Oh, yes, they are clever, they obtain results 
 by laborious efforts; but they are never seized by any inspiration. 
 And heavens, how economical they really are with their talents! 
 They are parsimonious and dry and prudent. They write a verse 
 and have it printed together with a few others. By painfully 
 striving they produce a book now and then, conscientiously they 
 scrape out each corner of their minds and obtain thereby remark- 
 ably good results. But they don’t scatter anything broadcast, 
 they throw no pearls into the dust of the highway. Formerly, 
 the poets had a little to spare, you know; they could afford to be 
 wasteful, they stood bubbling over and hurled ducats out of the 
 window with glorious recklessness. What of it? They were 
 still brimful of precious gold. Oh, no, our young authors are 
 sensible and clever, they do not exhibit, like the poets of by-gone 
 days, any superabundance, any tempestuous outbreak, or some 
 amazing triumphal display of primeval power.’ 
 
 The merchant class is the only one which seems to have escaped 
 the general deterioration and shows signs of future promise. This 
 evaluation seems inconsistent with Hamsun’s emphatic condemna- 
 tion of materialism, but it must be kept in mind that the represen- 
 tatives of the merchant class depicted here are very unselfish 
 idealists, imbued with a deep veneration for all spiritual values, 
 and striving to attain them as far as possible. Their extremely 
 modest opinions of themselves amount almost to self-effacement. 
 
 A reviewer recently stated that the chief characters of Vy 
 Jord could have been suggested to Hamsun only by his contact 
 with American environment and that there is many an Irgens, a 
 Hanka, and an Aagot walking our streets. We probably could 
 
 % Verker, III, Ny Jord, p. 83. 
 % Thid., p. 81. 
 
28 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 muster an impressive contingent of light-headed, dissatisfied 
 women, and arrogant, unscrupulous, pompous, and conceited 
 individuals of the male sex posing as geniuses. But have we a 
 monopoly of these types? If the characters in question could 
 have been suggested only by the American environment, then 
 Hamsun’s novel would be worse than the very category of literary 
 productions, brought forth by laborious efforts and ransacking 
 every recess of the mind, which he so severely attacked. Ny Jord 
 would then be an artificial concoction, brewed of heterogeneous 
 elements. Hamsun would have, moreover, inflicted a serious 
 wrong upon certain classes of Christiania society by making the 
 capital of Norway the setting for characters, conditions, and events 
 with which he had come in contact only across the ocean. There 
 can be no doubt that Hamsun’s experiences in the United States 
 must have had a very strong influence upon him, but there is little 
 in regard to subject matter and less in regard to his outlook upon 
 life which can be traced back to America. No matter how sub- 
 jective or objective he has been in Ny Jord, the actual conditions 
 prevailing at that time at the capital of Norway furnished the 
 groundwork for his novel. 
 
 As a matter of fact, there is no other city but Christiania where 
 the characters, conditions, and events here dealt with are well 
 conceivable. Christiania is the intellectual and literary center 
 of the whole country, and Norway’s literary production during the 
 last hundred years has been enormous in proportion to the popu- 
 lation and the resources of the country. To a lesser extent this 
 holds true for the other Scandinavian countries also. Men like 
 Ibsen and Bjérnson reaped honor and fame throughout the whole 
 world. The Norwegian people could not help being flattered by 
 this fact; national consciousness was elated by the circumstance 
 that the country had produced authors of such magnitude. Nor- 
 way, in turn, conferred honors on her great men, and a share of it 
 was reflected upon all her sons and daughters engaged in the field 
 of belles-lettres. Though the country possessed little economic 
 and political power, in the realm of literature it could easily vie 
 with the rest of the world. 
 
 Some poets and authors had, moreover, played important réles 
 in the Norwegian political life of the nineteenth century. We 
 need to refer only to Henrik Arnold Wergeland and Björnstjerne 
 Björnson. The latter, especially, was not only a poet and novelist, 
 
Knut Hamsun 29 
 
 but at the same time a most active politician, a leader and teacher 
 of the people. Ibsen and Björnson, to some extent even Jonas 
 Lie, debated moral and social problems in their dramas and novels, 
 and others, like Arne Garborg and Amalie Skram, to mention 
 only a few important names, cultivated the same field. To be sure, 
 the pioneer in this category of literary production in Norway was 
 Camilla Collett, Henrik Wergeland’s gifted sister. Amtmandens 
 Døtre (The Daughters of the Magistrate), 1854, was the first 
 novel in the Norwegian language which set forth for discussion 
 certain features of social life in Norway; but the problem play and 
 the problem novel did not become the vogue until naturalism 
 and the theories of heredity and environment came to the fore. 
 Literature all at once seemed of tremendous importance to the 
 general public, and the position of literary men was greatly en- 
 hanced in the esteem of the people, especially so in Christiania. 
 
 These were the conditions which Hamsun observed and they 
 form the basis of hisnovel, Vy Jord. In his opinion, the claims of 
 the Norwegian authors and poets were exaggerated, and he 
 accorded, moreover, no place to the airing of any problem in novel 
 or drama. The poets and authors of the time were too tame for 
 him and the fact that they stood upon the shoulders of a demo- 
 cratic people did not increase their stature in his eyes. Competent 
 judges have found that the local color in Redaktør Lynge and Ny 
 Jord is very pale. As one should expect, Hamsun’s fellow country- 
 men declared his portrayal of characters and conditions in Ny 
 Jord as exaggerated and caricatured. 
 
 The technique in Ny Jord is good, the plot interesting and well 
 worked out, the language highly polished. In this respect, Vy 
 Jord comes nearer the conventional novel than most of the other 
 works of Hamsun’s earlier years and some critics give it, accord- 
 ingly, very high rank. 
 
 IV 
 
 It cannot bear comparison with Pan. Af Léjinant Thomas 
 Glahns Papirer, (Pan. From Papers Left by Lieutenant Thomas 
 Glahn), 1894. Here Hamsun returned to the theme of baffled 
 passion, treating it in the form of reminiscences recorded by the 
 principal figure, Lieutenant Glahn, supplemented by a brief 
 account of Glahns slayer. The scene of action is remote from 
 civilization, Nordland and the interior of India, respectively, 
 
30 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 localities where events of the nature here described may come to 
 pass without interference on the part of society or the authorities. 
 Hamsun has still further increased the probability by fixing the 
 date in the fifties of the nineteenth century. The story is very 
 simple. Glahn has come to Nordland to hunt and to indulge his 
 inclination for a primitive mode of life in the woods and the 
 mountains by the sea-side, close to the heart of nature. He 
 meets there Edvarda Mack, the only child of the most powerful 
 and influential man in those remote parts. Edvarda becomes 
 infatuated with Glahn, and he returns her passion. But Edvarda 
 is a creature of moods and whims, and Glahn is eccentric, blunt, 
 and erratic. Misunderstandings soon spring up between the two, 
 which are augmented by mutual jealousy and a spirit of defiance. 
 Glahn furnishes, indeed, ample cause for jealousy by his relations 
 with Eva, a simple child of nature, who without thought or 
 scruples obeys the dictates of her heart. In a very fantastical 
 attempt to injure a rival for the affections of Edvarda, Glahn 
 unwittingly causes Eva’s death. Mack, her master and employer, 
 whose advances she spurned, has placed her knowingly and de- 
 liberately, without compunctions of conscience, in the path of 
 inevitable destruction. In spite of his remorse over his deed and 
 its consequences, Glahn has not been able to master his passion for 
 Edvarda and has not given up all hope. But she dismisses him 
 with cold contempt. Soon after his departure, he learns that she 
 has become the wife of another. He tries to convince himself 
 that all this does not concern him in the least, but it is plain 
 enough that he in vain tries to obliterate her memory by excesses 
 and debauch. These facts we learn from his own account. 
 
 The events recorded by the man who slew Glahn reveal that 
 Glahn sought death and deliberately goaded his adversary until 
 the latter in blind rage fired the fatal shot. 
 
 Glahn has various traits in common with the nameless young 
 author in Sult, but he is even more closely akin to Nagel, particu- 
 larly in his attitude towards nature, his strange, erratic behavior, 
 his inability to adjust himself to the conventions of society, 
 contact with which he cannot forego, and in his belief that he 
 can read the souls of men. There is also a similarity in the fate 
 which both suffer, though Glahn is a man of action and by no 
 means brilliant, while Nagle is essentially a dreamer and an unbal- 
 anced genius. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 31 
 
 His dual affection for Edvarda and Eva, Glahn aptly char- 
 acterizes in the following legend: 
 
 *A maiden sat imprisoned in a tower. She loved a lord. Why? 
 Ask the wind and the stars, ask the god of life; for no one else 
 knows such a thing. And the lord was her friend and lover; but 
 time went on, and one nice day he saw another, and his heart was 
 changed. 
 
 “He loved his girl like a youth. He often called her the bliss of 
 his life and his dove, and her embrace was fiery and passionate. 
 He said: Give me your heart! And she gaveit to him. He said: 
 Will you grant me my wish, beloved? And she answered in ecstasy: 
 Yes. She gave him her all and yet he did not thank her. 
 
 “The other he loved like a slave, like a madman, and a beggar. 
 Why? Ask the dust in the road and the leaves that fall, ask the 
 enigmatic god of life: for none other knows such a thing. She 
 gave him nothing, nothing at all, and yet he thanked her. She 
 asked him: Give me your peace of mind and your reason! And 
 he was only grieved that she did not demand his life.””?7 
 
 The situation of a man wavering in his love between two 
 women, one gentle, loving, and self-effacing, the other proud, 
 coquettish, imperious, and cruel, occurs repeatedly in the works of 
 Hamsun. The first instance of it we find in Nagel’s affection 
 divided between Dagny Kielland and Martha Gude. Glahn is, 
 like Nagel, a defenceless victim of his infatuation. Characteristic 
 for both is also a certain sentimentality in their feeling towards 
 nature. The following passage is quite typical of Glahn’s attitude. 
 
 “The monotonous hum and the familiar trees and rocks are 
 more than I can bear, I am filled with a strange sense of gratitude, 
 everything responds to me, blends with me, I love all beings. I 
 take up a dry twig, hold it in my hand and keep looking at it, 
 while I sit and ponder over my affairs; the twig is almost rotten, 
 its crumbling bark deeply impresses me, compassion fills my 
 heart. And when I at last get up, I do not hurl the twig away, but 
 lay it down gently and look upon it with sympathy; finally before 
 I leave it behind, I give it a parting glance with moist eyes.””? 
 
 1 Verker, I, Pan, p. 93. 
 
 In Norwegian as in English, good usage requires the use of quotation marks 
 at the beginning and the end of, and before and after a break in a direct statement, 
 but Hamsun does not comply with this rule. His own punctuation has been pre- 
 
 served in all instances of this kind occuring in passages translated. 
 28 Verker, I, Pan, p. 13. 
 
32 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 Whenever he comes in contact with society, such as it is in 
 those remote parts, he becomes embarrassed and awkward, acts 
 rudely, inconsiderately, and erratically. Social life with its con- 
 ventions and rules of conduct seems to him artificial and insincere. 
 Alone in the woods or on the ocean, or with simple folk, he appears 
 able and alert, but in his intercourse with people of the upper class, 
 he reveals the mentality of a backward child. On a boat trip with 
 Edvarda and some others, he becomes irritated by Edvarda’s 
 inattention, which he, indeed, brings abruptly to a close by throw- 
 ing one of her shoes overboard, “from joy over her presence or 
 from a desire to assert myself and remind her of the fact that I, 
 too, was in existence—I do not know. It all happened so quickly, 
 I did not think, I was simply moved by an impulse.’”*® The 
 presence of a suitor for the hand of Edvarda causes him to lose 
 his self-control and paralyzes his mental faculties, and blind 
 instinct alone prompts his behavior. 
 
 “TI went up to the baron, leaned over him as if I wished to 
 whisper something into his ear, and when I was close enough, I 
 spit right into his ear. He was startled at my conduct and stared 
 at me idiotically. Later, I noticed that he told Edvarda what had 
 happened and that she was vexed. She probably thought of the 
 shoe which I had thrown overboard, of the cups and glasses 
 which I had the misfortune to break, of all the other offences 
 against good breeding; all that was surely reviewed in her mind. 
 I was ashamed, it was all over with me; wherever I turned, I met 
 scared and astonished eyes, and I stole away from Sirilund without 
 farewell, without thanks for the hospitality received.’ 
 
 His rude acts are not deliberate, he simply obeys an uncon- 
 trollable impulse and often repents of his deed as soon as he has 
 committed it. But, like Nagel, he strives in vain to adapt himself 
 to the manners of society. Though often inconsiderate and blunt, 
 he has a desire to be fair. The latter seems, however, to be merely 
 an emanation of his pride. One of his rivals is a young doctor 
 who happens to be lame. Glahn, being able-bodied, thinks he 
 has an unfair advantage over the doctor which he ought to elimi- 
 nate out of self-respect, and so he deliberately puts a bullet through 
 his own foot. In his relations to others, he is most irrational; in 
 the solitude of forests and mountains, he is a changed being. It 
 
 29 Verker, I, Pan, p. 38. 
 3 Jbid., p. 88. 
 
; Knut Hamsun 33 
 is only in close communion with nature that Glahn finds supreme 
 joy. All things created, animate and inanimate alike, are for him 
 but fellow beings, which, to be sure, does not preclude the possi- 
 bility of conflict and strife, especially as regards his fellow men. 
 Natural phenomena lead his fancy to strange dreams and specula- 
 tions. The aspect of the storm-swept shore is described and com- 
 mented upon as follows: 
 
 “All was wrapped in a smoke-like spray. Earth and sky 
 blended. The sea capered in distorted aerial dances, formed hu- 
 man figures, horses, and rent banners. I stopd sheltered by an 
 overhanging rock and was teeming with thoughts, my soul was 
 intensely alert. God knows, I thought, what it is that I am wit- 
 nessing to-day and why the sea is laid open to my eyes. Perhaps, 
 I behold at this moment the innermost part of the brains of the 
 earth, how things work there, how all is seething! . . . A skerry 
 was lying far out, all by itself; when the sea swept over this skerry, 
 it reared up like a gigantic screw gone mad, no, like an ocean 
 god it rose dripping into the air and looked out over the earth, 
 snorting so fiercely that hair and beard stood out around his 
 head like a wheel. Then he again disappeared in the breakers.”” 
 
 A more peaceful mood of nature prompts an outbreak of 
 gratitude: 
 
 “Thanks for the lonely night, the mountains, the hum of the 
 darkness, and the sea which speak to my heart. Thanks that Iam 
 living, for the air I breathe, for the bliss of living in such a night, I 
 render thanks with all my heart. Hear ye, East and West, just 
 listen now! It is the eternal God! This quiet which whispers at 
 my ears is the blood of the universe, which is pulsing; it is God, 
 who permeates the world and myself. I see a glittering spider’s 
 thread in the light of my fire, I hear the sound of oars from a boat 
 on the sea, and the northern lights break upon the sky. Ah, upon 
 my immortal soul, I am, indeed, very grateful that it is I who am 
 sitting here.””* 
 
 Passages like this one are frequent in Pan and with their depth 
 of feeling and strange atmosphere of mystic emotion, they con- 
 stitute the most essential feature of the entire work. It is the 
 summer of Nordland with its midnight sun which here has found 
 expression. For a few brief months it engenders an intensity of 
 
 9 Verker, I, Pan, p. 5. 
 1bid., p- 14. 
 
34 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 life, an exuberance of energy, which are bewildering. All nature 
 responds blindly, heedlessly, to the touch of summer’s magic, man 
 is but a part of nature and is subjected to the potent spell like 
 all the rest. Instincts and passions hold sway over his life, his 
 senses are feverishly alert, only to relapse into torpor with the 
 advent of winter. 
 
 This all is seen through the eyes of a man who is essentially 
 the product of culture, has a wide horizon and some critical 
 insight. Glahnis, moreover, strongly given tointrospection, reflec- 
 tion, and analysis. No matter how closely he lives to nature and 
 how simple his needs and mode of existence, he is not at all a 
 primitive man. All these traits, inclinations, and characteristics 
 make him appear quite akin to Knut Hamsun, the poet. Though 
 written in prose, Pan is above all else a highly poetic production of 
 great originality, and an epitome of the northern summer. It is 
 not a novel, but essentially a prose lyric. 
 
 The title suggests a certain analogy in the nature and mode of 
 life of Glahn to the naive, idyllic existence of Pan, the nature god 
 of Greek mythology. This does, however, not extend beyond the 
 close communion of Glahn with all objects of nature and the 
 elemental simplicity of his character. The tranquil, sensuous, 
 drowsy dolce far niente of the Greek Pan is as foreign to him as it is 
 incompatible with the stern grandeur of Nordland. Glahn is in 
 every fibre a Norseman and, moreover, a modern man, who only 
 by spells succeeds completely in abandoning himself to the charm 
 of the wild, and even then not without reflecting. In spite of all 
 his primitiveness, Glahn approaches nature through the medium of 
 modern civilization and culture. It has a message for him which 
 the simple native of Nordland could perceive and comprehend only 
 in a remote fashion. 
 
 V 
 
 Hamsun has often spoken with disdain of dramatic art, a fact 
 which is somewhat surprising since this domain is by no means 
 inaccessible to him. Critics differ in regard to the technical per- 
 fection of his plays—Hamsun has written half a dozen of them— 
 but, with one exception, they are well adapted to the stage and are — 
 not without emotional appeal. 
 
 In 1895, there appeared Ved Rikets Port (At the Gates of the 
 Kingdom), the first of a cycle of three dramas which constitute a 
 
Knut HAMSUN 35 
 
 trilogy. The plot is far from elaborate, but the technique is good 
 and the dialogue natural and life-like, though the theme is rather 
 abstract. 
 
 Ivar Kareno, a young scholar and independent thinker, has 
 arrived at conclusions greatly at variance with the views of the 
 established authorities. He depends on his pen for his livelihood, 
 but cannot find a paying publisher. Just now he is in dire financial 
 straits, but as optimistic as a child. One of his former teachers, at 
 the present numbered among his opponents, is human enough to 
 make an attempt to lead Kareno gently back into his fold, holding 
 out the hope of a well-filled manger in the form of a favorable 
 contract with his own publisher and a substantial stipend, but 
 suggests that Kareno must modify some of his tenets. Kareno 
 tries his best to satisfy him, finds himself, however, unable to 
 accomplish this without betraying his dearest convictions, and 
 this he will never do. His friend, Jerven, who adheres to the same 
 views, has forced himself to recant. He is engaged to be married 
 and needs the goodwill of the powers that be. As a consequence, 
 Kareno breaks off all relations with him, and Jerven’s betrothed, 
 a rather exacting young lady of an idealistic turn of mind, does like- 
 wise. They cannot forgive Carsten Jerven that he has betrayed 
 his convictions. 
 
 Kareno has been married for three years. His wife, the 
 daughter of a rich, but bigoted farmer, chafes under the economic 
 difficulties, but still more under Kareno’s neglect of her. Mrs. 
 Kareno is young and sensual, has little patience with his absorp- 
 tion in his philosophic problems and suspects him of being enam- 
 oured of their maid. When Endre Bondesen—we made his 
 acquaintance in Redaktør Lynge as a vociferous liberal, but he 
 has for mercenary reasons now become a stanch conservative— 
 crosses Mrs. Kareno’s path, she at once starts to flirt with him 
 desperately, simply to make Kareno jealous, but with no success. 
 Mrs. Elina Kareno is thereby actually driven into Bondesen’s 
 arms, and when Kareno at last becomes alarmed and tries to regain 
 her affections, it is too late. She leaves him and he has to face the 
 sheriff all by himself, when he comes to attach his few belongings. 
 
 The whole action requires less than forty-eight hours, and Mrs. 
 Kareno’s acquaintance with Bondesen is even of still briefer dura- 
 tion, yet the development which the play presents, does not seem 
 improbable. It would have been a most easy matter for Hamsun 
 
36 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 to make Elina's step but the climax of relations which began 
 much earlier; instead, he chose to emphasize the fact that she does 
 not know Bondesen even by name. Elina Kareno belongs to a 
 type not infrequent in the works of Hamsun. She is not weak and 
 naive, Bondesen does not seduce her, no matter what his inten- 
 tions and efforts are; she surrenders herself knowingly and almost 
 deliberately to him in blind obedience to the sexual instinct. In 
 her relations to Kareno, she reminds one faintly of Rita in Ibsen’s 
 Lille Eyolf. 
 
 The play seems true to life, it might even be regarded as a 
 naturalistic drama. The author does not moralize, comment, or 
 explain. Some details are left intentionally unexplained, as, for 
 instance, the significance of Kareno’s preoccupation with Inge- 
 borg, the maid. Of his inconoclastic theories we catch only a 
 glimpse, but it is sufficient to convince us of his daring individual- 
 ism. The following indicates his attitude towards labor: 
 
 "The laborers have not only become superfluous as a source of 
 energy, but they have also lost their position as an indispensable 
 class. When they were slaves, they did their part, they worked. 
 Now machines driven by steam, electricity, water, or wind do the 
 work in their place, and the laborers have become a more and more 
 superfluous class. The slaves became laborers and the laborers 
 parasites, henceforth no longer with any mission in life. And the 
 various states besides strive to elevate into a political party those 
 people who, indeed, have lost their position as an essential group. 
 My dear humanists, do not coddle the laborers, nay, protect us 
 others against their existence, prevent them from thriving, exter- 
 minate them.” 
 
 And here we have his general philosophy in a nutshell: 
 
 "The rule of the majority is a doctrine that will do for the 
 Englishmen, a gospel revealed in the market-place and preached 
 on the London docks, made right and law by mediocrity... . 
 All think it so beautiful, the idea of permanent peace; I declare it 
 a doctrine befitting the calf’s brain that conceived it. Yes, I 
 ridicule permanent peace with its unblushing lack of pride. Let 
 war come, it is not a question of saving a certain number of lives, 
 for the source of life is inexhaustible; but it is a question of pre- 
 serving the dignity of the human soul.” He emphatically rejects 
 
 3 Verker, VI, Ved Rikets Port, p. 12. 
 
Knut Hamsun 37 
 
 “that liberalism which has revived the old fallacy that the masses, 
 measuring two ells in stature, shall elect their leaders, men three 
 ells tall. . . . I believe in the born master, the natural despot, 
 the real commander, in him who in no shape or manner is elected, 
 but who establishes himself as leader over the hordes populating 
 our globe. I believe in and hope for only one thing, the resurrec- 
 tion of the great terrorist, the essence of mankind, Caesar.”* 
 
 In short, Kareno believes in Friedrich Nietzsche’s ideal of the 
 superman. Hamsun’s own attitude towards the masses is, on the 
 whole, one of compassion, but he does not believe that democracy 
 will promote the welfare of the people. His political ideal, we 
 must infer, would be that of the enlightened and benevolent 
 despot. 
 
 The passages here quoted might convey the impression that 
 the play is full of such declarations and abstract theories, but such 
 is decidedly not the case, and the few utterances of this kind are 
 most skilfully woven into the dialogue. They, moreover, are 
 called forth in the most natural manner by the situations and not 
 merely dragged in to air certain views. The purely human 
 elements are by far the most important part of the drama. 
 
 Livets Spil (Life’s Play), 1896, does not deal with theories at 
 all; human frailties, emotions, and fierce passions hold the center 
 of the stage. We find Ivar Kareno now, ten years after the events 
 of the first part, in Nordland as the humble tutor of the children 
 of Mr. Osterman, a landed proprietor, but chiefly interested in the 
 pursuit of his philosophic speculations and scientific investigations. 
 Osterman not only leaves him a free hand, he even builds a sort of 
 laboratory for Kareno and promises to publish at his expense the 
 results of Kareno’s studies. In blasting for the foundations of 
 the laboratory, marble is discovered. Osterman has hitherto been 
 very liberal and benevolent, but the greater wealth now put into 
 his possession changes his character completely. He sells the 
 marble deposit for a goodly sum. As the vein is worked, it becomes 
 evident that it is far more extensive than at first surmised. Oster- 
 man might have exacted a much higher price, or might have reaped 
 even greater profits if he had worked it himself. The fact that he 
 missed this chance to acquire real wealth unbalances his mind; 
 he becomes a miser of the worst sort in spite of his increased 
 
 4 Verker, VI, Ved Rikets Port, pp. 70. 
 
38 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 prosperity and brings ruin upon himself and his children. Tor- 
 mented by the fear that Kareno will compel him to make good his 
 promise to pay for the publication of his voluminous opus, he sets 
 fire to the laboratory, a structure of wood and glass, after he has 
 barricaded the door to forestall any attempt of rescuing the manu- 
 script, and his two sons, who unknown to him are within, perish 
 in the flames. Almost simultaneously, his daughter Teresita is 
 accidentally shot to death by a half-witted vagabond beggar. 
 
 It appears from this summary that Osterman is the chief figure 
 in the play, but this is only partially true. Teresita and the tele- 
 graph operator Jens Spir, who is hopelessly infatuated with 
 Osterman’s daughter, are at least of equal importance. Kareno, 
 however, is crowded somewhat into the background. Teresita is 
 an enigmatic character. She knows no law or obligation save her 
 own desires and passions. In her infatuation for Kareno, she does 
 not hesitate to expose dozens of human lives to almost certain 
 destruction. She cruelly torments the unwelcome suitor, Jens 
 Spir, who gradually assumes an attitude of cold disdain, and in the 
 end their relations turn into a duel of fierce hate, notwithstanding 
 the fact that Spir’s devotion never falters. Upon Teresita’s 
 death, he ends his life by his own hand. The unfortunate lover 
 reminds us somewhat of the doctor in Pan. 
 
 For Teresita, obedience to her passion is not sin. When a 
 sectarian warns her: ‘Sin no more,” she replies: "Sin no more? 
 Oh, thou slave of God, I don’t sin. I obey a higher being. I am 
 unceasingly seeking it far and wide.’** Kareno is at first indiffer- 
 ent to her, but ultimately he falls under the sway of her strange 
 personality and forgets his beloved philosophy, only to be dis- 
 carded by her after a brief spell. Teresita tells him: ‘““You were 
 not the man I thought you to be, Kareno. I have already pre- 
 viously told you so. You are human like all the rest, full of simple 
 and silly sensuality. I am tired of you. Great heavens! Do you 
 think I was in love with your Laplander’s face and your spindly 
 legs? No, surely, you are not a beauty. But you were so quiet, I 
 believed you were full of something from a world beyond, for 
 your face impressed me. But in the end you disappointed me.””% 
 
 This strange, unbridled woman possesses great fascination for 
 all men, even the engineer who superintends the marble quarry 
 
 % Verker, VI, Livets Spil, p. 51. 
 % [bid., p. 57. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 39 
 
 would for her sake depart from the path of rectitude, though he has 
 spurned a liberal bribe. A morbid curiosity leads her to play, in 
 turn, with the several men with whom she comes in contact. 
 There are many mystical, haunting suggestions in the drama, 
 strange actions and puzzling figures, for instance, the feeble- 
 minded vagabond Thy, through whose hands Teresita loses her 
 life. People call him “Justice.” He has something on his mind, 
 but in spite of his repeated efforts to speak out, we do not learn 
 what he really has to say. Some acts and events are also 
 obscure in their significance or motives, for example, the sudden 
 arrival of Elina Kareno. As far as this character is concerned, we 
 learn only that she now has become a sheer wanton, destitute of 
 all sense of shame. But her visit serves the dramatic purpose of 
 bringing out the unscrupulousness of Teresita. It also terminates 
 the wavering attitude of Kareno towards the latter. 
 
 The third act, a market scene, introduces many incoherent 
 incidents and irrelevant characters. But there is none the less 
 progress in the main action, the central figures are further effec- 
 tively characterized, and we are given a realistic, interesting picture 
 of life in Nordland. The play as a whole does not lack unity and is 
 pervaded from the beginning to the end by an atmosphere of vio- 
 lent passion and uncanny mystery. It concludes with the exclama- 
 tion of Kareno: “Wise Nemesis!” He accepts the destruction of 
 his life’s work as a just punishment of his transgression, i.e., the 
 desertion of his self-appointed task for the love of Teresita. As 
 far as he is concerned, we can accept his verdict, but Teresita, 
 Osterman, and Jens Spir are governed in their actions by forces 
 of overwhelming magnitude. They must be considered virtually 
 insane, and moral responsibility and justice, therefore, cease. Itis 
 a beneficent, perhaps we may say, wise provision of nature that 
 she from the start implants the germ of destruction into the mal- 
 formations which she creates, but here justice does not enter into 
 consideration. 
 
 In regard to Kareno’s philosophy there is but one utterance of 
 importance. ‘Our conceptions are nothing absolute,” he declares. 
 “Since, accordingly, there is for us nothing absolute, I just as soon 
 may enthrone some ‘chimera,’ command it to exist as a fact, give 
 it validity, crown it.’’37 He appears here half an ardent seeker after 
 
 37 Verker, VI, Liveis Spil, p. 7. 
 
40 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 truth, half a fool in the garb of the philosopher. He is aware that 
 he may be following a false lead, but he defends himself, saying: 
 "Goethe esteemed more highly those who went astray, pursuing 
 their own paths than those who went right, following the ways laid 
 out by others.” Ina manner, Kareno has made progress, for when 
 we first met him, he was blind to the fact that his views had only 
 relative validity. But, like Nagel, heis still *theopponent of all.” 
 
 In Aftenrøde (Sunset), 1898, this element of doubt has grown in 
 Kareno. He has now reached fifty, but is still groping, undergoing 
 development, as he calls it. We find him once more at the capital 
 seeking a stipend, as poor as ever. But Elina Kareno has by the 
 death of her parents come into the possession of a large fortune. 
 The two are once more united, and there is now a child of ten in 
 the family. Sara is really Bondesen’s daughter, Kareno still 
 balks against acknowledging her as his own, but he comes to it 
 by degrees. His views of life in general have undergone a great 
 change, but he is still hesitating whether or not he ought to re- 
 nounce publicly his conclusions of twenty years ago. Strong ties 
 as yet unite him with the past, for he is the leader of a society 
 composed of radicals. A young firebrand, Tare by name, who 
 regards the early works of Kareno as more sacred and infallible 
 than the Bible, repeatedly arouses the old enthusiasm in his 
 master, but at last Kareno succumbs to other influences. Elina 
 Kareno ensnares him by surrounding him with mere physical 
 comfort, and Bondesen, who in spite of his former relations with 
 Elina still frequents the house, holds out to him the hope of 
 political success and, indeed, makes good his promise. In the 
 closing act a deputation appears to notify Kareno of his nomina- 
 tion, and Tare, true to the former teachings of his master, makes 
 his election virtually a certainty by an attempt to shoot Kareno 
 as a traitor to the cause of liberty, justice, and truth. Tare’s 
 action serves also to cure Kareno of a lingering sympathy for the 
 views of the younger generation. 
 
 The plot of the third part, as that of the first, shows unity of 
 action, the technique is skilful, the development rapid, almost - 
 beyond the realm of probability. The play is full of keen satire 
 and bitter irony. Bondesen’s motives for pushing the candidacy of 
 Kareno are entirely personal and spring from a most ridiculous 
 cause. He has now transferred his attention from Mrs. Kareno 
 to her maid, who at the same time is intimate with Jerven, Kare- 
 
Knut HAMSUN 41 
 
 no’s old opponent, now a dignified professor and candidate for 
 re-election. Bondesen surprises Jerven in the company of the maid 
 and avenges himself for the encroachment upon his domain by 
 bringing about Jerven’s defeat. Miss Hovind, the one-time fiancée 
 of Jerven, who in her youthful idealism broke off the engagement 
 because he betrayed his convictions, has since had plenty of time 
 to repent of her rashness, but as she has never come in contact 
 with Jerven, she has thus far not found any opportunity to rectify 
 her mistake. When she meets him again, at the house of Kareno, 
 she at once becomes personal and tender. At first it seems that 
 her efforts will go unrewarded. But Bondesen has alluded in his 
 paper to certain indiscretions of Jerven and thereby has imperiled 
 the latter’s reputation. To restore himself in the eyes of the world, 
 Jerven professes that he has sought the company of the maid solely 
 to learn from her when he might find at the home of the Karenos 
 his old love, Miss Hovind, for whom he has been pining these 
 twenty years. Even Bondesen, though himself a master in the 
 art of prevarication, must acknowledge that Jerven has done here 
 a magnificent stroke. Regard for appearances and conventions, 
 not principles, govern all these good people. Mrs. Kareno, how- 
 ever, surpasses them all in unconscious hypocrisy and prudishness. 
 In spite of her marital infidelities and outright dissolute mode of 
 life, or perhaps just because of them, she has now so far advanced 
 in her regard for propriety that she feels shocked when Kareno 
 exchanges in her presence his dressing gown for his coat; horrified 
 she covers Sara’s face when a young painter exhibits a picture in 
 which there is a young girl lying on her back, pointing one foot into 
 the air, and she feels scandalized when she hears of the misconduct 
 of her maid. Like Tolstoy she has become : everely virtuous, now 
 that vice has lost its charm for her, Nagel would say. 
 
 More interesting perhaps than this clever satire are the revela- 
 tions in regard to the earlier views of Kareno. Tare knows whole 
 passages from the writings of h.> master by heart and quotes him 
 at length. These utterances represent indisputably Hamsun’s own 
 opinions. 
 
 “What do you demand of the young? To honor the aged. 
 But why? These teachings were invented by decrepit old age 
 itself. When the old could no longer hold their own in the battle 
 of life, they by no means went into hiding, but spread themselves 
 on the loftiest seats and bade the young to honor them and do 
 
42 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 them homage. And when the young obeyed, the old sat there on 
 high like large, sexless birds and nodded their heads with delight 
 over the obedience of the young. You young ones! Place a bomb 
 under the seat of the aged, clear it, and occupy it yourselves. For 
 yours is the power and the honor eternally. 
 
 "Wherein are the old superior to you? In experience. Experi- 
 ence in all its poverty and nakedness. How does this experience 
 benefit you, since each one must experience anew all he happens 
 to encounter in his life personally? Alas, never yet has my experi- 
 ence been the benefit to you which you imagine. Blow up this old 
 lie. 
 
 "When old age speaks, youth shall keep silent. Why? Be- 
 cause the old have said so. Thus the old live protected and care- 
 free at the expense of the young. The hearts of the old are dead 
 for everything except hatred toward the new and the young. And 
 in their worn out brains there is still energy enough for one idea, 
 a clever invention: that the young shall honor toothless old age. 
 But while the young are hindered and crushed by this cynical 
 doctrine, the victors sit and boast over this peerless invention 
 and hold that life is arranged to perfection. 
 
 *A man is physically and mentally old when he reaches fifty. 
 He puffs when he has to tie his shoe strings, he has to take a rest 
 when he has compiled a book. If he has a reputation, he has after 
 that time to try to preserve this reputation by means of agents the 
 country over. He has his henchmen in foreign countries, his agent 
 in Germany, in England, in France, but especially important is his 
 agent in Germany. And the old man himself goes about and 
 imagines he is young. In order to keep up with the times, he spies 
 upon the art of the young and secretly reads their books. He does 
 not read them to delight his soul with the new he meets, he does it 
 in order to learn and imitate,—honor be to the old man for this! 
 If the young have found a new way, the old man whispers to him- 
 self: that way I, too, can follow. And if his agent in Germany is a 
 man who knows his duty, he will get it established immediately ina 
 widely read paper that it was his grand old man who first—first of 
 all—discovered the new way. And the old man will find it very 
 - nice to be half a hundred. 
 
 "Why do you tolerate this lie, you young ones? Why don’t you 
 go out on the street, single out the man of fifty and say to him: Out 
 
Knut HAMSUN 43 
 
 of the way, old chap! I am younger than you are. Your life is 
 ended, make room for mine. Die with God!’”8 
 
 Ivar Kareno is now himself a man of fifty and in obedience to 
 the laws of nature, he has undergone the inevitable change. Or 
 may one escape it? Most certainly. We meet in Leo Høibro, 
 Hamsun’s spokesman in Redaktør Lynge, a man who has passed 
 fifty and still stands as erect at his old post as ever. 
 
 The whole trilogy is very ably epitomized in the following lines: 
 
 Vi saa ham sky de Saler hvor andre søkte Ly, 
 
 de Sokler andre fandt det stolt at staa paa. 
 
 Han svinget sig en Morgen som en Ørn op mot Sky, 
 man skrek til ham og holdt sig fast og saa paa. 
 
 Og ingenting var over ham, 
 
 blot Dagningen i Østerled, de nye Tiders Gry. 
 
 Vi saa ham staa deroppe og vise Folket Vei 
 
 igjennem høie, ideale Riker. 
 
 Man kaldte ham til Jord igjen, hans Svar var altid Nei, 
 hans Sjæl var døv for Trusel, Bøn og Smiker. 
 
 . . . . Saa faldt han da i Alders Dag 
 
 og rystet vist sit Hode ad sit Ungdomslivs Galei. 
 
 Vi saa ham skyndsomt søke sig Ly bak Salens Dør 
 og krype Soklen op med Baand om Foten. 
 
 Der staar han nu og kaster sin Skygge med Honnør 
 og rotner som et livløst Træ paa Roten. 
 
 Men selv saa tror den gamle Ørn 
 
 at nu—nu staar han gjævere end nogensinde før.* 
 
 It will hardly do to interpret the trilogy as an admission on 
 the part of Hamsun that his own views have changed and that, ina 
 measure, he repudiates the ideals of his youth. But he has become 
 
 38 Verker, VI, Aftenrøde, pp. 31 f. 
 
 *We saw him shun the places where others shelter sought, / The pedestals 
 that others were standing on with pride. / He rose on one bright morning like an 
 eagle to the sky, / They called to him, held firmly on, and gazed. / And nothing 
 was above him then / But breaking morn in eastern sky, the dawn of the new time. 
 
 We saw him stand there loftily, pointing out the way / To dazzling heights 
 and realms ideal. / They called him down to earth again, he answered ever nay, / 
 His soul was deaf to prayer, threat, and fawning. / But then old age upon him came 
 / And wisely shook its head at all the joyous follies of his youth. 
 
 We saw him quickly seeking shelter within the hall / And crawl upon the 
 pedestal with fettered feet. / There now he stands, with honor casts his shadow 
 he afar / And rots just like a lifeless tree still on its stump. / But this eagle grey 
 himself believes / That now, indeed, he loftier stands than any time before. 
 
44 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 less optimistic in regard to the possibility of realizing them, 
 because the great majority of men renounce their earlier convic- 
 tions as they grow older. In many instances men actually change 
 their views, but selfish considerations are the most important fac- 
 tor in bringing about the transformation. Kareno’s tenets and 
 experiences are out of the ordinary, but his development is typical. 
 Men more or less reluctantly sacrifice their convictions by degrees, 
 compromise and make peace with the reactionary forces which 
 control civilization. They became weary of the seemingly hope- 
 less struggle, their faith is shaken, the desire for success, influence, 
 power, and comfort contributes its share, and in the end they 
 capitulate. Very few wait until they have passed fifty like Kareno. 
 Ibsen claimed in *Comedy of Love” that the common run of men 
 sacrifice their ideals to materialistic considerations as soon as they 
 establish a family, and it is not without significance that Jerven 
 betrays his cause to enable him to marry, just as the young journa- 
 list in Garborg’s Uforsonlige (Irreconcilables), and that Kareno 
 wrecks his domestic happiness by his refusal to yield. 
 
 While he succumbs to the operation of a law which is well nigh 
 universal in its application, Hamsun regards him with bitter irony. 
 His sympathy is not with Kareno, the man of fifty, but with Tare, 
 the young man of twenty-nine. He also furnishes proof, as it were, 
 that a man may remain loyal to his cause and ideals in spite of 
 advancing years by introducing Høibro, the ‘“‘comet without or- 
 bit,” who at fifty-one still unfalteringly adheres to the views of his 
 earlier years. Kareno’s fate simply illustrates the following re- 
 marks of our friend Coldevin: 
 
 “The people should not rely too much on their leaders, quite on 
 the contrary; the young people should be our hope. No, the 
 leaders buckle under many a time. It is an old law that a leader 
 comes to a stand-still when he reaches a certain age; nay, indeed, 
 he turns about and obstructs progress. Then the young ones 
 must oppose him, force him to retreat, or trample him under 
 foot.”?39 
 
 There is no indication in these three plays that Hamsun’s views 
 on these matters have changed in the least. 
 
 VI 
 Between the publication of Livets Spil and Aftenrøde there 
 appeared a collection of thirteen short stories and sketches under 
 
 39 Verker, III, Ny Jord, p. 49. 
 
Knut Hamsun 45 
 
 the general title Siesta, 1897. In three, the theme is taken from 
 peasant life, two deal with abnormal psychology. Reiersen av 
 «Sydstjærnen” (Captain Reiersen of the "South Star”) is artisti- 
 cally the best. Litt Paris (Glimpses of Paris) contains inter- 
 esting observations, which are, however, strongly at variance with 
 the approved version of the present day. The final sentence: 
 “Vice, corruption, and yet beauty and power,” sums up the con- 
 tents. It must be borne in mind that Hamsun is anything but 
 a moralist, he abstains also here from condemnation, though he 
 observes that in Paris life the old conceptions of morality are 
 completely upset. 
 
 Victoria. En Kjerligheds Historie (Victoria. A Love Story), 
 1898, of the same year as Aftenrgde, stands all by itself in the long 
 series of works by Knut Hamsun. The chief male character, to 
 be sure, bears the stamp of the author’s own personality; he, like 
 his predecessors, clashes with society and its unwritten laws, but 
 succeeds in adjusting himself without betraying his innermost 
 being. Only in his love he suffers disaster. In poetic quality 
 Victoria vies with Pan. We find long passages of lyric prose in 
 both, the beauty of which is hard to surpass, but they have nothing 
 in common with regard to the general atmosphere. Victoria is 
 only a simple love story in prose. But what a prose where the 
 author is at his best! The theme itself does not contribute any- 
 thing to the charm of this brief tale; it is indeed old and hackneyed: 
 two youthful lovers are separated by the insuperable barriers of 
 social conventions and economic circumstances. The young man, 
 Johannes, is the son of a humble miller, Victoria the daughter of 
 the proud master of the neighboring castle Hamsun intentionally 
 leaves his readers somewhat in the dark about the exact social 
 status of this old aristocrat. Johannes and Victoria have grown 
 up together, have been playmates, and have come to love each 
 other long before they reached adolescence. To save her lavish 
 father from utter ruin, Victoria consents to marry 2 rich suitor. 
 During the period of her engagement, she confesses to Johannes that 
 she loves him, only to send him away on the next day because the 
 whole thing is impossible, even though Johannes has made a man 
 of himself and has already achieved fame as a poet. At the 
 eleventh hour fate seems to intervene. The rich suitor, forced 
 upon Victoria by her father, loses his life by an accident, but it is 
 too late. Johannes has become engaged to a young girl of wealthy 
 
46 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 parents, whom he in her childhood saved from drowning. It is 
 gratitude, not love, which prompts Camilla to accept Johannes, 
 and when she falls in love with another, he does not make an 
 effort to hold her. Victoria he has not seen since the death of the 
 young heir to whom she was engaged, in fact, he has avoided her. 
 She has pined away, vainly longing to catch but a glimpse of 
 Johannes. And now he learns that she has just died and receives 
 her farewell letter, in which she pours forth her love with intense 
 fervor, utmost candor, and deep pathos. The letter forms the 
 conclusion of the story, not a single word of comment is added, a 
 device which produces a very strong effect. 
 
 The two main characters are skilfully drawn. Victoria is the 
 more interesting of the two. Social conventions and prejudices 
 influence her conduct, but the deciding factor is that she must 
 choose between her love and her duty to her father. At times 
 Victoria almost succumbs in the struggle against her affection; 
 again and again she can save herself only by wounding the feelings 
 of Johannes most deeply through affecting an air of coldness, 
 pride, and disdain. Only when the certainty of near death makes 
 restraint needless, she reveals the depth and beauty of her love. 
 
 Johannes is of stronger clay, love is not the sole content of 
 his life, as it is for Victoria. He survives the cruel blow which fate 
 inflicts upon him—how, we are left to surmise—but he has the 
 strength and courage to work. We may safely assume that he has 
 much in common with the author himself, certainly as far as his 
 literary productions are concerned. One of these is characterized 
 in the following manner: 
 
 “The great book had come out, a whole kingdom, a little, 
 stirring world of moods, emotions, voices, and visions.’*° Hamsun 
 surely himself has written a number of works to which this defini- 
 tion applies. To what extent personal experiences of the author 
 form the basis of Victoria, it is hard to say. 
 
 Through a certain impetuosity and eccentricity, Johannes 
 reminds one of Nagel. In other words, he belongs to the great 
 number of characters that are typical for Hamsun. Love is for 
 Johannes the great enigma of life, and he indulges in many specula- 
 tions and dreams about it. It isto him, as to Hamsun, an elemental 
 passion, a blind, inexorable force, implanted in man by nature; 
 through it he experiences the most sup-eme joy and the most 
 
 40 Verker, I, Victoria, p. 42. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 47 
 
 abject sufferings. It is never far remote from its physiological 
 basis, never severed from the sexual instinct. 
 
 «What is love, indeed? A breeze whispering among the roses, 
 a yellow phosphorescence burning in the blood. Love is an infernal 
 music which gets even old men to dance. It is like the marguerite 
 which opens up wide at the approach of night, and it is like the 
 anemone which closes when breathed upon and dies when touched: 
 
 “Such is love. 
 
 “Tt can ruin a man, raise him again, and brand him in turn; it 
 can favor me to-day, you to-morrow, and a third one to-morrow 
 night; so fickle it is. But it can also hold as firmly as an unbreak- 
 able seal, and burn as inextinguishable flame to the very hour of 
 death, so eternal it is. How then is love? 
 
 “Oh, love is a summer night with stars in the sky and fragrance 
 on earth. But why does it make the youth walk on hidden paths, 
 and why does it make the old man stand gazing on tip-toe in his 
 lonely room? Alas, love changes a man’s heart into a mushroom 
 bed, wherein are thriving secretive and impudent toadstools. 
 
 “Does it not cause the monk to climb into walled-in gardens 
 and press his eyes against the windows of sleeping persons in the 
 dead of night? And does it not instil madness into nuns, and 
 destroy the reason of princesses? It lays the head of the king to 
 the ground so that his hair drags in the dust of the highway, and 
 the while he is whispering obscene words to himself and is sticking 
 out his tongue. 
 
 “Such is love. 
 
 “But no, it is very different, indeed, and nothing in this world 
 is like it. It comes, as a spring-night descends upon the earth, 
 when a youth beholds two eyes. He sees and stares. He kisses a 
 pair of lips, and then it seems as though two flames met in his 
 heart, a sun which blazes forth towards a star. He is enfolded by 
 two arms, and then he neither hears nor sees anything in this world 
 any longer. 
 
 “Love was God’s first word, the first thought which passed 
 through his brain. When he said: Let there be light! it was love 
 which sprang forth. And all he had created was very good, and 
 he wanted nothing of it undone again. And love became the 
 source of life and the ruler of life, but all its paths are full of flowers 
 and blood, flowers and blood.’”4! 
 
 11 Verker, I, Victoria, pp. 19 f. 
 
48 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 The love of Victoria is of the loftier kind, though by no means 
 anaemic or etherial; it enobles in spite of all the sufferings it brings. 
 It has been said that Victoria's passion is “strong enough for death, 
 but not strong enough for life.” While this is true, Victoria is 
 not a weak character. But the conflicting forces are so powerful 
 that destruction in some form or other could be the only outcome 
 of the struggle. She herself declares: "You ought to know how I 
 have loved you, Johannes. I have not been able to show it to 
 you, there were so many obstacles in my path, and, first and fore- 
 most, my own nature prevented me.”* 
 
 Her fate would have differed only in outward circumstances, if 
 she had become united with Johannes, for she never could have 
 overcome the barriers which social conditions had raised between 
 them. 
 
 VII 
 
 _ From 1890 to 1898 Hamsun published ten works of fiction. It 
 was four years before his next production, Munken Vendt (Brigan- 
 tinens Saga I) (Friar Vendt, The Brigantine’s Saga I), appeared. 
 Munken Vendit is a drama in eight acts, composed in sonorous, 
 rhymed verse, with the exception of the poems, which are few in 
 number, the only work from the pen of Hamsun not written in 
 prose. Rhyme and meter are good, and the verse flows along in a 
 natural, virtually perfect cadence. And yet the drama does not 
 surpass, for instance, Pan and Victoria in poetic quality, and the 
 language is not as pithy as that of most other works of the author, 
 though it is very close to the vernacular of the people. The produc- 
 tion was not primarily intended for the stage, that much is self- 
 evident. The fact that eight acts are strung together as one whole 
 is of less importance; there is a natural division between the fifth 
 and the sixth act. To be sure, if we make this division, the first 
 part is still too long for one performance. In several of the acts 
 there is, moreover, a frequent change of scene. The third and 
 fourth acts require each three, the fifth and eight even four differ- 
 ent settings. For a modern stage of first rank these difficulties. 
 are not insurmountable, but they are none the less an obstacle. 
 Considered as a dramatic poem, Munken Vendi is a work of the 
 highest merits, though the ideas set forth in this play must neces- 
 sarily provoke violent opposition in many quarters. It consti- 
 
 12 Verker, I, Victoria, p. 90. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 49 
 
 tutes, at least so far, the last outbreak of Hamsun’s rebellious 
 spirit, and it is altogether unlikely that any others will follow, 
 since there has been a decided change, not in the views of Hamsun, 
 but in his attitude towards life. He has not made any compromise 
 like Kareno, he apparently stands where he stood at the outset, 
 but he has ceased to storm and rage against existing conditions, 
 recognizing the futility of such a procedure. 
 
 The hero of the play is a former student of theology, the illegiti- 
 mate son of a merchant up in Nordland. His parents are now 
 both dead, and Didrik, the half-brother of Munken Vendt,* is 
 continuing his father’s business and his mode of life. Munken 
 Vendt has thrown up his studies and has returned to the place of 
 his birth to live as a hunter. He is a young man full of energy, 
 unable to bear any restraint, disdainful, not only of all conventions, 
 but even of a well-ordered mode of life, liberal to a fault, reckless, 
 improvident, and withal a great rogue. Of course, he drinks 
 heavily, but without injury to his iron constitution. His good looks 
 and merry, witty nature make him a great favorite with women. 
 Even Iselin, the richest girl in those parts, an orphan and mistress 
 of her hand and fortune, falls in love with him, but he scorns her 
 advances. His heart belongs to Blis, a poor girl in the employ of 
 Didrik, by whom she is seduced. On the point of starving 
 to death, Munken Vendt promises to marry Inger, the daughter of 
 a well-to-do Laplander, who, moreover, has discovered a treasure 
 unlawfully acquired and hidden by Dyre, the father of Blis, a 
 shrewd and miserly old fellow. So Munken Vendt comes in poses- 
 sion of it.- When he, however, breaks his promise to Inger, her 
 father wants to shoot him, but by a mistake kills Dyre. 
 
 Munken Vendtis accused, when the court isin session, of having 
 tampered, out of sheer spite, with Didrik’s scales and is convicted, 
 though entirely innocent. He escapes with the assistance of Iselin, 
 and we find him later in a parish further south, where he has ac- 
 quired a place as sexton. He has turned over a new leaf, and 
 apparently intends to lead now an orderly life and to make restitu- 
 tion where he has wronged others Munken Vendt is good at 
 heart and really never stoops to any base action. He has already 
 hired a messenger to carry back to Inger her treasure, which he, 
 of necessity, had to take with him in his flight, when the sheriff 
 
 4 Munken” is an appellation, inseparable from the other name of its bearer. 
 It would hardly do to translate it by “friar.” 
 
50 Knut Hamsun 
 
 appears to arrest him because of the verdict rendered against him. 
 Munken Vendt again gets away, taking the treasure along a second 
 time, only to fall into the hands of the law in the large city to which 
 he has gone. It is Didrik, his half-brother and enemy, who causes 
 his apprehension. | 
 
 About twenty years later, Munken Vendt, having served his 
 sentence, returns again to the place of his birth, just in time to 
 buy Iselin’s estate which is sold at a sheriff”s sale. Iselin has 
 married Didrik, as it appears for the sole reason that he was the 
 only man of the neighborhood socially her equal. But he has 
 suffered losses upon losses, and Iselin has become involved in his 
 financial ruin. When Munken Vendt hears that an inquiry is to 
 be made how he came into possession of his means, he turns over 
 the estate just bought to Elias, the son of Dyre, once a petty 
 scoundrel of the worst sort, now a religious zealot. Munken Vendt 
 is still unbroken in health and spirit. In the penitentiary he has 
 learned the shoemaker’s trade, by which he now hopes to earn his 
 livelihood. 
 
 Iselin loves him as passionately as ever, but he wounds her 
 feelings and arouses her wrath. In her tyrannical manner, she 
 has him tied to a tree in the woods for four long days and nights, 
 that is, until certain seeds have sprouted in the soil placed in the 
 palms of his hands. As the wife of Didrik, she is arbiter over the 
 lives of the simple folk in the region. Munken Vendt, to be sure, 
 does not acknowledge her authority, but he submits when he 
 unexpectedly sees Alexa, the daughter of Blis and Didrik, the very 
 image of her mother in her youth and a kind and innocent girl in 
 her teens. For Munken Vendt, Alexa is a re-incarnation of Blis. 
 Through Alexa he experiences over again the joy of his early love, 
 and the resulting happiness is the greater, since his affection is 
 entirely free from desire. This experience ends once for all the 
 struggle between him and Iselin and his own inner conflict caused 
 by his mingled feelings for her. The love of his youth rules supreme 
 from the moment he beholds the young girl. His proud defiance 
 has, however, a share in his decision to submit to the cruel verdict 
 of Iselin. He accepts it as a challenge of his power of endurance. 
 His courage never fails him during the ordeal, but he comes out of 
 it partially maimed. Some months later, he sustains fatal injuries 
 by a fall on the ice. When Iselin learns of it, she drowns herself. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 51 
 
 The last months of Munken Vendt’s existence are made 
 supremely happy through the fact that he nowand then catchesa 
 glimpse of his idol, Alexa. When he lies at the point of death, he 
 eagerly longs for her presence. But she arrives too late. Fate, 
 Providence, or God has always treated him cruelly, and he but 
 expects that the fulfilment of his last, innocent wish should be 
 denied him. He dies unbroken in spirit, defiant to the end. On 
 his dead lips hovers a smile. All he leaves behind in this world is 
 the discharge from the prison where he served time—not as a 
 punishment for any of the wild pranks which he played, but as a 
 penalty for offences which he never committed. Such is the bare 
 outline of the plot. Love’s bliss and torments are no small feature 
 in this play, but not the most important one. 
 
 Already in Sult we found blasphemous utterances, rebellion 
 against Providence. Munken Vendt is steeped in it, is the personi- 
 fication of defiance of the Supreme Being, a Prometheus, or Cain, 
 or Lucifer. He is not an infidel, he believes there is a God who 
 controls the universe, and when, on one occasion, he thinks that 
 this God is meting out justice to him, he falls on his knees to 
 render thanks. But he is quickly disillusioned. From his very 
 birth he has suffered injustice, and he finds that injustice prevails 
 in general. The doctrine that we must humbly accept our lot, he 
 utterly rejects. It is our right, nay, our duty to rebel. If all the 
 millions on earth in unison shrieked out their defiance, maybe 
 God would be aroused from his lethargy, or desist from his tyranny. 
 Submission to all the injustice, cruelty, and madness of life results 
 but in the progressive degeneration of humanity. Since Christian- 
 ity teaches such submission, Munken Vendt, of course, repudiates 
 it. It is neither better nor worse than any other form of religious 
 belief, a crutch for cripples. 
 
 “The old prophets were of various sorts, according to the 
 accounts of different countries. They cooked and brewed and 
 dished out to the people and thought they were serving the most 
 excellent messes. But then came an expert in more refined viands. 
 They saw his salad was fresher than that of the others, the fisher- 
 men of the country liked it especially. Therefore, the fishermen 
 emigrated and fought for this salad to the finish. Some declared 
 themselves better satisfied with it, others remained heretics for ever. 
 Then courage rose in the hearts of these fishermen and they fought 
 on to their souls’ content. They chided and scolded the old cooks, 
 
Ky Knut Hamsun 
 
 called them twaddlers and rascals. You are too stupid to feel 
 ashamed of your doings, they said; what are you hanging up in 
 front of the hearth? Things which are dumb and dead, sheep-bells 
 and horseshoes, stuff and rubbish. No, here you shall behold 
 something of different mettle! And so they hung up a murdered 
 Jew instead. . . . But God sat in his clouds all the while and 
 laughed at the farce and kept it agoing. And so he will do to the 
 end of days, whenever future cooks turn up.”* 
 
 The rascal Dyre thinks that the rich people make the laws and 
 the clergy transform them into commandments from above, and we 
 may infer that Hamsun does not wholly disagree with him. 
 
 Munken Vendt prefers for himself the pagan creed of his 
 ancestors, with its cult of the heroic in man. With his dying breath 
 he commands: ‘‘Hey—up with the horseshoe of our forefathers!’ 
 As his wish is carried out, he sits erect, gazing at the setting sun. 
 "See, the sun goes down and makes night more placid. And the 
 mill will run on to-morrow the same as ever,” is his final comment 
 on life. The idea expressed here is identical with the one in the 
 closing sentence in Hamsun’s latest novel. "Things big and little 
 happen; a tooth out of the mouth, a man out of the ranks, a spar- 
 row that drops dead to the ground.” We cannot see the meaning 
 of it all, but life is good, and we should fight its battle bravely. 
 This is Hamsun’s philosophy of life. "Death is the great redeemer 
 of all,” and we should meet it fearlessly. 
 
 But this calm acceptance of the inevitable does not mean 
 submission while we are in the midst of the fray. Munken Vendt 
 declares repeatedly that misfortune and injustice cannot enoble; 
 they degrade a man if he tamely yields. His is not the soul which 
 can be purified by sufferings; his monomania for independence, for 
 retaining the mastery of his own life, does not allow him to ack- 
 nowledge that he is suffering, not even to his own self and much less 
 to others. Providence or Fate may crush him, annihilate him, but 
 cannot wrest from him the admission of defeat. On one occasion 
 he compares himself aptly to the unrepentant thief on the cross. 
 This indomitable pride is the chief reason why he spurns the love 
 of Iselin, whom he really admires for her proud spirit which is akin 
 - to his own. 
 
 Munken Vendt is, at the bottom of his heart, kind and benevo- 
 lent towards his fellow men, but at times he cannot suppress his 
 
 “ Verker, VII, Munken Vendt, pp. 13 f. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 53 
 
 contempt for the fawning, cringing, and slavish nature of the 
 masses. For a God on high, they must be a sorry sight. What 
 gratification can there be in ruling over a race of slaves? In the 
 final analysis they can, however, not be made responsible for what 
 they are. He assures Blis, for instance: "Your course was staked 
 out. You followed it blindly. It was so ordained. But nothing 
 whatever leads to destruction. So kindly devised and so splendid 
 and clever is life—I mean, the harmony is so perfect that’ there is 
 really not a single discord. Our task is to learn to know freedom 
 and necessity, that youth and old age, rain and drought, goodness 
 and evil—that all these are values of equal rank. We were allotted 
 them from above in the beginning of time to use and enjoy. Not 
 that they should bring sin upon our heads. You cannot sin by 
 any power of your own.. What evil you have done and the good 
 you may have accomplished, was whispered and shall be whispered 
 into your ear. And if you stumble—nay, fall head-long on your 
 way, you only drop into the embrace of your fate.”* Thus speaks 
 the man of fifty. One might well doubt if he is really in earnest, for 
 he relapses at once into mockery, sarcasm, and self-irony, were it 
 not for the fact that Hamsun’s own views and attitude towards life 
 are virtually the same. Munken Vendt’s blood, moreover, has in 
 spite of his years not cooled sufficiently to enable him to live up 
 to his own creed, which logically must lead to resignation. Rail- 
 lery, irony, scorn, and hate still get the better of him repeatedly. 
 But those are only commotions on the surface; deep down in his 
 heart there flows a perpetual current of compassion. In fact, he, 
 like his kin in the gallery of Hamsun characters, often hides his 
 sympathy under a rough exterior. Munken Vendt receives every 
 manifestation of compassion with his own lot as the gravest insult, 
 is it then so strange that he suppresses his own tenderness to spare 
 others humiliation? And what is true of him applies with undi- 
 minished force to the author.—That his ethical and philosophical 
 views bear the impress of Friedrich Nietzsche, is evident enough. 
 Aside from Munken Vendt, there are more than half a dozen 
 characters depicted in great detail. Iselin, Didrik, the sordid, 
 tyrannical, malicious, and unscrupulous overlord of the country- 
 side, Svend Herlufsen, the cynic, who proclaims views of women 
 savoring very strongly of Also sprach Zarathustra, young Dundas, 
 a spineless braggart and roisterer, Dyre, the shrewd, miserly, 
 
 % Verker, VII, Munken Vendt, p. 172. 
 
54 Knut Hamsun 
 
 brutish peasant, who might have realized his ambition of buying 
 out Didrik some day if he had not come to an untimely death, and 
 his son Elias, a petty thief and sanctimonious hypocrite before his 
 conversion into a religious zealot, are of chief importance. 
 
 Iselin has in common with Teresita of Livets Spil that she fasci- 
 nates all men of her own class with whom she comes in contact, 
 but she is by no means an enigmatic character. Her affection 
 belongs to Munken Vendt and never falters. Finding her love 
 rejected, she takes vengeance, but she several times rescues 
 Munken Vendt when danger threatens him from others. His 
 admiration for her, coupled with his love for Blis, the simple child 
 of nature, forms a parallel to similar situations in the case of 
 Nagel, Glahn, and others. 
 
 Of equal importance with the portrayal of these characters 
 is the general picture of life in Nordland as it was about the close of 
 the eighteenth century, the time in which the drama has its setting. 
 This remoteness in both place and time makes the unusual action 
 more probable, though not always convincing. The superstitions 
 and beliefs of the common people, their way of thinking, their 
 impotent submission to the overbearing, tyrannical conduct of 
 their superiors, the arbitrariness, pride and arrogance of the upper 
 class, the maladministration of justice then prevailing, all these 
 features are presented in concrete and realistic fashion. The poor 
 for the most part hardly feel themselves wronged by the abuse 
 inflicted upon them. A good illustration is the case of Blis. 
 Didrik has seduced her, and she expects a child. Munken Vendt, 
 who is ignorant of the situation, proposes to marry her and she, 
 of course, readily consents, but proceeds forthwith to tell that they 
 had better hurry for her child is to be born in wedlock. While 
 she places high value on the mere form, it is not at all her intention 
 to conceal the truth, she cannot even conceive of a reason for 
 doing so and is devoid of any sense of disgrace. When Munken 
 Vendt withdraws his proposal, she is surprised that he, himself 
 born illegitimate, should show himself sensitive in regard to the 
 matter. And many years later, when the two meet again, she 
 boasts of the fact that her daughter Alexa is of better extraction 
 than the rest of her children that were born to her in marriage. 
 If we are to appraise her mode of thought correctly, it must be 
 borne in mind that affection played no part in her relations with 
 Didrik. 
 
Knut Hamsun 55 
 
 It is a picture of ignorance, degradation, vice, and injustice 
 which the author unrolls before our eyes, and Munken Vendt 
 gains by contrast with his surroundings in spite of his many faults 
 and shortcomings, for Hamsun has by no means idealized his hero. 
 Munken Vendt’s love of liberty, yearning for justice and honesty, 
 and, last but not least, his proud defiance of all powers in heaven 
 and on earth, are the most important features of this final out- 
 break of Hamsun’s own rebellious spirit. In Munken Vendt we 
 have the last instance of this type of central figure in the works of 
 the author. He and those that went before him are strong-willed, 
 sensitive, upright individuals who cannot adjust themselves to 
 social conditions, for whom social intercourse means intense suffer- 
 ings, and who purchase relative independence by isolation. They 
 are all impractical, are distrustful of the conventional forms, which 
 they fail to recognize as what they really are: the medium for 
 lessening friction in frequent, close contact with a multitude of 
 people. In spite of all outward acerbity, these strange individuals 
 do not become actually embittered at heart, for they are not 
 possessed by the ambition to succeed. They prefer obscurity to 
 name and fame, from which certain fetters are inseparable, though 
 they be of gold. These men are all governed by powerful impulses, 
 because they are hyper-sensitive to all stimuli, and for this reason 
 the permanent part in their personalities, i.e., character, is often 
 obscured and therefore seems to be wanting. Some are drawn to 
 their fellow men, but they are unable to make the concessions 
 necessary for close association. In the case of a clash of ideas, 
 they declare their own opinions and convictions to be the only 
 true ones. They judge "after the subjective logic of their tem- 
 peraments,” as Nagel puts it, and they have a deep contempt for 
 public opinion, the opinion of the masses, in our democratic day 
 and age a suicidal tendency. So they naturally must perish. In 
 love, it is not the winning of the beloved—they do not win her, 
 not one of them—but the longing in itself and the memories of it 
 which constitute the richest joy. This fact is the more striking if 
 we consider Hamsun’s contention that love is never far removed 
 from its physical basis. We know many an author who exalts 
 love, but sees to it that the senses find ample gratification. Ham- 
 sun puts no emphasis upon this feature. Aside from their longings 
 and memories, nature is a potent source of joy and blissful peace 
 for this type of Hamsun’s figures, and Munken Vendt shares this 
 
56 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 trait with the rest. They are all individualists, of the author's 
 own flesh and blood, they have many traits in common and yet 
 such a large element of independent personality that one does 
 not regard them as repetitions. The explanation must be sought 
 in the wide range, the intensity, and originality of Hamsun’s inner 
 life and his power of expression. 
 
 VIN. 
 
 In 1903, there appeared I Æventyrland (In Fairyland), the 
 fruit of a journey through Russia for which Hamsun had been 
 awarded a stipend by the state. This work is subjective like 
 virtually all of Hamsun’s productions, but it makes interesting 
 reading because of the author’s great skill in description. The 
 personal element, ever present, lends it additional charm. The 
 Russian people with their calm endurance, child-like simplicity, 
 and impulsiveness appealed to him greatly. With their large store 
 of vitality, they seem to him destined to become the dominating 
 race at some future day. A passage referring to an experience in 
 Moscow is significant. 
 
 “T am happy that I have hit upon this spot; several good old 
 people sit a short distance away, eating and chatting, and their 
 faces are not ugly and wasted as those of old people as a rule are, 
 but, on the contrary, openand strong, and they all have an abun- 
 dance of hair. Slavic people! I think, as I look at them. The 
 people of the future. Destined to succeed as masters of the world 
 the Germanic race! Among such a people a literature like the 
 Russian can spring forth, boundless, scaling the very heavens in 
 eight mighty, fiery currents from their eight gigantic authors. We 
 others will have enough to do for a long time trying to comprehend 
 it and approach it. But the kind of literature to which the thea- 
 ters treat the people, they prefer to have other authors look 
 after.” 
 
 Recent events make it appear that the Russian people are 
 further away than ever from the goal destined for them in the 
 opinion of Hamsun. But the fact remains that they are in posses- 
 sion of great resources and a mighty store of energy and vitality, 
 and they may yet make come true Hamsun’s prophecy at some far 
 distant day: 
 
 % Verker, IV, I Æventyrland, p. 12. 
 
Knut HAMSUN Sy 
 
 Russian literature, or rather, some of its greatest figures, are 
 characterized more fully later on. Turgenjev was a representative 
 of western European civilization, from which he expected salvation 
 for his people. He was honest in his convictions, more a man of 
 the heart than of the intellect, but nevertheless more French than 
 Russian, and he followed the way on which all mediocrity traveled 
 in his day. 
 
 Dostojevsky, on the other hand, is for Hamsun the true expon- 
 ent of the Russian spirit. He calls him a fanatic, a madman, anda 
 genius in the same breath. Dostojevky’s achievements, which 
 surpass those of all others, resulted from the very fact that he, from 
 the start, bore within himself the conviction that he was a genius. 
 His power of psychic analysis and penetration amounts to divina- 
 tion. 
 
 In regard to Tolstoy, Hamsun’s opinion seems still to be the 
 same as that set forth in Mysterier. Tolstoy’s position in later life 
 does not appeal to Hamsun as quite genuine. He assumes that 
 Tolstoy turned to religion to give a new content to his life when 
 his physical powers declined. At first, there was more or less pose 
 in this, just as in the case of Ibsen’s attitude, later on, this pose 
 became for both a necessity, borne up by conviction. But both 
 would have been greater if they had taken themselves less seriously. 
 They, moreover, impaired their positions by their philosophi- 
 cal attempts. Faultfinding and pondering are not philosophical 
 thinking. Tolstoy and Ibsen were ponderers. The philosophic 
 views of the former, Hamsun designates as a mixture of self-evident 
 truths and strange, imperfect notions. He possessed the organs 
 necessary for thinking, but his brain was empty. English philoso- 
 phy, with its utilitarianism and hedonistic aims, was largely respon- 
 sible for the aberrations of Ibsen, Tolstoy, and others. The evolu- 
 tionary theory, with its doctrines of the influence of heredity and 
 environment, exerted a most powerful influence upon literature; 
 scientific questions were aired in drama and novel, literature 
 served to popularize science, and so the authors in question were 
 hailed as philosophers, at first much to their own surprise, until 
 they diligently sought to play the röle forced upon them. The 
 result was a pose. In the end, Hamsun segregates Tolstoy from 
 the rest and pronounces him an old prophet whose equal we cannot 
 find in our time.*” 
 
 47 cf. Verker, IV, I Æventyrland, pp. 117 ff. 
 
58 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 It is a well known fact that Hamsun’s sympathy for the Rus- 
 sian people is not at all one-sided. Practically all his works have 
 been translated into Russian, and they have nowhere been ac- 
 corded as enthusiastic a reception as in Russia. 
 
 In the Caucasus and on the shores of the Black Sea, Hamsun 
 came in contact with Mohammedans. They appealed to him 
 almost as strongly as the Russian people, especially by their 
 stoicism. Their very indolence and indifference, really resulting 
 from their fatalistic conception of life, the simplicity of their 
 mode of existence, and the paucity of their wants emancipate them 
 in his opinion from the most irksome burdens of human life. Hav- 
 ing observed an old moslem lying in a cool night on the bare 
 floor with no other pillow than his arm, in a room with doors and 
 windows gone, he muses: 
 
 "That is the way they sleep, these splendid old men whom we 
 now and then run across in daytime. It surely does not seem 
 comfortable for them, but they put up with it and live to old age 
 in such conditions. And if they have lived their lives in such a 
 manner that they may paint green turbans on the head-boards of 
 their graves—a privilege enjoyed only by those who have made 
 three pilgrimages to Mecca—then nothing, absolutely nothing is 
 lacking to the happiness of their existence, then Allah has been 
 good to them. And they do not enjoy human rights and suffrage, 
 and they don’t carry the Vorwåris in their pockets. Poor Orient, 
 we Prussians and Americans must, indeed, pity you!’’48 
 
 The virtual absence of western civilization in the lives of the 
 overwhelming majority of the Russian people, is plainly enough 
 the one feature which appeals most to Knut Hamsun. The adop- 
 tion of European, or worse still, American ways and methods 
 spells demoralization for them. 
 
 Dronning Tamara (Queen Tamara), 1903, is, so to speak, a 
 by-product of the Russian journey.‘* It is a prose play, with the 
 Queen’s castle near Ani in Georgia for its setting, the time is the 
 beginning of the thirteenth century. The very indistinct historical 
 background is furnished by the strife of the Christian people of 
 Georgia with the neighboring Mohammedan tribes. The theme is 
 that of erring love. Tamara, the ruling queen, has become cold 
 
 48 Verker, IV, I Æventyrland, p. 163. 
 49 The play came out before the account of his travels; both appeared in the 
 same year. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 59 
 
 towards her husband, Prince Giorgi, who is now for her but the 
 first among her officers. Her heart has been slumbering, but it is 
 suddenly aroused upon meeting a young khan whom Giorgi has 
 made a prisoner. Both are immediately infatuated with each 
 other, the khan to such an extent that he forgets his creed and his 
 duty towards his people. He is set free by Fatimat, a Moham- 
 medan maiden of high birth, living at the Queen’s court as captive, 
 without, however, suffering any restraint of her personal liberty. 
 Drawn by his passion for Tamara, he returns, only to meet death 
 at the hands of Giorgi’s warriors. 
 
 Giorgi has made an unsuccessful attempt to ally himself with 
 the enemies of the Queen, to enable him to stand before her as 
 conqueror, and to restore, thereupon, her powers to her again. 
 He has chosen this desperate method to show himself the master 
 and regain the love of Tamara. When all seems lost, he surrenders 
 himself to the tribe of the slain khan to free his son who has fallen 
 into the hands of the enemy. The body of the khan is in the pos- 
 session of the Queen, and at the counsel of her spiritual adviser, 
 a stern zealot, she refuses, much against her own inclination, to 
 surrender it, unless the khan’s people promise to embrace Chris- 
 tianity. They refuse to do this and, persuaded by Giorgi and led 
 by him, make themselves masters of the castle by force of arms. 
 And Giorgi has calculated correctly. His daring and bravery 
 restore to him the affection of his queen; he is for her again the 
 hero whom she loved in the days of her youth. The Mohammedans 
 acknowledge the sovereignty of Queen Tamara, and alls ends well. 
 
 There is an abundance of rapid action; as a matter of fact, it is 
 almost too rapid, for all the events touched upon above occur in 
 two days and one night. It would have been a small task to change 
 this feature, but Hamsun evidently saw no need of it. For the 
 presentation of a play it matters little whether a certain lapse of 
 time is suggested or not, the spectators make for themselves the 
 necessary allowance. The critical reader, on the other hand, 
 may find the development too precipitous. In this particular 
 play there is nothing impossible in the quick succession of momen- 
 tous happenings, and from the stage point of view, one may regard 
 the concentration here practiced as a merit. 
 
 Dronning Tamara should be very effective on the stage, for it 
 contains many elements of spectacular nature. Only the scene of 
 the conquest of the castle, where we must infer the all important 
 
60 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 feats of bravery performed by Giorgi from the remarks and excla- 
 mations of a few onlookers, is somewhat weak. The three acts 
 require but one setting. Very explicit directions are given for it, 
 and the garb of the different individuals is minutely described. 
 If staged accordingly, the play would present a strange and gor- 
 geous spectacle. In spite of the exotic character of the theme 
 and the romantic action, the drama aims to be realistic, as far 
 as this is possible in the case of a portrayal of events so far removed 
 in place and time. 
 
 Hamsun does not take sides in the controversy between Chris- 
 tianity and Mohammedanism. But when Tamara, at the close, 
 praises Fatimat for her conduct, the latter holds: ““‘Well—a Moham- 
 medan should, indeed, be a little better than a Christian,” and the 
 Queen replies: “I shall try to become as good as you are, Fatimat.” 
 
 The year 1903 witnessed, aside from the two works dealt with 
 above, the appearance of thirteen short stories and sketches under 
 the collective title Kratskog (Copsewood). Several deal with erotic - 
 themes. Livets Røst (The Call of Life), is characteristic for certain 
 views of Hamsun. A young woman who has been married to a 
 man considerably her senior goes out upon the street the day after 
 the death of her husband and finds herself a lover. She takes him 
 along to her house where they spend the night together. When 
 the young man, who knows nothing about the woman, leaves in 
 the morning, he discovers in another room of the apartment a 
 corpse in its coffin. Later he learns through the newspaper that 
 it was the body of the woman’s husband. 
 
 "T remain sitting there a while and think over the matter. A 
 man has married a woman who is thirty years younger than he, he 
 is stricken by a lingering illness, one nice day he dies. 
 
 "And the young widow takes a deep breath.” 
 
 Such is the conclusion of the story, which is told in the first 
 person. 
 
 — Knut Hamsun holds that the sexual instinct is the ruling 
 passion of mankind, of all things created, for that matter, and the 
 cause of our woes. The first stanza of a poem entitled Det Suk 
 gjennem Skapningen (The Sigh of Creation), in which the question 
 is debated, reads: 
 
 This sigh of creation which Saint Paul has heard,* 
 Our sins, are they, indeed, of it the cause? 
 
 50 The reference is to Romans, VIII, 22. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 61 
 
 I risk to most humbly and meekly suggest 
 That sex is the cause of this sigh of Saint Paul, 
 And hold, until better proof is produced, 
 
 My view of the matter correct. 
 
 As his latest work testifies, Hamsun has not been aoe with 
 any acceptable proof to the contrary. 
 
 The most important stories of the collection are Far og Sén 
 (Father and Son), Smaabyliv (Life in a Small Town), and Zacheus. 
 The scene of the latter is somewhere on the prairies of the Middle 
 West. It gives a good picture of the life of a harvest gang on one 
 of the big, isolated farms. The outstanding feature is the disre- 
 gard for law. One of the hands, Zachaeus by name, has made the 
 cook of the gang his enemy. Zachaeus one day loses one of his 
 fingers as the horses on the mower start up unexpectedly. He is 
 laid up in the bunk-house and he comes thus in frequent contact 
 with the cook, and friction increases between them. His severed 
 finger Zachaeus preserves religiously in a small bottle. The cook 
 gets hold of it and to avenge himself for the theft of an old news- 
 paper—to be sure, it is the only reading matter on the whole 
 place—he serves the finger to Zachaeus in his food. A few days 
 later, Zachaeus shoots the cook in cold blood and buries him in the 
 field. When he comes back to the bunk house, he, in a casual 
 manner, informs the others of his deed. The news produces hardly 
 a ripple. Another man is appointed cook by the foreman, and 
 Zachaeus keeps on working with the rest until the harvest is com- 
 pleted and they all scatter. No one thinks of interfering with the 
 departure of Zachaeus or even of reporting his deed to the authori- 
 ties. The author does not add one word of comment to his account. 
 It must be borne in mind that the events here spoken of are sup- 
 posed to have happened more than a generation ago. 
 
 Paa Prerien (On the Prairie) relates some personal experiences 
 of Knut Hamsun on the harvest fields of the Middle West. There 
 is no plot or point to this sketch and no comment. The most 
 striking feature is the general debauch which ensues when, after 
 being paid off, the gang reaches the town and the saloon. 
 
 Redsel (Terror) also brings reminiscences from Hamsun’s 
 sojourn in the United States. It is less interesting than the preced- 
 ing sketch, since itis confined to very simple, personal experiences 
 of the author. In the eighties, Hamsun worked for a time in the 
 
62 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 little town of Madelia, Wis., where he ran a lumber yard while the 
 owner and his wife were making a visit in the East. 
 
 One day, he is detained so long by customers that it is too late 
 to put the proceeds of the day’s sales, about eight hundred dollars, 
 in the bank. During the night, an attempt is made by several 
 men to break into the house, and Hamsun confesses that at first 
 he was almost scared to death, though he ultimately drove off the 
 intruders. 
 
 Two years later, there appeared in the collection Stridende Liv 
 (The Struggle of Life) two more stories based on American experi- 
 ences of Hamsun. The longer one, Vagabonds Dager (Vagabond 
 Days), is but a variation of the theme dealt with in Zacheus 
 and Paa Prerien. The large amount of toil exacted from the men 
 is particularly stressed. Three of them, Hamsun among their 
 number, leave the camp secretly. They strike out for the nearest 
 railroad, across the open prairie, without a compass. Half perished 
 they come to a farm house where they obtain some food., Having 
 reached a small country town, Hamsun’s companion—only one 
 of the men is still with him—suggests that they rob the bank. He 
 himself does the work while Hamsun stands guard. But Jess 
 declares on his return from the expedition that he has not found a 
 cent—only to take the next train out with his haul, leaving Ham- 
 sun behind without a cent in his pocket. 
 
 The latter drifts back to the farm where they had been given 
 food, lured by the hope of winning the farmer’s daughter. He 
 succeeds in ingratiating himself with the old folks, but the girl 
 prefers Fred, a German tramp, and finally elopes with him. The 
 rivalry between the two men is dealt with at length. Love’s 
 labor lost, Hamsun pushes on farther west. 
 
 Kvindeseir (The Woman’s Victory) is a brief narrative of an 
 incident supposedly from Hamsun’s conductor days in Chicago. 
 The story is extraordinary enough. 
 
 A young man has lost the affections of his pretty spouse and 
 conceives the idea of staging an attempt at suicide before the eyes 
 of his wife to convince her of the depth of his love. On the corner 
 of Monroe Street he will descend into the trap in the center of the 
 track, giving access to the cable. To make sure that he will not 
 be run over as he stands there, his head above the ground and 
 directly in the path of the clutches that grip the cable, he arranges 
 things with both the motorman and the conductor beforehand, 
 
Knut HAMSUN 63 
 
 giving each one ten dollars. They are even to simulate a fight 
 when they have stopped the train of cars and come to remove him 
 from the trap. His wife will be on the first car, see the whole thing, 
 and experience a change of heart. The stranger is so circumspect 
 that he designates the very drug store to which his wife is to be 
 taken if she should faint. 
 
 All develops according to the program. The pretty and stylishly 
 attired young woman boards the car and takes the front seat. 
 She occupies it alone. Soon she engages the motorman in conver- 
 sation. The corner of Monroe Street comes in sight, and there 
 stands a man in the trap, his head above the ground. The conduc- 
 tor frantically signals to stop, but in vain. The cars run on at 
 full speed, and the man in the trap is neatly decapitated. When 
 the conductor (i.e., Hamsun) slams on the brakes, it is too late. 
 The young woman cries out: “Horrible, horrible!”—but utterly 
 fails to faint. Pat, the motorman, leaves his post after borrowing 
 the conductor’s knife to cut off his brass buttons. 
 
 All this happens the day before Christmas. One evening 
 between Christmas and New Year, when the conductor is off duty, 
 he happens upon Pat, who is in brand new clothes and minus his 
 mustache—on board a westbound train ready to pullout. _ 
 
 “Farewell,” said Pat. "By the way, how much did you get of 
 the man we ran over? 
 
 “Ten dollars. 
 
 “The same as I got. Well, he really paid well enough. But 
 the woman paid better. . 
 
 "The woman? 
 
 “The young woman, yes. I made a little deal with her. And 
 a couple of thousands did not seem too much to her, for she wanted 
 to get rid of her husband. Itis her money with which I now can 
 make a start in life.” 
 
 The End. 
 
 Not a word of comment, nor any suggestion that the occur- 
 rence is typical for American life. The reader must draw his own 
 conclusions; the same applies to the other productions pertaining 
 to conditions in the United States. 
 
 In all, there are but five short stories and sketches that come 
 under this head, unless we wish to include the sketch Paa Ban- 
 kerne (Off the Newfoundland Banks), contained in the collection 
 
64 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 Siesta. But the locality in question does not come under the juris- 
 diction of the United States, or even Canada, it would seem, and 
 the description here given portrays life on board a fishing vessel 
 under the Russian flag. 
 
 Hamsun’s residence in the United States, accordingly, has not 
 resulted in any important literary production that can be traced 
 to America. Certain types and conditions depicted in Ny Jord 
 are well nigh universal, and the claim that they are inconceivable 
 without the American experiences of the author seems exaggerated. 
 
 In the stories and sketches just discussed the author has been 
 in a certain manner objective and he has abstained from criticism 
 or comment, but his attitude towards the United States is not 
 sympathetic. One feature he emphasizes, the contempt of the 
 native American for all people of foreign birth. Scattered observa- 
 tions in the works of Hamsun show his distaste for the mad pace 
 of American life and for our real or supposed materialism. 
 
 Three of the stories in Stridende Liv pertain to Norwegian con- 
 ditions. They are well constructed and make good reading. A 
 brief sketch referring to the ways of animals and a continuation of 
 I Aventyrland, entitled Under Halumaanen (Under the Crescent), 
 are also included in the collection. The latter describes impres- 
 sions of Hamsun on his visit to the shores of the Bosporus. We 
 are already familiar with his general attitude towards the Moslem 
 world and need not enter here into further details. Interesting is 
 a suggestion as to the fate which may possibly befall the Russian 
 Empire: namely, disintegration. But has Hamsun not pro- 
 claimed the Slavic people as the race destined to succeed their 
 Germanic neighbors in the rule of the world? Yes, indeed, and the 
 breaking-up of their empire, not even bolshevism and sovietism, 
 can permanently change the destiny of the Slavic people, he pre- 
 sumably would reply. 
 
 IX 
 
 Hamsun has published but a small number of poems. They 
 appeared under the significant title Det vilde Kor (The Wild 
 Chorus), 1904. Naturally, his poems are even more subjective 
 than his works of fiction and consequently afford us more direct 
 insight into his views of life. 
 
 There are a few gentle love poems and a larger number seething 
 with passion. One of the latter kind, Alraunen (The Mandrake), 
 seems to have been suggested by the superstitions which the people 
 
Knut HAMSUN 65 
 
 of various climes associate with this plant. The first part of the 
 poem is placed at the beginning of the drama Dronning Tamara, 
 the theme itself is well known in all parts of Europe. Love is here 
 represented as an irresistible force, a strange, mysterious magic, 
 against which man is entirely defenceless. But Hamsun has never 
 been able to see it in any other light. A cycle of ten, entitled 
 Feberdikte (Fever Poems) suggests an experience similar to that 
 of Johannes in Victoria. Upon short bliss there follows separation 
 for conventional reasons. Life seems to have lost all its meaning; 
 death with its promise of ultimate peace is the longed-for goal. 
 Finally the poet rises above his grief, but a much changed man. 
 Nu er det gaat saa mangen Dag, og Dagene de iler. 
 Min Sjel er frisk og kold og haard, 
 
 en Høst har stormet i dens Vaar. 
 Jeg klager ikke mer, jeg nikker taus til alt og smiler. 
 
 Jeg vandrer in i Skogene, en Hersker uten Rike, 
 en bøiet Mand, en hævet Aand, 
 en falden Fot, en knyttet Haand, 
 og hilser mig med Kaarden som min Overvinders Like.* 
 
 We have here, on the one hand, this spirit of defiance which 
 admits of no defeat, on the other hand, the consolation found in 
 close communion with nature which are so characteristic of 
 Hamsun. This love of nature has inspired a number of the best 
 poems in the entire collection. The seasons of the year, the 
 woods, in one instance the sea, little scenes from out-of-door life 
 furnish the themes. The forests Hamsun loves above all. Finding 
 himself one night on the way to the city, he stops and reflects, 
 and decides to go back to his beloved woods. 
 
 Saa vender jeg om til Skogens Fred 
 
 i Midnatters sene Tide. 
 
 Jeg vet hvor det dufter en Hægg et Sted, 
 der lægger jeg Hodet i Lyngen ned 
 
 og sover i Skogen vide.t 
 
 *So many a day has now gone by and how the days do hurry. / My soul is 
 fresh, and cold, and hard, / Grim fall has swept the spring of it. / No longer I 
 complain, but smiling nod to all in silence. 
 
 I wander in the woods alone, a ruler without kingdom, / A bowed down man, 
 a lifted soul, / A fallen foot, a tight-clenched hand, / And with my sword salute 
 myself as equal of my victor. 
 
 {The peaceful woods then I seek again / At midnight’s belated hour. / I know 
 where there blossoms a cherry wild, / There shall I lay on the heather my head / 
 And sleep in the forest’s temple. 
 
66 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 The poem Nordland gives with a few bold and highly effective 
 strokes a picture of the grandeur of the natural scenery, the bounty 
 of the soil, the life of the people, and the poet’s hopes for the 
 development of these remote regions, closing with a glorification 
 of Nordland and her sons. A commission which recently visited 
 this most sparsely settled region reported very favorably in regard 
 to the possibilities existing there, considerable agricultural expan- 
 sion being among them. Hamsun wrote half a generation ago: 
 
 Nordland—Nordland, vor Fremtids Hjem, 
 Grojord til alle Sider, 
 
 Morgningens unge Land som vil frem,— 
 Landet skal frem! 
 
 Skjærme og signe det nu og i alle Tider!* 
 
 The same spirit pervades his greatest novel, as we shall see 
 further on. 
 
 Several of the poems have the simplicity of the folk song and 
 are at the same time very musical. Some of these are from Mun- 
 ken Vendt, where they are put into the mouths of the simple folk. 
 For mere tunefulness, the "Sailor's Song” surpasses them all, 
 though ‘‘Tora’s Song” rivals it closely and is much finer in senti- 
 ment. Sorosi Piker (Sorosi Girls) and Kvanneleterskerners 
 Sang (Song of the Flower Seekers, kvanne = Angelica) should be 
 mentioned here also; Enerbusken (The Juniper Bush) strongly 
 appeals by its child-like simplicity. “‘Svend Herlufsen’s Sayings,” 
 also incorporated in Munken Vendt, are verses in a semi- 
 philosophical vein and reflect very strongly the influence of Fried- 
 rich Nietzsche, especially in the estimate placed upon women. 
 This latter corresponds only in a general way to Hamsun’s own 
 views in the matter. Though many of his female characters are 
 coquettish, selfish, sensual, unscrupulous, in short, inferior, there 
 are some of a nobler mold to be found in his works. The woman 
 for whom love is the supreme law he ranks highest. The modern 
 woman he abhors. In his Himmelbrev til Byron (Letter to Byron 
 in the Great Beyond), he has poured forth his detestation of this 
 type. Referring to Byron’s mythical love, he writes: 
 
 Det skrider en Engel 
 med senkede Vinger 
 
 *Nordland—Nordland, our future home, / Fertil lands all about us, / Morning’s 
 strong, young land bent onward,— / Onward it shall! / Now and for ever shield 
 it and give it thy blessing. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 67 
 
 som hele din Elskovs 
 
 Tungsindighet ser. 
 
 Til Piken fra Malory, 
 
 Piken fra Malory 
 
 gaar dine Tanker 
 
 og er det du ber. 
 
 O Piken fra Malory, 
 
 Lille-Bells Moder, 
 
 hører ei mer. 
 
 Hvad hun gjorde er gjort: 
 
 hun var kold, hun gik bort. 
 Saa taug hun for Verden og lukket sig inde. 
 Kom, nu skal du høre en Nutids Kvinde! 
 
 Hun skjuler sig ei som din Malory-Pike 
 
 og tier ei bly om sin egen Skam, 
 
 hun heller bekjender med Brask og Bram 
 
 og gjør sig berømt over Land og Rike. 
 
 Hun stiller sig offentlig ut som en Gold, 
 
 den Rene, den Kolde som ingen kan kiandre 
 
 hun tværtimot kneiser og haaner de andre 
 
 som endnu har hele sit Kjøn i Behold. 
 
 Hun skriver og taler, hun flammer og gløder: 
 
 her ser I en ægte og tidsmæssig Mø; 
 
 jeg skjøtter Budgetter for Land og for Sjø, 
 
 I andre forelsker Jær, giftes og føder— 
 
 Jærs Type forsvinder, om litt vil den dø! 
 
 I Kjævl og Debatter ser ingen Maken, 
 
 hun kjæler sig øm som en elskovsfuld Kat 
 
 ved Spørsmaal om Landets og Byens Skat, 
 
 ved sportslige Stævner og Stemmeretssaken— 
 
 her griper hun fyrig og kvindelig fat. 
 
 Men altid saa tar hun sin haardeste Tørn 
 
 i Saker om Ægteskap, Elskov og Børn, 
 
 som har hun Alverdens Erfaring paa Baken. 
 
 Slik gaar hun da om gjennem Landet og Byen 
 
 og holder sit Liv for en gylden Reform. 
 
 Og ingen tør mene at hun er abnorm; 
 
 ti stikker hun freidig sin Næse mot Skyen 
 og spotter hver Storm. 
 
 Men Sangen—Sangen den drager av Lande 
 og Hylet det høres i Gate og Dal: 
 Arbeiderbevægelse, Damp, Kapital, 
 ja Hyl over alle hvilende Vande. 
 
 Men Sangen drager av Lande.* 
 
 *There sojourns an angel / With low-drooping pinions / Beholding thy pas- 
 sion’s / Melancholy grief. / To thy sweetheart from Malory, / The girl from 
 Malory / All thy thoughts wander, / To her dost thou pray. / Oh, the girl from 
 
68 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 As we see from the last stanza—it is not the final stanza of 
 the poem—modern civilization in general seems to Hamsun a 
 change for the worse. He is evidently not convinced that a 
 better world will result from the intense strife now going on in all 
 the countries of western civilization, and it is important in this 
 connection that he does not consider Christianity a force which 
 could uplift mankind. Since fortitude and pride are for him 
 cardinal virtues, and strife and conflict essential for the ultimate 
 victory of the highest type, the Christian teachings of humility 
 and peace seem to him but manifestations of degeneracy. Even if 
 evil should triumph, it would be preferable to mediocrity pre- 
 served by faint-hearted compromise, especially since every 
 victory is only temporary. While altogether out of patience with 
 the present state of development, Hamsun sincerely believes that 
 at some future day those forces will once more gain the ascendency 
 which he regards as noble, uplifting, and beneficent to human kind. 
 
 In the poem Betragining (Speculations), he brands as arro- 
 gance the claim of intolerant orthodoxy that Christianity is the 
 only road leading to salvation. He draws a parallel between 
 Mohammedanism, with its similar attitude towards all infidels, 
 and Christianity and ironically suggests that there are half a 
 dozen to the one and six to the other. 
 
 Malory, / Little Bell’s mother, / Hears thee no more. / What she did, it is done: / 
 She was cold and she left. / Was silent to the world and hid herself from it. / Come, 
 now thou shalt hear a present-day woman. 
 
 She never hides herself like thy Malory girl sweet. / No modest silence about 
 her disgrace, / She rather confesses with mighty ado / And makes herself famous 
 the wide world over. / She poses in public as one being steril, / As the pure and 
 the cold, whom no one can censure, / Nay, verily struts, and jeers at the others / 
 Who yet are possessing the merit of sex. / She writes and makes speeches, she 
 blazes with fervor: / Behold a genuine, present-day maid; / She wrestles with bud- 
 gets for land and for sea, / You others to love yet succumb, marry, bear children— / 
 Your type is fast waning, and soon will die out! / In strife and debating you find 
 not her equal, / She gently fondles like a dear, loving cat / All questions of taxes 
 in city and state, / And sport-people’s meetings, the problem of suffrage— / Takes 
 hold here in fiery and womanly way. / But ever she enters most boldly the lists / 
 In questions of marriage, and children, and love, / As though she possessed a whole 
 world of experience. / She strides thus about in each city and country, / Regarding 
 her life as a glorious reform. / And no one dares whisper that she is abnormal;/ 
 She therefore sticks dauntless her nose towards heaven, / Deriding each storm. 
 
 But song and the muses do flee the countries / And howling resounds now 
 in street and in dale: / The rights of the laborer, capital, steam, / A howl over all 
 the peaceful, wide waters. / But song does now flee from our lands. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 69 
 
 His own creed amounts to some form of pantheism. Man is the 
 product of nature. To work for his subsistence and comfort and 
 to propagate are the purposes of existence. Life, if it is to be worth 
 living, is for Hamsun health, vigor, and action. Obedience to 
 the natural instincts, especially those of sex, deserves not con- 
 demnation but praise. Itis, however, to be noted that he denoun- 
 ces all forms of wanton debauch and perverse instincts. At times, 
 Hamsun really seems to exult in the fact that sin far outstrips 
 virtue; very likely he sees in the sinner stronger vital forces mani- 
 fested than in the saint. He has no patience with those who pro- 
 claim life still a blessing after the faculties for even passive 
 participation have been lost. Later on we find in his works a note 
 of regret over the gradual decline of the exuberant vitality of his 
 youth and a forced resignation, but no surrender. We must also 
 bear in mind that Hamsun welcomes all experiences, no matter 
 whether they come under the head of pleasure or pain, and incapa- 
 city for life consists for him in the last analysis in the deterioration 
 of the intellect, in the inability of the mind to grasp and record 
 experiences. 
 ~ There is no sure indication that Hamsun believes in the immor- 
 tality of the human soul, though some of his utterances certainly 
 imply it. It would probably be difficult for him to conceive of the 
 annihilation of such spirits as that of Byron, for instance. In spite 
 of his pantheistic bent, there seems to exist for Hamsun a supreme 
 being, apart from nature, personal and independent, which is 
 ruling the universe arbitrarily and despotically. As we already 
 have seen, he alternately defies and venerates this being and ad- 
 dresses to it his prayers and imprecations. But gratitude for the 
 boon of life and calm acceptance of the stern laws of existence are, 
 after all, the dominant and abiding elements. 
 
 Death holds no terror for him. It is perhaps not the transition 
 to a higher, spiritual form of life; it may only mean that in the 
 cycle of birth and death, fixed by the laws of nature, our bodies are 
 once more dissolved into the elements from which they are built. 
 up, and which in turn engender and sustain other, possibly new and 
 higher forms of life. But whatever may be back of death, it is’ 
 certainly a benevolent provision of the forces which govern the 
 existence of the universe. 
 
 Like Munken Vendt, \Hamsun wishes ‘to die in his boots,’ 
 preferably in his beloved woods and alone. The poem Gravsted 
 
70 Knut Hamsun 
 
 (My Grave) reveals so well the fundamental principle of Hamsun’s 
 philosophy that we needs must quote it in its entirety. 
 
 Gravsted* 
 Nei Herregud lat mig ikke forgaa 
 i en Seng med Tepper og Lakener paa 
 og med vaate Næser tilhuse. 
 Lat mig rammes en Dag uten Forudbesked 
 og falde omkuld i Skogen et Sted 
 hvor ingen vil komme og snuse. 
 
 Jeg kjender vel Skogen, jeg er dens Søn, 
 den vil ikke nægte min ringe Bøn 
 
 at dø paa dens Tyttebærsmue. 
 
 Saa gir jeg igjen uten Taler og Styr 
 
 mit store Kadaver til alle dens Dyr, 
 
 til Kraake, Rotte og Flue. 
 
 Jojo jeg skal holde en Fest naar jeg dør, 
 en Fest som skal skaffe de Næb og Klør 
 og Tænder endel at bestille. 
 
 Men Ekornen lægger sit Hode paaskraa 
 og ser fra sin Kvist med de Øine smaa 
 som Menneskegine, den Lille. 
 
 Saa blir det et rikelig Maal til hver, 
 og endda saa sitter den mætte Hær 
 
 *Oh Lord, I pray thee do not let me die / In a bed with blankets and sheets 
 piled upon / And with dripping noses about me. / Nay, smite me some day without 
 warning presentiment, / That headlong I fall in the forest some place / Where 
 no one will come around nosing. 
 
 I well know the forest, I am its son, / It will not deny my humble request / 
 To die on its cowberry bog. / Thus will I give back without word of complaint / 
 My mighty cadaver to its creatures all, / To the crows, the rats, and the flies. 
 
 Indeed I shall spread them a feast when I die, / A feast which shall give all 
 these beaks and claws / And teeth a huge task to engage in. / But the squirrel 
 does tilt its small head aslant / And looks from its branch with eyes as alert / As 
 human eyes are, the little chap. 
 
 An ample repast for each it will be, / But the satisfied host does linger still / 
 And picks clean the sumptuous board. / An eagle at last strips bare my bones, / He 
 stays on the spot till all is gone, / When in he draws his sharp talons. 
 
 And late in the eve and all night long, / There rises in honor of the dead a 
 song / As fine as of any sexton. / For in person the high born owl herself / Will 
 shriek like the very deuce. 
 
 And all the rest of my mortal remains / Is hidden at dawn in a grave of leaves / 
 When ended night’s merry ado. / Farewell, my good friends! / I have treated you 
 well! / —But all these leaves, whence have they all come? / The wind simply 
 swept them together. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 71 
 
 og piller den gode Taffel. 
 
 Da ribber tilslut en Ørn miv Skelet, 
 han blir paa Stedet til alt er ætt, 
 saa trækker han ind sin Gaffel. 
 
 Og sent paa Kvælden og Natten lang 
 det lyder til Ære for Liket en Sang 
 saa skjøn som av nogen Klokker. 
 
 Da faar jeg min siste Ovation, 
 
 for Uglen i egen høie Person 
 
 vil tute som bare Pokker. 
 
 Og Resten av hele mit jordiske Støv 
 
 er dækket ved Gry i en Grav av Løv 
 
 naar sluttet er Nattens Gammen. 
 
 Farvel, mine Venner! Jeg mættet Jær bra! 
 —Men all dette Løv hvor kommer det fra? 
 Jo Vinden har feiet det sammen. 
 
 Even in death he wants to enjoy this bliss of solitude in the 
 forest to which he owes some of his deepest and purest joys and 
 noblest emotions. 
 
 In his attitude towards organized society, Hamsun is an arch- 
 aristocrat and unyielding individualist. He is sympathetic, even 
 compassionate towards his fellow-men, but looks with disdain upon 
 the masses. Superior strength and ability are to him the only just 
 title to a larger share in life. But this ability must be coupled with 
 greatness, magnanimity, and personal courage, in short, it must be 
 of a heroic and noble nature. Social and political institutions do 
 not promote this sort of superiority; they often tend to defeat it 
 and further injustice. Personally, Hamsun strives to rise in lofty 
 contempt over the petty trials and tribulations, and general sordid- 
 ness of existence, no matter what their cause. While the influence 
 of Nietzsche has surely had its share in shaping his views, it is 
 highly probable that he would have arrived at similar conclusions 
 without it. 
 
 Mention has already been made of the two poems to Björnson 
 entitled Bjørnson paa hans 70 Aars Fødelsesdag (Björnson on his 
 Seventieth Birthday) and Bjørnsons Død (Björnson's Death). 
 Norwegian critics praise them highly, probably because of the 
 appeal to their national feelings which these poems make. Bjørn- 
 son appealed to Hamsun through the romantic vein in a number of 
 his works, but most of all through his mighty energy, his untiring 
 
72 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 devotion to his cause, and the sincerity and strength of his con- 
 victions. 
 
 In his Himmelbrev til Byron (Letter to Byron in the Great 
 Beyond), Hamsun gives fervent expression to his admiration for 
 the great English poet who in spite of important external differ- 
 ences has many traits in common with him, and he deeply laments 
 that the poetic and heroic are vanishing from life in our day and 
 age. "When will you return, you great heretic?” he inquires 
 mournfully. 
 
 Det hørtes en Tone fra dine Mer 
 
 om Piker og Helter og Livets Musik 
 
 og Morilden i det forelskede Blik— 
 
 den lyder ei mere om Nutidens M¢er. 
 Ti Sangen drager av Lande.* 
 
 Byron, like Hamsun, rebelled at society, scoffed at its shams, 
 conventions, and morals, extolled passion and the heroic in man. 
 He spent his life roaming from place to place, dissatisfied, chafing 
 under the restraint put upon him by society, teeming with energy 
 and always in action, and above all a fearless iconoclast. Small 
 wonder that Hamsun admires such a kindred genius. 
 
 The same holds true of his tribute to Böcklin, in Bécklins Død 
 (Böcklin's Death). One only needs to recall some of the strange 
 fancies of Glahn in Pam to perceive the common bond between 
 Hamsun and the great painter. 
 
 The romantic traits in Hamsun are very pronounced, but he is 
 not a romanticist pure and simple. Certain elements which char- 
 acterize the movement that took place in German literature 
 about 1800, he lacks completely. We find in him no mysticism, 
 no religious ecstasy, none of this blind enthusiasm for medieval 
 art and the life of the Middle Ages in general, so prevalent in the 
 works of the German romanticists. Cultural values do not rank 
 highly with Hamsun, and his historical sense is poorly developed. 
 Since he is anti-social, it is only logical that he depreciates culture 
 which is only possible as the product of organized society. In this 
 particular, he is inconsistent. At the very beginning of his career, 
 he denounced the United States as a country hostile to culture, he 
 deplores the vanishing of poetry and beauty from our lives, he 
 
 *There rang forth a song from out of your isles / Of maidens, and heroes, and 
 the music of life / And fire of passion in eyes beaming with love— / The song no — 
 more rings for now-a-day maidens. / For poetry flees from our lands. 
 
Knut Hamsun 73 
 
 admires true culture wherever he meets it, and yet he is hostile 
 to the agencies and institutions serving the cause of culture. 
 Presumably, he would retort that the present generation all the 
 world over mistakes material splendor, pompousness, ostentatious 
 display, and superficial elegance for genuine culture, that social 
 institutions do not foster the latter. His own experiences must 
 have had a tendency to convince him that culture is the fruit of 
 individual effort, and to make him underestimate the share which 
 civilization has contributed to his development. 
 
 Unlike the German romanticists, Hamsun is free from the 
 sensual debauches of the imagination and the penchant for the 
 horrible and cruel, not infrequent with the former. While he 
 regards the instinct of propagation as the Alpha and Omega of 
 life, he has not tried to build upon it a semi-religious cult.—A com- 
 parison of Hamsun’s life work with Gerhart Hauptmann’s Keizer 
 von Soana (The Heretic of Soana) is here very instructive-—Ham- 
 sun’s relation to nature is also different, more intimate, simple, 
 and elemental. There is nothing of the weird and uncanny in 
 nature for him, and he never uses it as a sort of theatrical decora- 
 tion. The illusive twilight of which some of the German romanti- 
 cists were fond, is absent as are also all characters and events 
 which are purely the product of the imagination. For all that, 
 Hamsun is too firmly rooted in reality, albeit that he never repro- 
 duces it in a truly objective manner. But after every flight of his 
 fancy he returns to earth again, and his hold on actual life increases 
 with advancing years. 
 
 x 
 
 A certain change is already manifest in Svermere® (Enthu- 
 siasts), 1904. The characteristic feature of the story lies in the 
 fact that Rolandsen, who is regarded by those who love propriety 
 
 5 The translation of the title is entirely inadequate, a better one, however, 
 virtually impossible. The main character, the telegraph operator Rolandsen, is a 
 reckless sort of a fellow, fond of liquor, a little boastful and rowdyish, after him we 
 might name the story *Roisterers.” But the title is also aimed at the pastor of 
 the locality, a rigorist and zealot, and looking at it from this angle, “Fanatics” 
 would be more appropriate. There is no word in the English language which 
 suggests so many delicate shades of meaning, dominating and blending variously 
 on different occasions, as the Norwegian sværmer, the cognate of the German 
 Schwårmer. An English translation of the work, under the title "Dreamers,” has 
 just appeared. 
 
74 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 almost as a social outcast, comes out victorious in the end. He 
 is shown to be at the bottom a clever, enterprising, and determined 
 fellow. In his choice of means he is not over-scrupulous, and for 
 his so-called reputation he does not care one iota. Rolandsen 
 has invented a new process of making fish-glue, but lacks the 
 money to have it patented and cannot obtain it. When a certain 
 sum is stolen from Mack, the local merchant and most powerful 
 man of the place—he is a brother of the Mack whom we met in 
 Pan and shall encounter again—he offers a reward of four hundred 
 dollars and promises immunity to the thief if he owns up to his 
 deed. Rolandsen confesses that he committed the robbery, of 
 which he has not the slightest knowledge, and receives the reward 
 and immunity from legal prosecution, though he must shoulder 
 public disgrace. He loses his position, but secures the coveted 
 patent. Just at that time the true thief is discovered, and Mack 
 now threatens to bring Rolandsen before the bar of justice. The 
 latter points out to Mack that his confinement will not last for 
 ever, and that he, after his release, will be in a position to ruin 
 Mack, who among other things operates a glue factory. So he 
 buries the hatchet and makes Rolandsen his partner. Into the 
 bargain, he wins the unattainable: the heart and hand of Elise 
 Mack, who formerly looked down upon the outcast with proud 
 disdain, although it is evident that she takes a strong interest in 
 him from the first, a fact which she will not acknowledge even to 
 herself. Mack is as little a moralist as Rolandsen himself. In 
 all his acts he is governed solely by expedience. It is a redeeming 
 trait in him that he is generous when his affairs prosper, though 
 Hamsun would say Mack needs nothing to redeem him. 
 
 The rowdy succeeds, while the zealous pastor utterly fails in his 
 endeavors to reform his parish. It should be pointed out that the 
 author has treated this representative of the clergy with great 
 fairness, in spite of his adverse attitude towards the Christian church 
 and its ministers. 
 
 Rolandsen is, at the start, outside the pale of society, like the 
 typical hero of Hamsun up to this time, but he ultimately suc- 
 ceeds in winning an advantageous position. Nay, more, he even 
 carries off the girl of his choice, a thing which never happened 
 before, though the credit for the happy solution really belongs to 
 Elise Mack. The development is similar in Benoni and its sequel, 
 Rosa, both of which appeared in 1908. Like Sværmere, they have 
 
Knut HAMSUN 75 
 
 their setting in Nordland, in point of time, we must place them a 
 few years later. 
 
 The exact locality in Benoni and Rosa is Sirilund, a merchant’s 
 estate, the same as in Pan, and from various references we are 
 enabled to fix the date. The novels depict life in Nordland in the 
 early sixties of last century. To be sure, Munken Vendt is intro- 
 duced here, though he really should be dead by this time, but this 
 fact would hardly dawn upon the general reader, even if he were 
 acquainted with the drama in question, and it is, moreover, of no 
 importance. Benoni tells of the rise of an able and lucky young 
 fellow through several streaks of good fortune and the assistance 
 of Ferdinand Mack. In the first place, it is human kindness which 
 prompts Mack to help Benoni on his feet again after he has taken 
 a severe tumble, but he intends to and does profit very liberally 
 by Benoni's success. If we make liberal allowance for some 
 palpable exaggerations, we have in Benoni and the sequel a realis- 
 tic and fairly objective picture, to be sure, seen through the eyes 
 of Hamsun, of a simple-minded, ignorant, but quick-witted, and 
 able fellow, whose chief ambition it is to play a röle among his 
 former equals. - Hitherto, Mack has held the weal and woe of the 
 people in his hands and has been a sort of Providence for them. 
 When Benoni comes into possession of considerable wealth, con- 
 siderable at least for the time and locality here dealt with, he tries 
 to vie with Mack, the born and bred gentleman and master of men, 
 but succeeds only in making himself ridiculous in the opinion of the 
 few who know better, and above all, in the eyes of the reader. 
 Benoni, in his desire to show off, is, indeed,a mere child. Yet, he 
 makes an impression on the common folk, because they are also 
 but children; but they know very well to differentiate between him 
 and Mack. And no matter how much Benoni brags and boasts, 
 he knows deep down in his heart that Mack is his superior. Mat- 
 ters are not altered by the fact that he becomes Mack's partner, 
 though he is financially by far the stronger of the two. Mack, 
 of course, manages very soon to restore the equilibrium somewhat 
 by transferring, through a few clever transactions, some of Benoni’s 
 money to his own credit. 
 
 Rosa, the principal woman in both novels, is, ina sense, prosaic 
 enough a figure, sane, sensible, kind-hearted, gentle, healthy, and 
 strong, with sound, but well governed instincts and emotions, and 
 a little bit sentimental, as befit’s a pastor’s daughter. Nor is her 
 
76 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 fate out of the ordinary. She has been engaged for fourteen years 
 to Nikolai Arentsen, a childhood companion, the son of the sexton, 
 who has been studying law, and incidentally has become a good- 
 for-nothing, a peasant lad gone to the dogs through prolonged 
 contact with city life. When Rosa at last can no longer conceal 
 from herself that the whole matter is hopeless, she breaks off the 
 engagement and, influenced by Mack, who is her godfather, 
 promises to marry Benoni. But while the latter is away for 
 months at the Lofoten Islands, Arentsen returns. He has finally 
 passed the bar examinations and starts practicing law in his home 
 parish. As he meets Rosa, her old affection for him revives. She 
 is greatly irritated by Benoni’s boorishness and lack of education, 
 and it requires not many arguments on the part of Arentsen 
 to convince her that Benoni is not a fit husband for her. 
 She goes back on her promise to the latter and marries Arentsen. 
 Economic disaster and domestic quarrels are the inevitable results. 
 Mack looks on for a while, and when he sees there is no hope, he 
 provides Arentsen with some money and he disappears. Benoni’s 
 affections have not changed, and he eagerly accepts Mack’s offer 
 to procure a divorce for Rosa if he will supply the necessary funds. 
 And in the end she is glad to marry Benoni, in the mistaken belief, 
 however, that Arentsen has died meanwhile. When she discovers 
 that she has been deceived in the matter, she is greatly troubled, 
 but quickly regains her peace of mind when Arentsen really 
 removes himself, once for all, by committing suicide. Soon after 
 Rosa has a child and is now serene and happy. It is significant for 
 Hamsun’s ideal of women that Rosa becomes the object of the 
 deepest affections of a young student of twenty-two. The joys 
 and sorrows of his hopeless longing are made a part of the narra- 
 tive in Rosa. Af Student Parelius’ Papirer, in fact, it is Parelius 
 who tells the story. The unfortunate lover is not of the aggressive 
 kind, and the röle which he himself plays is unimportant. When, 
 on one occasion, he loses his self-control, Rosa, in a sane, kind, 
 motherly fashion, soon brings him back to his senses. Ultimately, 
 he departs for the forests to heal his wounded heart. 
 
 The lawyer Arentsen is an interesting character. He is kind- 
 hearted, but light-headed, lazy, and cynical. It is not a strong 
 affection which leads him to take Rosa away from Benoni; she 
 has become desirable for him once more chiefly because another, 
 and, as he at first thinks, inferior man, is about to marry her. The 
 
Knut HAMSUN 77 
 
 whole affair is to him something of a lark. When Rosa has re- 
 turned to him, he forgets both to have the bans published and the 
 very day set for their wedding. Arentsen is sufficiently honest and 
 intelligent to ascribe to himself alone the blame for the failure of 
 their marriage and of his very life. At the final meeting with 
 Rosa, he exhibits an unnecessarily brutal cynicism, but, as the 
 author suggests, only to impress Rosa with his utter worthlessness 
 so that she may not suffer from self-reproaches and grief over his 
 fate, of which she is entirely innocent. Here, as elsewhere, Ham- 
 sun shows an intuitive understanding and deep sympathy for those 
 that suffer ship-wreck on life’s journey. 
 
 The most important character in the two novels is really 
 Ferdinand Mack. Heis, first of all, always a gentleman, he never 
 loses his calm bearing, never is impolite, no matter what the provo- 
 cation may be. Heis able, shrewd, criminally unscrupulous in 
 his business dealings, but would never cheat a poor man out of a 
 cent. On the contrary, he is ever ready to help where there is real 
 need. He acts thus without ulterior motive, nor does he squander 
 his money foolishly, the way Benoni does in his desire to equal, 
 nay, surpass Mack in liberality. Though some of Mack’s corrupt 
 dealings are known, the people do not lose confidence in him, 
 because the shillings of the poor are absolutely safe in his hands. 
 His soul is both white and black. Most American readers would 
 unhesitatingly declare that the shadows far outweigh the light, 
 not chiefly because of his unscrupulousness in business matters, 
 but because of his personal conduct. Mack is a libertine and 
 debauchee of a type unknown to us. Not that similar or worse 
 offenders are non-existent among us, but such men practice their 
 vices in secrecy, the general public is ignorant of what is going on, 
 while Mack’s transgressions are known to every one in the com- 
 munity. It is no secret that he really is the father of half a dozen 
 or so of the firstborn in his realm, but what of it? The maids in 
 his house have to do his bidding, and when the time comes that 
 they must leave, they can rely on it that he will find a husband for 
 each one and give the newly established family a start. And if 
 he does not relinquish all claims to the young wives, it must be 
 borne, too. The men, to be sure, now and then grumble or 
 attempt even to rebel, but to no avail; they are all in his employ, 
 and if they want to make bones about the matter, he only needs 
 to pay them off to get rid of them. The women, on the other hand, 
 
78 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 are willing victims; their attitude is much the same as that of Blis 
 in Munken Vendt. Now that Mack has gotten along in years, he 
 has invented strange devices and procedures to serve his volup- 
 tuousness and sensuality. The people talk about it all and shake 
 their heads. What can't be cured must be endured. They regard 
 Mack’s conduct in the same light as natural events over which 
 man has no control. If we reflect on the social and political condi- 
 tions of the country and the time, we are easily convinced that 
 recourse to the law cannot be had, and no one is so rash as to take 
 the law into his own hands. The sentiment of the people would, 
 indeed, be strongly against such a hot-headed individual. It is 
 Edvarda, Mack’s own daughter, his only legitimate child, who 
 finally attempts to put a stop to his escapades and adventures and, 
 indeed, temporarily succeeds. She has some paraphernalia most 
 essential to the celebration of his saturnalian orgies, a large, port- 
 able bath tub and an eider-down bed are chief among them, secretly 
 removed and buried. Benoni, Mack’s partner in business, is her 
 co-conspirator and the executor of the plan, and at first he brags 
 not a little about his exploit. Mack never says a word about the 
 whole matter, he simply declares himself ill and keeps to his bed, 
 and the affairs of the whole place are soon in so dismal a state 
 that Benoni sees himself compelled secretly to restore to Mack his 
 cherished possessions. Fortunately, his economic habits had 
 prompted him to protect the precious and unique objects against 
 any possible damage at the burial. Mack makes no comment, 
 but his recovery sets in at once, and soon he performs his duties 
 and exercises his rights with the same vigor and zest as before his 
 illness. 
 
 Edvarda has inherited her father’s sensuality. She has been 
 married, but not to the man she loved, namely Glahn, in Pan, and 
 consequently has become very unhappy. Her husband has fared 
 worse, or rather has been the weaker of the two, and has made his 
 exit by means of suicide. Edvarda, upon whose shoulders heredity, 
 environment, and bringing-up have placed a heavy burden, is 
 tormented by desire, for which she in vain seeks gratification in 
 excesses. Nor does she find consolation in religion, to which she 
 turns in her despair. But she is not without redeeming traits; 
 sincere love for her two children and the earnest desire to have 
 them brought up in such a manner that they will become better 
 and happier than their mother stand out most prominently. In 
 
Knut HAMSUN 79 
 
 the end, she gives a new content to her life by reclaiming an English 
 gentleman, a periodic drinker, who for several years has been 
 coming to Sirilund to fish. They are ultimately united. Though 
 Hamsun is not a kind-hearted humanitarian, he sees the good in 
 the souls of some of the most unfortunate of God’s creatures. 
 And even the evil appeals to him strongly where it is accompanied 
 by greatness or at least vigor, frankness, and courage. The narra- 
 tor of Rosa is but voicing the opinion of the author when he ex- 
 presses admiration for Mack’s gentlemanly bearing and actions 
 and calls him a man with the soul of an imperator. 
 
 Exhibiting his irreverent attitude towards the old, Hamsun 
 furnishes some repellent pictures of two old man-servants, who 
 have lost the use of their minds and bodies, save that of their 
 stomachs. They are treated with deference and kindness, but, 
 alas, make life unbearable for those unfortunates that have to 
 share their quarters. These ruins of men are cared for conscien- 
 tiously, while an infant at their side is neglected, let alone that the 
 child has to breathe in the miasmal atmosphere created by those 
 living corpses. 
 
 Benoni and Rosa portray not only a number of interesting 
 characters, but give also a good picture of the life at a small 
 trading center in Nordland, half a century or more ago. It differs 
 widely from the portrayals of Nordland which Jonas Lie has given 
 us in Den Fremsynte (Second Sight), Tremasteren Fremtiden (The 
 Barge Future), etc. Lie’s works seem, by the side of Hamsun’s, 
 quite romantic, but even if we make allowance for this feature 
 and take into account that Lie’s themes are of a somewhat different 
 nature, there still remains a wide gap, which must be primarily 
 attributed to the different outlook upon life of these two novelists. 
 That men of the type of Mack in former days met little hindrance 
 in their polygamic mode of life, we may infer from Bjérnson’s Det 
 flager i byen og paa havnen” (The Kurt Family), where he deals 
 with a similar theme, but from an entirely different angle. What 
 Hamsun’s attitude towards the brutish lord who is the ancestor 
 of the family in question would have been, we may infer from his 
 poem Droit (Lord), but he would have shown the same sympathy 
 for the sturdy peasant who so terribly avenges the honor of his 
 
 % The translation of the title would read: ‘‘Flags are hoisted in the town and 
 on the harbor.” 
 
80 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 daughter. While Benoni and Rosa may be regarded as reasonably 
 objective, the picture as a whole is distorted by the irony of the 
 author. He stands above his characters, but can see them only 
 from a certain fixed point, that of superior knowledge, intelligence, 
 and independence. It would be impossible for him to change his 
 point of view, a manceuver which some of the German romanti- 
 cists could carry out with such ease and perplexing effect. His 
 irony has, of course, nothing in common with that famous, inde- 
 finable romantic irony, but it is of a kindly sort. What little 
 there is of humor in thése two works, is rather grotesque. 
 
 XI 
 
 Under Høststjærnen (Under the Autumn Star), 1906, and En 
 Vandrer spiller med Sordin (A Wanderer plays with Muted 
 Strings), 1909, form also a unit, though not published consecu- 
 tively. The story is told in the first person, and various features 
 relating to the narrator are so devised that they fit well enough 
 upon Knut Hamsun himself. Only in the first of these two novels, 
 the narrator is also the most important figure; in the second, he 
 relegates himself entirely to the background. The person in 
 question is a man in middle life, cultured, with varied experiences 
 and a wide knowledge of the world, gained by personal observa- 
 tion. He has seen foreign lands, is a man of social standing, though 
 we are left in the dark concerning his position, and has now lived 
 for many years in the city after the conventional manner of the 
 better class. But his youth he has spent close to the soil, close to 
 nature, and to nature he flees now, hoping to find in contact with 
 her the peace of mind, vigor, and contentment of which city life 
 has robbed him. Meeting Grindhusen, a laborer, with whom more 
 than two decades ago he has been working side by side, he renews 
 the old acquaintance and joins him in a piece of work, the digging 
 of a well for the pastor of an adjoining parish. 
 
 We are not told what the name of this unusual fellow happens 
 to be. On one occasion he calls himself Knut Pedersen. Knud — 
 Pedersen Hamsund is, indeed, the name over which the peasant 
 story Bjørger was published by the author in 1878, but the situa- 
 tion here referred to would admit the assumption, in fact, seems 
 to suggest it, that the name given by this fugitive from civilization 
 is fictitious. Thereafter he is not mentioned by any name what- 
 
Knut HAMSUN 81 
 
 soever throughout the two entire novels. The fact in itself would 
 be hardly worth mentioning, if it did not afford a suggestion of the 
 intimately personal character of the narrative. Knut, as we shall 
 call him for convenience sake, falls in love with Elizabeth, the 
 daughter of the pastor, a girl about twenty, but being distrustful 
 of his ability to win her affection on account of his mature years, 
 he rather avoids her, fearing that he might make himself ridiculous. 
 From the parson’s place he comes to the estate of Falkenberg, a 
 landed proprietor and captain in the army, where he finds employ- 
 ment and promptly becomes infatuated with the captain’s wife. 
 The Falkenbergs have become indifferent to each other, but Mrs. 
 Falkenberg is far from harboring any forbidden desires. When she 
 discovers Knut’s infatuation for her, she becomes alarmed, and 
 in the end practically takes to flight to avoid meeting him again, 
 for she is no longer so sure of herself as before. A trip to the city 
 to make some purchases furnishes the needed pretext before her 
 husband. Knut in his desperation follows her, transforms himself 
 into the gentleman and thus seeks to gain access to her as her social 
 equal. But she becomes suspicious and eludes him. Seeing him- 
 self foiled, Knut tries to drown his sorrows in alcohol, and after a 
 three weeks’ debauch he recovers his balance sufficiently to save 
 himself by fleeing once more to some lonely island. This is a brief 
 outline of Under Høsistjærnen, the details of which fit well enough 
 upon Hamsun himself. A few amorous adventures are suggested, 
 though in unmistakable manner, rather than described; but the 
 vagabond life which Knut and a fellow tramp lead on their wan- 
 derings is interestingly portrayed in detail. The moral side of 
 the sexual question is here, as elsewhere, completely ignored. 
 This holds true also for the sequel, En Vandrer spiller med 
 Sordin. Here, the relations between Falkenberg and his wife hold 
 the center of the stage. Six years have passed since we first met 
 them, things have gone from bad to worse and are now rapidly 
 approaching a crisis. Our friend Knut turns up again in his röle 
 as laborér, just in time to live through it all. The Falkenbergs 
 have been drawn to each other again, though they make studied 
 efforts to conceal thisfact. Their former love has come to life again, 
 and each has initiated a vigorous campaign to win back the affec- 
 tion of the other by inciting jealousy. The captain all the while 
 only pretends to be interested in another woman, but his wife 
 loses control of herself, or is, at least, unable to resist the young 
 
82 Knot HAMSUN 
 
 man with whom she has been flirting to arouse her husband, and 
 the inevitable happens. The captain has strong reasons to sus- 
 pect what has occurred, and when he asks for an explanation, the 
 couple comes to the conclusion that it is best for them to separate. 
 Mrs. Falkenberg now goes to her lover, an inconsiderate, unscru- 
 pulous, and conceited puppy, who rejoices over her arrival, but 
 soon tires of her. It is, of course, far from his thoughts to make 
 her his wife, as she had hoped. 
 
 After careful consideration, Falkenberg has decided to call his 
 wife back to his home; she consents to come, and now the two 
 discover that they have been anything but indifferent to each 
 other. The captain might forgive and forget his wife’s transgres- 
 sions, though these have resulted in her pregnancy, if he were 
 given time. But Mrs. Falkenberg has lost her mental and moral 
 equilibrium, and during a prolonged absence of her husband, she 
 decides on returning to her lover, to whom she looks for protection. 
 When she meets with a rebuff, she commits suicide by drowning. 
 
 “Her fate was probably determined from the moment she was 
 born. Husband and wife had tried to repair the damage, but they 
 failed. I remember her as she was six years ago, she was bored 
 and surely even then a little in love with one or the other, but she 
 was faithful and refined. And the years went on. She had no 
 duties to perform, for she had three servant girls at the place; she 
 had no children, but she had a grand piano. But no children. 
 
 * And nature can afford to be wasteful. 
 “And mother and child went to the bottom.’”® 
 
 Knut’s affection for her remains constant throughout, but it 
 has now become dispassionate, free from desire. After the final 
 catastrophe, he seeks peace and consolation in his beloved forests 
 and in asimple, primitive mode of life close to the heart of nature. 
 He does not lament her loss. That it was granted to him to come 
 into her presence, see her, hear her voice, and have her eyes rest 
 upon him, all that was an undeserved blessing, and his memories 
 of her will ever be a source of joy to him. Though it has gone 
 unrewarded, his love for her has brought him great happiness. 
 
 There is much in these two works which is elusive or is left in ~ 
 doubt, but because the imagination of the reader is called upon to © 
 do its humble share, the effect of the simple narrative is only the — 
 stronger; and though it is in one respect extremely subjective, it | 
 
 5 Verker, VIII, Vandrer, p. 150. 
 
Knut Hamsun 83 
 
 produces the impression of being a canvas from real life. It is 
 reality seen through the eyes of the author. 
 
 In En Vandrer spiller med Sordin, several erotic scenes are de- 
 scribed in some detail, which is an uncommon feature in the works 
 of Hamsun. The novel is rich in lyric elements. The author does 
 not analyze emotions, nor does he attempt to lay bare the causes 
 of action. He depicts and reproduces feelings in all their imme- 
 diateness and directness. The motives which animate his charac- 
 ters are skilfully suggested rather than plainly stated. 
 
 In the epilogue, Hamsun has taken occasion to restate his 
 philosophy of life. The main article of his creed is summed up in 
 this sentence: ‘“The mere boon that we were born into life, is a 
 rich compensation paid to us aforehand for all the trials of exis- 
 tence, for each and every loss.” Life is to him a blessing and a joy, 
 no matter what the vicisitudes it may have in store for us. He 
 still protests that advancing years do not bring us maturity and 
 greater wisdom; but as the lusty vigor of our younger days is 
 waning, we of necessity play with muted strings. Thus nature 
 has decreed. 
 
 The views of literary and other sages—especially those of 
 Ibsen—are held up to scorn and ridicule. 
 
 “‘Women—what do wise men know about women? 
 
 “T remember a sage who wrote about women. He wrote thirty 
 volumes of homogeneous poetry about women; I counted the books 
 once on a large shelf. Finally he wrote about the woman who left 
 her children to go and find—the miraculous. But what were the 
 children then? Oh, it was so comical, and a wanderer laughs at the 
 comical. 
 
 "What does the sage know about women? 
 
 "In the first place, he did not become wise before he got old, 
 and then, he knew women only from memory. Secondly, he had 
 not even any memories of them, inasmuch as he had never known 
 them. A man who has any talent for wisdom eagerly busies him- 
 self with this talent and with nothing else, he nurses and nourishes 
 it, lifts it on a pedestal, and lives for it. One does not go to the 
 women to become wise. The four wisest men in this world who 
 have proclaimed judgments about women simply sat at home and 
 invented them in their own minds, they were young or old dotards 
 mounted on geldings. They did not know woman in her sacred- 
 
84 Knut Hamsun 
 
 ness, in her sweetness, in her indispensability; but they wrote 
 about her. Just imagine, without ever meeting her! 
 
 "May God spare me from ever becoming wise! And I shall 
 stammer it out to those standing around my death bed: God 
 forbid that I ever should become wise.””* 
 
 It is evident enough that Hamsun will never become reconciled 
 to a certain type of woman which Ibsen has depicted. He is aware 
 of the fact that, alas, she really exists, but he treats her with scorn 
 and proclaims her inferior. (Motherhood is for him the highest 
 goal and greatest happiness attainable for a woman. Nature has 
 decreed that it should be thus, and emancipation from this law 
 spells degeneracy. The development of the present age he de- 
 plores; it seems to him inimical to all true greatness. 
 
 “Things have taken a downward course, we have reached the 
 bottom. And now the cobblers rejoice—not because we have all 
 become equally great, but because we are all equally small.”™ City 
 life, where the democratic tendencies of our times are most mani- 
 fest, Hamsun detests, Knut Pedersen voluntarily works as a farm 
 laborer, among the tillers of the soil and the woodsmen he is most 
 content. But the modern proletariat, which looks down upon the 
 farm laborer as a slave, he dislikes. And yet, the peasant and his 
 mode of life are not idealized, or shown in a romantic light, as in 
 the peasant stories of Bjérnson, and Hamsun has many a fault 
 to find with the old-style, backward Norwegian peasant. As a 
 matter of fact, the old peasant stock of the country receives but 
 scanty attention. It is represented in occasional remarks as unin- 
 telligent, ultra-conservative, mercenary, deteriorating; its old 
 virtues are fast disappearing. Where the spirit of the age is mak- 
 ing its inroads upon the old peasantry, a change for the worse is the 
 result. 
 
 In Den siste Glede (The Ultimate Joy), 1912, purely personal 
 elements are accorded considerable importance. The title admits 
 of a two-fold interpretation. For Hamsun, the ultimate joy con- 
 sists in solitude, fora woman, itis the child. Even a third one is 
 possible, for the narrative incidentally records a last, impotent 
 flutter of the author’s own heart. The story is told by the wanderer 
 whom we have already met, and this time his identity with Ham- 
 sun himself is plainly manifest. He reaffirms his love of the forests 
 
 * Verker, VIII, Vandrer, p. 155. 
 % Jbid., p. 59. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 85 
 
 and of nature in general, and his pantheism. ‘“‘God is the begin- 
 ning, and we human beings are verily mere dots and motes in the 
 universe. . . . Eternity is only uncreated time, wholly uncreated 
 time.” No one knows God, human kind knows only gods. In 
 communion with nature, Hamsun now and then catches a glimpse 
 of his own God. 
 
 The simple life of the man who works the land he regards as the 
 most natural, most useful, and, therefore, the best. It must not 
 be inferred that Hamsun is a utilitarian. But the man on the land 
 leads the sanest and most healthful life and produces what he 
 needs to sustain it, enjoying therefore a larger degree of indepen- 
 dence than the rest. Inasmuch as the modern development 
 draws people farther and farther away from rural life, it is most 
 harmful, and the culture it is supposed to produce is but a sham; 
 through it the race simply becomes more effeminate and degener- 
 ate. A very demoralizing influence Hamsun sees in the tourist 
 traffic of modern times. A great deal of emphasis is placed on this 
 topic. The desire to encourage and promote tourist travel in 
 Norway he calls the modern Norwegian ‘staggers.’ For Switzer- 
 land, where catering to visitors from foreign lands has become one 
 of the chief industries, he has nothing but utter contempt, and he 
 laments greatly the fact that so many of his fellow countrymen 
 are inclined and eager to follow the example of the Swiss people. 
 Since the Englishmen constitute the largest contingent of tourists 
 in Norway, Hamsun finds repeated occasion to assail them. They 
 are for him but masquerading idiots for whom sport has become a 
 Mania. Just as in ancient Rome, when she wasruling the world, 
 the most unnatural vices now flourish in England. 
 
 But the chief attack of the work under discussion is directed 
 against modern education, more particularly against the education 
 of women. As we have seen, Hamsun regards the home and the 
 child as the only proper sphere for women. Modern education 
 does not prepare a woman for her task. Let alone that all book- 
 learning is worthless, young women of the middle class, among 
 whom the aspiration for learning is most pronounced, are thrown 
 out of their course by the educational process, are forced into a 
 life of sterility, and become perverse. Even if such a woman 
 ultimately recovers her balance, immeasurable harm has been 
 done. She has, in the first place, wasted the most valuable years 
 of her life, and is, moreover, helpless in the tasks and problems 
 
86 Knut Hamsun 
 
 confronting her as wife and mother. Public life, social and political 
 activities, intellectual endeavor, seem to Hamsun for the most 
 part sheer humbug. It is bad enough that the men waste their 
 time on them; if the women meddle with them, too, incalculable 
 detriment to the race is the inevitable result. These views Ham- 
 sun had already proclaimed in a summary and abstract fashion 
 in his Himmelbrev til Byron; here he deals with them in more 
 concrete form. 
 
 The meager plot of the novel is furnished by the erotic aberra- 
 tions of Miss Torsen, a school teacher. The young woman is high 
 up in her twenties, strong, healthy, and—perverse. And her 
 perversity is the direct result of her education and of her calling, 
 into which she was led by the former. After her first amorous 
 transgression, it seems as though she were doomed to utter ruin, 
 as is usually the case, according to the author. 
 
 «She had fallen; having once for all been despoiled, she gave 
 herself away, why exercise any reserve now! And that is the fate 
 of the type, women of the type Torsen throw themselves away 
 in ever increasing degree, exercise less and less reserve, why should 
 they! It may end in extremes; things go from bad to worse. The 
 type is known well enough, it is to be found in sanatoriums and 
 mountain resorts, there it thrives and bursts into blossom. 
 
 “There the young lady arrives with the weariness resulting 
 from years spent in useless efforts, her diploma, and her ‘indepen- 
 dence,’ she comes more or less worn out from the office or the school 
 room and finds herself suddenly transplanted into absolute idle- 
 ness, with plenty of food at her meals. The people around her are 
 changing all the time. Tourists come and go, she passes from 
 hand to hand in walks and conversations, the tone is ‘like that of 
 the country folk.’ This sort of life is sheer vagrancy, is stripped of 
 all rational meaning. She does not even get sleep enough, through 
 the thin board partition, she hears every move of her neighbor in 
 the adjoining room, and arriving or departing Anglo-Saxons go and 
 bang the doors in the middle of the night. In a short time she has 
 become abnormal, tired of people, sick with disgust of herself and 
 the place; if only a decent organ grinder would come, she would 
 run off with him! She associates with any one that happens along, 
 she flirts with the guide of the place, hovers about him, ties up his 
 sore finger, finally she goes with a certain good-for-nothing who 
 has just recently arrived. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 87 
 
 *That is the Torsen type. 
 
 *And now, at this moment, she moves about in her room and 
 gets herself ready to leave—the summer having gone by. Oh, 
 yes, she takes a good deal of time, there are so many remnants of 
 her, one in every nook and corner. But, meanwhile, she possibly 
 consoles herself with the fact that she ‘knows the genitive case of 
 mensa.” ””5 
 
 But Miss Torsen has enough of true womanhood left in her, it 
 would seem, to cry halt ere it is too late. She ultimately redeems 
 herself by marrying a simple but thrifty peasant, a taciturn, 
 homely fellow with the strength of a horse, who is akin to Isac, 
 whom we shall soon meet. She takes upon herself the humble 
 duties of a peasant woman, and when the first child arrives, she 
 learns to know what real happiness is, regretting now deeply that 
 she has wasted so many precious years wandering in the dreary 
 desert of education. The contention that she, because of her edu- 
 cational training, possesses superior qualification for motherhood, 
 would seem to Hamsun preposterous. Another topic here dealt 
 with, which deserves our attention, is his opinion of the man who 
 has passed the zenith of life. Though he himself is now on the 
 wrong side of fifty, he maintains as emphatically as ever that a 
 man of fifty is old and cannot hope for further achievements. He 
 speaks of some large irons which he has in the fire, but later on 
 finds that they are nothing to boast of. 
 
 "They are the irons of a man of fifty, he has not any better 
 ones. But the difference between me and my fellow authors is that 
 I confess:- I have none better. They were conceived so large and 
 fiery, but they are only small irons and they glow but faintly. 
 Such are the facts. But the question is whether or not my works 
 in spite of everything still distinguish themselves from the trash 
 of others. That you cannot settle, you are the new spirit of Nor- 
 way, and it is you that I scorn and ridicule. 
 
 *People say that with advancing years there come other joys 
 which one knew nothing of before, there come deeper joys, more 
 lasting joys. It isa lie. Yes, you have read correctly: it isa lie. 
 It is only the old people themselves who say this, the interested 
 one, who wants to show off with his remnants. He has no longer 
 any recollection of himself when he stood at the summit, he him- 
 
 56 Verker, IX, Den siste Glede, pp. 92 f. 
 
88 Knut. HAMSUN 
 
 self, his own alias, milk and blood, and blew his golden trumpet. 
 Now he does not stand—no, for he has sat down—yes, for it is 
 easier to sit. And now there comes to him slowly and tardily, 
 viscous and stupid, the honor of old age. What is a sitting man to 
 do with honor? Å man standing erect may use it, a man sitting 
 down can only hoard it. But honor is intended for use, it is not å 
 thing to sit down with. V 
 
 "Let a man sitting down get warm stockings. 
 
 "As if it were a question of holding death at a distance from a 
 man who has already begun to die gradually. I do not understand 
 such a way of thinking, but you, with your jolly, common-place 
 nature and your book-learning, probably do. A man with but one 
 arm is still able to walk, and a one-legged man can still lie down. 
 And what have you learned about the forests? But what did I 
 learn in the forests? That young trees are standing there. 
 
 "Now young people are rising all about me that all the stupid 
 rabble most impudently, most barbarously underestimates, simply 
 because they are young. I have looked upon this for many years. 
 I know nothing more contemptible than your book-learning. 
 Whether you have a catechism or a pair of compasses to guide you, 
 it is all the same.”?57 
 
 Just as Hamsun in his youth was opposed and held down by the 
 older men who sat with influence and power in their hands, young 
 talents of the present generation are ignored and suppressed, 
 while the world should eagerly welcome them, Hamsun, the 
 unswerving champion of the young, emphatically declares. It is 
 to be regretted that in this connection he fails to name at least a 
 few of these young people of promise. He tries to arouse his fellow 
 countrymen, but is aware that his efforts are in vain. 
 
 “To you, the new spirit in Norway, I have written these lines 
 during a pestilence and because of a pestilence. I cannot stop the 
 pestilence, no, it is unconquerable now, it is holding sway under 
 national protection and tararabomdeay. But some day it will stop 
 after all. Meanwhile, I do what I can against it, you do the 
 opposite.’”68 
 
 There is considerable bitterness, irony, sarcasm, and even 
 invective in this novel, but the outstanding features are its stern 
 truthfulness and sincerity.’ Hamsun judges no one more severely 
 
 57 Verker, IX, Den siste Glæde, pp. 30, 112, 178 f. 
 58 Tbid., p. 180. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 89 
 
 than himself. And in spite of all his disappointment, he proclaims 
 as of old: "Life is a loan, I am grateful for the loan.” 
 
 XII 
 
 Livet ivold (In the Grip of Life), 1910, is the last play which 
 Hamsun has produced thus far. Recent achievements of the 
 author make it very unsafe to venture any predictions, whether or 
 not he will again cultivate this field. In spite of his theory about 
 the man of fifty, he is far from bankrupt, now that he has passed 
 sixty-one. 
 
 The drama is the tragedy of a simple, primitive woman, for 
 whom sensual love is the sole content of life. She cannot even 
 conceive of anything else to take its place. Being well aware that 
 she is continually losing ground, she fights desperately to retain 
 her hold on life, but in vain. The tragic nature of the theme is not 
 in the least obscured by numerous elements of a humorous kind. 
 
 “Life” is here synonymous with the sexual instinct. This 
 latter constitutes the dynamic force in this rapidly moving produc- 
 tion; all action originates from the characters, outside factors play 
 no part. In a sense, there is no plot, only a series of happenings 
 leading to the final catastrophe, without any recourse to the past 
 as in the case of the analytic drama. The development is precipi- 
 tous, the time required for the presentation on the stage, with the 
 necessary pauses between the acts, is ample to allow, without the 
 least violence to probability, for the occurrence of all the events 
 portrayed. In effect, the play is naturalistic, but differentiated 
 from most productions of this type by the absence of any thesis to 
 be demonstrated. 
 
 The characters are the only thing of importance; they do not 
 represent types, but individuals, some of them highly eccentric 
 individuals, indeed. There is, first of all, Mrs. Juliana Gihle, a 
 former vaudeville actress, but now safely in port as the spouse of a 
 rich old dotard. Juliana’s triumphs as an actress have been far sur- 
 passed by those off the stage, but both rested on the sensual appeal 
 of her person. She has seen men of wealth, rank, and title, even 
 crowned heads at her feet, and she has not been deaf to their 
 entreaties. But, alas, the inconstancy of men! Each one whom she 
 has taken into her favor has left her in his turn, she has passed 
 through many hands, but her course has ever borne downward, 
 and the stream of gold which has flowed through her pretty fingers 
 
90 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 has gradually diminished and finally ceased. When she became 
 alarmed over her future, she resolutely made provision for it by 
 ensnaring the wealthy old bachelor Gihle in matrimony, and as 
 her appetite is by no means satiated as yet, she has sought gratifi- 
 cation of her mad desire elsewhere. But the lover she has found is 
 slipping through her fingers like all his predecessors, in spite of all 
 her frantic efforts and material sacrifices to hold him. And so 
 she ends with a negro, as she herself has often jokingly prophesied. 
 
 Mrs. Juliana Gihle knows no scruples or deterrents save one: 
 she is in mortal fear of a public scandal. Now that she has acquired 
 social station, she is anxious to observe the strictest decorum—in 
 public. For she is not stupid, as she again and again assures us. 
 Far from it. Next to being sensual, she is mercenary, clever, but 
 at the same time kind-hearted and benevolent. 
 
 The negro who is left to her as a final consolation, a young and 
 lusty fellow, is a bequest of his master, Bast, one of Juliana’s past 
 lovers, who is paying a brief visit in his native country and has 
 brought ‘Boy’ with him as his servant. Bast has stripped himself 
 of all conventions and morals during his long stay in the Argentine 
 Republic, and has nothing but contempt for modern culture. He 
 virtually knows no law but his own will; he blows out a man’s 
 brain, if circumstances make it desirable, with the same unconcern 
 with which he would snuff out a candle. But he is willing to give 
 and take. If it is his turn next time, good and well. Not that he 
 is tired of life, not in the least. But a life over which he should 
 have to watch carefully in some manner or other in order to pre- 
 serve it, would be worthless to him. The author gives him a 
 chance to prove that such talk is not mere theory, and Bast makes 
 his exit without complaint or even murmur. A man after Ham- 
 sun’s own heart. 
 
 In Lieutenant Lynum we have an individual laced in the 
 straight jacket of the officer’s code of honor, inflexible and consis- 
 tent. When he thinks he has forfeited his life according to his own 
 standards, he does not hesitate to dispatch himself. Loyal to his 
 conceptions to the last, he exchanges his uniform, so as not to 
 bring disgrace upon it, for civilian garb. Bast and Lynum repre- 
 sent two extremes, but they have one important trait in common, 
 their consistency. 
 
 The musician Fredriksen is, like Mrs. Juliana, a former mem- 
 ber of the theatrical profession. In his early manhood he was å 
 
Knut HAMSUN 91 
 
 very able and promising violinist, now he has sunk to the level of 
 orchestra leader in a café. He has no hope and no illusions any 
 longer. We are all on the way to our executions, he holds. But 
 why should we hang our heads, let us go down to the tune of a 
 merry waltz. The habitual frequenters of the café where he plays 
 give him plenty of opportunity to convince himself of the correct- 
 ness of his views. All these characters, Mrs. Juliana included, 
 arouse a certain amount of sympathy in us, no matter what their 
 faults and follies, and how deep their fall. But upon Juliana’s 
 lover, Alexander Blumenschøn, we turn our backs in disgust, for 
 he is a cowardly, mercenary soul without a single redeeming trait. 
 Hamsun puts stress on the fact that Blumenschøn is of Swiss 
 extraction. 
 
 The one character which appeals to us unreservedly is Fanny 
 Norman, a young girl in her teens, to whom Blumenschøn is 
 engaged. She is still as pure as the driven snow and as naive as a 
 child. Only now, upon contact with those persons who have been 
 buffetted about and marred and mutilated by life, does she catch 
 the first glimpse of its sordid realities. 
 
 In old Mr. Gihle and his equally aged cousin Theodor, Hamsun 
 makes another thrust at senile imbecility, for which he cannot 
 muster any patience, as we already know. 
 
 The play is very cynical in its attitude towards life, and since 
 the theme, moreover, is in itself not attractive, it has been ac- 
 corded but a lukewarm reception, though some admirers of Ham- 
 sun speak highly of it. It reads like a dramatization of certain 
 chapters in Sudermann’s Das hohe Lied (The Song of Songs). 
 Also, in some of Schnitzler’s and Hofmannsthal’s works, a similar 
 note is struck, but in Schnitzler’s men and women, a striking 
 feature is the weary scepticism with which they participate in the 
 game of life, while those of Hofmannsthal often seem but the 
 victims of a mysterious destiny or potentialities suddenly breaking 
 forth from the realm of the subconscious. The chief characters in 
 Livet ivold are actuated by their ruling passions, which are fierce 
 and strong, and they do not exhibit the tired, indulgent smile of 
 Schnitzler’s figures, with the possible exception of Fredriksen. It 
 would not do to ascribe the philosophy of Hamsun’s characters in 
 this drama unreservedly to the author himself. Though the 
 struggle of mankind seems to him often but a farce, his attitude 
 
92 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 is generally tempered by a deep sympathy and compassion with 
 his fellow men, which, indeed, also here is not lacking. 
 
 XIII 
 
 One might well adduce Hamsun’s later works to refute, at least 
 as far as the intellect is concerned, his contention that after fifty 
 the decline sets in universally and inevitably, for they surpass in 
 an ascending scale many of his earlier productions both in regard 
 to technique and scope. Børn av Tiden (Children of the Time), 
 1913, portrays quite in detail a number of very interesting 
 individuals. The central figure is Lieutenant Willatz Holmsen, a 
 country gentleman of the old school, the absolute ruler of his 
 domain, strong-headed, violent of temper, sensitive, and proud. 
 But if Willatz Holmsen rules like an absolute despot over his 
 dependents, he also assumes responsibility for their weal and woe. 
 Noblesse oblige. Unfortunately the estate which he inherited from 
 his father was greatly reduced in size and encumbered by heavy 
 debts, and since Willatz Holmsen can only spend, not earn, it 
 must go rapidly backward with him. He does not squander any 
 money on himself, quite the contrary, but the faintest wish on the 
 part of his wife, or the suggestion of one of his underlings looking 
 to him for assistance, even in matters not at all pertaining to their 
 immediate needs, prompts him to see the particular affair in the 
 light of a moral obligation, and he shoulders it at once. Holmsen 
 regards it as one of the duties incumbent upon him to have his 
 purse ever open, and the admission that he is hard pressed for 
 money would seem to him a disgrace. His methods of farming 
 and of doing business in general are hopelessly obsolete; in fact, 
 he considers any deal in which he would be the gainer as far beneath 
 him. There is no one in the neighborhood with whom he could 
 transact any business, until the arrival of Holmengraa, a native of 
 the district, who as a mere boy has gone out into the world to séek 
 his fortune and finally has acquired modest wealth in Mexico. 
 His fellow countrymen, with their naive belief in and longing for 
 the miraculous adventures of the fairy tale, have made Tobias 
 Holmengraa’s wealth something fabulous; in their eyes he is a 
 veritable king. This is not at all displeasing to him, for he returns 
 chiefly to play a röle and bask in the admiration of his former 
 equals, and since he knows their psychology full well, he plays his 
 part successfully. But out in the world he has also learned how to 
 
Knut HAMSUN 93 
 
 deal with as sensitive and proud a man as Lieutenant Holmsen. 
 The economic difficulties of the latter play into Holmengraa’s 
 hands, and in the course of time, he acquires one tract of land, one 
 concession after another, until he has the haughty lieutenant in his 
 pocket. But Holmsen is a man of the true Hamsun type. Adver- 
 sity does not crush him or even humble him; on the contrary, it 
 increases his pride and defiance. His own life is well-nigh spent, 
 and the collapse of his fortune matters only little to him personally; 
 but it is to him a sacred duty to secure to his son, if possible, the 
 same economic independence which he has enjoyed. And knowing 
 that no exertion on his part can turn the tide, he begins to hunt for 
 a treasure, buried by his grandfather long ago during the war. 
 When he has given up all hope, he finds it by accident. The quest 
 of his life has thereby come to a close; the terrible strain under 
 which he has lived, especially during the last few years, is removed, 
 but simultaneously also the spur to his will, and now he breaks 
 down physically. He scornfully rejects the aid of the physician, 
 as well as that of the pastor, and calmly waits for the end. But 
 even during his last days, he jealously guards his honor and 
 strives to perform his duties as he sees them. The telegraph opera- 
 tor Baardsen, like his colleague Rolandsen a social outcast and 
 derelict, but also like Holmsen a strong and consistent individual- 
 ist, is the only human being whose society the dying man can 
 endure. To him he entrusts with perfect confidence his last wishes 
 and commissions. 
 
 An iron will, independence, lofty pride, scrupulous honesty, 
 devotion to his duty, and conservative adherence to the old, in- 
 herited standards are the chief traits in the make-up of Lieutenant 
 Holmsen. The philosophy of the humanists is his guide and conso- 
 lation. Though highly imperious and of violent temper, he goes 
 far in his concessions to the individuality and rights of others. 
 In Holmsen we have a type which, as regards his social and 
 economic status, has virtually become extinct; also his philosophy 
 of life is a thing of the past. Judged from a general point of view, 
 he represents a reversion to the type figuring so prominently in 
 the earlier works of Hamsun. He, too, lives in spiritual isolation 
 and jealously guards his independence; as far as his inner life is 
 concerned, he negates the existence of society and in contact with 
 it, he strives to rise above it by retaining complete mastery of his 
 personal fate. By astrange method of self-deception, he persuades 
 
94 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 himself that he acts from choice where external circumstances 
 really compel his actions. Thus, for instance, he takes up his 
 abode in an old, scarcely habitable out-building, a brick-yard, 
 when he thinks that Holmengraa may any day foreclose his mort- 
 gage on the mansion. No one shall eject him from his home, he 
 himself chooses to leave it. By determining resolutely upon the 
 thing necessary, he preserves his personal liberty. It does not 
 matter that it is really an illusion, intentionally created, which 
 accomplishes the end. 
 
 His wife, Adelheid, shares his pride and stubbornness, but 
 cannot attain to his independence. In the relations of the two, 
 we have a parallel to those between Captain Falkenberg and his 
 spouse. The struggle is of a different nature, since pride is such a 
 pronounced trait in both husband and wife. Holmsen never 
 relinquishes his superiority, always treats. Adelheid politely, and 
 only momentarily betrays his wounded feelings when his efforts 
 to establish once more intimate relations are rebuffed. But one 
 day he decides that itis enough, and when Adelheid, later on, seeks 
 reconciliation on her part, he coolly tells her that it is too late now. 
 
 Various features indicate that Adelheid suffers a fate very 
 similar to Mrs. Falkenberg’s, but we are left to draw our own con- 
 clusions. Hamsun is fond of this device; he presents the evidence, 
 which at times is highly ambiguous, the reader must formulate the 
 verdict. 
 
 While Holmsen and a few minor characters belong to a type 
 which is fast disappearing, a number of figures from the lower 
 walks of life are depicted with relative objectivity who fully justify 
 the title of the novel. They are indeed children of our time, though 
 not of our clime. Most American readers would consider the 
 economic and social conditions here portrayed very primitive, the 
 mental horizon of the people narrow, their outlook upon life 
 ridiculously naive, and their morals low and crude. But we must 
 bear in mind that the scene is Nordland and that Hamsun possesses 
 the most intimate knowledge of his subject. In this novel and the 
 two following upon it, there is no particular evidence of exaggera- 
 tion and little irony; the picture presented is fairly objective, and 
 therein consists the chief value of these works. 
 
 It has already been pointed out that Holmsen is akin to the 
 typical heroes of Hamsun’s earlier works, he lacks, however, their 
 intimate relation to nature. Holmsen is a pure product of culture. 
 
Knut HAMSUN | 95 
 
 The latter, we are informed, is not at all obtainable through educa- 
 tion; its acquisition presupposes real wealth through a number of 
 generations in a given family. A class considering itself in the 
 possession of culture, and also so regarded by others, is that of the 
 officials. Holmsen, however, has nothing but contempt for them, 
 which he shares with the author. 
 
 “The civil officials—no, they are really a miserable class of 
 people. The son following in the footsteps of his father, generation 
 upon generation mere copying clerks. Recruited from peasant 
 boys who ‘work themselves up.” As a matter of fact, they work 
 themselves down, I am sure, from able fishermen and farmers to 
 clerks and ministers. But never mind. There seems to exist a 
 law that officials must propagate officials; why so, I pray? Just 
 look about you, only the most indispensable ability and no 
 progress. Mediocrity flourishes. Average honesty, average 
 capability in their particular fields, I grant it, but superiority, 
 greatness, where can you point to them? The son following his 
 father, generation upon generation the same thing. . . . There 
 is no possibility of any adverse fortune, no bolt ever smites them. 
 The father has begun by copying, the son is to do the same thing, 
 and that they call acquiring culture. I for my part get more 
 satisfaction out of talking with one of my laborers than with one of 
 our officials.””5 
 
 Though out and out an aristocrat, Holmsen urges one of his 
 friends to let his daughter marry the captain’s mate, with whom 
 she is in love, rather than some official, on whom the mother, 
 herself the daughter of an official, insists in her foolish pride. 
 Holmsen is lead by eugenic considerations. The simple man will 
 bring a much needed infusion of vigor and health to the union. 
 To the objection that the captain’s mate is of humble origin and 
 culturally not above a common sailor, he retorts: 
 
 “One can also build one’s life on nature. Just as surely as an 
 official cannot build his life on culture, which he does not have and 
 cannot have, since culture is not book-learning, the captain’s mate 
 can very well build his life on nature. You may object that he, 
 too, really is no longer pure nature, but he is the one of the two 
 who has lost least of his naturalness, he is the more bearable of 
 the two.””60 
 
 59 Verker, IX, Børn av Tiden, p. 67. 
 50 Thid., p. 69. 
 
96 Knut Hamsun 
 
 In Lars Lassen, a fisherman’s son, who has worked himself up 
 and has become a minister of the gospel, one of the shining lights, 
 who some day is sure to become a pillar of the church and state, 
 we are given a concrete example of the culture which the civil 
 officials possess. There are several other representatives of official- 
 dom in this present novel and its sequel which also confirm Holm- 
 sen’s and Hamsun’s views. The latter co-incide closely with 
 Arne Garborg’s. 
 
 Bérn av Tiden covers a span of about twenty years. In the 
 beginning Lieutenant Holmsen is still the undisputed master of 
 the whole district, a benevolent despot, a sort of Providence for 
 
 ‘the people. His will is supreme, even the minister, the representa- 
 tive of the state, has to come to terms and must drop all red tape 
 in reference to the erection of a new church which Holmsen is 
 building for the community. The minister insists that the proper 
 authorities must approve the plans, that they have a right to 
 demand their modification, if they consider it desirable. Not a 
 bit of it. With Holmsen it is take it or leave it. I am the donor, 
 and with me rests the decision. 
 
 There is a certain parallel between Lieutenant Holmsen and 
 Ferdinand Mack of Pan, Benoni, and Rosa. The weal and woe of 
 the common people depends largely on the good will of these 
 men; both are the product of culture, which has resulted from the 
 wealth in the possession of their families for several generations, 
 but in character they differ widely. 
 
 As the financial control slips into the hands of Holmengraa, 
 economic conditions change at Segelfoss, which is the name of 
 Holmsen’s estate. Holmengraa engages in various activities and 
 enterprises, chief among them the erection of a mansion and a mill; 
 laborers from other parts of the country come into the district; 
 money, up to his arrival a rare commodity, begins to circulate ~ 
 freely; the people in general accustom themselves to higher 
 standards of living and—become dissatisfied. Of course, a store — 
 has been established. A smart peasant, Per paa Bua (Peter in - 
 the Store), is running it. To make money is his religion, but his 
 methods are antiquated; stinginess in his own household and the ~ 
 conduct of his business, short weight and the wrong change when 
 children are sent to the store, and the like are his principal means ~ 
 of amassing a fortune. When he is caught at his tricks, he - 
 grumblingly and unblushingly makes things right, but there is no - 
 
Knut Hamsun 97 
 
 possibility of breaking him of his habits. Per has the typical traits 
 of the greedy, backward peasant; he thrives in his new occupation. 
 
 When Lieutenant Holmsen dies, the sphere of his authority 
 has narrowed down to a mere shadow of what it formerly was. 
 In Segelfoss By (Segelfosstown), 1915, the transformation of 
 the place is progressing. The principal figures from the preceding 
 novel, with the exception of Lieutenant Holmsen and Adelheid 
 who are both dead, have been carried along, but there are also 
 quite a number of new characters. Segelfoss has become a town, 
 Hamsun needs had to use a larger canvas to depict its life than he 
 required in Bérn av Tiden. The Holmsen fortune has been re- 
 trieved, but the son and heir lives abroad, studying music. In 
 him the cultural process which has been going on through several 
 generations reaches the stage of fruition. His influence upon the 
 general development at Segelfoss is insignificant; it is not because 
 of any effort on the part of Willatz Holmsen the Fourth that 
 finally the controlling power reverts into his hands. At the outset 
 it is still vested in Holmengraa, but the position of the latter is 
 insecure. All went well while he was the king, a myth, in the 
 eyes of the people. But when he is confronted with the actual 
 task of managing affairs, he finds himself wanting. He is not a 
 born master of men like the lieutenant, he does not command the 
 respect of the people and undermines what little he possesses by 
 his amorous pursuits of simple servant girls, especially since he 
 therein meets with repeated failures. The laborers that he has 
 brought to Segelfoss are up-to-date socialists. The little sheet 
 which is published in the town keeps them alert to the fact that 
 they are wage slaves exploited by capital, in their case represented 
 by Holmengraa. Trouble ensues and Holmengraa must haul down 
 his colors. He has been styled a "captain of industry” in a recent 
 article,” but strange to say, he has not even a system of checking 
 up the supplies issued to his workmen for use in his mill. Because 
 of this state of affairs, they have obtained on his account various 
 articles for their own consumption: kerosene, canvas, even mar- 
 garine; and since no itemized bills are submitted, it takes Holmen- 
 graa a long time to discover the practice. If all captains of industry 
 were of the same character, we should have sovietism over night. 
 
 9 Knut Hamsun. By Hanna Astrup Larsen. American-Scandinavian Review, 
 July, 1921. A splendid, brief sketch, but I cannot agree with Miss Larsen’s ap- 
 praisal of some of the characters in Segelfoss By. 
 
98 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 * Holmengraa was born a peasant and belonged, accordingly, to 
 a species with which evolution had not gotten any further than to 
 keep it from becoming extinct. All he knew, he had picked up; 
 all those precious values which hover in the air about cultured 
 people, their mode of expression included, he had made his per- 
 sonal possession—well done, Mr. Holmengraa, really brilliant! 
 But he was two hundred years younger than the family of Segelfoss 
 manor; he had learned to greet people, but he greeted with the 
 spirit of a slave.’ Such a thing will not do for a captain of 
 industry. 
 
 Holmengraa is, however, no dunce; he possesses a certain spirit 
 of enterprise, is shrewd, knows how to impress the simple folk, 
 and shows even skill in handling the proud lieutenant, whose 
 psychological make-up, to be sure, is not in the least complex. 
 He is also familiar with certain dubious devices to deceive the 
 people. When they begin to speculate about his solvency, he has a 
 spurious telegram sent to him, offering him a large sum for a ship 
 which he has afloat somewhere in the wide world, and forgets the 
 message where its discovery will produce the wished-for effect. 
 Nagel (Mysterier) plays a similar trick, but his motive is purely 
 mystification, it seems. Holmengraa also likes to mystify the 
 country population. He skilfully plays on the child-like imagina- 
 tion of the people on his arrival; later, he impresses them by dis- 
 playing a ring with the emblems of free masonry; and before he 
 departs, he has a strong vault built, which he finally leaves empty 
 and open, as he ostentatiously embarks on his own ship, requisi- 
 tioned for the purpose; and the people have again a chance to guess. 
 He once more has become "King Tobias” for them. Who can tell 
 what is really back of him? His former employees, who are out of 
 work and in want because they virtually forced him to close down 
 his mill, stand there with long faces. It dawns upon them at last 
 that after all it was Holmengraa who gave them bread. Hamsun 
 calls him an adventurer who corrupted the district by making 
 money circulate freely. Not everybody has sense and character ~ 
 enough to endure prosperity. ‘‘The instincts of these people are 
 those of the proletariat, their dissatisfaction does not result from 
 actual want, their maws are always gaping for more, still more.””% 
 
 & Verker, IX Børn av Tiden., p. 191. 
 8 Verker, X, p. 331. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 99 
 
 The balance of power has been slowly shifting in Segelfosstown. 
 Theodor paa Bua, who is now running the business which his 
 father has established, has built a large store and succeeds much 
 better than his progenitor in getting hold of the dollar in the other 
 man’s pocket. He has discovered the secret of creating a demand. * 
 His father has carried only the articles really required; Theodor 
 “brings the world to Segelfoss: silk dresses, canned goods, store 
 shoes, fireworks, a theatrical troupe—everything, even to tomb- 
 stones suddenly blossoming out on graves forgotten for twenty 
 years.” But the home industries deteriorate, and the people with 
 them. ‘The men read the Segelfoss Times, which tells them that 
 they are wage slaves; the women forget to weave and sew and cook, 
 while they buy flimsy ready-made clothes and predigested food 
 ‘like a huge pap put into the mouth of the nation for it to suck’; 
 and the village shoemaker starves to death for lack of work.” 
 That is the reverse of the medal. 
 
 But Per, who lies up-stairs paralyzed on one side, does not 
 object on that account, oh no; he simply storms and raves against 
 Theodor, in part because he considers the ventures of his son sheer 
 folly, but chiefly because he does not want the control to slip from 
 his hands, and he can, of course, not follow Theodor’s pace. There 
 ensues a ruthless struggle between father and son in which the 
 bed-ridden man necessarily succumbs, though he does not give up 
 until the end finally comes. And Per, indeed, dies hard. 
 
 In his private conduct Theodor reminds one of Benoni. In the 
 first place, he, like Benoni, strives to win a young woman who is 
 socially above him, Mariane, the daughter of Holmengraa; further- 
 more, both men make themselves ridiculous by trying to ape the 
 ways of the world and give themselves airs. Theodor shows 
 here a little more aptitude and he will ultimately play his part 
 quite well. The vanity of the two men and their desire to impress 
 people are strikingly similar. 
 
 It is not incomprehensible that Benoni wins Rosa, the daughter 
 of the pastor; the social gap is bridged over by Benoni’s money, 
 Rosa has become somewhat depreciated by her marriage to Arent- 
 sen, and in their views of life they are not so widely separated from 
 each other as to make a common understanding impossible. 
 Theodor’s case is different; Mariane does not look down upon him, 
 but her whole inner life is beyond his reach. He is, indeed, of the 
 “most malodorous origins,” and still we may inquire: how about 
 
100 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 Holmengraa, the "captain of industry,” a distant relative of Theo- 
 dor’s mother? Well, for one thing, he has early in life escaped 
 from those surroundings, and he is provided with money the 
 moment he appears on the scene. Non olet. Theodor will some 
 day reach this stage likewise; in the absence of both Holmsen and 
 Holmengraa, he is already the most influential man of Segelfoss- 
 town. For the realization of his most ardent wish, to be sure, the 
 final elevation will come too late. But Theodor will never die of a 
 broken heart. 
 
 Mariane holds so high a rank socially that Reverend L. 
 Lassen, this great genius that Segelfoss has given to the country 
 and the world, deems her worthy to become his spouse, but she 
 fails to appreciate the honor conferred upon her. She is finally won 
 by young Willatz, and entirely by his own efforts and the manli- 
 ness of his character. The young lady is-odd, independent, and 
 capricious enough—she has Indian blood in her veins—to incite 
 him to strive for her possession. Of Willatz Holmsen the Fourth 
 we are told that "democracy has seeped into his tissues.” Yes, 
 indeed, how could it be otherwise, since the atmosphere is satur- 
 ated with it; but the question is: how have his tissues reacted? 
 Have they been infected or have they been able to throw off the 
 harmful bacilli? We must decidedly assume the latter. Noblesse 
 oblige is also for him a valid principle. When at a public auction, 
 he meets a lady, a piano teacher, in tears, because her valuable 
 instrument is to be sold to satisfy her creditors, he unhesitatingly 
 redeems it. "What else could I have done, dear father?” he writes 
 in the letter asking for the sum needed. It may be said: even an 
 arch-democrat might do so. But how about the following? A 
 particularly impudent laborer insults Holmengraa on the public 
 highway. Willatz is in Holmengraa’s company. "Willatz turned 
 pale and stopped. One moment, he said, turning around. Now 
 he goes back, taking off his gloves leisurely as he walks along. 
 There comes his son-in-law, said Aslak; let us pay our respects to 
 his son-in-law, he said. Willatz steps up to him, his fist flashes 
 through the air, and there lies Aslak.’’®* Aslak has Willatz haled 
 before the magistrate and demands damages. Willatz voluntarily 
 pays double the amount asked. "But, said young Willatz when 
 
 % Verker, X, p. 169. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 101 
 
 he had counted up the money, next time this man deserves that I 
 punish him, I shall strike harder.””% 
 
 Later on, he gives Aslak work to reclaim him if possible. When 
 asked what he would do with the dishonest laborers, who, more- 
 over, by loafing at their work make Holmengraa”s venture unpro- 
 ductive, he replies: "If there were any lack of rabble, I would let 
 them live and propagate.’’® 
 
 We should say, young Willatz Holmsen is an aristocrat from 
 top to toe, just like his father. He is, moreover, a real artist, and 
 Hamsun would find the idea preposterous that he had depicted an 
 artist with the divine spark in his soul who is—an adherent of 
 democracy. Young Willatz is in some respects weak, for he is but 
 an echo of his father, whose ideas he repeats, only slightly modified 
 by modern theories. A very elucidating instance we find in his 
 views about the civil officials. That which gives him a distinct 
 individuality is his art. 
 
 Reverend L. Lassen and his family receive a great deal of atten- 
 tion. The whole town looks up to this distinguished citizen, if we 
 except his brother Julius, who treats his great brother with con- 
 tempt. He knows him too well. The family is as malodorous as 
 Theodor’s. Both Julius and the father steal and cheat; Daver- 
 dana, the pretty sister of Reverend Lassen, is an excellent wife 
 and mother, but her charms are such that all men desire her, 
 and occasionally she does not say them nay. Thus, Lassen has to 
 make continuous efforts to suppress various scandals which might 
 injure the career he is sure and anxious to make, though he has 
 not yet learned to keep his wrists and neck clean. 
 
 Hamsun has far more to spare for the other members of the 
 Larsen family than for the worthy pastor who, it should be noted, 
 out of sheer vanity, has changed the name to the more gentil 
 Lassen. Moral offences the author views with his accustomed 
 spirit of tolerance. A general debauch which forms the conclusion 
 —not foreseen in the program—of a lawn party given by the lawyer 
 Rasch, he merely suggests by means of the laconic statement: 
 “After the party, a large part of the shrubs and flowers were 
 found tramped down, and in the thickets not less than eighteen 
 hair combs were discovered, among them one with a red glass bead.” 
 It is the only one in town and belongs to the pretty Daverdana. 
 
 % Verker, X, p. 175. 
 % Jbid., p. 215. 
 
102 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 The attitude of the author towards scholarship is well illus- 
 trated by his account of L. Lassen’s achievements. 
 
 “His doctor’s thesis treated of some Norwegian clergymen of 
 the sixteenth century and was cribbed from the Danish Magazine, 
 the Norwegian state records, and the Diplomatarium Norwegicum 
 —also the Norwegian Magazine, he would have added, if he had 
 heard this summing up, for he was a conscientious scholar. His 
 next treatise dealt with the famous name Nescio and contained 
 many important scientific discoveries, among others that it was in 
 the year 1513, and not in the year 1512, that the hero departed 
 ‘to obtain greater bliss in the life beyond,’ furthermore that two 
 years before his departure on the above mentioned errand, he was 
 engaged in a lawsuit against the senate of Hamburg—this was the 
 fourteenth of his lawsuits. In this work, our boy Lars achieved a 
 signal triumph, and inasmuch as he, already long ago, had been 
 made a member of the Academy of Science, he had to be decorated 
 with the Olav Cross—now he really was somebody.’ 
 
 The attorney Rasch and the physician of the district, Dr. Muus 
 (mus = mouse), are further representatives of the official class who 
 verify Hamsun’s views. Rasch tries to get into the saddle by 
 playing politics and courting the favor of the masses. While he 
 gets along nicely and in the end is elected to the storting, Theodor 
 is far ahead of him as concerns actual power.—Much space is 
 ' devoted in Segelfoss By to illustrate the inferiority of officialdom 
 by concrete examples. 
 
 Of the many other characters in this. motley picture, pulsating 
 with intense life, the telegraph operator Baardsen requires especial 
 mention. He belongs to the type of which Hamsun was so fond in 
 his earlier days. Baardsen possesses all the traits which we met in 
 Nagel and Munken Vendt, with the exception of their close rela- 
 tion to nature; he finds his consolation in playing his cello.—Nagel 
 was a splendid violinist in his youth, it should be remembered.— 
 His kin, Baardsen, has a wealthy father, but he has cast loose from 
 his family, which has endeavored in vain to get him well established 
 in life. In his present position he could live comfortably and care- 
 free, yes, even play a réle in Segelfoss society, if he chose; but the 
 game does not seem to him worth the candle. He trains a young 
 man in the art of the dispatcher and finally turns over the office to 
 him, pays his last debt, buys a last mouthful of crackers, takes his 
 
 7 Verker, X, p. 303. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 103 
 
 beloved cello to Segelfoss manor as a souvenir for young Willatz, 
 and, starved, ill-clad in zero weather, suffering from pneumonia, he 
 winds his way to the vacant place of Holmengraa where he goes 
 into the empty vault, so much talked about by the people, and sits 
 down to die—‘in his boots,’ like Munken Vendt. Not until some 
 time after, his body is found. 
 
 Baardsen does not storm, like Nagel and Munken Vendt, not 
 so much because it does not lie in his nature, but because he knows 
 the futility of such a procedure. There is not a trace of bitterness in 
 him and he remains inwardly proud, independent, and erect to the 
 end. It has been contended that Baardsen’s fate indicates a change 
 in the attitude of Hamsun, a disavowal of his former ideals, but 
 there are no grounds for such an assumption. To be sure, Baard- 
 sen perishes, a fate which he shares with all the others of his type, 
 but Hamsun does not disapprove of him. At the very most, he 
 injects here and there a drop of his irony in the treatment of this 
 character, but he also bestows upon it more sympathy than upon 
 any of the others. The fact that Baardsen’s death is the last 
 topic dealt with in Segelfoss By is in itself not without strong 
 significance. The last paragraph of the novel reads: 
 
 “The two men (who found Baardsen’s body) hurry down again 
 to Segelfosstown and to the store. They come and solve a mystery 
 —they perhaps don’t solve it after all, but they feel big over the 
 news they bring. They go and chatter and prattle: he sat in the 
 cellar, he was dead—all the people get to know it, they listen to the 
 tidings, ponder them a little, and then they continue their daily 
 occupations. That is the end of it. But straight to the south the 
 swans are playing.’’®® 
 
 It is through Baardsen that the author expresses his own esti- 
 mate of the wave of progress which has struck Segelfosstown. 
 
 “We witness nothing in the present age which can be compared 
 to the past. Traffic and commerce? Trumpery, stacks of yellow 
 silk kerchiefs. Our lives have run wild, the horses are without a 
 driver; and since the horses know that it is easier going down-hill 
 than up-hill, they are moving down-hill. Down with us, the 
 deeper the better. Life has become farcical, what we work and 
 strive for, is clothing and food, we give an imitation of living. In 
 olden days, there existed great differences, there was the castle 
 and the desert, now all are alike. In olden days, it was fate, now 
 
 88 Verker, X, p. 354. 
 
104 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 it is a question of wages. Greatness, what is it? The horses have 
 pulled it down. Let me, too, have a kilogram of greatness, how 
 much is it? We each buy ourselves a set of teeth for the mouth 
 and we establish a new intestinal flora in our stomachs, the same 
 for all, uniform along the whole line; we divide life up among our- 
 selves, dilute the air for each other, and leave behind us a world 
 more confused and abused for each generation.””6* 
 
 What to most people would seem laudable progress, is for 
 Hamsun deterioration without any mitigating feature. 
 
 XIV 
 
 In Markens Grøde (The Growth of the Soil),”° 1917, he turned 
 completely away from civilization and to the most primitive con- 
 ditions existing in Nordland, in itself the land of the primitive. 
 Markens Grøde is easily Hamsun’s best novel and supposedly 
 furnished the immediate occasion for the award of the Nobel Prize 
 in literature to him. There is no pronounced change of technique, 
 only a further accentuation of certain features already present in 
 the two works which preceded, especially as regards the objective- 
 ness of the presentation. The idiosyncracies of Hamsun are here 
 less manifest than in any other production of the author. His 
 irony and satire are not entirely absent, but are not directed 
 against the central figure, which is treated with the greatest 
 sympathy and admiration. Hamsun’s point of view is, of course, 
 that of the man of culture, wide knowledge, and keen intelligence; 
 his intellect stands far above his theme, but his heart is entirely in 
 it. The style, as is always the case with Hamsun, is admirably 
 adapted to the theme. 
 
 Markens Grøde, with its strong, vivid, highly expressive prose, 
 constitutes a monumental epic of the humble, but able, courageous, 
 and untiring man who goes out into the wilderness and wrests a 
 living from stern but bountiful nature, establishes a home for 
 himself and his family, ever enlarges his domain by unceasing 
 effort, and incidentally becomes prosperous and influential, solely 
 by his own labors, a model for his fellows, the patriarch of a 
 country-side, but who remains throughout the same humble and 
 diligent toiler that he is in the beginning. 
 
 8 Verker, X, p. 44. 
 
 70 The translation of the title is inadequate. Grøde signifies here above all the 
 
 products, the bountifulness of the soil. “The Bounty of the Soil,” seems more 
 appropriate. 
 
a 
 
 Knut HAMSUN 105 
 
 There is no plot, the simple events portrayed are not embel- 
 lished by any romantic features, and not even the main character is 
 in the least idealized. Beauty and culture are conspicuous by their 
 absence; here we find only strength, vitality, ability, and persever- 
 ance. No ideals are extolled except that of the simple life of the 
 hero, and even this largely by implication. The sole purpose of 
 life seems to be the exercise of those primitive faculties with which 
 nature has endowed man and beast alike. Markens Gréde bears 
 not the slightest resemblance to tales from our own frontier days. 
 The American pioneer was a capitalist compared with Isac, the hero 
 of Hamsun’s novel. Alone and almost empty-handed, he makes 
 his way into the wilderness, he has not even a dog for his compan- 
 jon. “The man comes along walking towards the north. He car- 
 ries a bag, the first bag in these tracts, it contains victuals and a 
 few tools. The man is strong and coarse, he has a red, wiry beard, 
 and scars show in his face and on his hands—these disfigurements, 
 do they tell of toil or fight? He has perhaps been just released 
 from prison and wants to hide, maybe he is a philosopher and is 
 seeking peace, but he is coming there, no matter why, a human 
 being in this enormous solitude.”? 
 
 And he knows what he wants, a place to establish a home for 
 himself. There is room enough, pretty localities and fertile soil 
 are not lacking. But Isac is not easily satisfied. Night comes and 
 he has made no choice, and after a few hours of rest on the heather, 
 he trudges on again. Not until the third morning, he chooses the 
 site where he will drive stakes. It is a long day’s journey to the 
 nearest abode, still further to the village, but what of it? The 
 conditions here are the most favorable to his undertaking, and that 
 alone matters. 
 
 An overhanging rock suffices as shelter for the start. That being 
 settled, Isac goes to work—and breaks ground. Not Isac!—Birch 
 shingles he makes and carries them to the distant village, bringing 
 back with him victuals, always more victuals, and a few tools and 
 utensils. At last, he comes home with three goats. Isac is pros- 
 pering. In the fall he erects a sod-hut which he shares with the 
 goats. Things are getting cozy. But his earthly possessions 
 already begin to cause him trouble; he cannot well leave his goats 
 alone while he makes his trips to the town, but he manages some- 
 how. Some roaming Laplanders discover the pioneer, he tells 
 
 7 Verker, XI, I, p. 5. 
 
106 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 them of his troubles. He ought to have a woman to help him. 
 They promise to advertise his need, but no one seems eager to 
 share his prosperity and comfort. All winter long Isac and his 
 goats have to get along as best they can. Isac keeps busy, now he 
 carves wooden troughs for which he finds a ready market; with the 
 proceeds he increases his supplies. He carries tons to and fro on 
 his own back, as a bearer of burdens he can vie with any camel. 
 
 At last, one day in the spring, the longed-for help arrives, a 
 strong, healthy, coarse-featured young woman of about thirty. 
 Inger is her name. What prompts her to seek out Isac in the 
 wilderness? Poor Inger is hare-lipped, that tells the tale. She 
 does not come to stay with Isac, oh no! Inger is just accidentally 
 passing by, but accepts Isac’s invitation to step inside to rest up a 
 little. The two have coffee together, which she has had the fore- 
 sight to bring along, and Inger finally stays overnight. That they 
 celebrate their nuptials then and there, Hamsun states in just a 
 dozen words, comprising seventeen syllables in all. The occur- 
 rence in itself is not weighty enough to commit Inger, but she stays 
 on and assists Isac in his toil. When the first child is about half a 
 year old, they take it to church to have it baptized, that is impor- 
 tant, and since the occasion is opportune, they are legally married. 
 Inger insists on it. Perhaps she is right, Isac thinks; he perceives 
 the need of the legal formality only very dimly. 
 
 Things go well; the family and their possessions grow so visibly 
 as to arouse the envy of Oline, a distant relative of Inger, an elderly 
 widow and a born scandalmonger with an astute scent for all sorts 
 of secrets. Oline sends a Laplander with a rabbit in his sack to 
 Inger when she is going with her third child, and he manages to 
 expose the rabbit to her sight, seemingly inadvertently. Inger 
 utters a groan and collapses on the threshold. The harm is done, 
 no matter what medical science has to say about pre-natal impres- 
 sions. The first two children are normal, the third is born with a 
 hare-lip. Inger has always managed to be alone at the critical 
 hour, just because she has been afraid that her children might 
 inherit her own deformity. She is also alone on this occasion. 
 Insane terror comes over her. 
 
 “And, O Lord, the worst of all, no mercy whatsoever, the 
 child was a girl into the bargain. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 107 
 
 “Tsac was perhaps not half a mile away,” it was scarcely an 
 hour since he left the place. The child had been born and killed 
 in the course of ten minutes.” 
 
 Isac is very slow in such matters, his suspicions are easily 
 allayed, and he remains in total ignorance of what has happened. 
 Inger suffers no remorse, though certain facts—she, for instance, 
 all of a sudden, teaches the older of her two boys to say an evening 
 prayer—indicate that she feels the need of propitiating the Lord. 
 All would be well, if it were not for Oline, who on her next visit 
 quickly worms out the truth—and promptly advertises it. Malice 
 is the only motive for her action. Isac has not a word of reproach, 
 only pity for poor Inger. Things go on as usual, the agents of the 
 law are slow in taking any action, they know well enough Inger is 
 not going to run away. But Isac and his wife are apprehensive, 
 and after some months the inevitable happens: Inger is haled 
 into court, tried, and sentenced to eight years in prison. She 
 does not have to serve the entire sentence by reason of some 
 error on the part of the authorities and the intercession of a well- 
 wisher of her and Isac, the former sheriff Geissler. 
 
 But even so she comes back changed much for the worse; she 
 has, alas, become citified. Her deformity has been removed by 
 an operation, she has learned dressmaking, has acquired manners; 
 it would seem that the prison term has been a sort of education 
 for her. Just so, Hamsun would say, and for this very reason 
 she is now inferior, less suited for the mode of life she has again to 
 lead. Sellanraa, this is the name which Geissler has bestowed 
 upon Isac’s place, is now too lonely and uncivilized for her; she, at 
 times, is actually homesick for the prison. As she reaches the 
 dangerous age, she forgets even her womanly virtue. She has 
 preserved it hitherto for lack of temptation, which is now put into 
 her path when some mines are started close by, and she promptly 
 succumbs. Inger has her ups and downs, though in the end she 
 recovers her balance. 
 
 “Because of her disfigured face, she was cheated out of the 
 spring of life; later, she was placed into an artificial atmosphere 
 for six years of her summer; since passion was still burning in her, 
 the autumn of her life must needs produce some wild shoots. 
 
 S 
 7 The Norwegian mile is equivalent to about Neven English miles. 
 73 Verker, XI, I, p. 67. 
 
108 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 Inger was better than the blacksmith's women folk, a little 
 damaged, a little perverted, but good and capable by nature.” 
 
 Isac, on the other hand, steers a straight course. He possesses 
 "the equanimity of the peasant, his simple emotional life, his sta- 
 bility, and slowness.” 
 
 Inger’s worst escapades he fails to notice and when on one 
 occasion he surprises her in a compromising situation, he takes the 
 matter philosophically. His mind is taken up with his work, he is 
 always building something, but if some one asks him what he is 
 driving at, he does not know yet himself. To wrest a statement 
 from him requires great skill and patience. Isac never reads 
 except on rare occasions in the almanac, for him there lies strength 
 in the absence of book-learning. But his mind is alert, he is a keen 
 observer where he is interested, and resourceful in meeting the 
 problems and difficulties which he encounters. To his family he 
 is kind and fair-minded, but he never displays his affections. 
 The isolated location of Sellanraa serves as a protection against 
 the temptation to depart from his accustomed frugality of life, 
 even when he, through the sale of some mining interests on his 
 place, comes into possession of a thousand dollars in one sum. 
 The growth in his prosperity many times exceeds the increase in 
 comforts which he accords himself. It is different with agricul- 
 tural machines, here he is more progressive. While he is economi- 
 cal and frugal, he is not in the least niggardly. 
 
 Isac’s prosperity does not impair his humility; he never forgets 
 that his life is in the hands of Providence and calmly accepts what 
 is meted out to him, trusting in the benevolence of the divine 
 giver. As his children grow up, he builds a house for himself where 
 he and Inger may live when he turns over Sellanraa to his son. 
 But he wouldn’t own up to his purpose, and we leave him still 
 faithfully toiling at his post. 
 
 His children promise well, with the exception of Eleseus, his first- 
 born. A stump of a colored pencil left by an engineer becomes 
 his undoing. By means of it he can give expression to the artistic 
 impulse in him, decorating the walls and the furniture for lack of 
 paper, and when the engineer, on a later visit, happens to see his 
 productions, he declares them to be indications of considerable 
 talent and offers to take Eleseus into his office. Isac is strongly 
 
 4 Verker, XI, II, p. 197. 
 % Ibid., XT, I, p. 1711. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 109 
 
 against it, but Inger, who desires to see her children rise in the social 
 scale, carries the day. So Eleseus comes to town and—his life is 
 ruined. An attempt to put him on his feet by installing him as 
 storekeeper disposes of the thousand dollars which Isac received 
 for his mining property and which thus far have lain idle. To have 
 brought this money into circulation again is the only thing for 
 which Eleseus can be given credit. Having accomplished it, he is 
 now ripe for America. He tries to keep up the illusion that he will 
 succeed there and will return some day a self-made man. 
 
 So Eleseus departs for America. 
 
 "He never came back.” 
 
 Sivert, the second son of Isac, is fortunately a chip of the old 
 block. The place, the fields, and the country-side are his one and 
 all. Like his father, he is thrifty, frugal, but not greedy, and a 
 keen sense of humor, of which there is no trace to be found in Isac, 
 brightens life for him considerably. 
 
 In the course of time, other settlers establish themselves about 
 Sellanraa. One of them, Aksel Strøm, is treated rather in detail. 
 His chief trouble is, as in the case of Isac, the lack of a woman 
 to help him. He fares worse in this matter than Isac, unless we 
 assume that all his trials and tribulations come before his marriage. 
 Aksel succeeds in hiring Barbro, the daughter of a neighbor, but 
 things do not go well. Barbro is not prompted to live on the out- 
 skirts of civilization by any physical defect, like Inger. On the 
 contrary, she is a pretty young woman, but she, too, has come in 
 contact with city life, has even worked as a servant girl in the great 
 city of Bergen, and the injury that resulted to her character from 
 her excursion into the world, is most serious. 
 
 Aksel and Barbro, as would be expected, live as though they 
 were husband and wife, and the former is highly pleased when he 
 discovers that the girl is with child. But not so Barbro herself. 
 The child would be a fetter binding her to the place, as Aksel 
 correctly calculates, and she has by this time become thoroughly 
 wearied of the lonely life on Aksel’s farm. And so she drowns 
 the child without the least compunction. ‘Infanticide was for 
 her without significance, nothing out of the ordinary, and this was 
 simply the moral looseness and depravity which one might expect 
 of a servant girl from the city. That became also manifest in the 
 days following upon her deed, not an hour of seriousness, she was 
 
110 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 the same artless, natural girl as before, unalterably taken up with 
 insignificant foolery, full of the servant girl.””" 
 
 Aksel feels that she has wronged him, if she is responsible for 
 what has happened. The moral side of the question is only of 
 minor importance to him, and that he has lost a possible heir does 
 not matter much, either; but she has broken the tie which should 
 have bound her to the place, and thereby she has wronged Aksel 
 personally. Barbro is shrewd enough to attribute the death of the 
 child to an accident, Aksel is inclined to believe her and counsels 
 that they report the occurrence and have the child properly buried. 
 But Barbro will have none of it and ridicules the idea that the 
 whole matter might leak out. In arguing about it, she becomes 
 so heated that she gives herself away. She has born a child before 
 and has killed it without being detected, and right in the city of 
 Bergen, under the very eyes of the law, sotospeak. Why should 
 anything leak out here in the wilderness? Barbro has, however, 
 reckoned without Oline, who soon manages to discover what has 
 taken place. 
 
 Technically, this repetition is a weak point in spite of the 
 variation of the accompanying circumstances. But Hamsun had 
 special reasons for introducing it. Inger has served six years in 
 prison; Barbro, whose motives were far lower, goes scot-free. 
 Mrs. Heyerdahl, a great champion of woman’s rights and an 
 advocate of birth control, who only by a mishap came to have a 
 child herself, knows Barbro, who began her career as servant girl 
 in the house of the worthy lady. So Mrs. Heyerdahl comes to 
 Barbro’s rescue and pleads for her in open court with such 
 eloquence that the state’s attorney himself recommends acquittal. 
 Barbro is made to appear as pure as a lily, all the guilt is attributed 
 to Aksel, and if anyone is to be punished, it must be he. It takes 
 the jury only five minutes to arrive at a verdict. 
 
 “No, the girl Barbro had not killed her child. 
 
 “Then the judge spoke a few words in his turn and declared 
 that Barbro was acquitted. 
 
 “The people left the courtroom. The farce was over.”" 
 
 The trial is described at great length; the satire upon the 
 modern weman and her influence upon life is, of course, patent. 
 
 76 Verker, XI, II, p. 35. 
 7 Ibid., p. 137. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 111 
 
 To make sure that Barbro will not go astray a second time— 
 it would be really the third time, but only Aksel knows of her first 
 offence—Mrs. Heyerdahl takes her into her household again and 
 keeps a vigilant eye on her. Unfortunately she needs more sleep, 
 much more sleep, than Barbro, and so the latter takes turns with 
 the cook in seeking pleasure and recreation in the small hours of 
 night. The scheme works well, until Mrs. Heyerdahl one day 
 spies a louse, imported from the excursion of the previous night into 
 her immaculate home, which leads to the discovery of the clan- 
 destine outings of the girls. But this unexpected development is 
 of little importance to Barbro, for whom a change of air has become 
 imperative again. Since she shrinks from resorting to heroic 
 means a third time, she sets all sails for the port of matrimony. 
 She has to come to it, after all, and Aksel is willing and waiting. 
 Barbro’s hurry does not cause him any misgivings, and when he 
 discovers her state, his chief concern is that she would be no help 
 to him under the circumstances in the approaching harvest. 
 When she assures him that she will work for two, he is satisfied; the 
 paternity of the child is for him a matter of secondary importance. 
 Not morals, conventions, and sentiments, but economic needs 
 govern the lives of these people out on the frontier of civilization. 
 And Hamsun has no fault to find with such a state of affairs. 
 
 "The man on the outskirts did not lose his head. He did not 
 find the air unhealthful, he had public enough for his new clothes, 
 diamonds he did not miss. Wine he knew from the wedding at 
 Cana. The man on the outskirts did no worrying over the 
 precious things he did not get: art, newspapers, luxuries, and 
 politics were worth exactly what people wanted to pay for them, 
 and no more. The proceeds of the soil, on the other hand, had to 
 be secured at any cost whatsoever, they were the origin of all the 
 rest, the only source of it. The life of this man barren and sad? 
 No, least of all. He had his divine powers, his affections, and his 
 magnificent superstitions.’’”® 
 
 “Great miracles were all about them all the time; in the winter, 
 the starry heaven, in the winter also often the northern lights, a 
 firmament full of blazing wings, a sea of fire in God’s dwelling. 
 Now and then, though not often, they heard thunder. It hap- 
 
 78 Verker, XI, IT, p. 160. 
 
112 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 pened especially in the fall, it was mystic and solemn for men and 
 beasts.””7* 
 
 Geissler, the erstwhile sheriff of the district, a man somewhat 
 of the Baardsen type, expresses Hamsun’s own views when he 
 declares that the state should not exact any tribute from Isac 
 for the land which he wrested from the wilderness. Accordingly, 
 he draws up a very arbitrary report, allotting to Isac ample ground 
 and at the same time representing it in such unfavorable light that 
 the latter has to pay but a mere pittance for it. Thirty-two 
 thousand fellows like Isac is what the country needs. Since 
 Geissler, more than twenty years later, still adheres to this figure, 
 we may assume that it was arrived at from an estimate based upon 
 the available area. Reference has already been made to the 
 favorable report regarding agricultural possibilities in Nordland 
 made by a commission in 1920. It must be remembered that 
 Hamsun made his second, very emphatic report in Markens 
 Grøde three years before that. 
 
 In view of the didactic purpose of the novel, the stern truthful- 
 ness of the author is the more remarkable. How much more he 
 could have ingratiated himself with many readers, if he had sup- 
 pressed some of the more primitive features in the lives of these out- 
 posts of civilization. But Hamsun cannot find any satisfaction 
 in mere imagined greatness, beauty, and virtue and he paints Isac 
 and the rest "wart and all.” His hero is truly great enough despite 
 his limitations. 
 
 He is a pioneer, body and soul, and a tiller of the soil who 
 knows no resting from his labors. A figure resurrected from the 
 past which points out the future, a man from the dawn of agricul- 
 ture, a man seizing land (Landnamsmand), nine hundred years old 
 and now again the man of the hour.””30 
 
 Markens Grøde has already been published in an English trans- 
 lation. How the rank and file of English and American readers 
 will receive this novel, remains to be seen. It is to be feared that 
 even the most tolerant among them will put the book aside on 
 having finished its perusal, thanking the Lord that they do not live 
 in so barbarous and immoral a country as Nordland. Björnson's 
 peasant stories undoubtedly make nicer reading. But .... 
 
 19 Verker, XI, I, p. 210. 
 80 Tbid., XI, II, p. 228. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 113 
 
 XV 
 
 Hamsun's last work of fiction thus far published, Konerne ved 
 Vandposten (The Women at the Town-Pump), 1920, would prove 
 even less attractive to the American public, if the novel were 
 already accessible in English. Let alone that the author gives here 
 a freer rein to his irony and satire than almost anywhere else, the 
 central theme in itself must seem offensive to all the more sensitive 
 readers. 
 
 Oliver Andersen, a sailor boy and native of the little coast 
 town where the action is laid, comes home from one of his trips one 
 day with but one leg, and emasculated. The people, of course, are 
 only aware of the outwardly visible injury which he has sustained. 
 There is still much left of Oliver, and this rest is full of vitality, 
 energy, and the desire to live. In the course of time, he degener- 
 ates more and more, acquiring by degrees all the traits commonly 
 attributed to the eunuch. But he tenaciously holds on to life, 
 ever making the most of the changing situations confronting him. 
 His sweetheart, Petra, is at first uncertain about the course to take, 
 but abandons Oliver for the cabinet-maker Mattis, only to return 
 to the former when Mattis retracts because of a certain discovery. 
 Oliver and Petra are married, and a number of children arrive. 
 Oliver is satisfied, he is fairly sure of the paternity question. 
 The chief man of the place, Consul C. A. Johnsen, and his son 
 are responsible for Petra’s offsprings, and Oliver knows well that 
 any protest on his part would be useless. Only when a blue-eyed 
 child crops out among all the brown-eyed ones, an aberration 
 later on occurring a second time, does Oliver become jealous, for he 
 suspects his former rival Mattis. And Oliver is not the only one 
 who is displeased with the variation, Consul Johnsen, indeed, likes 
 it just as little. Although Petra and Oliver are both blue-eyed, 
 brown eyes, such as the consul’s and his son’s, have thus far been 
 the rule. And that is as it should be. The explanation of the 
 departure from the established norm is to be found in the fact that 
 Petra has not been unyielding towards the attorney Fredriksen, 
 for it is not easy for her to say the man nay who holds the mort- 
 gage on Oliver’s humble home. 
 
 There are a great many rumors about Oliver’s affairs, chiefly re- 
 hearsed by the women when they meet at the town-pump, hence 
 the title of the novel. But their gossip does not constitute the 
 most important part of the novel, though their views are pretty 
 
114 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 close to those of the author. In spite of all the evil tongues that 
 busy themselves with Oliver and Petra, there remains an element 
 of doubt in the minds of the people, until Oliver himself unwittingly 
 once for all dispels it. Fredriksen, who has been elected to the 
 storting, wants to liquidate his affairs in the little coast town and, 
 incidentally, to foreclose on Oliver. To counter him, the latter 
 secures a declaration from the local physician, certifying to his 
 disability. Fredriksen sees the point immediately when confronted 
 by Oliver with this strange document and cancels the mortgage to 
 forestall a scanda]. The scheme works so well that Oliver tries it 
 also on Consul C. A. Johnsen. Control has, however, slipped 
 from the hands of the consul into those of his only son, who needs 
 not be so careful of his personal reputation, much less of that of his 
 father, as a member of the storting, and when Oliver comes to him, 
 he bluntly turns him down. Not enough, he betrays the fact 
 that Oliver carries on his person a certain certificate, and Oliver 
 for a while becomes the laughing stock of the whole town. But 
 even that troublesome spell passes over, and when Olaus, the 
 chief tormentor of Oliver, is killed one night, as some bartels of fish 
 oil behind which he has sought shelter become dislodged and 
 roll upon him, Oliver enjoys unruffled peace once more. It looks 
 as though he had contributed his share to attain this end; to be sure, 
 we are not really told that he did anything to dislodge the barrels 
 between which Olaus was taking his repose, but there are grounds 
 for suspicion, though not in the eyes of the people, it seems. A 
 factor contributing to the re-establishment of Oliver’s reputation 
 is the election of Frank, his oldest son, to the principalship of the 
 high school of the town. 
 
 "At this moment no one came to Oliver and told him that he 
 was a childless man. His children were a pure invention of his, 
 to be sure, but he had them all the same; during their whole child- 
 hood and while they grew up, he had been something for them; 
 he and they knew each other, they called him father among 
 themselves and to others; now Frank came back to the town, hav- 
 ing completed his education, as a great man. Petra and the 
 grandmother had all the while wished to see him become a minister, 
 oh, yes, but there was nothing to be done with that. Oliver said 
 with pride: Such a son!”* 
 
 8 Konerne ved Vandposten, Kristiania og København, 1920, p. 540. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 115 
 
 Comparing Oliver with Consul Johnsen and others who collapse 
 when stricken by adversity, Hamsun says of him: 
 
 “Oliver was of tougher fibre, less refined, less sensitive, 
 more careless, and therefore the right human material; he could 
 endure life. Who had been trodden down more deeply by fate 
 than he? But a little luck, a petty theft, a successful piece of 
 trickery, made of him a satisfied man again. Was he standing 
 holding palm leaves in his hands (i. e., had he become religious)? 
 Oliver had been out in the world, he had seen palms grow, they 
 were nothing to hold in one’s hands.” 
 
 Oliver’s children do very well, though Frank, the oldest son, 
 has his life spoiled by education, even if he because of it rises in 
 the social scale. Hamsun stubbornly and consistently holds to 
 his views in regard to intellectual knowledge and education. The 
 following indicates his opinion of Frank’s success: 
 
 “He had impregnated his mind with a large amount of difficult, 
 linguistic knowledge, all by degrees, without coarseness or violence, 
 simply by sacrificing time and vitality. Now he stood there on the 
 deck, a little lean and yellow, without extent in any dimension, 
 and, accordingly, excellently fitted for the profession of teaching. 
 Upon the life about him he did not waste any more thought than 
 it deserved, for his hands he had no use, the work of the sailors on 
 board he watched with listless eyes, the machinists were terribly 
 grimy. Frank could not stow barrels and boxes in the hold 
 below, no, he was not made for that; but he could look up words 
 in a dictionary, he was in possession of flimsy and sacred values in 
 linguistics, no comparison was possible. Refinement is gained by 
 diligence in school and is lost by manual work. 
 
 “No one has taught him to think, under the weight of his 
 task he has simply pressed onward; it could not possibly be said 
 that he had wasted his time and energy, he has reduced life to 
 linguistic knowledge, and yet he does not consider himself cheated. 
 Thus he goes on and on through his wilderness, a useless and fool- 
 ish sojourn, not in order to get anywhere, but simply and solely to 
 be one of them who travel through the wilderness. That is the 
 task of his life.””% 
 
 8 Konerne, p. 534. 
 88 Tbid., pp. 340 and 395 f. 
 
116 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 "Providence had meant him to be a philologist.” There are 
 few creatures on God’s earth that to Hamsun seem more con- 
 temptible. 
 
 In Fia, the consul’s daughter, we have a feminine parallel. 
 With all things in her favor, she is contented to become a spinster, 
 wasting her time on silly pursuits. Towards the close of the 
 novel, she is characterized thus: 
 
 "She was well along in years, the bloom on her cheeks was no 
 longer fresh, she was over-ripe, the young lady began to acquire a 
 left-over look. She had passed all her years without succeeding, 
 but also without making a failure of herself, nothing had been 
 capable of changing her mind, she was inaccessible and bewitch- 
 ingly sure of herself. That she had not gone astray, was due to the 
 fact that she did not progress at all. What for should she move? 
 She was prim and reserved. Her love and her maternal instinct 
 had found an outlet in painting; she had all her life been in a 
 position to afford this pastime; she did not paint from either outer 
 or inner necessity, but she painted. No one ever saw her worried 
 over herself, she committed no mistake, did no wrong, she was not 
 wasteful, she was cultured of speech and refined in manners.”* 
 But she did not become a mother. 
 
 The postmaster, one of the characters whom the author makes 
 his mouth-piece on several occasions, declares: 
 
 “Tt would be best, if we could extirpate this esteem of all 
 these externalities, if all classes of people lost their superstitious 
 faith in mechanical learning. It has been claimed that the 
 clamor of discontent would cease if our knowledge were greater, 
 and so they go on with still more fads and greater efficiency in 
 those fads. And their heads proudly tower ever emptier and 
 emptier, and no weighty thought burdens them. No, this is not 
 the road which leads onward, even in the material sense it leads to 
 the precipice. When my children were small, I took to reading 
 over their school books—I must confess that I knew but few of the 
 tricks expounded in them. Just give them more of this sort, don’t 
 be stingy in the matter, surfeit the young ones with such stuff, if 
 you please, but the clamor will continue, the clamor will increase. 
 A bowl of milk with the cream on, several of them, many of them, 
 they are ours! 
 
 % Konerne, p. 488. 
 
| 
 | 
 
 Knut HAMSUN 117 
 
 “Oh, the masses have learned their tricks, they can read their 
 clamorous paper and so they obtain the store of ideas which they 
 need. We workingmen. Does this mean the peasant and the 
 fisherman? Is it not so? It means no one but the industrial 
 laborer. It is he who clamors. Do you remember, Doctor, that 
 you have witnessed the day when there were no industrial laborers 
 in our country, but each home had its industry? And life was then 
 not more hurried than to give us leisure for the observance of 
 Sunday; it was not poorer in food, not richer in cares; the manner 
 of life was simpler, contentment greater. Then mechanical inven- 
 tions came to the fore, mass production began, the industrial 
 laborer made his advent—for whose benefit or pleasure, I pray? 
 For that of the manufacturer, of the employer, and of no one else. 
 He wanted to make more money, he and his family were to benefit 
 by greater material luxury, he did not think of it that he must die. 
 
 *No, listen here, said the Doctor with a smile, did he not give 
 work to many people, did he not provide bread for hungry mouths? 
 
 “Bread? You mean the money with which to buy bread. 
 He set people to work in factories—while the soil lies untilled. He 
 enticed the young away from their natural places in life and 
 exploited their energies for his own financial advantage. That is 
 what he did. He created a fourth class in this world which 
 already had too many classes, a whole class of industrial employees, 
 the most superfluous laborers on earth. And we can see what a 
 perversion of humanity such an industrial laborer becomes when 
 he has learned the tricks of the upper class: he deserts the fishing 
 boat, the fields, leaves home, parents, brothers and sisters, the 
 domestic animals, the trees, the flowers, the sea, and God’s 
 lofty sky—instead of them he gets Tivoli (famous amusement place 
 of Christiania), the lodge room, the saloon, bread, and the circus. 
 For these values he chooses the life of the proletarian. Whereupon 
 he shouts: we workingmen.”% 
 
 There are indications that Hamsun logically enough has come 
 to regard modern commerce, which is impossible without the 
 various industries, as exploitation, though he spoke so favorably 
 of the country’s commercial class in Ny Jord. 
 
 While the success of Frank, the philologist, does not appeal to 
 him in the least, he does not stint with his praise for Abel, Oliver’s 
 second son, who is left to educate himself, thus learns the black- 
 
 % Konerne, pp. 190 and 256 f. 
 
118 Knut Hamsun 
 
 smith’s trade and establishes a home for himself at an early age. 
 Abel is the right stuff, and his kind, good-natured humor and tol- 
 erance accomplish what Frank with all his learning could never 
 have done. Oliver has spent half a generation as the incumbent 
 of a very humble sinecure which he is deprived of when the reins 
 slip from the consul’s hands. So he drops frequently in on Abel, 
 begins with giving him a lift here and there, until he himself is well 
 on the way to acquire the habit of work once more. Without 
 Abel’s help, Oliver would almost surely go to ruin. 
 
 Consul C. A. Johnsen has many traits in common with Ferdi- 
 nand Mack, especially in his amorous pursuits. If he proceeds 
 more warily than Mack, compelled by the difference in time and 
 circumstances, he compensates for it by the great catholicity of his 
 taste. With perfect impartiality he bestows his favors upon 
 servant girls and the pretty wives of small businessmen. Mack’s 
 poise and culture, however, he does not possess, for he really had to 
 begin himself at the bottom. 
 
 The lawyer Fredriksen belongs to the same type as his colleague 
 Rasch, only that his nature seems much baser. In his matrimonial 
 efforts he reminds one of the central figure in Ibsen’s De Unges For- 
 buud (The League of Youth), since he keeps two irons in the fire 
 at the same time. And he is, indeed, a wise man, for when Fia, 
 the unattainable, rejects him, he can fall back on his second choice. 
 
 Markens Grøde was written during the World War, Konerne ved 
 Vandposten directly after it; both have for their background the 
 immediate present. It is interesting to note that Hamsun has 
 made no direct reference to the war in these works. We know his 
 antipathy to England and the English people, and we find it has 
 not changed. "In England justice always triumphs,” he com- 
 ments ironically on a miscarriage of justice in an English court, and 
 through the mouth of the postmaster, he delivers the following 
 invective, in which allusions to recent events are evident enough: 
 
 “T wonder if the English do not have a God of their own, an 
 English God, just as they have their own monetary system? How © 
 can you explain it otherwise that they incessantly wage wars of 
 conquest, and afterwards, if they have been victorious, think that 
 they have accomplished a noble and high-minded task? They 
 prevail upon all people to understand it thus, they thank their 
 English God that they have succeeded in their misdeeds, they 
 become religious over it. And now we furthermore discover 
 
Knut HAMSUN 119 
 
 this remarkable trait in Englishmen that they presuppose other 
 people also shall rejoice over their deeds; now the people must 
 surely become good, they say, let justice now rule, turn to religion! 
 To other people it may appear strange that the English don’t blush 
 with shame, they must surely have their own God whom they 
 have pleased, and who has given them dispensation. They write 
 in the press that now the moment has arrived, now mankind must 
 become different, they make this their program: come now and 
 let us turn to religion, they say, what else can we do? Ah, what å 
 change there now will take place in mankind, everything must 
 become different from what it was: there shall be different pic- 
 tures on our walls, other books on our shelves, other sermons in the 
 churches, we shall have a different sort of intercourse between the 
 nations, different furniture, a different science, a different love, a 
 different fear of God—in short, now we are going to have a different 
 kind of buns. Why so? Because the English themselves have 
 become different? The Englishman will never change. Because 
 mankind all of a sudden has become different from what it formerly 
 was? Mankind changes exceedingly slowly and by many, many 
 re-incarnations.””% 
 
 “Some impatient people want to take a hand in its guidance 
 and bring about reforms, they plan a world totally different from 
 our present, they devise programs, they do away with all defects. 
 They don’t do it from arrogance, they don’t go about and crow 
 Over it, no, they proceed with entreaty and courtesy, they stand 
 there and turn over the music sheets and whisper caressingly to man- 
 kind. But they do not play to the tune of humanity.”* 
 
 In the second passage the author is speaking for himself directly. 
 But while he is not pleased with some things as they are, 
 there is no reason for pessimism, in his opinion. ‘Things go on 
 just the same, all of them, and some go, indeed, well. What is 
 best of all, we do not know. Rise and fall, I presume, is a part of 
 the whole, it all belongs to human existence. A light is burning 
 on a candlestick, the door opens and the light goesout. Whois to 
 blame? Was there any one at fault?””5 
 
 We have here an expression of the spirit of tolerance which 
 Hamsun, in the final analysis, has for all, though his outlook upon 
 
 % Konerne, p. 361. 
 
 I Ibid., p. 552. 
 8 Ibid., p. 553 f. 
 
120 Knut Hamsun 
 
 life and his temperament compel him to attack various forms 
 under which the universal life manifests itself. 
 He has again portrayed a segment of it in Konerne ved Vand- 
 
 posten. Many figures are set forth, one might even ask if Oliver — 
 
 is the most important one, if it were not for the fact that, in a way, 
 he is a symbol of the whole town. 
 
 “He is of the human stuff which endures. There he is limping 
 homeward. He is somewhat the worse for wear, a little defective, 
 but what is there that is perfect. The life in the town realizes its 
 image in him, it crawls, but it is ever so busyforallthat. It begins 
 in the morning and lasts till night-fall, and then the people go to 
 bed. And some lie down under a tarpaulin. 
 
 “Large and small things happen, a tooth out of the mouth, 
 a man out of the ranks, a sparrow that drops dead to the 
 ground.””3* 
 
 XVI 
 
 The life-work of Knut Hamsun comprises three periods. The 
 first extends to and includes Munken Vendt. This drama consti- 
 tutes the culmination and summing up of all those tendencies which 
 
 characterize the earlier part of the author's career. The typical 
 
 hero of this group of works is the young man of thirty who is 
 at odds with existence in general and with society and its standards 
 and values in particular, and who violently rebels against existing 
 conditions. There is a great deal of similarity in the psychological 
 make-up and even in the external circumstances and experiences 
 of these individuals. They are without home or definite place in 
 society, the conventions and restrictions of which they disregard, 
 chiefly because their lack of polish, resulting from social contact, 
 makes adjustment impossible for them, although they try to per- 
 suade themselves and us that social intercourse is insincere and 
 built upon sheer humbug and sham. A mania for complete 
 independence is also common to them, the price they pay for it is 
 isolation and failure. They are ardent and constant lovers, 
 
 but not one of them wins the woman of his affections. The most — 
 precious factors in their emotional lives are the admirationsand the ~ 
 
 longings which they cherish, and the memories which, with them, 
 never fade. The inner life, not outward reality, is for this type of 
 chief, in fact, of sole importance. But the outside world, never- 
 theless, exercises a very strong influence upon them. Being one 
 
Knut Hamsun 121 
 
 and all sensitive to a high degree of irritability, they respond 
 violently to all outside impressions; the reaction is often wholly 
 out of proportion to the external cause. 
 
 These young men are governed by impulses of a very irrational 
 and compelling nature. The inhibitions of the normal individual 
 do not exist for them, though regret frequently follows almost 
 immediately upon their erratic conduct. It results from the 
 fact that, in spite of all outward disdain, they cannot dispense with 
 social contact. Since they are entirely governed by impulses, 
 originating from the ever changing environmental influences, the 
 permanent in their personalities, i.e., character, is often obscured 
 to such a degree that it seems to be lacking. As a matter of 
 fact, all the individuals of this type are really possessed of very 
 strong will-power, which, however, is not directed to the attain- 
 ment of those ends which are generally recognized as desirable. 
 Because they neglect to strive for worldly success, sacrificing it 
 for the sake of their independence, and, due to the great variety 
 of external influences and impressions, behave in a very incon- 
 sistent and often contradictory manner, they appear weak and 
 vacillating to the superficial observer. 
 
 They ignore all moral questions and acknowledge no moral 
 obligations, but their lofty pride and self-respect protect them 
 against debasement; they do not even allow themselves the same 
 latitude which they accord to others, whose transgressions of 
 various kinds they view with a great deal of indulgence. Their 
 ideal is the intellectual and ethical aristocrat, the man who stands 
 above all laws imposed by society upon its members, precisely 
 because he is governed by superior insight and ethical principles 
 far more exacting than those commonly subscribed to by the rest 
 of mankind. This does, however, not preclude violations of 
 accepted moral standards. 
 
 In its attitude towards humanity, this type is highly individual- 
 istic and anti-social. Indifference to, if not contempt for, all 
 cultural values of the present age is characteristic of it. Real 
 grandeur and genuine beauty and culture are not to be found in our 
 times according to these iconoclasts. The ruling spirit of the age, 
 that of democracy, is inimical to true culture, they hold, and the 
 leaders of the masses are destitute of originality, nobility, and 
 greatness. Democracy they regard with disgust, because of its real 
 or supposed tendency to reduce all men to a common level, which, 
 
122 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 of necessity, spells mediocrity. Hence the contempt of Hamsun’s 
 favorite type for the masses. There has been an intimate con- 
 nection between the rise of democracy and industrialism. The 
 organized industrial laborer is the chief exponent of democracy; 
 this is the main reason for the unfavorable verdict pronounced 
 upon our modern economic development; that it has physical 
 and moral decline in its wake is another. 
 
 In their efforts to escape from the disconcerting turmoil of life, 
 Hamsun’s heroes seek to achieve the closest communion with 
 nature in its more primitive state. Their love of nature, as well 
 as their other characteristics, they share with the author, who 
 has remained ever loyal to it, though his attitude towards it has 
 undergone a certain change. All the earlier works of Hamsun are 
 highly subjective and full of personal elements; Hamsun has depicted 
 himself in them from many different angles. That is one of the 
 reasons why he, almost without exception, chose a man for the 
 central figure, though he has drawn a number of women characters 
 in the first group of his works with great care and in detail. Heis 
 fond of two opposite types: one, proud, disdainful, and coquettish; 
 the other, simple, naive, and self-effacing. His heroes are usually 
 attracted by two women of such divergent character. The poems 
 of Hamsun, which were published in collected form two years 
 after Munken Vendt, belong in the very nature of the case to the 
 first period, during which they originated. Although few in 
 number, they cover a wide range of emotional experiences and 
 indicate a progressive emancipation of the poet’s own self from 
 external influences that have caused him torment. 
 
 The productions of the next ten years, which may be said to 
 constitute the second period, are of a somewhat heterogeneous 
 character. A change in the attitude of the author towards 
 life becomes manifest in Svermere, which must be grouped with 
 Benoni and Rosa. While not objective in the strict sense of the 
 word, the personal elements have disappeared, no note of revolt 
 is struck, and the lives of the main characters do not end in 
 failures. Under Héststjernen and En Vanderer spiller med Sordin 
 belong together because of their contents; but in the former, the 
 main theme is the hopeless infatuation of a man in his forties, in 
 the latter, it is the tragic fate of Lovise Falkenberg. This is the 
 only instance where Hamsun deals with the emotional experiences 
 of a woman who has been married for years, in all other cases he 
 
Knut HAMSUN 123 
 
 depicts only the spring time of love. To be sure, Adelheid Holmsen 
 might be included here, but the author does, in this instance, 
 barely touch the surface of things. An element common to the 
 two novels mentioned above is the praise of the simple life led by 
 the tillers of the soil. Nature is extolled as the great consoler as 
 before, but treated more objectively. It exercises, however, the 
 same mystic influence upon the author as previously. 
 
 Livet ivold deals with city life, and if we accept the musician 
 Fredriksen’s estimate of it, we need not wonder that Hamsun dis- 
 likes, if not detests it. There are some splendid passages in Ny 
 Jord referring to the toilers of the city, which seemed to contain the 
 promise of a more elaborate treatment of this subject by Hamsun, 
 but probably because of his aversion to industrialism, which 
 dominates to a large extent the lives of the humble and poor in the 
 city, he has not made it the theme of any of his works. Only three 
 of his novels and three plays have their settings in the city at all. 
 Most of Hamsun’s productions belong to the category of Hei- 
 matkunst. 
 
 In Den siste Glede the personal element is once more of para- 
 mount importance. While the author calmly accepts his own lot, 
 he cannot forbear to wield his cudgel against certain tendencies of 
 the time which seem to him of a most harmful nature. The 
 tone of regret over the decline of his powers so pronounced in this 
 narrative certainly did not prepare the world for his achievements 
 during the sixth decade of his life, which comprises the third and, 
 in most respects, the greatest period of his activity. 
 
 The four great novels which he produced since 1912 have the 
 feature in common that the personal element is not brought in 
 directly. Although the pictures here presented are strongly 
 tinged by the author’s point of view and accompanied by copious 
 comment, they afford a fair insight into the present-day life in 
 Nordland; the same may be said of several works of the preceding 
 period, they deal, however, with conditions of two generations ago. 
 
 We may well apply to these novels Zola’s definition: “‘Une 
 oeuvre d’art est un coin de la nature vu å travers un tempérament.” 
 But the “temperament,” i. e., the individuality of the author, the 
 personal equation, is,in the case of Hamsun, a weighty factor, for 
 which large allowances must be made. 
 
 Bérn av Tiden presents the decline and fall of an aristocrat of 
 the old school, who is submerged by the tide of progress; the 
 
124 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 sequel shows the deterioration of a once so simple community 
 under the influence of advancing industrialism, while in Markens 
 Gréde the author extols the heroism of the pioneer. In these 
 works there is a didactic purpose, but in Konerne ved Vandposten, 
 Hamsun was contented to portray life as he sees it; although 
 comment by the author is not lacking, the reader is called upon to 
 formulate his own conclusions. 
 
 Knut Hamsun has dealt more than any other novelist with the 
 people and the conditions in Nordland, for which he harbors a deep 
 affection because of the comparative absence of civilization, the 
 naiveté and simplicity of the people, and the plainness of their lives. 
 
 \In point of time, he limits himself almost wholly to the present and 
 recent past. Only in Munken Vendt he dates the events earlier 
 than the middle of the nineteenth century. Dronning Tamara 
 does, of course, not figure here. His early tenets he has changed 
 but little, only his attitude towards existing conditions has become 
 more tolerant. The classes which he dislikes most are the intel- 
 lectuals, authors and artists included—the emancipated woman 
 and the bureaucracy really come also under this head—the old, 
 backward peasant stock, and the very antipode of it, the industrial 
 laborer. Why he should find fault with the peasant, who tena- 
 ciously clings to the old, time-honored mode of life, is not quite 
 apparent, considering Hamsun’s general attitude. But on the 
 one hand, he hates stagnation, it is better that we should move, 
 even if we are headed in the wrong direction; the fulness of life 
 consists for him in the maximum of action. On the other hand, the 
 peasant has really become infected by modern conditions and has 
 lost many of his old virtues, while he firmly adheres to his old 
 faults and vices, and "stagnation” is for Hamsun almost a synonym 
 for “death.” 
 
 His aversion to industrialism results from his anti-democratic 
 spirit and the conviction that the industrial life impairs the stamina 
 of the people. Democracy and industrialism are perhaps no- 
 where more highly developed than in England and the United 
 States, and this fact accounts largely for Hamsun’s antipathy 
 against all things English or American. As in other matters, 
 there has been no change in his views. He has not abandoned 
 any of his convictions, and if to-day he stands ona pedestal, it is 
 not because he has compromised or made any concessions. Intel- 
 lectual and cultural pursuits seem to him worthless, in part, be- 
 
Knut HAMSUN 125 
 
 cause the things striven for are in themselves without real value, 
 in part, because the actual attainments are mediocre. Intellec- 
 tualism is for him, moreover, inimical to the highest possible devel- 
 opment of the individual. He derides it in spite of his admiration 
 for culture and his longing for poetic beauty. 
 
 Since he claims that the past was far greater than the present is, 
 it may seem strange that he never attempted the treatment of a 
 great historical character. But this would have involved the 
 absorption and utilization of a great deal of material already in 
 existence and produced by others, a task which might well seem 
 superfluous to him. His fertile imagination and the life about him 
 afforded him more interesting and valuable themes, for in spite 
 of his romanticism, Hamsun is intensely devoted to the realities 
 of the present day. 
 
 He has produced a large number of highly original and inter- 
 esting figures, but not a single great man or woman, for even 
 Isac cannot be reckoned as great. Judged from the esthetic point 
 of view, to be sure, he is of monumental proportions, and he 
 strongly appeals to our sympathy in spite of the humble simplicity 
 of his life. 
 
 Various critics maintain that Hamsun was greatly influenced, 
 especially in regard to style, by a number of foreign authors. 
 Dostojewsky, Mark Twain, and Bret Hart are the ones most 
 frequently mentioned, but no exact investigation of this question 
 has yet been made. There is one troublesome feature to be taken 
 into account. The style of Hamsun constitutes in its perfection 
 probably the greatest charm of his works, and it is always well 
 attuned tothe theme. And what a difference there isin the style, 
 let us say, of Pan and Victoria as compared with that of Markens 
 Grøde and Konerne ved Vandposten. The time element does not 
 account for it, for it is almost as great in works that stand in close 
 proximity to each other. There is, surely, a wide gap between 
 the style of Markens Grøde and the novels which immediately 
 preceded and followed this splendid prose epic. 
 
 Maurice Francis Egan writes in the August number of the 
 American-Scandinavian Review for the year 1921: "It is regret- 
 table that translations from Scandinavian literature or his- 
 tory are not so popularly read as they might be. This is because 
 they lack what the average American demands in all his books— 
 cheerfulness, a touch of humor, and a lesson which will teach him 
 
126 Knut Hamsun 
 
 to be more contented with life. The average American may not 
 be deeply in love with life; he is not so materialistic as he is 
 generally represented to be, and the frank materialism of the 
 modern European novel, in spite of its rather visionary idealism, 
 which is without humor or gaiety, does not appeal to him. He is 
 not gay, in the Continental sense, but he wants to live humorously 
 and cheerfully; and, being a worker, and finding work to be 
 endured for its results rather than enjoyed for its pleasure, he 
 prefers to forget it when it is done, but not recklessly or pessimis- 
 tically; . > 
 
 “Our taste is eclectic. Shore Acres and Way Down East 
 appeal to us when Strindberg and Hauptmann and Ibsen rather 
 bore us; but given any foreign novel or drama with intense human 
 interest, which carries with it the triumph of a moral idea, and to 
 a man we will read it with pleasure.” 
 
 It is just this absence of "the triumph of a moral idea” which 
 will stand most in the way of any popularity of Hamsun’s works 
 with the great majority of American readers. For him, morals 
 are "the least human element in man,” and he is more attracted 
 by the sinner than by the saint, because of the seemingly larger 
 store of energy and vitality usually manifested in the former. 
 His views in regard to sexual questions would particularly offend 
 — American readers. It must, however, be remembered that Ham- 
 sun unconditionally condemns all frivolity, licentiousness, and 
 perversity—not really on moral grounds, but because they result 
 in racial deterioration. While he does not admit it, he, in the 
 last analysis, finds morals essential to the good of the race. In his 
 tolerance towards offences resulting from strong, healthy, and 
 normal appetites, he goes, however, very far. 
 
 Hamsun’s attitude towards Christianity is in itself even more 
 objectionable, but it will give less offence, since it is not as manifest 
 on every page of his works as his lack of morals. Radical utter- 
 ances are virtually confined to Sult, where their force is lessened 
 by the irresponsibility of the character in question, to Munken 
 Vendt, and a number of the poems. The shafts aimed at Rev- 
 erend L. Lassen, it should be remembered, are directed not at the 
 minister of the Gospel, but at the official of the state. In Norway, 
 the ministers of the Lutheran Church, which represents the official 
 creed of the country, are at the same time servants of the state, 
 and as such they possess considerable power and influence. Of 
 
Knut HAMSUN 127 
 
 recent years, their authority has been curtailed somewhat, but it is 
 still large, especially in the rural districts. 
 
 The clergy of the state church find themselves in the awkward 
 position resulting from dual allegiance, and it is not at all sur- 
 prising that with many of them the temporal affairs usurp the 
 lion’s share of their time and attention. The whole system has 
 been criticised by some of the foremost authors of modern Norway. 
 As usual, Hamsun presents only isolated facts and figures without 
 really entering upon the problem. He has penetrated a little 
 more deeply into it than ordinarily in his portrayal of the bureau- 
 cracy of the country, but here, too, the picture of the situation is 
 far from complete. 
 
 In regard to this particular feature, the American reader must 
 keep in mind the wide difference existing between American and 
 Norwegian institutions. While Norway is a democratic country, 
 the old bureaucracy which she has taken over from former times, 
 is still strongly entrenched, though it is losing ground continually. 
 The Norwegian state officials, who are appointed and not elected, 
 are practically assured of permanent tenure of office, barring 
 malfeasance. Even in cases of proven misconduct in office, it 
 was, and to some extent still is, difficult to secure the punishment 
 of the offender. Usually, the decision rested with the superior offi- 
 cials of a certain department, who were strongly influenced by 
 personal considerations. Through perpetual inbreeding the entire 
 officialdom of the country had, so to speak, become one large 
 family. It formed a class by itself and presented a united front 
 to the rest of the country’s population. Things are changing, but 
 only very gradually. All these features, Hamsun brings out 
 merely incidentally; he has not presented the matter as a problem, 
 and his wrath is provoked chiefly by the fact that the official class 
 lays claim to being the leading exponents of true culture. 
 
 / It has been charged against Hamsun that his ideas are not 
 constructive. While perfectly true, this criticism is, in a manner, 
 ill-advised. Hamsun makes no secret of it that in his opinion 
 there are already too many “constructive ideas” in this world, 
 why should he augment their number? His program is, moreover, 
 so simple that it requires no elaborate constructive ideas. Work 
 to the full extent of your capacity at some productive task, 
 seeking your joy in its performance, perpetuate your kind, keep 
 close to nature, regard life asa loan conferred upon you, as a boon 
 
128 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 to which you have no claim whatsoever, bear its vicissitudes 
 bravely and manfully, preserve at all hazards the dignity of your 
 own soul, and meet death fearlessly in the conviction that it is a 
 beneficent provision of nature, that is the whole gospel which he 
 has tried to preach. | 
 
 The return toa PAA mode of life, that of the tiller of the soil, 
 seems to him the remedy for the present ills of humanity. But 
 people will not and cannot follow the road which he points out. 
 Only upheavals and catastrophes of inconceivable magnitude could 
 bring about the conditions which Hamsun extols as the only sane 
 and natural ones. If our economic system breaks down at some 
 point or other, the people have no other alternative than annihila- 
 tion or concerted effort to repair the damage. There are not many 
 Isacs among us, and even if we were all able to follow his example, 
 the share in the fertile lands of the globe that would fall to each 
 one of us would be considerably smaller than the one allotted to 
 Isac by his friend Geissler. Hamsun is himself very well aware of 
 our physical inability to adapt ourselves to a more primitive mode 
 of life. We cannot strip off, like a garment, the culture which we 
 have acquired; it has become a part of our beings and seeped into 
 our very fibres and, in his opinion, has made us unfit for life’s 
 battle. ‘Yes, my fellow neurasthenics,” he confesses mournfully, 
 "we are poor specimens of humanity, and for any sort of animalic 
 existence, we are also unfit.’’®? 
 
 This is a truth from which we cannot escape; but it is an 
 entirely different question, whether or not it is a sane policy to 
 foster industrial and commercial expansion at the expense of 
 agriculture, a question which in the long runis regulated automat- 
 ically by the law of supply and demand. As long as there is 
 sufficient food, clothing, and shelter for the millions of men and 
 women employed in industrial pursuits, or in the task of transpor- 
 tation and distribution of the products, the growth of manufac- 
 turing and commerce will not cease. 
 
 But did Hamsun desire to point out the way to all the nations of 
 the globe, or did he address his exhortations to the smaller circle 
 of which he himself is a member? Hamsun’s own fellow country- 
 men, more particularly the people of Nordland, and, ina general 
 way, all the so-called backward nations, are in a much better 
 
 89 Verker, VIII, Under Høststjærnen, p. 107. 
 
Knut HAMSUN 129 
 
 position to follow his advice than the millions that populate the 
 countries leading the world in industries. As has been stated 
 before, much of Hamsun’s art is Heimatkunsi. 
 
 In the end, there is no cause for pessimism. As Hamsun 
 says in his latest novel: “Things go on just the same, all of them 
 and some of them, indeed, go well. What is best of all, we do not 
 know.” He has spoken many a harsh word and has fought 
 obstinately for his ideas and convictions, but he is aware of the 
 relativity of the truths which he proclaims. The following lines 
 are characteristic of his attitude: 
 
 Hvad vet vi, o Bgrn, om Vei og Sti? 
 Værer ydmyge, Børn! 
 Jeg hørte imot mig inat en Sang, 
 det var som en Syvstjærnes Sang paa sin Gang, 
 —idag er den draget forbi. 
 
 Al Jorden er fuld av Nattens Sne, 
 hvor er Veiene, Børn? 
 
 Vi leter os frem efter bedste Skjøn, 
 
 en lykkes ved Eder, en feiler med Bøn 
 
 — saa underlig kan det ske.* 
 
 Perhaps Knut Hamsun is but ‘a comet whirled from its orbit,’ 
 but a star of first magnitude, he surely is, and one which sheds 
 floods of brilliant light. 
 
 *What know we, children, of way and path? / Be humble, O children! / I 
 heard in the air last night a song, / Like a song of the Pleiades on their course it 
 was / —Today it has died away. 
 
 The earth is covered with the snow of the night, / Children, where is the way? / 
 We all grope onward as best we can, / One succeeds, ae with prayer, one 
 fails / —So strange, indeed, it may go. 
 
130 Knut HAMSUN 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF KNUT HAMSUN'S WORKS 
 
 Fra det moderne Amerikas Aandsliv, 1889. (Out of print). 
 Sult, 1890. 
 
 Mysterier. Roman, 1892. 
 
 Redaktør Lynge. Roman, 1893. 
 
 Ny Jord. Roman, 1893. 
 
 Pan. Af Løjtnant Thomas Glahns Papirer, 1894. 
 Ved Rikets Port. Forspil, 1895. 
 
 Livets Spil, 1896. 
 
 Siesta. Skitser, 1897. 
 
 Aftenrøde. Slutmingsspil, 1898. 
 
 Victoria. En Kjerligheds Historie, 1898. 
 
 Munken Vendit. (Brigantinens Saga I), 1902. 
 Dronning Tamara. Skuespil i 3 Akter, 1903. 
 
 I Æventyrland. Oplevet og drømt i Kaukasien, 1903. 
 Kratskog. Historier og Skilser, 1903. 
 
 Det vilde Kor. Digte, 1904. 
 
 Sværmere. Roman, 1904. 
 
 Stridende Liv. Skildringer fra Vesten og Østen, 1905. 
 Under Høststjærnen. En Vandrers Fortelling, 1906. 
 Benoni. Roman, 1908. 
 
 Rosa. Af Studenten Parelius’ Papirer, 1908. 
 
 En Vandrer spiller med Sordin, 1909. 
 
 Livet ivold. Skuespil i 4 Akter, 1910. 
 
 Den siste Glede. Skildringer, 1912. 
 
 Børn av Tiden. Roman, 1913. 
 
 Segelfoss By. I-II, 1915. 
 
 Markens Grøde. I-II, 1917. 
 
 Konerne ved Vandposten. I-II, 1920. 
 
 Samlede Verker. I-XI, 1918. 
 
Sy 
 
 bn TET ØP VAN 
 
 INLAY IN THE PAVEMENT OF THE CATHEDRAL AT SIENA 
 
Vor. III, No. 3 ApRIL, 1922 
 
 Smith College Studies in 
 Modern Languages 
 
 EprITors 
 CAROLINE B. BOURLAND HOWARD R. PATCH 
 ERNST H. MENSEL MARGARET ROOKE 
 ALBERT SCHINZ 
 
 ak 
 
 THE TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 In Roman LITERATURE AND IN THE TRANSITIONAL PERIOD 
 
 BY 
 HOWARD ROLLIN PATCH 
 Associate Professor of English, Smith College 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, MASS. PARIS 
 SMITH COLLEGE LIBRAIRIE E. CHAMPION 
 
 Published Quarterly by the 
 Departments of Modern Languages of Smith College 
 
PRINTED AND BOUND BY 
 GEORGE BANTA PUBLISHING CO. — 
 MANUFACTURING PUBLISHERS — 
 
 MENASHA, WISCONSIN 
 
THE TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 fin Roman Literature and in the Transitional Period 
 BY 
 
 HOWARD ROLLIN PATCH 
 
 Associate Professor of English, Smith College 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 The frontispiece is taken from a photograph of the inlay, 
 designed by Pinturicchio, in the pavement of the Cathedral at 
 Siena. For this picture I am indebted to the kindness of Miss 
 Lizette A. Fisher, who procured it for me in Rome. The combina- 
 tion of Roman and Medieval motifs makes it strikingly interesting 
 and appropriate for this study. In the case of Fortuna herself, the 
 ball, the cornucopia, the sail, and the prow, are Roman. The 
 mountain, surrounded by the sea, and beset by many dangers for 
 him who would climb it, is essentially Medieval. 
 
 Howarp R. PATCH 
 Northampton, Massachusetts. 
 
The Tradition of the Goddess Fortuna 
 
 In RoMAN LITERATURE AND IN THE TRANSITIONAL PERIOD 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The purpose of this essay is to study the nature and functions 
 of the Goddess of Fortune in Roman literature and the literature of 
 the transitional period. The frequent appearance of this figure 
 in documents of the Middle Ages is well-known, although, perhaps, 
 not adequately appreciated. It is well-known, too, that the 
 goddess existed in earlier days in Rome, and was actually wor- 
 shipped as a prominent member of the pantheon. She is important, 
 therefore, as a deity who was taken over after the transition from 
 a polytheistic to a monotheistic religion, and her interest thus 
 becomes twofold. 
 
 Traits of the goddess in Rome, which were reflected in the 
 literature, would naturally survive in the literary treatment of 
 later ages. This fact would suggest the possibility that some of 
 the old religious feeling might be retained in the Christian period. 
 Are the references to Fortuna in the Middle Ages simply orna- 
 mental and perfunctory, or has she inspired fresh imaginative 
 endeavor? Does she appear in only one sort of literature: for 
 example, as a Jay figure in a Classical background? Or is she a 
 vital element in every variety of plot? Where precisely does the 
 change from religion to allegory occur, or indeed does it really 
 occur at all? 
 
 And this brings up the question of allegory, which is, after all, 
 only faded religion. The author of any kind of symbolical 
 writing has something more in his conception than the mere out- 
 ward signs, the painted surface of symbolism (or, as Dante calls 
 it, the veil), however pleasing that may be aesthetically. The 
 purpose of allegory is to reveal certain thoughts; and, in so doing, 
 
 1 This paper is composed of a section of the Introduction and two chapters 
 from my doctoral dissertation on The Goddess Fortuna in Medieval Literature, 
 presented at Harvard University in 1915. Some slight alterations have been 
 made in the present copy, but substantially the material is the same. 
 
 131 
 
132 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 it employs terms which represent but do not necessarily reproduce 
 the original ideas. The symbol need not actually imitate the 
 idea, nor does it ordinarily replace it by a mere arbitrary formula. 
 This type of art, accordingly, affords us pleasure that is quite 
 distinct from that of the mere exercise of unriddling.? It gives us 
 the meaning in the author’s mind clearly and felicitously, in a man- 
 ner which, at its best, may be more direct than that of pure imita- 
 tion. The symbol, however, may closely approach its original, and 
 on their proximity depends how literally we may read its meaning. 
 If the ideas are "Treligious,” we may be coming close to some 
 knowledge of the author’s religion. Allegory and religion are 
 frequently intermingled, and what one man takes literally as a 
 deity another takes as a force.” A religious symbol in the 
 figure of a goddess, then, becomes actually a goddess when the 
 concept in the symbol warms ‘the features of its cold material 
 embodiment into life. Fortune was once worshipped as a deity; 
 does she retain this position in the Middle Ages? Or, if she has 
 become temporarily a symbol, does she at any time revive? 
 
 Obviously these questions touch on a still larger problem, 
 which arises from the peculiar nature of Fortuna. She is con- 
 cerned not merely with one phase of human existence, as are 
 most gods and goddesses,—Ceres, for example, with the harvest, 
 and Neptune with the sea and its dangers,—but she gradually 
 usurps all places until she approximates the dignity of a female 
 Jove. She becomes the ruling power of the universe, although 
 her government is without a plan. If at any time we find her 
 suddenly steadied in subordination to some other deity, the change 
 is significant for the philosophy of life in that period. In other 
 words, the attitude of a period toward Fortuna reveals its attitude 
 toward the question of fatalism. And thus the problem of 
 Fortune is at once linked with the questions of fate and free-will; 
 of the drama of fate; of sentimental and rationalistic art; and, if 
 it is not too bold to put it that way, with the great crux, Classicism 
 and Romanticism. 
 
 2 Or, as one writer puts it, of ““Crossing the debatable land between allegorical 
 and literal, and establishing [oneself] securely and happily on the openground of 
 literal narrative”: W.R. MacKenzie, The English Moralities, Boston and London, 
 1914, p. 258. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 FORTUNA IN ROMAN LITERATURE AND THOUGHT 
 
 In Rome, close to the Tiber and on the right as one crosses the 
 Ponte Palatino, stands a plain little Ionic temple, supported 
 apparently with eighteen columns, and well preserved despite the 
 ravages of many centuries. Since it was converted to its present 
 use in 872 A. D., it has been called the Santa Maria Egiziaca. 
 It is usually considered an old temple of the goddess Fortuna, 
 worshipped here especially as the protecting deity of women. 
 Fortuna, who flourished in Rome in great power, often acquired 
 special duties, and in the performance of these received appro- 
 priate cognomina,—Fortuna Virilis, Fortuna Barbata, For- 
 tuna Respiciens, and the like” But the cult of the goddess 
 really embraced all of these. Minor evidence of the worship 
 is found in plenty of images and plaques, and a treasury of coins. 
 We have, in addition, the literary treatment and the inscriptions 
 which mention her. As a deity, she was mother, nurse, provider, 
 guardian, friend, and enemy, to the Roman, and the child of 
 Jupiter himself. 
 
 The cult was strongest at the time of Rome’s greatest vigor, 
 when Rome like a great youth conscious of his physical endow- 
 ments, but possessing too little self-control for the mastery of them, 
 spread its conquests and discoveries over the world, sent ships 
 as far as Britain, and held Greece in thrall. The great question 
 
 1See Roscher, 1510; Wissowa, Real Encyc., 19 ff.; Middleton II, 189-90. Cf. 
 Wissowa, R. K., $40, p. 256; S. B. Platner, The Topography and Monuments of An- 
 cient Rome, Boston, 1911, pp. 399 ff. Some scholars hold that Fors Fortuna was 
 the forerunner of Fortuna. She first received the cognomen, which later broke 
 off and became independent. For this complicated process, see Carter, Religion 
 of Numa, p. 24: “And thus, just as in certain of the lower organisms a group of 
 cells breaks off and sets up an individual organism of its own, so in old Roman 
 religion some phase of a god’s activity, expressed in an adjective, broke off with the 
 adjective from its original stalk and set up for itself, turning its name from the 
 dependent adjective form into the independent abstract noun.” See Wissowa, 
 R. K., §10; Fowler, Relig. Exper., pp. 153 ff. 
 
 2 See R. Peter, Roscher 1511. 
 
 133 
 
134 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 of the day concerning Caesar was, "What conquest brings he 
 home?” With the riches of all countries in the cargo of Italian 
 ships, came new religions by the score. The element of chance 
 would naturally be felt to play a large part in life; and Rome 
 was most susceptible to foreign suggestion, dabbling in new faiths 
 and creeds, and reviving the old for hardly more than idle pleasure. 
 Civilization was necessarily in a state of skepticism and transition. 
 It had too much of the youth’s universal wonder to be held by 
 any well-knit, dogmatic belief. It was the time of the beginning 
 of the Empire; and in this period Fortuna, born long before, really 
 came into her own. 
 
 The goddess had at least twenty-eight different functions and 
 cognomina.’ She was mixed most intimately and oddly with other 
 gods.* The history of Fortuna in Rome had an early beginning 
 in the worship of the mythical Servius Tullius, who built at least 
 two temples in her honor.* At the time of the first Punic War, the 
 consul Lutatius Cerco wanted to get advice from the oracle of the 
 goddess at Praeneste, but Rome forbade.* In 167 B.C. Prusias 
 sacrificed at Praeneste to Fortuna Primigenia for the victory of 
 the Roman people. By the time of the Empire there were at 
 least eighteen temples and shrines to Fortuna in her different 
 functions, and they were scattered all over the city.’ 
 
 The religious condition of the city at the beginning of the 
 Empire has often been treated. For present purposes the follow- 
 ing authoritative statements will suffice. Wissowa says that for 
 educated people the gods of the state religion had weakened to 
 empty shadows;® and Peter, that the Empire inclined to the syn- 
 cretism of the divinities.° Wissowa summarizes the situation thus: 
 «Man wendet sich mit dem Gebete an eine ganz allgemein ver- 
 schwommene, höchst unpersönlich gedachte Gottheit.”"" This 
 
 3 Roscher, 1508 ff. 
 
 4 Roscher, 1530 fi. 
 
 5 Roscher, 1509. Cf. Wissowa, R. K., p. 256. 
 
 $ Roscher, 1516; Wissowa, R. K., p. 260. 
 
 7See Roscher; and for full discussion, Daremberg-Saglio, 2*, 1268 ff. Foran 
 interesting summary of the spread of Fortuna outside of Rome and even of Italy, 
 see Roscher, 1548 ff. Fora restoration of the temple at Palestrina by Canina, see: 
 The Life of the Greeks and Romans by E.Guhl and W. Koner, N.Y., 1876, p.327, fig. 347. 
 
 3 Wissowa, R. K., pp. 834. 
 
 ® Roscher, 1530. 
 
 10 Wissowa, R. K., p. 84. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 135 
 
 is the background, and now let us turn to the locus classicus for 
 the Fortuna of the Empire, Pliny: “Invenit tamen inter has 
 utrasque sententias medium sibi ipsa mortalitas numen, quo minus 
 etiam plana de deo coniectatio esset. toto quippe mundo et omni- 
 bus locis omnibusque horis omnium vocibus Fortuna sola invocatur 
 ac nominatur, una accusatur, rea una agitur, una cogitatur, sola 
 laudatur, sola arguitur et cum conviciis colitur, volubilis . . . que, 
 a plerisque vero et caeca existimata, vaga, inconstans, incerta, 
 varia, indignorumque fautrix. huic omnia expensa, huic feruntur 
 accepta, et in tota ratione mortalium sola utramque paginam 
 facit, adeoque obnoxiae sumus sortis, ut prorsus ipsa pro deo sit 
 qua deus probatur incertus.””" 
 
 She was, then, a deity that absorbed all the others. Later 
 in studying the cults we shall see that she was the goddess of the 
 state as well as of the individual; the goddess of the lower classes 
 as well as of the higher; the goddess of women, and of the young 
 men too. ‘The various classes of the population venerated their 
 own goddess of Fortune.’ There was the Fortuna of the differ- 
 ent great families: Fortuna Flavia, Fortuna Juvenia, Fortuna 
 Torquatiana, etc. And there was the Fortune of the particular 
 individual: Fortuna Augusta; the Fortuna of Pompey; the 
 Fortuna of Sejanus. “All these Fortunes are quite individual 
 Schitzgöttinnen, and fundamentally not different from the 
 Tutela.””* Here indeed is a personal goddess.* This, whatever 
 
 Pliny, N. H., 2, 22. ‘Among these discordant opinions mankind have 
 discovered for themselves a kind of intermediate deity, by which our skepticism 
 concerning God is still increased. For all over the world, in all places, and at all 
 times, Fortune is the only god whom everyone invokes; she alone is spoken of, she 
 alone is accused and is supposed to be guilty; she alone is in our thoughts; is praised 
 and blamed and loaded with reproaches; wavering as she is, conceived by the gen- 
 erality of mankind to be blind, wandering, inconstant, uncertain, variable, and 
 often favouring the unworthy. To her are referred all our losses and all our gains, 
 and in casting up the accounts of mortals she alone balances the two pages of our 
 sheet. We are so much in the power of chance, that change itself is considered as a 
 God and the existence of God becomes doubtful.” Trans. J. Bostock, and H. T. 
 Riley, Bohn ed. 
 
 1? Peter, Roscher, 1520. Cf. Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 34. 
 
 13 Roscher, 1522. Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 34: ‘‘Einzelne Personen verehren 
 ihre eigene Fortuna, ganz åhnlich wie den Genius.” 
 
 4] differ here, obviously, from Axtell, Who has studied the deification of 
 abstractions in Rome. See Appendix A to this chapter. 
 
 — 
 
136 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 preceded, is the state of things at the beginning of the 
 Empire. 
 
 As to the cult that developed during this flourishing period of 
 the deity, it included one of those strange, almost automatic 
 phenomena that spring up when religious development seems to 
 be taken out of the hands of man. The cult of Fortuna-Panthea 
 looks almost like an organism in itself. Fortuna appears, her own 
 qualities strongly enough marked to identify her, and also provided 
 with attributes from many other deities.1° One portrayal (on a 
 lamp) shows her as a winged deity with a long tunic, her head 
 covered with a helmet. She holds a cornucopi in her left hand, 
 and with her right offers.a bowl to a serpent near an altar at her 
 
 feet. Around these figures, are arranged: the eagle of Jove; tl eagle of Jove; the 
 
 dolphin o of Neptune; the club of Hercules; the sistrum of Isis; the 
 
 lyre of Apollo; the tongs of Vulcan; the caduceus of Mercury; 
 
 and many more symbol” 
 
 Fortuna has simply taken over the symbols of these gods as 
 she has taken over their functions.!® This latter point we shall 
 see in studying the divisions of the cult. The explanation which 
 Jahn gives is as follows: "Bei der Håufung und Vermischung der 
 verschiedenartigen Culte entstand ein leicht erklårliches Bediirf- 
 nis, die Kråfte der verschiedenen Gottheiten auf einen Punkt zu 
 concentrieren.’!9 Why was this particular point chosen for con- 
 centration? Fortuna must have been not only suitable, but also 
 popular and full of vitality. Axtell sees this from a slightly 
 different point of view: ‘‘We may also see the lack of strong in- - 
 dividuality in the use of abstracts as cognomina of other gods, for 
 in proportion as they become mere qualities transparent in their 
 
 15 A note as to the treatment in art: Peter (Roscher, 1503ff.) says: “Haupt- 
 såchlich aber sind aus der Kaiserzeit eine uniibersehbare Menge von Fortunen 
 bildern, welche die Göttin in der angegebenen Weise darstellen, in Marmorstatuen, 
 Bronzen, auf Minzen, geschnittenen Steinen, Wandgemålden und sonstigen Bild- 
 werken erhalten.” 
 
 16 See Roscher, 1534 ff. 
 
 17See description of Minervini: Bulletino archeologico napolitano, nuov. 
 ser., 3, 1855, taf. 7, n. 1; p. 182. See for a seal of F. Panthea, H. Jordan, Sym- 
 bolae ad histor. relig. Italic., 1883, p. 13, which includes Venus, Cupid, Minerva, 
 Harpocrates. 
 
 18 Roscher, 1536, "Der Sinn dieser Bilder ist offenbar, dass die Gliicksgöttin | 
 die Macht aller Götter in sich vereinigt.” 
 
 19 Jahn, 50. 
 
- A 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 137 
 
 name they lose their identity and are attached to other more 
 clearly recognized deities to whom their qualities are suited.’’° 
 This is to the advantage of Fortuna certainly. She was not a 
 power with a single function, but a_general ruler; and to this For- 
 tuna Panthea, (under the name of m7årrwv Tuxn) Trajan built a 
 Temple.” 
 
 Such, then, was the goddess to whom much devotion was 
 offered throughout the time of Rome’s greatest strength. To her 
 the victor offered his sacrifice in gratitude for the victory. The 
 poet sang her praises. The greatest emperors reared temples in 
 her honor. And her appeal had in its scope not only the youth 
 in the hope of full manhood, the maid desiring a husband, the 
 husbandman praying for plentiful crops, the sailor waiting for a fair 
 wind or invoking safe guidance into port, but also the devotees of 
 Hercules, Isis, Apollo, Mercury, and many others. We may be 
 sure that she was not merely a “fabulous” or “‘civil’” deity;” but 
 that the good Roman at home, in lieu of our orthodox rapping on 
 wood, found it advisable to scatter a little incense at her shrine 
 before a venture. 
 
 L 
 
 We may now reasonably inquire who was this goddess? where 
 did she come from? was her ancestry respectable, and who were her 
 forebears? how did she get power enough to gain so firm a hold on 
 the religious life of the city? 
 
 First, note that she is not one of the di indigetes. Although 
 this is true, she resembles them at least in one respect,—in that 
 she does not possess a legendary or poetic biography like that of the 
 Greek deities who flourish in Ovid. The Roman poets do not 
 seem to create their gods or develop those already created, but 
 rather to reflect them as they are already imagined in the thought 
 of the time. 
 
 The vigor of the growth of Fortuna, however, is more remark- 
 able than that of the di indigetes. They were all deities of special- 
 
 20 Axtell, pp. 94 ff. 
 21 Roscher, 1536 (who refers to Lyd. de mens. 4, 7; and Preller, R. M. 3 2, 188); 
 and see Gaidoz, 59 ff. 
 
 2 Cf. St. Augustine on the discussion in Varro, De Civ. Dei., vii, 3 (Migne, 
 Pat. Lat., St. Aug. XLI, 196). ; 
 
138 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 ized activity, concerned with the practical affairs of Roman life, 
 such as the hearth, the doorway, the cupboard, and the plow; 
 Fortuna, on the other hand, is a goddess born from an abstraction 
 concerned with no particular function of daily life. This fact is 
 the more striking if, as some believe, early Roman thought was not 
 inclined to generalizations of this kind;” and especially when we 
 consider that Greek conceptions were not borrowed until the Sec- 
 ond Punic War.** The question arises, what force or what need 
 brought Fortuna into being in Rome between the time of the 
 early religion and the time of Greek influence? 
 
 The problem of the birth of Fortuna falls really into two parts: 
 (1) the origin of Fortuna as the Romans regarded her in general; 
 (2) the origin of Fortuna, the goddess of pure chance. We shall 
 see later that she had assumed the second form at the beginning 
 of the Empire. Now we must consider how this came about; 
 whether she was always the goddess of chance; and if not, what 
 she was before. 
 
 The question of what Fortuna was in her earliest form, I cannot 
 
 discuss in much detail here, except to remark that various types of 
 evidence point to her origin as a moon- )n-goddess; a_sun-goddess; 
 a close relative of Isis; a transformation of the Etruscan-Nortia; 
 a goddess of horticulture; of women; of childbirth; a protecting 
 and cherishing goddess. Any or several of these conceptions may 
 have stood behind the term in the early days.” Etymology leaves 
 
 us with the idea that originally Fortune merely bestowed,— 
 
 23 Axtell, Wissowa, Fowler, all seem to disbelieve in any great use of abstrac- 
 tions in early Roman religion. See Wissowa, R. K., p. 23; Mommsen, vol. I, p. 211. 
 Axtell, p. 62, says that he is inclined to take a middle ground; but in his summary 
 he allows few of the later abstractionsany personality. See Fowler, Relig. Exper., 
 p. 154; cf. Carter, Relig. of Numa, p. 24. 
 
 24 Wissowa, R. K., pp. 47 ff. Cf. Aust, p. 54: before the time of the Second 
 Punic War, "Die Natiirlichen Vorstellungsgebilde des geistig tiefstehenden Mensch- 
 en, der nicht blos die einzelnen Erscheinungen und Thåtigkeiten, sondern auch 
 ihre einzelnen Teile in die göttliche Sphire erhebt, sind wahrscheinlich schon durch 
 die Sakrale Gesetzegebung des Numa in die Staatsreligion iibergangen, haben 
 aber in den ersten Jahrhunderten der Republic durch die Pontifices eine kiinstliche 
 Erweiterung erfahren.” Cf. Fowler, Relig. Exper., pp. 229 ff. 
 
 % For fuller discussion see Appendix C to this chapter. 
 
| 
 
 3 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 139 
 
 bestowed anything.* Whether she bestowed idly or capriciously, 
 or with a clearly marked scheme, is a later question.” 
 
 But what brought about the introduction of the idea of 
 chance and fickleness into Roman thought? Two answers seem 
 
 possible. One is that Fortuna is borrowed from a foreign religion. 
 Rome borrowed many gods, merely because the more favorable 
 gods a nation has, the safer, of course, is its position. Fowler 
 tells us that "The temple foundations of this period . . . show 
 that there was å certain tendency to bring in deities from outside, 
 not so much because they represented some special need of the 
 Romans, corn or art or industry, as two centuries earlier, but 
 simply because they were deities of the conquered whom it might 
 be prudent to adopt.””* The difficulty with this explanation is 
 that while it might fully account for the case of many a half- 
 hearted adoption of god or goddess, it does not explain the re- 
 markable hospitality with which the Romans received and 
 cherished Fortuna. The Roman temperament must have been 
 fitted to receive her; the house must have been more or less ready 
 before the guest came. 
 
 Carter hardly overcomes this difficulty when he suggests, plaus- 
 ibly enough, that the early Fortuna was “Goddess of plenty and 
 fertility, among mankind as a protectress of women and of child- 
 birth,” and that Greek influence made the concept of luck prevail. 
 It is his opinion that the old goddess was Fors, with fortuna added 
 as a cognomen which broke off and became independent. But 
 
 % *Bhar; “she who brings,” after the word became feminine. Corssen, Krit. 
 Beitr. zur lat. Formenlehre, 1863, 194; Curtius, Griech. Etym., 1879, 299 å. See 
 for a study of the cognomina (which seem to reveal little) Carter, Amer. Philol. 
 Assoc. trans., 1900, XX XT, pp. 60 ff.; De Deor. Rom. pp. 29 få. 
 
 27 Corssen naturally cannot touch on the question of implied fate or implied 
 chance and haphazard luck. Axtell conjectures (p. 9) “most probably she [F-] 
 was a beneficent power of good luck in the earliest stage.” Cf. Wissowa, Real- 
 Encyc., 12. Corssen, 194 ff., says: “So steht jedenfalls so viel fest, dass 
 fors und fortuna niemals ,Freude‘ oder ,Gliick*, sondern immer nur ,Zufall' be- 
 deutet haben, ,Gluckszufall' wie ,Ungliickszufall’.” 
 
 28 Relig. Exper., p. 284. Cf. Aust, 55, who says that in a siege the Romans 
 prayed the tutelary gods of foreign cities to leave those cities and come to Rome. 
 
 2° Relig. of Numa, p. 51. 
 
140 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 here again, the Romans must have been temperamentally ready 
 for such a development, external influence effecting it or not.3 
 
 We need not be particularly concerned here with determining 
 when this change came about, but we must note that it certainly 
 occurred before the Empire. It seems fair to believe that the new 
 conception had its source quite as much in the change of the 
 Roman temper, when it gathered together its new powers, as in 
 any influx of Greek philosophy. Aust held, "Dass unter den 
 zahllosen, durch Weihinschriften bekannten Beinamen eines 
 Juppiter, Mars, Hercules, einer Juno, Diana, Fortuna zumeist 
 orientalische und barbarische Lokal- und Landesgötter sich ver- 
 bergen.” We might supplement this by saying that under the 
 numerous foreign gods which came to Rome, are hidden certain 
 di indigetes of which we know nothing, or certain early Roman 
 conceptions not quite apotheosized. It is often forgotten, when 
 scholars observe that the early Christian Church borrowed much 
 that is Oriental in symbolism and in sacrament, that these bor- 
 rowings are only a necessary response to an inherently Christian 
 need, and to a desire not at all Oriental. 
 
 The explanation that I am offering here would require simply 
 that Fortuna found a place in Rome because the Romans already 
 had an idea equivalent to this personification, or in some measure 
 related. The Greek Tvxn can tell us nothing except as an interest- 
 ing parallel development; Rome had to create its own goddess of 
 chance, and it had to accomplish this process by altering its con- 
 ception of the bestowing force. A man’s attitude toward the 
 bestowing force depends on the kind of life he is living. The life 
 that causes a strong belief in the element of chance may be of 
 two kinds:—A man may feel himself too weak to cope with the 
 external powers, and may consequently believe that he is in the 
 control of an outer destiny. On the other hand, he may be so 
 physically vigorous that he launches forth boldly into the unknown, 
 and then the vast unconquerable spaces of that region impress 
 themselves upon him. Under these circumstances, again, he 
 feels himself at the mercy of the outer forces. He is less inclined 
 
 30 Note that, according to Carter, Tixn in Greece originally fulfilled the will of 
 Zeus: Relig. of Numa, p. 50. It was a later development that brought in the idea — 
 of chance. å 
 
 9 Aust, p. 105. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 141 
 
 to trust his own wits, or to believe in free-will; he is more likely to 
 speak of chance. The latter we can conjecture would be the 
 Roman attitude toward "the bestower” during Rome’s changes of 
 philosophy, during its great expeditions into the unknown, and 
 during its fluctuation of creed and life. This attitude would 
 determine the meaning of the word "Fortuna” and give birth to 
 our goddess of Fortune. 
 
 This speculation gives at least a reasonable answer to the 
 question of sex. Even if the old Roman religion did not conceive 
 of their gods in couples, as some scholars have maintained,” 
 a conception of a feminine “‘bestower” might arise from the early 
 conceptions covered by the term, because every one of these 
 naturally implied the creative power, the idea of femininity.” 
 The fundamental idea of Fortuna” is the bestower;*! the conno- 
 tation is that of the creative goddess. May we not suspect also 
 that other feminine qualities were present in the idea at a fairly 
 early period? At least it was easy to include such qualities 
 as mobility, inconstancy, capriciousness; in fact, this was the 
 next step for the Roman to take, no matter what happened in 
 Greek thought. 
 
 y på 
 
 Thus far we have considered the conflict of theories about the 
 birth and development of Fortuna. That she was the goddess of 
 chance at the time of the early Empire, all the authorities happily 
 agree. "Fortuna, as her name implies,” says Peter, “is the 
 - goddess of.chance . . . She implies also a divinity of fate. But 
 
 3 Cf., however, Wissowa, R. K., 22 ff.; Fowler, Relig. Exper., 148 fi. 
 
 % See the separate goddesses representing these conceptions: Luna, Flora, 
 Pomona, Ceres, Lucina, etc. The only difficulty is with the sun-god who in 
 southern climes is nearly always masculine. In northern countries we have die 
 Sonne. Gaidoz has trouble with this problem, but finds an original explanation to 
 satisfy him (p. 57). I do not attempt to solve this; one can suggest the influence 
 of the northern Nortia here, or the fact that the majority of the number are femi- 
 nine. At any rate the strongest part of theideais the creative, das Ewig-W eibliche. 
 Fowler’s note (p. 154) that “abstract qualities . . . are usually feminine in 
 Latin” seems to me to solve nothing. For the creative in Fortuna see the later 
 cults: Fortuna Virilis, F. Muliebris, F. of Antium (with right breast exposed). 
 See appendix C to this chapter. 
 
 4 Cf. Introduction to the History of Religions, C. H. Toy, Boston, 1913, $702, 
 “The mass of evidence determining life by the will of the gods.” This is the pure 
 abstraction,—our fortune.” 
 
142 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 while Fate is the personification of the inflexible and unchanging 
 destiny, Fortune is a divine creature, ‘who now with a favorable, 
 now with an unfavorable disposition, appears as the'source of all 
 the unexpected and unaccountable.’’’* The statement of Otto 
 is as follows: "Als Göttin vertritt Fortuna urspriinglich keines- 
 wegs den reinen Zufall, ebensowenig, wie T'xn”; but he adds that 
 later times believed principally in blind chance in opposition to 
 divine providence.* Hild puts it in about the same way: For- 
 tune is the "personification of the-capricious and changeable 
 influence, sometimes gloomy, sometimes favorable, which is seen 
 in the life of individuals and of nations, and which without the 
 appearance of any ruley-whether of logic or moralit S 
 success or inflicts its opposite. She is distinguished from Fate in 
 that Fate is the expression of a law which reason admits without 
 always explaining it; Tyché-Fortuna represents above all the 
 derogations from that law, the unforeseen in human existence— 
 full of incoherence and even of injustice—which can defy all 
 reason and repel the moral sense.””37 
 Let us now turn our study to the literary treatment. In 
 this field what seems to be the attitude toward the goddess of 
 fortune? What is the relation of Fortune to Jupiter? to the 
 Fates? 
 Before entering into this question, it will be well to remember 
 I that, as I have said above, many scholars believe that Fortuna 
 originally stood for a goddess of fate.** There are many inscrip- 
 
 35 Roscher, 1503 ff., quoting Preller, Rom. Myth. II.,p.179. Preller’s full state- 
 ment is as follows: ‘‘Schicksal und Gliick sind eigentlich verschiedene Begriffe; 
 auch deutet Manches darauf, dass man sich in Italien dieses Unterschiedes wohl 
 bewusst war. Dennoch musste fiir gewöhnliche die Anbetung der Fors oder 
 Fortuna sowohl dem einen als dem andern Bediirfnisse des menschlichen Gemiithes 
 entsprechen, ausser und neben den eigentlichen Cultusgöttern eine dåmonische 
 Macht von unbestimmter, ja unendlicher Tragweite zu verehren,” etc. 
 
 % Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 13. Cf. Wissowa, R. K., p. 261. Cf. Fowler, 
 Roman Ideas of Deity, pp. 61 ff., especially pp. 78, 80; Relig. Exper., p. 245, n. 30° 
 
 37 Dar.-Saglio, 2?, 1264; Cf. Hartung, p. 233; Carter, Relig. of Numa, pp. 
 50-51; in relation to the study of 7ixn, see Cumont, p. 179. For discuss. of Fatum 
 see Roscher, 1446 ff.; Wissowa, Real Encyc. XII, 2047. Cf. an old statement by 
 Gaidoz, “La Fortune devient alors la divinité de la Destinée par excellence,” 
 and the discussion of St. Augustine, Gaidoz, pp. 56, 58 (1886). 
 
 38 See Otto, quotedabove. See Roscher on the cult of Praeneste, 1541; Canter, 
 pp. 64 ff. Cf. W. W. Fowler, Relig. Exper., p. 245, n. 30. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 143 
 
 tions to prove that she was accepted as the first-born of Jupiter®® 
 and in another legend she suckles him. She was included in a 
 group with Jupiter and Juno;' and in many ways she showed 
 herself not at all independent, or self-sufficient, but clearly asso- 
 ciated with another and sometimes greater ruling power. 
 
 Let us begin a little before the time of the Empire: 
 
 I. Sallust (Cat. 8): 
 
 Sed profecto Fortuna in omni re dominatur; ea res cunctas 
 ex lubidine magis quam ex vero celebrat obscuratque." 
 II. Cicero (de Nat. Deor. iii, 61): 
 
 Quo in genere vel maxime est fortuna numeranda, quam nemo 
 ab inconstantia et temeritate sejunget, quae digna certe non sunt 
 deo.” 
 
 (De Divin. ii, 7) 
 
 Nihil enim est tam contrarium rationi et constantiae, quam 
 fortuna, ut mihi ne in deum quidem cadere videatur, ut sciat, 
 quid casu et fortuito futurum sit.* 
 
 III. Horace (Carm. III, XXIX, 49): 
 
 Fortuna saevo laeta negotio, et 
 
 ludum insolentem ludere pertinax 
 transmutat incertos honores, 
 nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna.* 
 
 IV.. Ovid has an abundance of references to Fortuna.” Of these 
 PS 
 
 the following are the best known and most often quoted in the 
 
 Middle Ages: 
 
 39 Note the cult of Fortuna Primigenia. See Roscher, pp. 1541 ff.; Wissowa, 
 R. K., pp. 259 fi. 
 
 40 Roscher, 1543 ff. 
 
 41 “But assuredly F. holdeth sway in every affair; she giveth fame or oblivion 
 to all things more at her whim than according to their true desert.” 
 
 42 “Of this kind I may particularly mention F., which is allowed to be ever 
 inseparable from inconstancy and temerity, which are certainly qualities unworthy 
 of a divine being.” Trans. C. D. Yonge, Bohn ed. 
 
 43 For nothing is so opposite to regularity and reason as this same F., so, 
 that it seems to me that God himself cannot foreknow absolutely those things 
 which are to happen by chance and fortune.” Trans. Yonge. 
 
 44 “F who joys in her cruel business, nor ever tires of her tyrannous sport, v 
 shifts from one to another her fickle honours, now bounteous to me, now to some 
 one else.” Trans. Wickham. 
 
 45 Perhaps Ovid’s philosophy was revealed in the lines (Ex Ponto, III, 49-50): 
 
 Ludit in humanis divina potentia rebus, 
 Et certam praesens vix habet hora fidem. 
 
144 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 (Tristia, V, Eleg. VIII, 15-18) 
 
 Passibus ambiguis Fortuna volubilis errat 
 et manet in nullo certa tenaxque loco: 
 
 sed modo laeta venit; vultus modo sumit acerbos; 
 et tantum constans in levitate sua est.* 
 
 (Ex Ponto, Lib. IV, Ep. III, 29-36) 
 Quid facis, ah demens? cur si Fortuna recedat, 
 naufragio lacrimas eripis ipse tuo? 
 haec dea non stabili, quam sit levis, orbe fatetur, 
 quem summum dubio sub pede semper habet. 
 quolibet est folio, quavis incertior aura: 
 par illi levitas, improbe, sola tua est 
 omnia sunt hominum tenui pendentia filo.‘7 
 
 V. Seneca (Phaedrus, 978 ff.): 
 
 (Chorus) Res humanas ordine nullo 
 Fortuna regit spargitque manu 
 munera caeca, peiora fovens; 
 vincit sanctos dira libido, 
 fraus sublimi regnat in aula.** 
 
 These passages serve-to show thatthe literary Fortuna was 
 _a goddess of pure caprice. In Art, too, she seems to show little 
 
 stability or constancy. Her common symbolic attributes in 
 Roman Art were: (1) the horn of plenty; (2) the rudder; and (3) 
 
 46 “Fleeting F. wanders with doubting steps, and remains in no one place for 
 certain, and to be relied upon. At one moment, she abides in a place full of joy; 
 at another, she assumes an austere countenance; and only in her very fickleness is 
 she constant.” Trans. H. T. Riley. 
 
 47 What art thou doing, madman? Why art thou withdrawing tears from 
 thy own wreck, supposing that Fortune should abandon thee? That Goddess con- 
 fesses how changeable she is on her unsteady wheel, which she ever keeps on its 
 edge, under her wavering foot; she is more fleeting than a leaf or than any breeze. 
 Thy fickleness, thou faithless one, is alone equal to her. All that belongs to man 
 is pendent from a single thread.” Ibid. | 
 
 48 “Chance without order does command 
 Th’ affairs of men; and with blind hand 
 Her ill-placed bounties does dispence, 
 Whilst lust triumphs o’er Innocence. 
 Fraud does in courts of princes reign.” 
 
 Trans. Sir E. Sherburne. 
 
å 
 v 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 145 
 
 the ball or the wheel.* Other less important symbols are: (1) 
 
 the measure of fruit; (2) ears of corn; (3) prow of a ship; (4) wings; 
 and (5) the libation bowl.** There is symbolic significance in her 
 position—standing or sitting. ‘The sitting Fortuna is evidently 
 not so mobile, so transitory, so fleeting a creature, but is con- 
 sidered as a Fortune who has paused for a longer stay.”*! 
 
 On the symbols I have mentioned, there is this comment to be 
 made. Each is a symbol of some quality. Not like the owl of 
 Minerva, the symbol of place (z. e. the Parthenon); but like the 
 wings on the feet of Mercury, or the caduceus, the symbol of some 
 characteristic which identifies the divinity. The rudder sym- 
 bolizes the guide of life; the ball, the wings, the standing position, 
 are symbolic of the transitoriness of fortune. 
 
 I dwell thus long on the evidence that Fortuna was considered 
 arbitrary and whimsical, because there are instances where she is 
 mixed up with the Fates or identified with them, and where it is 
 implied that her work is of the same character as theirs. I wish 
 to indicate that during the Empire this confusion means merely 
 that the Fates had in general become haphazard; that the element 
 of chance was thrust in everywhere. Destiny's plan seemed not 
 so enduring as heretofore. This same confusion occurs in the 
 Middle Ages, and there we must study the Medieval point of 
 view which is to make either the Fates capricious or Fortuna 
 constant. 
 
 In Rome, a typical example of the confusion is the following: 
 Juvenal (7, 194 ff.): 
 
 ha Distat enimquae 
 sidera te excipiant modo primos incipientem 
 edere vagitus et adhuc a matre rubentem. 
 si Fortuna volet, fies de rhetore consul; 
 si volet haec eadem, fiet de consule rhetor. 
 
 48 Roscher, 1505: “Diese drei Attribute sind so ausschliesslich zu Symbolen 
 der Gliicksgéttin geworden, dass sie fiir sich allein die stelle des Bildes der Göttin 
 vertreten.” The wheel is reserved for discussion in another paper, but see Kirby 
 F. Smith, Tibullus, N. Y., 1913, p. 306, n. 70; Canter, p. 77. 
 
 50 See for the list, Roscher 1504 ff. Besides these, of course, are the many 
 attributes of Isis-Fortuna and Fortuna-Panthea, Roscher 1530, 1534; 1549 ff. 
 
 51 Roscher, 1505, where Peter compares the significance in the attitudes of 
 Vulcan. - 
 
146 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Ventidius quid enim? quid Tullius? anne aliud quam 
 sidus et occulti miranda potentia fati? 
 servis regna dabunt, captivis fata triumphum.* 
 
 Here the fates calmly take over the function of Fortuna, and it is 
 clear that Juvenal attributes no preconceived and eternal plan 
 to their universe.” 
 
 Roman philosophy distinguished, however, between fortune 
 and fate. That it did so is not an indication, necessarily, that the 
 popular mind did the same; but the distinction will serve as a 
 basis for our analysis: 
 
 I. Cicero (de Fato, iii): 
 
 Quaero igitur, (atque hoc late patebit) si fati omnino nullum 
 nomen, nulla natura, nulla vis esset; et forte, temere, casu, aut 
 pleraque fierent, aut omnia; num aliter, an nunc eveniunt, evenir- 
 ent? Quid ergo attinet inculcare fatum, cum sine fato ratio omni- 
 um rerum ad naturam fortunamve referatur?* 
 
 Here, without the intention of distinction, is a clear contrast 
 between fate and fortune on the ground that the latter is the ruler 
 of chance” I shall add Plutarch, who, although he wrote in 
 
 52 “Tt makes a difference what stars receive thee when thou beginnest thy 
 first wailings, when thou art still rosy from thy mother. If Fortuna wills, from a 
 rhetorician thou shalt become a consul; by the same token if she wills, the consul 
 will become a rhetorician. What of the case of Ventidius? what of Tullius? any- 
 thing there but the stars, the wondrous power of secret destiny?—The fates will 
 give kingdoms to slaves, to captive men the triumphal procession.” 
 
 58 There is a nice problem in the interpretation of the Horatian line: 
 Te semper antit serva Necessitas, 
 (Carm., I, XXXV). In my opinion it should be studied in connection with Dante's 
 similar passage (Inf. VII, 89): 
 Necessita la fa esser veloce. 
 
 Cf. D’Alton, pp. 112, 228. In Virgil, on the other hand, Fortune seems to become 
 steadied in a reminiscence of her older meaning, and Fate is dominant. Cf. 
 Aeneid V, 11. 709; 11. 604. See Fowler, Roman Ideas of Deity, p. 77. 
 
 5 “T ask then—and this principle is capable of extensive application—if there 
 were absolutely no such name, no such nature, and no such influence as that of 
 Fate, and if, as a general rule, the majority of events or every event, happened 
 at random and by chance, would they happen otherwise than they do? Why 
 then should we always resort to Fate, when without any such principle the cause 
 of every event may be fairly referred to nature, or to Fortune?” Trans. Yonge. 
 
 55 And cf. Pliny, p. 135 above. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 147 
 
 Greek and introduces the influence of Aristotle, represents phases 
 of the thought of Roman civilization under the Empire: 
 
 (De Fato 7): 
 
 To pevror [aitiov] kata suuBeBnkos, Gray un uovor év Tots Evekå Tov 
 ylyvnrat, adda Kai év ois % mpoalpeots, TOTE 67) Kal TO ATO TUXNS TPOT- 
 aryopever a.*® 
 
 (De Fat. 5): 
 
 Mova 6” eiuappéva kal Kad’ eiuapuevnv Ta aKodovOa Tots &y TH Oeig 
 bvataker mponynoapevors.*” 
 
 (De Fat. 7): 
 
 Avo kal 70 uév avrouarov kowor euprxwy Te Kal åVixur 7 de TUX 
 avOpwmou Löwov 4ön mparre Suvayevov.?® 
 
 In this distinction between Fortune, Fate, and chance, we have 
 a new problem introduced, the question of free-will. I shall 
 touch on that problem elsewhere. For the present, it suffices to 
 show that the Fates have a predetermined plan and Fortune is 
 purely capricious.*°® The capricious goddess, then, is what we 
 shall mean by the “pagan Fortuna.” She is in control of the 
 universe, but she is quite arbitrary about it. 
 
 In this study of the meaning and philosophy of Fortune, the 
 question arises what is the remedy for such a controlling force in 
 the universe? One must necessarily suffer from a turn of the tide. 
 What can we do about it? The good pagan could only answer: 
 “Bear it; wait for still another reversal.” This, carried a little 
 further, became the advice to oppose your strength to that of 
 
 56 Now the cause by accident,when it is found in a thing which not merely is 
 done for some end but has in it free will and election, is then called Fortune.” 
 Trans. “A. G.”; ed. Goodwin. Plutarch’s Morals. This is Aristotelian. The 
 influence of Aristotelian philosophy on Medieval discussions of Fortuna will be 
 treated in another paper. 
 
 57 “Tn like manner, those things only are fatal and according to Fate, which are 
 the consequences of causes preceding in the divine disposition.” Ibid. 
 
 58 “Wherefore chance is common to things inanimate, as well as to those 
 which are animated; whereas Fortune is proper to man only, who has his actions 
 voluntary.” bid. 
 
 59 One can parallel the methods of divination with this. Astrology and the 
 predictions of soothsayers are ways of getting in touch with the great scheme of 
 the universe, methods of discovering the plan; lots, geomancy, fortune-telling in 
 general, aim to fit haphazard media to a haphazard order. See Pliny, N. H., 2, 
 23, “Pars alia et hanc pellit astroque,” etc. 
 
148 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Fortuna; to defy her. The philosopher then stepped in, and 
 added that it was easy to defy her because Fortune had no power 
 over the mind. And he went even further; he said that Fortune 
 controlled only worldly affairs, that virtue was truly free. 
 
 (1) Of the first kind of remedy, which opposes patience to 
 Fortuna, we have plenty of examples. I shall call it the remedy 
 of fortitude: 
 
 Virgil (Aen. V, 710): 
 Quidquid erit; superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est. 
 Ovid (Metam. VI, 195): 
 Major sum, quam cui possit fortuna nocere. 
 Seneca (Medea, 159): 
 Fortuna fortes metuit, ignavos premit.™ 
 With this idea another is naturally harmonious, that Fortune is in 
 the power of the courageous; and so the theme develops "Fortune 
 aids the bold”: 
 
 Terence (Phormio I, 4, 26): 
 Fortis Fortuna adjuvat. 
 
 Virgil (Aen. X, 284): 
 Audentes fortuna juvat. 
 
 Livy (Histor. VIII, 29): 
 Eventus docuit fortes fortunam juvare.® 
 
 (2) The method of opposing the intellect to the disorder of 
 Fortuna, which we may call the remedy of prudence, is found in 
 the sneers of the philosophers at the belief in her.” See, for 
 example, Plutarch’s discussion: 
 
 Ei yap tatra yiyverar 51a TUXNP, TL KwAVEL Kal Tas yahGs kal ToVS 
 Tpayous kal Tos mLOnKovs cuvexecOar havat dia TUXNY Tals ALXVELaLs kal 
 
 60 See also Ovid, Ex Pont. II, ITI, 11.51; Ennius (Mueller), Annales 257; with the 
 opposition of animus to F.: Seneca, Epistola XCVIII, 7 and 2; ad Polyb. Consol. 
 XXIII ff.; de Prov. VI, 5; Medea, 1. 176. Acase where F. wins the struggle is found 
 in Virgil, Aeneid, V, 22. 
 
 61 See also Claudian, Ep. III, 9; Cf. Ovid (Metam. X, 586) with the familiar 
 “Audentes deus ipse juvat.” It is, of course, akin to the proverb “God helps 
 those who help themselves.” 
 
 62 See Pliny, p. 135 above. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 149 
 
 Tats åkpasiars kal Tats Bwyodoxias;* and again: or. yap roVToLs Bpaxeta 
 Tis TapeuTi7TEL TUXN, Ta de TWAELoTA Kal uéylsra TOY Epywr al reXvar 
 øvrreXodar år” aitay,™ etc. 
 
 These passages obviously limit the field of Fortuna’s operation. 
 In the second it is implied that man has certain qualities not 
 under the control of the goddess. Such limitation is accomplished 
 by the speculation of the philosopher; and by his very attitude 
 reason is opposed to the whims of chance. The philosopher thus 
 puts certain things out of Fortuna’s control. 
 
 So Juvenal (Satira X, 363): 
 
 Monstro quod ipse tibi possis dare, semita certe 
 tranquillae per virtutem patet unica vitae. 
 Nullum numen habes si sit prudentia, nos te, 
 nos facimus, Fortuna, deam caeloque locamus.’’® 
 
 (3) This passage implies what the next step was to be. The 
 philosopher proceeded to state clearly just what things were out 
 of the control of Fortuna; and her cults reveal that the things 
 within her control were conceived chiefly as external (not moral) 
 gifts. In the golden age, which was likely to foster materialistic 
 desires, the men went on voyages to gain wealth, and the dominat- 
 ing interest of the time was luxury. It does not appear that 
 anyone went to Fortuna for spiritual advancement. She was 
 Not the goddess of the soul, but of worldly interests. alone. For 
 evidence of-this characteristic, recall merely the frequent repetition 
 of the great Fortuna theme: 
 
 “And if such things as these can come by Fortune, what hinders but that we 
 may as well plead that cats, goats, and monkeys are constrained by Fortune to be 
 Tavenous, lustful, and ridiculous?” Trans. Baxter, Goodwin ed., Plutarch, de 
 Fortuna (1), Frgt. 2, Chaeremon. 
 
 & “For that there falls in but little of Fortune to an expert artist, whether 
 founder or builder, but that the most and greatest part of their workmanship is 
 performed by mere art,” etc. Ibid., Plutarch, de Fortuna (4), Frgt. 2, Chaeremon. 
 
 = “What I show 
 Thyself may freely on thyself bestow; 
 ‘Fortune was never worship’d by the wise 
 Bit, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies,” 
 Dryden. 
 
150 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Mortalem summum fortuna repente 
 reddidit e summo regno ut famul infimus esset.% 
 
 She dispenses worldly honors. Those who would escape from her 
 control can do so merely by cultivating an interest in virtue. 
 This I shall call the spiritual remedy against Fortune. Take, for 
 instance, the discussion in Seneca: 
 (de Constantia Sapientio, V, 2) 
 Nihil eripit fortuna, nisi quod dedit: virtutem autem non dat. 
 (Ep. LXXIV, 1) 
 
 “Unum Bonum esse, quod Honestum est.” Nam, qui alia 
 bona judicat, in fortunae venit potestatem, alieni arbitrii fit.* 
 The man who does not seek virtue, then, exposes himself to the 
 power of fortune and has no just cause for complaint. 
 
 Such are the three great remedies of Roman thought for the 
 adversities of Fortune: the remedy of fortitude, that of prudence, 
 and, finally, that of spiritual devotion. For the development of 
 these remedies Stoicism was probablyresponsible. They correspond 
 to the virtues of power, wisdom, and religious idealism: those 
 respectively of the body, the mind, and the soul. We may observe 
 that the more complete they are, the nearer they approach 
 an annihilation of the goddess.®* If she were really conceived of 
 as a ruler of the universe, it would be vain to oppose her with any 
 means, certainly with that of ordinary endurance. If it is possible 
 to overcome her with intellectual powers, the fact implies another 
 god in the universe who has a sense of order, to which your reason 
 may find clues. Finally, if we hold that by seeking virtue and 
 neglecting the interests of Fortuna we may escape from her 
 control, we are really presupposing a spiritual universe subject to 
 an altogether different deity. 
 
 6 Ennius, Anmal. ll. 312. ‘The most exalted of mortals, F. hath on a sudden 
 brought from supreme power to be the most abject of slaves.” Cf. Sallust (Cat. 8); 
 Horace (I, XXXV); Nepos, (Dion. 6). Compare, too, in this discussion of the 
 relation of F. to virtue the lines already quoted (Seneca, Phaedrus, 981 ff.): 
 
 Vincit sanctos dira libido, 
 fraus sublimi regnat in aula. 
 
 67 See also Seneca, Phaedrus 978; Cicero, de Leg. ii, 28: “Bene vero quod 
 Mens, Pietas,” etc., where the virtues and fortune are distinguished. 
 
 68 Cf. Fowler, Roman Ideas of Deity, p. 77. 
 
- mn 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 151 
 FIK 
 
 We have now defined "the pagan Fortuna” and have observed 
 how she was treated in general and how accepted. Our next 
 problem is to see what in detail Roman literature offers for the 
 imaginative representation of the goddess, and what for the 
 application to everyday life. That is, I shall now study: (1) the 
 personal description of the goddess; (2) favorite themes in her 
 depiction; and (3) the divisions of her cult, and how they were 
 applied to everyday life. 
 
 Much of the description of Fortuna is an old story to us because 
 the tradition has lasted even to our day. Itis interesting to see 
 the same expressions used in ancient Rome which are used now. 
 (1) She is blind (caeca);* (2) yet she uses her eyes sometimes;?" 
 she walks un- | 
 
 | 
 | 
 
 steadily; (5) she remains in no Eker for are :73 (6) her face 
 is sometimes joyful, sometimes bitter; (7) she is subject to 
 envy;” (8) she becomes a foe; (9) she is stubborn;” (10) she | 
 goes on her own course;‘® (11) she plays games, and men are the | 
 figures in the games, or the objects of her mirth;7? (12) she wounds | 
 men with her shafts;8* (13) she holds dialogues with men;*! \ 
 (14) she is a harlot (meretrix) ;* (15) she is a frail (fragilis), untrust- 
 worthy acquaintance, 83 (16) much depends on her smile;** (17) 
 
 69 See Pliny, V. H. 2, 22; Pacuvius (Ribbeck, 365-375). 
 
 70 See Apuleius, Metam. XI, 15; Ovid, Ex Pont. III, I, 125. 
 
 ™ Pacuvius, op. cit. 
 
 7 Ovid, Tristia V, VIII, 15 ff. 
 
 73 Ibid; Ausonius (Peiper) XXIII, X, p. 424. 
 
 4 Jbid. 
 
 % Virgil, Aen. XI, 43; Lucan, Phars. I, 82 ff. 
 
 76 Ovid, Ex Pont. III, I, 152. Cf. Plautus, Asinaria 727. 
 
 71 Ovid, Ex Pont. IV, VI, 7. 
 
 78 Ovid, Epist. XV, 59-60; Lucan, Phars. I, 226; cf. Tibullus, ITI, iii, 22. 
 
 79 Seneca, Ep. LX XIV, 6-7; Horace, Carm. III, XXTX, 49; Juvenal III, 
 38 ff. 
 
 8 Ovid, Ex. Pont. I, VII, 15, 41. 
 
 81 Cf. Seneca, ad Polyb. Cons. XXII, 4. 
 
 82 See, for a beginning of the idea, her relations with Servius Tullius, Ovid, 
 Fasti VI, 569 ff. See Diibner, Anthol. Palat., II, 269. 
 
 83 Baehrens, Poet. Lat. Min., IV, p. 148, 145; Lucan, Phars. VII, 685. 
 
 % Ovid, Trist. I, V, 27. 
 
152 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 she controls animals—a lion, horses,” the geese of Rome.% Such 
 are some of the traits and habits of which we hear in connection 
 with her.37 
 The themes in the treatment of the goddess are those expres- 
 sions and phrases that particularly found favor in describing her, 
 either because they seemed most characteristic, or because they 
 offered formulae which were easy for literary tradition. Probably 
 those which combined both qualities survived the longest. The 
 most common of these I shall enumerate as follows: 
 1. Nunc—nunc: 
 Horace (Carm., III, XXIX, 51-52): 
 Transmutat incertos honores, 
 nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna. 
 
 2. The adversities which she brings expose-our true friends to us. 
 “A friend in need” theme: 
 
 Est equidem in laetis nemo non promptus amicus, 
 ipsa homini adversis umbra inimica sua est.3 
 
 3. The theme of tragedy. Those who are most exalted are 
 brought low,* and in this process she does not discriminate: 
 
 Evertisque bonos, erigis improbos, 
 
 nec servare potes muneribus fidem. 
 
 Fortuna immeritos auget honoribus, 
 
 Fortuna innocuos cladibus adficit. 
 
 Iustos illa viros pauperie gravat, 
 
 indignos eadem divitiis beat. 
 
 Haec aufert iuvenes ac retinet senes, 
 
 iniusto arbitrio tempora dividens. 
 
 Quod dignis adimit, transit ad impios. 
 
 nec descrimen habet rectave iudicat.%° 
 
 % Roscher, 1556; N. E. Lemaire, Poet. Lat. Min., IT, p. 298, xii, 1. 2. 
 
 8 See Plutarch, de Fort. Rom., (12). 
 
 87 There are others, such as the accusation that she is insane, Pacuvius 
 (Ribbeck, 365-375); that she is a Will-o’-the wisp, Ovid, Trist. I, IX, 13. See the 
 useful study by Canter, especially pp. 72 ff., adding to the list of epithets in Carter. 
 
 88 Lemaire, Poet. Lat. Min., vol. IT, p. 298, xii, ll. 7-8. See also Ovid, Ex 
 Pont. II, III, 23; I, IX, 16; Trist. II, 85; Ex Pont. IV, III. 
 
 89 See p. 150 and n. 66. 
 
 % Baehrens, Poet. Lat. Min., IV, p. 148, no. 145. See also Hud (Ribbeck, 
 365-375). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 153 
 
 The simple theme of falling from a high station is very frequent: 
 Me qui liber fueram servom fecit, e summo infimum.” 
 Sometimes Fortuna acts in just punishment of unwonted pride. 
 This, of course, is not consistent with the pagan Fortuna, but is 
 quite consistent with pagan gods in general, who punish v@pus: 
 
 Ovid (Trist. V, VIII, 7): 
 Nec metuis dubio Fortunae stantis in orbe 
 numen, et exosae verba superba deae? 
 
 When Fortune thus hates man’s sinful pride, her feelings may 
 lead her to better practices and a higher course of life. 
 4. Closely related with the theme of tragedy is that of Fortune’s 
 gifts to the poor, and her punishment of the rich: 
 TOs TOUS TEvnTas TAovalous Epyaferat, 
 kal Tovs ExovTas XpnuaTtay åToTTEPEL.”” 
 Ovid treats this motif, referring to the case of Croesus, which was 
 to become the example par excellence in the Middle Ages: 
 Trist. III, VII, 41— 
 Nempe dat id quodcumque libet fortuna, rapitque: 
 irus et est subito, qui modo Croesus erat. 
 
 Such are some of the most important themes which went down 
 in Roman tradition as particular moulds for the thought con- 
 cerning Fortuna. 
 
 The divisions of her great cult, or, as they are sometimes called, 
 the smaller cults, have been pretty thoroughly investigated by 
 students of the subject. I shall not list them here; for my obser- 
 vations do not concern such aspects as we find revealed in Fortuna 
 «Bona, Fortuna Obsequens, and Fortuna Felix, but the specific 
 functionary cults.** The question is, what was the significance of 
 these to the daily life of the Roman? What do the cult-names 
 and activities (so far as we know anything about them)tell us of 
 Fortuna’s practical functions in Roman life? We may reduce 
 
 9 Plautus, Captivt 305. See also Horace, Carm. I, XXXV, ll. 3; Juvenal 
 (7, 194 ff.): “de rhetore consul, de consule rhetor;’’ Ausonius (Peiper) p. 424, 
 XXIII, X, “et summa in imum vertit ac versa erigit.” The wheel often comes 
 full circle: Juvenal, IIT, 39, ‘‘quales ex humili,” etc. 
 
 % Diibner, Anthol. Pal., II, 269, cap. X, 96, from Palladas. 
 
 % See also Ex Ponto, IV, III, ll. 37; Trist. V, XIV, 29-30. 
 
 % In the appendix will be found a list of most of the cults from Roscher, 
 1508 ff.; Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 16 ff. See Appendix D to this chapter. 
 
154 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 the practical meaning of many of the cognomina to that of good 
 or bad Fortune. Fortuna Viscata implies merely the characteristic 
 of the deity to lure. In Fortuna Populi Romani and Fortuna 
 Publica Citerior we have practically a goddess of the city, which 
 is what the Fortuna Populi Romani Quiritium Primigenia really is. 
 With this kind of deity belongs that of the different classes, such 
 as Fortuna Mammosa of the lower class, the Fortuna of the 
 guilds, and the like. Secondly, we have Fortuna concerned with 
 love and marriage,—for example, in Fortuna Virilis, to whom 
 women sacrificed on April first (as it happened, the same day as 
 that of a festival of Venus). Variously related are the Fortuna 
 Barbata and Fortuna Muliebris—the former, the Fortuna of 
 growing youths; the latter, of grateful mothers.% Third, we have 
 the deity who guides—Fortuna Dux” and Fortuna Redux.** 
 These two were imperial in origin, and concerned particularly with 
 guiding Augustus across the sea.°? There are two concerns here, 
 then,—Fortuna, the guide; and Fortuna of the sea. Fifth, 
 Fortuna of the individual,—that is, the Fortuna of the royal 
 house, which was a specialization of the goddess of the different 
 classes;}°° and also, perhaps, of such cults as Fortuna Obsequens 
 and Fortuna Conservatrix and even Fortuna Domestica. Sixth, 
 there is another function of the goddess implied in references to 
 her, if not set forth in a separate cult,—the Fortuna of war.!* 
 It is she who confers the laurel of victory. 
 
 The actual cults are referred to in literature with the specific 
 names. We have references to such as Fortuna Huiusce Diei, 
 Fortuna Spes, Fortuna Respiciens, Fortuna Primigenia, Fortuna 
 
 % See Roscher, 1518. Gaidoz cites Wieseler, de Scala, pp. 16-17, as con- 
 jecturing that F. came from an Asiatic Venus. See Appendix C to this chapter. 
 
 % Roscher, 1519. 
 
 97 Roscher, 1528. 
 
 88 Roscher, 1525. 
 
 39 See the symbol of the Rudder and the Prow. See Roscher, 1504-7. 
 
 100 See the golden image in the sleeping chamber of Marcus Aurelius, Roscher 
 1524. "Dem allgemeinen Glauben folgend verehrten auch die Kaiser ihre eigene 
 Fortuna als persönliche Schutzgöttin,” Roscher, 1523. See also F. Privata, 
 Roscher, 1518. 
 
 101 See, Roscher 1516, Tuditanus and the Temple of F. Primigenia; Roscher, 
 1526, altars raised at the victory of the Emperor. In 89 B.C. on the return of 
 Domitian from Germany, a temple of Fortuna Redux was erected on the Field of 
 Mars. Roscher 1540: “Nicht selten findet sich Fortuna mit den Gottheiten des 
 Krieges und Sieges, Mars und Victoria, verbunden.” 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 155 
 
 Obsequens, and others.! More interesting still we have the 
 literary reflection of some of these cults without the name actually 
 mentioned. In other words, we can observe Fortuna at work: 
 Fortuna of the city: 
 Regnum Trojae, quocumque volet, Fortuna ferat.!*3 
 Quae fortuna sit urbi.!* 
 Fortuna of the sea: 
 Dum mea puppis erat valida fundata carina, 
 qui mecum velles currere, primus eras. 
 Nunc, quia contraxit vultum Fortuna, recedis 
 auxilio postquam scis opus esse tuo, etc.1% 
 
 In these treatments Fortuna generally seems to control the ship 
 from a port of vantage behind the wind and storm. 
 Fortuna of war: 
 
 Illum tamen Fortuna jactavit diu 
 
 terra marique per graves belli vices.1% 
 Fortuna, bestowing victory, consequently bestowed fame: 
 
 Non ita se nobis praebet fortuna secundam, 
 
 ut tibi sit ratio laudis habenda tuae.1” 
 
 These are the more important groups. I do not include the lesser 
 classifications, such as the early Fortuna of the harvest;!°° Fortuna 
 the bestower of riches.!°? All these references simply show that 
 it was natural, when the Roman thought of the goddess, to think 
 
 102 Cicero, de Leg. IT, 28; Plautus, Asinaria 716, Rudens 501. See partic. 
 Ovid in the Fasti (VJ, 569, 771 ff.) See also Lucan, Pharsalia IT, 193, for Prae- 
 neste. 
 
 103 Seneca, Troades 735. 
 
 104 Aen. I, 454; see also Aen. VI, 62; Ovid, Melam. XII, 435; Lucan, Phars. 
 I, 256. 
 
 165 Ovid, Ex Pont. IV, II, 11. 5; see also Seneca, ad Marc. Consol. XXVI, 1 
 (nescis quantis f. procellis disturbet omnia?); Lucan, Phars. VITI, 313; Ovid, 
 Trist. V, XII, 5, F. herself is blown by the winds; storm, Ovid, Ex Pont. II, III, 
 23 ff. 
 
 106 Seneca, Octavia 479-80; Ovid, Metam. X, 603; Virgil, Aen. XT, 108; IV, 
 603; Lucan, Phars. IV, 711-12. The expression fortuna belli, without personi- 
 fication, occurs of course: Seneca, Phoenisse 1. 629; Ovid, Metam. VIII, 12; 
 XIII, 90; Lucan, Phars. IV, 402. 
 
 107 Ovid, Trist. I, I, 51; see also IV, III, 81; V, XIV, 3 
 
 108 With the cornucopia, which was very popular and was frequently pictured 
 
 in art. See many references in Roscher, 1503 ff. and passim; see also Columella 
 | (de Culiu Hort., X, 311). 
 109 See p. 153, $4, above. 
 
156 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 of her in connection with one of the well-known cults, operating 
 in her special function. 
 
 IV. 
 
 We are now ready to complete our idea of the Roman Fortuna 
 by examining briefly the religious background of the period. 
 I have already noticed that by the end of the second Punic War 
 the old gods of Rome were defunct, or else disguised in new figures, 
 with the exception of a very few, such as Vesta, Janus, the Lares, 
 and Jupiter.” Religion declined with the introduction of a 
 large number of foreign gods, nearly all of which were adopted 
 more out of policy than conviction. With the increase of 
 campaigns and the growth of interest in the foreign world, Rome 
 felt the need of the support of all the ruling spirits, and would 
 
 sacrifice to any god if help were to be obtained. So came the - 
 
 popularity of the haruspices, the use of lots. Divination became 
 wide-spread. And with this comes the “separation of religion 
 from morality.” "At the time of the Second Punic War a 
 new wave swept over the country, and Ennius introduced the 
 Epicurean Philosophy. While before, the gods were still of 
 interest to man because they could predict the future to him 
 (although they were less concerned with his moral state), now 
 they were entirely indifferent to him—and he to them; and about 
 their misdoings the Roman began to make jests."% Later Stoicism 
 reduced all deities to one, but at least gave that one power and 
 her 
 
 It is natural that when the interest in divination and augury 
 was strong, Fortuna should gain in power and take an important 
 place if she had not assumed it before." The convenient oracle of 
 Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste, with its fortune-telling lots, is 
 enough to explain that. And later, when an interest in the 
 mystical gained strength,"* "The growing interest in Fortuna, 
 
 10 Wissowa, R. K., p. 56; Fowler, Relig. Exper., 248 ff. 
 111 See above, p. 139 and note 28. 
 12 See for a full and interesting discussion, Fowler, Relig. Exper., 292; also. 
 Carter, the Relig. Life of Anc. Rome, ch. TI. 
 13 See Fowler, Relig. Exper., 352, with ref. to the Am phitruo of Plautus. 
 14 Fowler, ibid., 362 ff. 
 115 See p. 147 note 59, above. 
 16 Fowler, Relig. Exper., 380 fi. 
 
 a 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 157 
 
 both as a natural force and deity, which became intense under the 
 Empire, is another indication” of that tendency as well.” 
 
 When Augustus was trying to revive the old gods and establish 
 the new, refounding the colleges of priests, and showing an interest 
 in the old feast-days,"* he did not feel a need to add strength to 
 Fortuna; but involuntarily he did adopt her as his own, and 
 formed his own cult." It is, in a way, an age of great religious 
 interest; a wide and scattered, but not a deep, interest. There 
 was suspicion about the unknown. Signs of the decadence are 
 visible, for example, in the orgies of the Magna Mater. From 
 one point of view, it is an age of pure superstition; from another, 
 that of unbounded imagination, a zest for the unknown, a shining 
 enthusiasm for the new. It is a virile, physically active, but 
 romantic age. 
 
 As one views the situation, one will describe it with one’s own 
 terminology and call it decadent or golden. In either case let us 
 remember its wealth in literary activity and in military prow- 
 ess. Let us also bear in mind its lack of a clearly systematized 
 philosophy. It was trying its own mental resources vainly and 
 needed a revelation. It was a Renaissance and Reformation in 
 need of the Middle Ages. At such a time it is natural that 
 Fortuna, the goddess of chance should prevail over the god of order 
 and rationality. 
 
 Heitland’s summary of the situation is as follows: ““The decay 
 of the public religion had little or no effect upon popular supersti- 
 tion; indeed the growth of disbelief in divine interference had 
 rather cleared the ground for the worship of Fortune.” And 
 Carter says: “It was only the growth of skepticism, the failure of 
 faith to bear up under the apparently contradictory lessons of 
 experience, which brought into being in the Alexandrian age 
 Tyche, the goddess of chance, the winged capricious deity poised 
 on the ball. It is this habit of thought which eventually gave 
 the Romans that idea of Fortuna which has become our idea 
 
 17 Fowler, zbid., pp. 396-7. 
 
 18 Wissowa, R. K., 73 ff.; Fowler, Relig. Exper., 428 ff., "The Augustan Re- 
 vival.” 
 
 19 See for discussion of personal cults p. 154, above. 
 120 Fowler, Relig. Exper., 330 fi. 
 11 Heitland, IT, 464, §872. 
 
158 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 because it is the prevalent one in Roman literature and life in the 
 periods with which we are most familiar.” 
 
 We 
 
 The points thus far discussed, I may briefly summarize as 
 follows: (1) whatever her origin, Fortuna flourished in Rome, and 
 attained her fullest development under the Empire; (2) this is due 
 to the fact that during the early Empire there was the greatest 
 emphasis on the unknown; (3) she absorbed the functions of many 
 of the other gods; (4) particular themes were used in her literary 
 treatment; (5) her vitality grew the stronger as Roman religion 
 decayed and fell to pieces. These facts make her survival in a 
 monotheistic period seem at least possible and comprehensible. 
 She was the last of the gods, and consequently retained most of 
 their radiance, while the rest faded in twilight.” She flourished 
 on the skepticism which might corrode any well organized religion. 
 She appealed to man in moments of his greatest weakness and 
 greatest strength. Her variety appealed to poetic fancy. The 
 tenacity of her hold on the popular mind worried the philosophers. 
 Such are her charms in Rome;!** and with such brilliance the 
 long pageant of her career begins. 
 
 122 Carter, Relig. of Numa, pp. 50 ff. 
 
 1 In tutelam iam receptus es Fortunae, sed videntis; quae suae lucis splen- 
 dore ceteros etiam deos illuminat,” Apuleius, Metam. XI, 15. This is written con- 
 cerning the Isis-Fortuna. 
 
 124 Fowler has written a full and interesting article on Fortuna in Rome for 
 Hastings, Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, VI, pp. 98 fi. He attacks the 
 problem from a point of view entirely different from that in the present study. 
 But while his results are somewhat different from mine, since he deals with the 
 problem of individual faith, nothing that he says SE to obscure the fact of the 
 enormous power of the worship in this period. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 THE PERIOD OF TRANSITION 
 
 The actual change of philosophy and religion in Rome from 
 paganism to Christianity is a highly complicated process. The 
 change is not merely external, as might be inferred, for example, 
 from the destruction of old idols and fanes, and worship at new 
 temples on a new feast-day. It is spiritual, and it involves the 
 larger ‘question of how far spiritual man can really change from 
 age to age; whether man intellectually and morally does change. 
 
 If we are to believe that Fortuna ceased to exist as a power 
 at the beginning of the new era, we must consider whether man 
 can change so completely as to drop an old creed in every detail 
 and take upanew. Evidence of a complete or of a partial change 
 will have to be found, of course, in conscious confession of one 
 kind or another; but not exclusively. Man gives indications of his 
 beliefs unconsciously in other ways. His chief interests, what he 
 talks most about and recurs to in case of need, what he declares 
 in a moment of sudden surprise,—these are the kinds of data that 
 give more positive information. Rome laid aside paganism and 
 adopted Christianity according to Rome’s professed faith; but 
 for a study of the actual faith of the Roman people, we must 
 practically disregard the official declaration and look further. 
 
 This way of dealing with the problem seems a trifle impudent. 
 It is not so impudent, however, to believe that man’s religion is 
 more enduring than the lives of his philosophers, that it lies 
 deeper in his heart of hearts than impulsive consciousness. More- 
 Over, it is characteristic of man, when he faces a new creed, to 
 accept its main tenets and let them work out their own consist- 
 encies in his soul. The smaller details will follow later. He 
 is unable to grasp them all at once, no matter how clear their 
 truth may be, and he certainly cannot instantly put them in 
 working order. The religion of human life is greater than deliber- 
 ate philosophy; the religion that really damns or saves is partly de- 
 pendent on ancient mental habit. 
 
 159 
 
160 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 It cannot be expected, then, that the Romans would immedi- 
 ately lay aside every vestige of their old faith and take up the new, 
 tabula rasa. Was not the Roman of the fifth century very much 
 the same sort of man inwardly, with much the same sort of capaci- 
 ties and limitations, as the man of the Augustan age? Would he 
 not feel the dangers of a long voyage, or the risk of a great experi- 
 ment in the unknown? His new religion might give him comfort, 
 but he would first feel the desire for it. One must therefore ask 
 whether the Roman really discarded all of his old mental habits 
 when he laid aside their outward signs. Did he always faithfully 
 employ the possibilities of his new religion? Christianity upheld 
 the one God; and the Christian Roman must cleave to the one 
 God and forsake the old deities entirely. Could he as a man, 
 in his moments of weakness, hold to the belief in this great, personal 
 rational Deity, whose scheme included him and all the details of 
 his life? Could he feel that he was cared for at every moment 
 by the one God? It seems more reasonable to think that, in 
 certain emergencies, he would create for himself the gods he was 
 fitted by character to create; and that, as these gods approached 
 the Christian conception, so he himself became more of a Christian. 
 From another point of view, he would retain the old gods that were 
 familiar to him, even if he did not give them their old names. 
 
 This, at any rate, is the postulate on which the proposition 
 of a continued life for the goddess Fortuna from paganism to 
 Christianity depends. Her vitality, if real, indicates that man 
 in any period is after all pretty much the same. Whatever the 
 variation of customs and styles, the church pagan or Christian 
 labored with mankind and the human soul, and not with theories. 
 At one time it might be legitimate to believe in the element of 
 chance: at another time, it might be heretical; but the belief itself 
 could persist as long as man remained man. One comment on the 
 early state of things is that of Cumont: ‘‘Tyche, or deified fortune, 
 became the irresistible mistress of mortals and immortals alike, 
 and was even worshiped exclusively by some under the empire. 
 Our deliberate will never plays more than a very limited part in our 
 happiness and success, but, among the pronunciamentos and in the 
 anarchy of the third century, blind chance seemed to play with 
 the life of every one according to its fancy, and it can easily be 
 
 a 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 16i 
 
 understood that the ephemeral rulers of that period, like the 
 masses, saw in chance the sovereign disposer of their fates.”” 
 
 The possibility of faith in Fortuna is obviously not limited 
 to Rome. A belief in a goddess of chance is possible anywhere; 
 and a belief in Fortuna is possible wherever Roman civilization 
 extended itself. This is another phase of the transition. Cumont 
 goes on to say: "In Latin Europe in spite of the anathemas of the 
 church the belief remained confusedly alive all through the 
 Middle Ages that on this earth everything happens somewhat 
 
 ‘Per ovra delle rote magne.’ ” 
 
 This survival in the Middle Ages is indicated, as we shall see, 
 by frequent references to Fortuna; by the stern attitude of the 
 Church, which proves that the belief was felt to be a real menace; 
 and by the methods with which the Church faced the problem. 
 
 The appearance of the goddess in the fourth and fifth centuries, 
 with the trappings that are familiar to us as hers in ancient Rome 
 (or, as I shall call this continuation of the old cult, “the pagan 
 tradition”), is perhaps the most important fact for us to consider 
 in our whole study of Fortuna. For this is the persistence of the 
 goddess of chance. She survived in early Christian times and her 
 worship was an integral part of the still flourishing pagan religion. 
 Christianity was already in the ascendant; but polytheism had not 
 yet yielded, and the Church Fathers were opposing it with all their 
 strength. Again, Fortuna is frequently met with in literary 
 works from the fourth century to Dante and beyond. Finally, 
 she plays an important part in the continued custom of divination 
 or fortune-telling. Through these channels the pagan deity 
 found access to the stream of Medieval tradition and to the 
 knowledge of the ordinary man of the Middle Ages. The un- 
 learned as well as the learned could hear of her, and become 
 acquainted with her characteristics. 
 
 The early fathers show that they knew the worship well as a 
 recognized part of that pagan religion which had not been quite 
 discountenanced. The actual cults are mentioned,—in Tertullian, 
 for example, that of Fortuna Barbata,? and Fortuna Muliebris.* 
 
 1Cumont, 179. He says that the view spread from Babylonia and imposed 
 itself even on Islam. 
 
 2 Ibid., 179, ff, 
 
 3 Migne, Tertull. I, 601, Ad Nationes II, 11. 
 
 4 Migne, Tertull. IT, 952, Series II, xvii, Moralia, Lib. de Monog. 
 
162 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Arnobius describes: ‘‘Mulciber fabrili cum habitu; aut fortuna 
 cum cornu, pomis, ficis, aut frugibus autumnalibus pleno.” 
 Lactantius gives an ample discussion of the worship; specifically of 
 Fortuna Muliebris, and Fortuna Dux; and retells the story of the 
 Censor Fulvius, who stole marble tiles from the temple of the 
 Lacinian Juno for the temple of Fortuna Equestris.* St. Augus- 
 tine touches on Fortuna Muliebris and Fortuna Barbata.” These 
 passages in St. Augustine bring us down to the fifth century after 
 Christ. 
 
 The pagan tradition of Fortuna is necessarily involved in the 
 continued practice of divination. Fortuna in the old Latin 
 worship at Praeneste had consented to give oracular utterance. 
 Her will and decrees were interpreted by means of drawing lots.’ 
 As late as the fourth century, Lactantius reports an image of 
 Fortune which spoke: “Illud etiam mirabile, quod simulacrum 
 Fortunae muliebre non semel locutum esse traditur.”® And St. 
 Augustine has perhaps the same image in mind when he says: 
 “Quod illa dea locuta est, quae fortuitu accidit, non quae meritis 
 venit, 2° 
 
 Both oracle and fortune-telling are means of consulting the 
 ruling goddess on the future; but the medium of communication 
 in the latter is different. Fortune-telling attempts to read 
 haphazard destiny by fitting to it an instrument of expression 
 the very operation of which involves a large element of chance. 
 Apparently the theory is that the goddess who delights in chance 
 will consent to reveal her intentions by allowing the proper lot 
 to be drawn or the proper card to appear, because these methods 
 defy reason and order. 
 
 In the seventh century St. Eligius denounces divination and 
 fortune-telling with no uncertain words: “Ante omnia autem 
 illud denuntio atque contestor, ut nullus paganorum sacrilegas 
 
 5 Migne, Arnobius, V, 1214, Adversus Gentes, Lib. Sextus. See also V, 912. 
 
 6 Migne, Lactantius, VI, 289, 290. See ref. to F. Dux, Lactantius VI, 442. 
 
 7 Migne, St. Aug., XLI (126 f.), De Civ. Dei, 4, 19; XLI (122), 4, 11. The dis- 
 cussion of F. Barbata is delightful: "Tpse sit et Fortuna Barbata, quae adultos bar- 
 ba induat; quos honorare noluerunt, ut hoc qualecunque numen saltem masculum 
 deum, vel a barba Barbatum sicut a nodis Nodutum, vel certe non Fortunam, sed 
 quia barbas habet, Fortunium nominarent.”’ Cf. Migne, Lactantius, VI, 440. 
 
 8 Roscher, 1544. 
 
 ® Migne, Lactantius, VI, 289. 
 
 10 Migne, St. Aug., XLI (127) De Civ. Dei, 4, 19. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 163 
 
 consuetudines observetis, non caragos, non divinos, non sortilogos, 
 non praecantatores, nec pro ulla causa aut infirmitate eos consulere 
 vel interrogare praesumatis, quia qui facit hoc malum, statim 
 perdit baptismi sacramentum.”" He warns against holding 
 pagan festivals, carrying on the pagan practices, invoking the 
 pagan gods (as when the moon darkens), and visiting pagan fanes: 
 "**Nullus sibi proponat fatum vel fortunam aut genesim, quod vulgo 
 nascentia dicitur, ut dicat, qualem nascentia attulit, taliter erit: 
 quia Deus omnes homines vult salvos fieri et ad agnitionem veri- 
 tatis venire adque omnia in sapientia dispensat, sicut disposuit ante 
 constitutionem mundi.””* The pagans were not dead yet! 
 Discussions of divination do not cease nor fortune telling with 
 them even to our own enlightened day. It is not suprising that 
 Aristotle was held to be a specialist in the craft and knew: 
 With other Crafftys which that be secre, 
 Calculacioun and Geomancye, 
 Difformacyouns of Circes and meede, 
 lokyng of ffacys and piromancye.””* 
 
 Fortune-telling, it is particularly important to note, would 
 naturally appeal to the lower classes rather than to the higher. 
 And this appeal, like that of the cults in the Roman worship of 
 Fortuna (after the worship was officially smothered), would 
 continue the pagan tradition so that it could smoulder without 
 
 1 Professor John Livingston Lowes of Harvard University drew my attention 
 to this passage. (Monumenta Germaniae Histor., Scriplorum Rerum Merov., IV, 
 Bruno Krusch, Passiones Vitaegue Sanctorum, etc., Vitae Elig., II, 16°, p. 705.) 
 
 12 Jbid, p. 707, 11. 9. 
 
 18 For later ref. see: geomancy, Dante, Purg. XIX, 4, “Fortuna Major,” 
 (discuss. Academy, Nov. 3, 1894, p. 352, W. W. Skeat; suppl. discuss. Acad., Jan. 
 1895, p. 39, R. Brown.) And Troilus and Criseyde, ITI, 1420; Dunbar, ed. John 
 Small, Scottish Text Soc., 1893, vol. IT, p. 62, line 79, (Ballad of Lord Bernard Stew- 
 art). See, in general: Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. Histor., I, c. x; (sortilegium) Ray- 
 mund of Pennaforte, Summula Raymundi, (Cologne, 1502), fol. cxxvi-cxxvii; Robert 
 Holcot, Sup. libr. sap., lectio CITT (et tunc fantasia format sibi consilia idola, etc.); 
 Guillaume de Guileville, Peler. de ’Omme, ff. lxxii (Geomancie, Idolatrie, 
 Sortileige, and Sorcerie appear); Eustache Deschamps, ed. Soc. Anc. Textes 
 Francais, VII, 192 ff., (MCCCLXI), see p. 197: "Mais communement tous 
 ceuls qui par telz ars s’esforcent de scavoir les fortunes advenir,” etc.; Henryson, 
 
 ed. Dz Laing, Edinburgh, 1865, Orph. and Eur., lines 571 ff. See the actual "wheel 
 of fortune-telling” discussed by Max Forster, Herrig’s Archiv fiir das Studium der 
 
 p 
 
 neueren Sprachen, vol. cxxix, $18, pp. 45-49. 
 4 Lydgate, Secrees of Old Philos., ed. Steele, p. 16, st. 72. 
 
164 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 much disturbance as long as it remained hidden. The less culti- 
 vated classes would not bother about discrepancies in their faith, 
 and would hardly realize an intellectual heresy. 
 
 The learned tradition is likely to be found in the literary 
 world, where those who were acquainted with Classical literature 
 took over the forms and mythology of that literature rather freely. 
 In one sense the material here may not seem quite so significant, 
 except as necessary concomitant evidence. If Fortuna has sur- 
 vived, she must appear in this field along with the other gods. 
 Yet there is argument to be drawn even from literature when the 
 goddess appears in unexpected places, and when we find unusual 
 devotion to what ought to be a mere poetic figure. After all, 
 the literary treatment in ancient Rome is not very extensive; 
 Fortuna is not described in long passages of elaborate detail. 
 She was formally accepted as a deity, and the average author was 
 not excited by the idea of a goddess of chance. In the Middle 
 Ages, on the other hand, the author felt that she deserved special 
 emphasis, partly, perhaps, because she was out of ecclesiastical 
 favor, but more likely because he appreciated the opportunity 
 for giving expression to what was a generally popular conception. 
 And so the variety of ways in which she was mentioned, the space 
 she occupies in literature, and the author’s kindled imagination ip 
 depicting her, are really of the greatest significance in our study. 
 
 MARTIANUS CAPELLA 
 
 In that elaborate allegory of Martianus Capella, De Nuptiis 
 Philologiae et Mercurii, which is almost the first of the truly 
 Medieval allegories in method and style, Fortuna is introduced 
 among the other Roman deities. She is the last to come to 
 the council of the gods, who are convening to discuss the marriage. 
 We must notice, first of all, the rich detail of her description and 
 the reality of her appearance: 
 
 Tunc etiam omnium garrula puellarum et contrario semper fluibunda luxu 
 levitate pernix desultoria gestiebat. quam alii Sortem asserunt Nemesimque 
 non nulli Tychenque quam plures aut Nortiam. haec autem quoniam gremio 
 largiore totius orbis ornamenta portabat et aliis impertiens repentinis motibus con- 
 ferebat rapiens his comas puellariter caput illis virga comminuens eisdemque 
 
 15 Fourth and fifth centuries, A. D. 
 
er 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 165 
 
 quibus fuerat eblandita ictibus crebris verticem complicatisque in condylos digitis 
 vulnerabat.16 
 
 » 
 
 She is distinguished from the Fates by her desire to 
 confuse their orderly arrangement of destiny: 
 
 Haec mox Fata conspexit omnia quae gerebantur in Iovis consistorio subno- 
 tare, ad eorum libros et pugillarem paginam cucurrit, et licentiore quadam fiducia 
 quae conspexerat, inopinata descriptione corripuit, ut quaedam repente prorum- 
 pentia velut rerum seriem perturbarent, alia vero, quae causarum ratio prospecta 
 vulgaverat quoniam facere inprovisa non poterat suis tamen operibus arrogabat.!7 
 
 Martianus pauses to identify her with the various names by which 
 she was evidently known. She was clearly no stranger. 
 
 There are sporadic references to the pagan Fortuna down 
 through the first part of the Middle Ages. Such are those, for 
 example, in Pope Sylvester the Second (Gerbert of Aurillac) of 
 the tenth century;' in the twelfth century, in the two poems 
 about the fall of the City of Milan at the hands of Frederic the 
 First;” in Orderic Vitalis?” Walter Map,” and Abelard and 
 Heloise.” In the minor poetry of the twelfth and thirteenth 
 centuries appear some long descriptions of Fortuna’s character 
 
 16 Capella, ed. Eyssenhardt, p. 24, ll. 9(88); see also mention p. 18(55) and note. 
 “Then too that chatterbox among women, ever abandoning herself to fickle pleasures, 
 swift with lightness moved gaily shifting from one thing to another. Some 
 call her Sors and some Nemesis, more Tyche or Nortia. Inasmuch as she bore 
 
 in her ample bosom the glories of the whole world, and granted and bestowed them 
 
 upon now one, now another with sudden movement, wresting from some their 
 hair with girlish caprice, smashing the head of others with her wand, the same 
 persons on whom she had bestowed her blandishments she would wound upon 
 the head with frequent blows and with her fingers clenched.” For help in this 
 translation I am indebted to Dr. Henry W. Litchfield. 
 
 17 “When presently she beheld the Fates writing down all that went on in 
 Jove’s council, she ran to their books and note-tablet, and with saucy boldness 
 she swept together in unexpected order the things which she had seen done, with 
 the result that certain events, bursting suddenly into being, confused as it were 
 the orderly arrangement of events. Other events, again, which had been foretold 
 by man’s perception of their causation, seeing that she could not make them unex- 
 pected, nevertheless she claimed as works of her own.” 
 
 18 Migne, cxxxix, col. 204, Ep. 12; also col. 214-15, Ep. 44, 45, 46. 
 
 19 Neues Archiv, XI, 468: Gedicht auf die Zerst. Mail. See also Gesta di Frederi- 
 co, ll. 1674, etc. 
 
 20 Bouquet, Recueil, XII, 723 C-D., Amalricus de Montfort. 
 
 2 Map, ed. Thos. Wright, p. 2, etc. 
 
 2 Migne, 179, col. 194, Ep. IV. 
 
166 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA: 
 
 and activities. For example, there is a poem (which was probably 
 sung) in the form of a complaint to the pagan goddess: *O For- 
 tuna quam sit mutabilis”— 
 1. O varium 
 Fortunae lubricum 
 Dans dubium 
 Tribunal judicum, 
 Non modicum 
 Paras huic praemium, 
 Quem tollere 
 Tua vult gratia 
 Et petere 
 Rotae similia, 
 Dans dubia 
 Tamen praepostere 
 De stercore 
 Pauperem erigens, 
 De rhetore 
 Consulem eligens.” 
 The poem continues to summarize the traditional views concerning 
 Fortuna: she fails her friends; what happened to Darius and 
 Pompey? the higher they were, the harder they fell; what of 
 Troy? of Carthage? andsoon. Also there are bits of poetry about 
 the pagan Fortune in the Laborintus of Eberhardus (1212).* 
 Poetry with plenty of traditional Fortune material is found 
 in the drinking songs of the Carmina Burana. They have a genial 
 tone, in spite of their theme of lament: 
 O Fortuna 
 velut luna 
 statu variabilis 
 semper crescis 
 aut decrescis 
 vita detestabilis 
 nunc obdurat 
 
 2 Dreves, Analecta Hymnica, XXI, p. 102, no. 152. Thirteenth Century; 
 see note p. 103. Also in Carmina Burana, ed. Schmeller, LXXV, p. 45. 
 
 % Leyser, Hisioria Poelar., p. 853. See also Geoffrey de Vinsauf, p. 864, 
 Il. 60 (Noeva Poetria); p. 953 (1591). See also Jak. Werner, Beitråge zur kunde, 
 etc., (XJI Cent., see p. 1), 2, p. 3, Il. 18-19; 49, p. 23, Il. 13. See also Thos. Wright, — 
 Sat. Poets, I, p. 234; p. 301 (reminiscent of Ovid); IT, p. 112. 
 
| 
 
 f 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 167 
 
 et tunc curat 
 
 ludo mentis aciem 
 ‘egestatem,’ 
 potestatem 
 
 dissolvit ut glaciem.> 
 
 The song gives an account of the lady and her games, and regrets 
 that she is contrary to mankind. Another interesting complaint 
 is the following: 
 
 1. Fortune plango vulnera 
 stillantibus ocellis, 
 quod sua mihi munera 
 subtrahit rebellis; 
 verum est quod legitur, 
 fronte capillata 
 sed plerumque sequitur 
 Occasio calvata. 
 
 2. In Fortune solio 
 sederam elatus 
 prosperitatis vario 
 flore coronatus 
 quicquid ‘tamen’ florui 
 felix et beatus 
 nunc a summo corrui 
 gloria privatus. 
 
 3. Fortune rota volvitur, 
 descendo minoratus, 
 alter in altum tollitur 
 nimis exaltatus; 
 rex sedet in vertice, 
 caveat ruinam, 
 nam sub axe legimus 
 ‘Hecubam’ reginam.> 
 
 These songs and complaints are important because they are much 
 richer than the Roman descriptions of the goddess; and because 
 they make frequent use of the direct apostrophe. By the thir- 
 
 5 Carmina Burana, ed. Schmeller, (XIII Cent. MS.) no. 1, p. 1. Cf. Novati, 
 Carmina Medii Aevi, Epigrammata, p. 44, VI. 
 
 % Carm. Bur. LXXVII, p. 47. See also LXXV, p. 45 (in part quoted above, 
 p. 166); LXXVI, p. 47; and 78, p. 166 (st. 4); 114, p. 189 (st. 4); 174, p. 233 (st. 3); 
 p. 234 (st. 5, 11). 
 
168 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 teenth century, then, the stock of formulae has been greatly 
 increased. The authors take a sort of sentimental delight in 
 dwelling on the hardships Fortuna has brought about. The 
 tragic theme—‘‘once I was in high estate, now I have fallen low” 
 —is greatly elaborated.” It seems possible that from this 
 mass of songs and minor poems—almost jingles—developed many 
 of the quick and ready formulae and the unending lists of para- 
 doxes which form so large a part of the Medieval tradition. 
 
 NIGELLUS WIREKER 
 
 The Speculum Stultorum of Nigellus Wireker is such an impor- 
 tant poem for the Middle Ages from the time of its composition 
 (the latter part of the twelfth century) down even to Chaucer’s 
 day that it deserves special emphasis. It reflects the forms 
 and substance of the contemporary portrayals of the goddess. 
 Here, however, Fortuna is sometimes favorable. One must look 
 outforher! Beas wary of good Fortune as of evil: 
 
 Si fortuna modo gravis est, conversa repente 
 Quod grave portamus alleviabit onus. 
 
 Tempora labuntur, dominique cadunt, renovantur 
 Servi, vulgus abit, area lata patet. 
 
 Quae veniunt subito, subito quandoque recedunt; 
 Prospera cum duris mixta venire solent. 
 Fortuitos casus non est vitare volentum, 
 Nemo futurorum praescius esse potest. 
 
 eR OR RY RO ee ee 
 
 Casibus in laetis magis est metuanda voluptas 
 Segnius in vitium tristia corda ruunt. 
 
 Integra Troja fuit dum se suspectus utrimque 
 Subtraxit durus hostis ab hoste suo. 
 
 JE JE JE JE JE JE JE 
 
 Si fortuna dedit dudum mihi dulcia, quare 
 Dedigner sub ea paucula dura pati? 
 
 Such are the ways afforded for a continuation of the pagan 
 Fortuna in the records of the transitional period and later. They 
 
 27 See early reference to complaints, etc., in Lactantius (Migne, VI, 438), 
 Div. Inst., III, xxviii. 
 28 Thos. Wright, Sat. Poeis, I, pp. 21 ff. See also, p. 31; p. 61; (Ad Dom. Gul.) 
 
 p. 234. 
 Vg 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 169 
 
 form a bridge for the difficult passage of the gap between paganism 
 and Christianity. Fortuna retained her hold on the superstitious 
 by bestowing her favor on divination and fortune-telling. Men 
 might forget her for a while, but they would remember her again 
 when they desired to learn about the future. She was a convenient 
 figure for allegory, if the author was disposed to quarrel with 
 what would ordinarily be attributed to the workings of the Fates. 
 To the man who had a general complaint against his destiny, 
 she probably seemed a deity to be found fault with less impiously 
 than the Christian God. 
 
 The great Medieval scholar, Graf, interpreted the situation in 
 the following manner: “‘The populace, 'who understand little 
 and care less about the subtle disputes and more subtle distinctions 
 of the theologians and the philosophers, never abandoned faith 
 in one or more powers, occult and irresistible, distinct and separate 
 from the divine will, and variously designated, as the case might 
 be, by the name of destiny, fortuna, or astrological influence.””? 
 As a goddess, it is thus fair to assume, Fortuna was not peculiarly 
 Roman except in name. Rome had developed a worship inde- 
 pendent, in a sense, of foreign influence; so the Middle Ages 
 created Fortuna in response to a particular human need or weak- 
 ness, and only her name was borrowed. In the literary and 
 artistic reflection of her cult, a great deal more was taken over. 
 All the Roman tradition in literary substance and style, all the 
 symbolic equipment that the Middle Ages cared for, was freely 
 adopted.*? 
 
 29 Graf, Miti, Leggende e Superstizioni, I, p. 276. 
 30 In my next paper I hope to study the development in other fields of Medieval 
 literature, beginning with the treatment in the Church Fathers. 
 
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I 
 
 A—lIn explaining why Varro does not include Fortuna in his 
 third class, that of diz selecti, Axtell, a student of the deification 
 of abstractions in Rome, says: "Gods like Janus, Jupiter, .. . 
 were more important because they had varied functions, were 
 more personal, had certain semi-historical biographies preserved 
 in literature, were not transparent in their names, and were 
 considered by the common people as their great gods.” But 
 St. Augustine, a careful student of Varro, shows a realization of 
 the power of Fortuna in Rome. As to the actual belief of the 
 common people we shall probably never know most of the facts. 
 And as to the transparency of the name, that means nothing 
 unless we know that the goddess is already without power for 
 other causes; the connotation of any word, abstraction or not, 
 depends on the association of it in the Roman mind.- That 
 Fortuna has no “biography” is remarkable, but the di indigetes 
 had no biographies so far as we know.? How varied Fortuna’s 
 functions were, has been discussed in the general study. How 
 personal” the goddess was is not a question of her power 
 necessarily. Oftentimes too clear or too specific a conception may 
 mean a weakness of conception which requires the support of 
 detail. For me, a case in point is the vague and mystical deity 
 of Dante in comparison with the clearer deity of Milton. 
 
 Just what Axtell means by “personal”? may be seen from 
 another statement of his: ‘‘Elevated to the rank of divinity and 
 provided with temples, flamens, priests, altars, and all the where- 
 withall of a real cult, [the abstractions] are nevertheless practically 
 mere qualities or states restricted to this, that, and the other, a 
 nondescript and shadowy crowd that cannot be classified with 
 the anthropomorphic gods nor the materialistic spirits of the 
 Indigitamenta.” But he qualifies this by adding: “‘Nevertheless, 
 
 1 Axtell, 73. 
 
 2 Fortuna has legends telling of her dealings with mankind. See the stories of 
 Galba, Numerius Suffustius, and, most of all, Servius Tullius, in Roscher, 1523; 
 1544. 
 
 170 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 171 
 
 they serve a purpose and perform a function very similar, and 
 indeed in some cases exactly equivalent, to a god whom the 
 Romans worshiped in a highly personal way.’ 
 
 Axtell’s chief example is the ode of Horace: "When Horace 
 (Carm. i. 35) invoked Fortuna . . . how did he conceive of 
 Necessitas, personified as highly as Fortuna and placed in her 
 train with Spes and Fides, recognized deities? Was he not con- 
 scious that Necessitas was not regarded as a goddess by the state 
 or people? Did he not perceive the incongruity in placing a 
 mere concept of the imagination in close relation with an actual 
 deity, or did he really consider Necessitas divine? We cannot 
 say. But for purposes of discrimination it is safer to assume, 
 when known deities and otherwise unauthenticated deities are 
 mentioned together in highly imaginative passages, that the 
 former are lowered to rhetorical lay-figures rather than that the 
 latter are exalted to actual celestial beings.’ 
 
 This argument, which obviously depends on an arbitrary 
 interpretation of highly imaginative passages, does not seem to 
 me cogent. In general, the juxtaposition of personifications and 
 deities hardly implies a weakness in the conception of the latter. 
 Aeschylus introduces symbolism. Milton makes Death the 
 child of Sin and Satan, and puts the Graces in the Garden of 
 Eden. As to the other deities, Spes and Fides, in the Horatian 
 passage, Axtell has curiously overlooked the fact that the lines 
 do not refer to separate deities at all. These figures simply 
 represent the well-known cults of Fortuna. We have the Fortuna 
 of horticulture: 
 
 Te pauper ambit sollicita prece 
 ruris colonus.5 
 Fortuna Redux: 
 . . . . Te dominam aequoris, 
 quicumque Bithyna lacessit 
 Carpathium pelagus carina.® 
 Next the poem treats of the fear of Fortuna among the people. 
 
 3 Axtell, 97. 
 
 4 Axtell, 68. Cf. p. 146, n. 53 above. 
 
 51. 5 ff. ‘Thee the poor country man courts with anxious prayer.” Trans. 
 Wickham. 
 
 51.64. ‘Thee queen of the ocean, whoever tempts in Bithynian bark the 
 Carpathian sea.” Ibid. 
 
172 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 She is not to be avoided—stern Necessity goes before her; but 
 Hope and Faith never desert her. Thus we have the cults 
 Fortuna Spes and Fides Fortuna:” 
 
 Te Spes et albo rara Fides colit 
 velata panno.® 
 
 It seems, on the whole, safer to consider that the goddess is 
 more than a lay-figure, when we remember that she was already 
 recognized as a deity with a strong cult at Antium (the one that 
 engages Horace’s attention), another at Praeneste, and a good 
 deal of priestly "wherewithall” in Rome. The poem shows no 
 other signs of skepticism, no sneer that the size of the cult would 
 almost certainly elicit. If the general popularity of the goddess 
 inspired the author to write the poem, a feeling of the emptiness 
 of the conception would surely appear. Axtell says elsewhere, 
 “Only Fortuna, Victoria, and to a far less extent Salus, Felicitas, 
 and Virtus, had personality in any appreciable degree.”® This, 
 at least, grants something; but, in my opinion, not enough. 
 
 B—There has often been reference to Caesar’s belief in his 
 own particularly favorable Fortuna: "For [Caesar], like Sulla, 
 with a robust confidence in his own good luck, was ever a believer 
 in the ‘chapter of accidents’ deified under the name of Fortune.’’!? 
 This is a conservative statement of a view, which has been popu- 
 larly held, that Caesar believed Fortuna had a special regard for 
 his destiny. Against this theory Fowler brings a vigorous attack." 
 His method of refuting the idea is to show that Fortuna does not 
 appear oftener in the pages of Caesar’s writings or more vividly 
 than in those of many others of Caesar’s contemporaries. Yet it 
 seems likely on the face of things that the Emperor did not 
 actually oppose the faith in the goddess, especially when we 
 remember the general interest of all the Caesars in Fortuna. 
 Augustus seems to have questioned the oracle at Antium in 
 
 7 Roscher, 1537-9 ff. and Plutarch (de Fort. Rom.) Tixn EieAmts. 2 
 
 811. 21. ff. “Thee Hope waits on and Faith so rare, clad in white garments.” 
 Ibid. Cf. D’Alton, p. 112, “fHorace] apparently caught up some of the ideas 
 floating in the Roman world of his day.” 
 
 ? Axtell, 98. 
 
 10 Heitland, Roman Republic, iii, 336, §1260. 
 
 1 The case with full statements of both sides is to be found in Fowler, *Caesar's 
 Conception of Fortune,” Classical Review, xvii (1903), p. 153. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 173 
 
 26 B. C. And she was considered the tutelary goddess of the 
 emperors.!* In spite of his appealing argument, it is difficult for 
 Professor Fowler actually to disprove the belief, and after all 
 the Emperor is certainly not representative of the mass of Roman 
 people. 
 
 C—The original conceptions of the goddess may be summarized 
 as follows: 
 
 (1) Moon goddess, closely related to Isis: “‘So ist es mir 
 nicht zweifelhaft, dass wir in ihr ebenso wie in der Nemesis 
 wieder eine Mondgöttin zu erkennen haben, die in ihren wech- 
 selnden Phasen das Leben, wie das Geschick der Natur und 
 des Menschen brachte, leitete und zugleich darstellte,” Gilbert, 
 II, 389, n. 3. See also Zoéga, Abhandlungen, pp. 37 ff; Curtius, 
 Althertum u. Gegenwart, II, pp. 70-71. 
 
 (2) The sun goddess, the giver of life: 
 
 Gaidoz (1886), pp. 56 ff. Cf. Miiller on the etymology of the 
 word Fortuna, with discussion in Fowler, Rom. Fest., pp. 164-6: 
 “goddess of the dawn”—Sanskrit HAER. See also, Dill, pp. 
 617-18, who brings Fortuna from Assyria and Persia. 
 
 (3) A Roman representative of Isis: 
 
 Roscher, 1530 ff.; (1549 ff.; (Isidis=Isi tyches. Tixy is therefore 
 
 directly related. Cumont, p. 89.) Zoéga, Abhandlungen, pp. 37 fi. 
 
 Cf. Dill’s summary of Isis, (pp. 564-572,) with Carter’s summary of 
 ' Fortuna (Relig. Numa, p. 51). 
 
 (4) A Roman representative of the Etruscan goddess Nortia, 
 who is supposed to be related to the Germanic Norns. See Fowler, 
 Rom. Fest., pp. 171 ff.; Peter (Roscher, 1549). In Etruscan 
 Ferentinum a goddess was honored, says Peter, who was identi- 
 fied with Salus or Fortuna; he quotes Tacitus, Anm. 15, 53. See 
 also Fowler, Relig. Exper., p. 284; Axtell, p. 9; Wissowa, Real- 
 Encyc., 16; Daremberg-Saglio, 1271 ff. An argument in favor 
 of this view is that Servius Tullius, who is supposed to have 
 introduced the cult to Rome, was probably an Etruscan. See 
 Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 16-17. (Though Plutarch says Ancus 
 
 1? Roscher, 1548. See also Roscher, 1526, and Plutarch, de Fort. Rom., 6 f. 
 
 18 Roscher, 1521 ff.; F. Augusta, 1524 ff. For a further statement regarding 
 Caesar, see Fowler, Roman Ideas of Deity, pp. 74 ff. 
 
 M4 See, e. g., Caesar, Bello Gallico, VI, xxx; Bello Civili, III, lxviii. 
 
174 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Martius was the first,—de Fort. Rom. 5,—Peter suggests that this 
 passage is an interpolation: Roscher 1508-9). 
 
 (5) The Fortuna of horticulture: 
 
 Wissowa, R. K., pp. 256 ff. He refers to the Fors Fortuna of 
 Consul Sp. Carvilius, whose feast-day was at the end of the 
 harvest. For an opposing view see Fowler, Relig. Exper., p. 245, 
 note 30. Cf. Fowler, Roman Ideas of Deity, p. 64; Axtell, p. 
 9; Columella, de Cultu Hort., X, 311. 
 
 (6) General discussion: 
 
 Wissowa, R. K., p. 257, considers her also a goddess of women. 
 See Fowler, Roman Ideas of Deity, pp. 64 ff. Cf. F. Muliebris. 
 Fowler, Relig. Exper., p. 235, says: "She was also very probably 
 a deity of other kinds of fertility.” See Carter, Relig. Numa, 
 p.51. An investigation of her cognomina leads Carter to the 
 following opinion: “Summing up, we may say that functional 
 cognomina are practically lacking in the case of Fortuna, and 
 that her cognomina are employed principally to limit and thus 
 emphasize her protecting activity in point of time, place, or 
 person”; Carter, A. P. A. T., 1900, XXXL, piiGsreeseeraiee 
 Carter, De Deor. R. Cogn., p. 29. See in general, Fowler, Rom. 
 Fest., pp. 166 ff. Gaidoz (p. 57) cites Wieseler, de Scala, as conject- 
 uring that F. came from an Asiatic Venus. For F. as “goddess 
 of time” see Fowler Rom. Fest., 172. 
 
 One need not restrict Fortuna to any one of these possible 
 sources. Many influences may play on a conception. Fowler, 
 Rom. Fest., p. 168, says in ridicule: "Fortuna has not only been 
 conjectured to be a deity of the dawn; she has been made out to 
 be both a moon goddess and a sun goddess.” But why must we 
 limit her even to these three? The cult near Etruria would be 
 subject to Etruscan influence; the cult near a seaport, to the 
 influence of Isis. See the discussion of the relation to the Mater 
 Matuta (Roscher, 1511) because the temple in the forum boarium 
 was next to that of the Mater Matuta and their feast days were 
 the same. See Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 19-20; Gilbert, p. 390, and 
 Du S.: 
 
 D—The cults of Fortuna at or before the time of the Empire 
 include the following: 
 
 15 See Roscher, 1508 ff.; Wissowa, Real-Encyc., 16 ff., who includes F. immo- 
 derata in bono aeque atque in mala, 30; Carter, A. P. A. T., xxxi, pp. 63 ff. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 (1) Servius Tullius.! 
 (2) Fortuna Bona. 
 
 (3) F. Obsequens. 
 
 (4) F. Felix. 
 
 (5) F. Respiciens. 
 (6) F. Mala. 
 
 (7) F. Manens. 
 
 (8) F. Huiusce Diei. 
 (9) F. Viscata. 
 
 (10) F. Populi Romani. 
 (11) F. Publica. 
 
 (12) F. Publica Populi Romani Quiritium Primigenia.!” 
 (13) F. Privata. 
 
 (14) F. Virilis. 
 
 (15) F. Barbata. 
 (16) F. Virgo. 
 
 (17) F. Muliebris. 
 (18) F. Mammosa. 
 (19) F. Equestris. 
 (20) F. Conservatrix. 
 (21) F. Domestica. 
 (22) F. Balnearis. 
 (23) F. Salutaris. 
 (24) F. Augusta. 
 (25) F. Redux. 
 
 (26) F. Dux. 
 
 (27) Isis-Fortuna. 
 (28) F.-Panthea.18 
 
 16 See also Tixn ”Amorpömatos mentioned by Plutarch, Roscher, 1513. 
 
 is 
 
 17 The neighborhood of the three temples for this and the preceding twocults 
 
 was called "Ad Tres Fortunas,” Wissowa R. K., p. 261. 
 
 18 There were, of course, the individual cults of the families. And there were 
 titles which are not to be taken as cult-names: F. Regina, Caelestis, Supera, Sancta, 
 Magna, Casualis, Diva, etc. See Roscher, 1515. And one ought not to forget 
 
 also the cults at Antium and Praeneste. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Aust, Emit; Die Religion der Römer, Miinster i. W., 1899. 
 
 AxTEL, Haronp L.; The Deification of Abstract Ideas in Roman Literature and 
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 BAEHRENS, ÅEMILIUS; Poetae Latini Minores, Lipsiae, 1882, 
 
 Bovuquert; Recueil. See Orderic Vitalis. 
 
 CANTER, H. V.; "Fortuna” in Latin Poetry, [North Carolina] Studies in Philology, 
 XIX, pp. 64 ff. 
 
 CAPELLA, MARTIANUS; ed. F. Eyssenhardt, Lipsiae, 1866.- 
 
 CARMINA BURANA, see Schmeller. 
 
 CARTER, JESSE BENEDICT; American Philological Association Transactions, 
 vol. XXXT, 1900. | 
 
 CARTER, J. B.; De Deorum Romanorum Cognominibus Quaestiones Selectae, 
 Lipsiae, MDCCCXCVIII. 
 
 CARTER, J. B.; The Religion of Numa and Other Essays on The Religion of Ancient 
 Rome, London, 1906. 
 
 CARTER, J. B.; The Religious Life of Ancient Rome, Boston and New York, 1911. 
 
 Cumont, Franz; The Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism, authorized trans., 
 Chicago, 1911. 
 
 D’Atton, J. F.; Horace and his Age, London, 1917. 
 
 DAREMBERG, CH., ET Epm. SAGLIO; Dictionnaire des Antiquités Grecques et 
 Romaines, 2?, Paris, 1896. 
 
 Dit, SAMUEL; Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, London, 1905. 
 
 DreEves, Gumpo Mara; Analecta Hymnica Medii Aevi, vol. XXI, Leipzig, 1895. 
 
 Dipner, F., ed., Anthologia Palatina, vol. IT, Paris, 1872. 
 
 Euicu; Vitae, Lib. II, 16*, Passiones Vitaeque Sanctorum Aevi Merovingici, 
 Bruno Krusch, Hannoverae et Lipsiae, 1902, (Monumenta Germaniae His- 
 torica, Scriptorum Rerum Merovingicarum, vol. IV.) 
 
 FÖRSTER, Max; Sphaeren Apulei und Gliicksrad, Herrig's Archiv fiir das 
 Studium der neuren Sprachen, vol. CX XIX, pp. 45-49. 
 
 FOWLER, W. W.; Caesar’s Conception of Fortune, The Classical Review, vol. 
 XVII (1903), p. 153. 
 
 Fow er, W. W.; The Religious Experience of the Roman People, London, 
 1911, Gifford Lectures, Edinburgh, 1910-11. 
 
 Fow er, W. W.; The Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, London, 1899. 
 
 FOWLER, W. W.; Roman Ideas of Deity, London, 1914. 
 
 FOWLER, W. W., see Hastings. 
 
 Ga1D0z, HENRI; uden de Mythologie Gauloise, I. Le Dieu Gaulois du oe et le 
 Symbolisme de la Roue, Paris, 1886. 
 
 GEDICHT AUF DIE ZERSTORUNG Maranps, Neues Archiv, der Gesellschaft fiir 
 altere deutsche Geschichtskunde, XI, 1886, pp. 466 ff. 
 
 176 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 177 
 
 GEOFFREY DE VINSAUF; Noeva Poetria, see Leyser, Hist. Poetarum, etc., pp. 861- 
 978. 
 
 GESTA DI FEDERICO I IN JTALIA, Ernesto Monaci, Roma, 1887. 
 
 GiLBERT, Dr. OTTo; Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, 
 Leipzig, 1885. 
 
 GRAF, Arturo; Miti, Leggende e Superstizioni del Medio Evo, Torino, 1892. 
 
 GUILEVILLE, GUILLAUME DE; Le Rommant des Trois Pelerinaiges, ed. 1511 (14847). 
 
 HARTUNG, J. A.; Religion der Römer, 1836. 
 
 HAsTINGs, J.; Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, vol. VI, Fortuna, New York, 
 1914. ‘ 
 
 HEITLAND, W. E.; The Roman Republic, Cambridge, 1909. 
 
 Hotcot, Rosertus; Super libros sapientie, Reutlingen, Otmar, 1489. 
 
 JAHN, O.; Uber den Aberglauben des Bösen Blicks, Berichte iiber die Verhandlun- 
 gen der Königl. Sachs. gesellsch. etc., Phil.-hist. cl., 1855, VIT, 28-110. 
 
 JorDAN, H.; Symbolae ad histor. relig. Italic., Königsberg, 1883. 
 
 LEMAIRE, N. E., ed.; Poetae Latini Minores, vol. II, Paris, 1824. 
 
 LEYSER, Potycarp; Historia Poetarum et Poematum Medii Aevi, Halae Magdeb., 
 1721. 
 
 LYDGATE AND Bureu’s Secrees of old Philosoffres, ed. Robert Steele, London, 1894, 
 HJENT.S., E. S. LXVI. 
 
 Mapes, GuartErt; De Nugis Curialium, ed. Thomas Wright, Camden Society, 
 1850. 
 
 Mippreton, H. J.; The Remains of Ancient Rome, London and Edinburgh, 1892. 
 
 MIcNnE; Patrologiae Cursus Completus, (Latinae). 
 
 Mommsen, THEODOR; The History of Rome, New York, 1905. 
 
 Novar, F., Carmina Medii Aevi, Libr. Dante in Firenze, 1883. 
 
 ORDERIC VITALIS, (Histor. Eccles.) Martin Bouquet, Recueil des Historiens, XIT, 
 723 C-D, Paris, 1877. 
 
 Pautvy-Wissowa, Real-Encyclopådie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft; Neue 
 Bearbeitung Georg Wissowa, Wilhelm Kroll, Stuttgart, 1910. Fatum, vol. 12, 
 col. 2047; Fortuna, vol. xiii, col. 12. 
 
 PRELLER, Lupwic; Rémische Mythologie, Dritte Auflage von H. Jordan, Berlin, 
 1881. 
 
 RAYMUND OF PENNAFORTE; Summula Raymundi, Cologne, 1502. 
 
 RoscHer, W. H., Ausfiihrliches Lexicon der Griekischen und Romanischen Myth- 
 ologie, I”, Leipzig, 1886-1890. 
 
 ScHMELLER, J. A., ed., Carmina Burana einer Hs. des XIII Jahrh., Breslau, 1901. 
 
 VINCENTIUS BELLOVACENSIS, Speculum Historiale, Venice, 1494. 
 
 WERNER, JAK.; Beitrage zur Kunde der lateinischen Literatur, etc., second ed., 
 Aarau, 1905. 
 
 Wissowa; Pauly-Wissowa, Real Encyclopådie. See under Pauly. 
 
 Wissowa, Dr. Gzorc; Religion und Kultus der Römer, Miinchen, 1912. 
 
 WRIGHT, Tuomas; The Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets and Epigrammatists of the 
 Twelfth Century, two volumes, London, 1872. 
 
Vor. III, No. 4 Jury, 1922 
 
 Smith College Studies in 
 Modern Languages 
 
 EDITORS 
 CAROLINE B. BOURLAND HOWARD R. PATCH 
 ERNST H. MENSEL MARGARET ROOKE 
 ALBERT SCHINZ 
 
 é 
 
 THE TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 In MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE 
 
 BY 
 HOWARD ROLLIN PATCH 
 - Associate Professor of English, Smith College 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, MASS. , PARIS 
 , SMITH COLLEGE ; LIBRAIRIE E, CHAMPION 
 
 Published Quarterly by the 
 Departments of Modern Languages of Smith College 
 
LANG Å » 
 
THE TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 In Medieval Philosophy and Literature 
 | BY 
 HOWARD ROLLIN PATCH 
 
 Associate Professor of English, Smith College 
 
The Tradition of the Goddess Fortuna 
 
 IN MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF FORTUNE TO THE TIME OF DANTE 
 
 The strength of the general cult of Fortuna in Rome and its 
 survival in the form of at least an intellectual conception in the 
 Middle Ages offered a serious problem to the early Christian 
 Church. By the time of the last records of the Roman cults, it 
 is no longer a question of outward worship, and no one pretends 
 that any secret devotion was maintained. But the Church had 
 to fight the mere belief as it seems to have existed in the popular 
 mind. The fact that the Church actually took up the question, is 
 in itself significant. 
 
 It is my intention in the present essay! to follow the course 
 of the development whereby the pagan idea was altered to con- 
 form with Christian philosophy, in that familiar and remarkable 
 process by which the Church Fathers "brought all intellectual 
 interests into the closure of the Christian Faith, or discredited 
 whatever stubbornly remained without.’ It was possible simply 
 to annihilate the goddess; and that some of the philosophers were 
 content to do, following the pagan remedies to what is really their 
 logical conclusion. For if the goddess is powerless when con- 
 fronted by proper fortitude, prudence, or devotion to spiritual 
 affairs, her rule in the universe is at least limited, and may be 
 practically non-existent. But not everybody would be satisfied 
 with a plain denial of what so ostentatiously asserts its presence 
 in everyday life, namely the element of chance. For those who 
 saw the effect of this principle more clearly than they could 
 imagine a rational explanation of its cause, another remedy was 
 necessary; and this was supplied by the poet, basing his figure, 
 however, on the scheme provided by the philosophers. In study- 
 ing the tradition of Fortuna in vernacular literature, I shall here 
 limit my field to the Italian writers, as affording a sufficiently typi- 
 cal development.’ 
 
 From the Church Fathers and the early writers come three 
 important methods of dealing with the problem of popular faith 
 
 1 As a continuation of the study in the April issue of this series. 
 ? Taylor, Mediaeval Mind, I, p. 65, concerning the work of St. Augustine. 
 3 I hope to study elsewhere the tradition in other fields. 
 
180 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 in Fortuna:* (1) the annihilation of the goddess, (2) the Chris- 
 tian compromise, (3) the Christian conception. I shall study these 
 in order, with some necessary sacrifice of chronology. 
 
 I 
 
 The Annihilation of Fortuna 
 
 , 
 
 LACTANTIUS 
 
 Lactantius, in the third and fourth centuries, observes with 
 condemnation the popularity of the belief: 
 
 Non dissimili errore credunt esse fortunam, quasideam quamdam res humanas 
 variis casibus illudentem; quia nesciunt, unde sibi bona, et mala eveniant. Cum 
 hac se compositos ad praeliandum putant; nec ullam tamen rationem reddunt, a 
 quo et quam ob causam: sed tantum cum fortuna se digladiari momentis omnibus 
 gloriantur. Jam quicumque aliquos consolati sunt ob interitum amissionemque 
 charorum, fortunae nomen acerrimis accusationibus prosciderunt; nec omnino 
 ulla eorum disputatio de virtute est, in qua non fortuna vexetur.® 
 
 Some people find it necessary to employ all too frequently in 
 speech the conception embodied in Fortuna, and for such the 
 rebuke of Lactantius is that the worship of the goddess is con- 
 trary to reason. He fails to go into the problem very deeply: 
 
 Fortuna ergo per se nihil est; nec sic habendum est, tamqåam sit in aliquo 
 sensu. Siquidem fortuna est accidentium rerum subitus atque inopinatus eventus.® 
 
 He himself cannot but feel that the universe is founded on 
 reason, and so he argues that Fortuna is impossible in a rational 
 cosmos: 
 
 Cur, sidea sit, hominibus invideat, eosque perditos cupiat, cum ab his religiose 
 colatur: cur aequior sit malis, iniquior autem bonis: cur insidietur, affligat, decipiat 
 et exterminet: quis illam generi hominum vexatricem perpetuam constituerit: 
 cur denique tam malam sortita sit potestatem, ut res cunctas ‘ex libidine magis, 
 quam ex vero celebret, obscuretque?”? 
 
 Of course the whimsical deity is incomprehensible to the man who 
 assumes a rational basis for the universe. This attitude toward 
 
 4 Graf gives valuable hints for this classification in his Mitt, Leggende e Super- 
 stizioni, I, p. 273. 
 
 5 De Falsa Sapientia Philosophorum, III, xxviii (Migne, VI, 437-8). 
 
 6 III, xxix (ibid. 440). 
 
 7 Ibid. 442. Note the line from Sallust, which is also quoted by St. Augustine, 
 (De Civ. Dei, VII, iii). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 181 
 
 the goddess is a use of the pagan remedy of prudence carried to 
 the point of annihilation.’ 
 
 Lactantius adds a new idea, however,—that men knew of an 
 evil power, adverse to God, and called that Fortuna: 
 
 Hujus itaque perversae potestatis cum vim sentirent virtuti repugnantem, 
 nomenque ignorarent, fortunae vocabulum sibi inane finxerunt.? 
 
 Such an identification of Fortune with the evil power is in a way 
 another attempt to retain the goddess, if slightly humbled in 
 position. This demonic conception is rather poetic, and special 
 credit for it might be given to Lactantius; but it seems to be only 
 his scornful interpretation of a current, if not wide-spread, heresy. 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE 
 
 St. Augustine (of the fourth and fifth centuries) corrects the 
 judgment of Varro in not placing Fortuna among the diz selecti: 
 
 Saltem inter illos, vel potius prae illis Fortuna poneretur, quam dicunt deam 
 non rationabili dispositione, sed, ut temere acciderit, sua cuique dona conferre. 
 Haec in diis selectis tenere apicem debuit, in quibus maxime quid posset ostendit.!? 
 
 This is ironical, of course. Augustine’s real solution is that all 
 the gods and goddesses represent only different functions and 
 powers of the one god: 
 
 Si non pudet, haec omnia quae dixi, et quaecumque non dixi (non enim omnia 
 dicenda arbitratus sum), hi omnes dii deaeque sit unus Jupiter: sive sint, ut quidam 
 volunt, omnia ista partes ejus, sive virtutes ejus, sicut eis videtur, quibus eum 
 placet esse mundi animum; quae sententia velut magnorum multumque doctorum 
 est." 
 
 He then discusses the theory of those who suggest that Fortuna 
 occasionally rewards merit: 
 
 Aut si aliquid proficiunt cultores ejus, ut ab illa videantur et amentur, jam 
 merita sequitur, non fortuitu venit. Ubi est ergo definitio illa fortunae? ubi est 
 quod a fortuitis etiam nomen accepit? Nihil enim prodest eam colere, si fortuna 
 est. Siautem suos cultores discernit, ut prosit, fortuna non est. An et ipsam, quo 
 voluerit, Jupiter mittit? Colatur ergo ipse solus: non enim potest ei jubenti et 
 
 8 See, e.g., the heading to II, viii, De rationis usu in religione” (Migne, VI, 
 287), and that to III, xxviii, De vera religione, deque natura; fortuna num sit 
 dea; et de philosophia” (ibid. 436). 
 
 9 TIT, xxix (zbid. 443). 
 
 10 De Civ, Dei, VII, iii, (Migne, XLI, 196-7). 
 
 " JV, xi, (zdid. 122). 
 
182 ' TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 eam quo voluerit mittenti Fortuna resistere. Aut certe istam mali colant, qui 
 nolunt habere merita, quibus possit Dea Felicitas invitari.!? 
 
 This remarkable passage approaches and forbids the later Christ- 
 ian treatment of Fortune, which subordinates Fortuna to God. 
 The best Augustine can do for her is ironically to allow her a 
 place as a demon: 
 
 An forte quando mala est, dea non est, sed in malignum daemonem repente con- 
 vertitur?! 
 
 Yet Augustine goes a step farther than his predecessors. He 
 relates the problem of Fortuna and the element of chance to the 
 question of fate and free-will. If, as it must be, all is ordained 
 by God’s providence (for, if God has foresight, all must be fore- 
 ordained), there is no allowance for man’s free-will. For the 
 sake of that, there must be the element of chance in the universe. 
 Complete divine foreordination would mean complete fatalism. 
 St. Augustine argues that divine providence does not affect the 
 freedom of man to choose between sin and righteousness: 
 
 Alii enim nullam divinamp rovidentiam presse rebus humanis libenter opinan- 
 tur, dumque fortuitis committunt casibus et animos et corpora sua, tradunt se 
 feriendos et dilaniandos libidinibus, divina judicia negantes, humana fallentes, 
 eos a quibus accusantur, fortunae patrocinio propulsare se putant; quam tamen 
 caecam effingere ac pingere consueverunt, ut aut meliores ea sint a qua se regi 
 arbitrantur, aut se quoque cum eadem caecitate et sentire ista fateantur et dicere.'* 
 He says (and, in saying it, accomplishes the complete philosophi- 
 cal annihilation of Fortuna) what St. Thomas is to develop 
 further from Aristotle: 
 
 Sed aut fortuna intelligenda est pro his rebus quae fortuito videntur accidere, 
 non quia numen aliquod sit, cum haec ipsa tamen quae fortuita videntur, causis 
 occultis divinitus dentur.® 
 
 For the dwelling-place of mankind, instead of the city of Rome 
 with its pagan temples and deities, Augustine conceived a new 
 city, the great City of God. A fourteenth-century manuscript of 
 his work has, at the beginning of the fifth book, the drawing of a 
 "Wheel of Providence.’”® 
 
 12 IV, xviii (bid. 126). 
 
 1 Tbid. i 
 
 4 De Libero Arbitrio, III, ii (headed "Dei praescientia quomodo liberam volun- 
 tatem peccantibus non auferat, quaestio plurimos torquens””), Migne, XXXII, 1273. 
 
 15 Quaest. in Hept., I, xci, (Migne, XXXIV, 571). 
 
 16 See the MS. of Amiens, n. 216, Weinhold’s Gliicksrad und Lebensrad, p. 15; 
 
 Didron, Annales Archéol., I, 433 ff., and cf. Didron's Icon. Chrét. Hist. de Dieu, 
 p- 119. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 183 
 
 ST. JEROME 
 
 St. Jerome (also of the fourth and fifth centuries) declares 
 positively for the annihilation of the goddess: 
 
 Ego autem mecum diligenter retractans, invenio non, ut quidam male 
 aestimant, omnia fortuito geri, et variam in rebus humanis fortunam ludere, sed 
 cuncta judicio Dei fieri.!7 
 
 A large part of Jerome’s work for the Church was spent on 
 his great commentary on the Bible. In the Vulgate text there 
 is one reference to Fortuna (Isaiah, 65: 11): *Et vos, qui dere- 
 liquistis Dominum, qui obliti estis montem sanctum meum, qui 
 ponitis Fortunae mensam, et libatis super eam.””'* 
 
 Juxta tropologiam autem hoc dicendum est, quod omnes qui Ecclesiam 
 deserunt et obliviscuntur montem sanctum Dei, et se tradunt spiritibus erroris, 
 et doctrinis daemoniorum, isti parant fortunae mensam, nihil ad Deum pertinere 
 credentes, sed vel stellarum cursu, vel varietate fortunae omnia gubernari: quos 
 Paulus increpat, dicens: Non poteslis mensae Domini participare, et mensae dae- 
 moniorum. Non potestis calicem Domini bibere, et calicem daemoniorum (1 Cor. 
 x, 20, 21): quia aeternis tradentur suppliciis, ita ut nullus eorum caedem et ruinam 
 possit evadere.!9 
 
 This passage again recalls the observation of Lactantius 
 and his demonic conception; but the idea is rather more fully 
 developed in Jerome. The people of the Middle Ages thought 
 that the pagans prayed to devils, and as late as the twelfth cen- 
 tury we find William of Malmesbury believing that the Saracens 
 and Turks worshipped Fortune: ‘‘Vindelici vero Fortunam ador- 
 ant; cujus idolum loco nominatissimo ponentes, cornu dextrae 
 illius componunt plenum potu illo quem Graeco vocabulo, ex 
 aqua et melle, Hydromellum vocamus.”° 
 
 1 Opera, III, 461 (Migne, XXIII, 1083). 
 
 18 Authorized version, 1611: "But yee are they that forsake the Lorn, that 
 forget my holy mountaine, that prepare a table for that troope [Heb. “‘Gad”], and 
 that furnish the drinke offering unto that number” [Heb. *Meni”]. Revised ver- 
 sion (Oxford, 1885): "But ye that forsake the Lord, that forget my holy mountain, 
 that prepare a table for Fortune, and that fill up mingled wine unto Destiny.” 
 Tercentenary version (Oxford, 1911): "But ye are they that forsake the Lord, 
 that forget my holy mountain, that prepare a table for the god of Fortune, and that 
 fill the drink offering for Destiny.” 
 
 19 St. Jerome, Opera, IV, 783 (Migne, XXIV, 639). 
 
 20 Gesta Regum Anglorum, lib. IT, $189, (Rolls Series, I, 230). 
 
184 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 ST. THOMAS AQUINAS 
 
 Whatever were the dangers from such or any other heresy 
 concerning Fortuna, Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century 
 attempted to put a definite period to them in his commentary 
 on the Aristotelian philosophy of rixn. He takes up the question 
 from the most liberal, and at the same time the most intellectual, 
 point of view and answers it. 
 
 The Aristotelian doctrine in the excerpts quoted by St. Thomas, 
 which he translates and upon which he comments, is roughly as 
 follows: 
 
 (1) People say that there are causes for everything; that 
 chance. cannot exist; and so that there is no place for Fortune 
 in the universal scheme. 4 
 
 (2) Fortune is not mentioned by the ancient philosophers; 
 they assume causes to explain all phenomena. 
 
 (3) Plant life and human vitality do not come by chance, 
 but by nature. (This suggests a definition of nature for us, includ- 
 ing the control of "outer nature” and man’s physical self.) 
 
 (4) Granted that all things must have a cause, there are two 
 kinds of causes—causa per se, causa per accidens. 
 
 (5) “Et sic patet quod fortuna est causa per accidens eorum 
 quae sunt propter aliquid.” 
 
 (6) "Fortuna est causa per accidens in his quae fiunt secundum 
 propositum propter finem in minori parte. Et ex hoc patet quod 
 fortuna et intellectus sunt circa idem: quia his tantum convenit 
 agere a fortuna, quae habent intellectum.”* This passage im- 
 plies the necessity of human intention and free-will if Fortuna is 
 to have an opportunity for action. 
 
 (7) Fortuna is beyond the reach of human reason, because 
 man can reason only concerning the usual and the frequent.” 
 She would seem reasonable if we could collect enough similar 
 instances of what she does. 
 
 1 See his Commentaria Physicorum Aristotelis, (Opera, ed. Pope Leo XIII, 
 vol. II, pp. 76 fi. 
 
 22 Jbid. p. 77 (7): “Quarum prima est quod admiratione dignum videtur quod 
 animalia et plantae non fiunt a fortuna, sed ab intellectu vel natura, vel a quacum- 
 que alia causa determinata.” 
 
 23 Jbid. 80 (9). 
 
 24 Thid. 80 (10). See also 86 (12). 
 
 2 Thid. 82 (4). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 185 
 
 (8) Good and bad fortune depend merely on the way fortune 
 suits individual taste and desire.” 
 
 (9) Chance differs from fortune in that chance governs the 
 inanimate, or not-willing; fortune only the animate creature, 
 which is furnished with elective consciousness.?7 
 
 (10) Chance and fortune are obviously not in control of the 
 disposition of the heavens, because chance and fortune can be 
 only secondary causes, being causae per accidens.*® One illustra- 
 tion of the operation of Fortune is the story of a man going to 
 town and unexpectedly receiving a treasure there. The man 
 intends to go to town, but his intention and his journey are not 
 causes of his coming upon the treasure except accidentally.?* 
 
 My brief résumé of the Aristotelian discussion may be reduced 
 to just this:—Aristotle observes the “hidden causes” of the uni- 
 verse, their vast number, and the impossibility of explaining them; 
 for these he finds the expression ‘fortuna’? convenient; and he 
 attempts an explanation of the process of these causes defining 
 them as causae per accidens.3" The logical difficulty involved in 
 defining a hidden cause by the term “fortuna,” which implies no 
 cause at all, was bound to make the discussion unsatisfactory 
 to one who heard the term used on every side with its pagan 
 meaning. 
 
 St. Thomas at least does not accept the Aristotelian solution. 
 His comments are as follows: Some people say that there is a 
 cause, not manifest to the human intellect, and that that cause is 
 Fortuna: 
 
 Sed quamvis haec opinio habeat veram radicem, non tamen bene usi sunt 
 nomine fortunae. Illud enim divinum ordinans non potest dici vel nominari 
 fortuna; quia secundum quod aliquid participat rationem vel ordinem, recedit a 
 ratione fortunae. Unde magis debet dici fortuna causa inferior, quae de se non 
 habet ordinem ad eventum fortuitum, quam causa superior, si qua sit ordinans. 
 Praetermittit tamen inquisitionem huius opinionis, tum quia excedit metas scien- 
 tiae naturalis, tum quia infra manifestat quod fortuna non est causa per se, sed per 
 accidens.3! i 
 
 26 Jbid. 82 (6). 
 
 27 Ibid. 84 (Cap. VI, lect. x). 
 28 Tbid. 84 ff. 
 
 29 Ibid. 80 (9). 
 
 30 kara ouuBeBnkos. 
 
 31 bid. 77 (9). 
 
186 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 And again: 
 
 Considerandum est autem quod si ea quae fortuito vel casualiter accidunt, 
 
 idest praeter intentionem causarum inferiorum, reducantur in aliquam causam 
 
 superiorem ordinantem ipsa; in comparatione ad illam causam non possunt dici 
 fortuita vel casualia: unde illa causa superior non potest dici fortuna.** 
 
 And so St. Thomas rejects Fortuna utterly. This is a sublime 
 use of the remedy of prudence when Thomas Aquinas thus com- 
 ments on Aristotle. 
 
 To see any possible effect of the exertions of the Church so 
 far, let us turn to literature. What vitality appears in the con- 
 temporary literary treatment? We know by our previous study 
 that the pagan Fortuna did persist in literature, and we have 
 seen that the passages become fuller and richer in the Middle 
 Ages. As I have said earlier, the Church thus far only carries 
 the pagan remedy to its logical conclusion. What is the effect? 
 
 HILDEBERT OF LAVARDIN 
 
 Hildebert of Lavardin,** Bishop of Le Mans and Tours, gives 
 vent to his grievances at the hands of Fortuna in his De Exsilio 
 Suo. He had much cause for complaint against William Rufus of 
 England, but in this poem he blames the capricious Goddess in a 
 manner which has already become traditional: 
 
 Recently I was in happy circumstances, and everything was prosperous. 
 I had many friends. I wondered at thee, Fortuna, that thou, who art wont to be 
 so fickle, wast stable and constant. I said, whence comes this prosperity? Con- 
 stancy is not a trait of human affairs. 
 Has ludit fortuna vices, regesque superbos, 
 Aut servos humiles non sinit esse diu. 
 Illa dolosa comes, sola levitate fidelis, 
 Non impune favet, aut sine fine premit. 
 Tila mihi quondam risu blandita sereno 
 Mutavit vultus, nubila facta, suos. 
 Et velut æternam misero conata ruinam, 
 Spem quoque laetitiae detrahit illa mihi. 
 She reduced and destroyed all that belonged tome. The consul ruined me; with 
 fickleness of favor like Fortuna’s, he exiled me: 
 Inde ratem scando, vitam committo procellis, 
 Uda [f.vela] tument, gemina cymba juvatur ope. 
 Portus erat longe, cum ventus fortior aestum 
 Movit, et in tumulos Auster aravit aquas. 
 (And so Hildebert uses vividly the figure of the sea and Fortuna Redux.) 
 
 32 Ibid. 86 (13). 
 cl055-11883: 
 
 MN a 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 187 
 
 At this point the tone of the poem changes. Hildebert reflects that God is 
 really the governor of the world, and only He is responsible for all this. What is 
 Fortuna anyway? 
 
 Jus illis Deus ascribit, statuitque teneri 
 Legibus, et nutu stare vel ire suo. 
 Ille simul semel et solus praevidit, et egit 
 Cuncta, nec illa aliter vidit, agitque aliter. 
 As for the rest: 
 Si fas est credi te quidquam posse vel esse, 
 O fortuna! quid es? quod potes ipse dedit. 
 Pace tua, fortuna, loquar; blandire, minare, 
 Nil tamen unde querar, aut bene laeter ages. 
 Ille potens, mitis tenor et concordia rerum, 
 Quidquid vult in me digerat, ejus ero.* 
 
 ALANUS DE INSULIS 
 
 Another ecclesiastic to bring Fortuna into his discussion (but 
 with considerably more prominence) is Alanus de Insulis, of the 
 twelfth century. Superficially Alanus preserves the pagan con- 
 ception. His views on the structure of the universe seem to be 
 suggested in the following lines: 
 
 Nec mundum ratione regi, sed ab impete verti 
 Fortunae, varioque angi mortalia casu.* 
 
 The best remedy he can offer is merely that of fortitude: 
 
 Si tibi inimicatur fortuna, propter ejus inimicitias, dolorem non augeas; non 
 habet quid in te laedat, nisi ei vires praebeas.% 
 
 The Anticlaudianus describes Nature's attempts to form a 
 perfect human being, to which process God gives his consent. 
 Among other endowments nobility is necessary. Nobilitas, daugh- 
 ter of Fortune, would freely give her gifts; but she has no power 
 except what she derives from her mother, and she makes haste 
 to visit her mother’s house. An elaborate description of the 
 house follows. Of this it will suffice at present to say that it is 
 situated ‘‘in the midst of the sea, on a cliff which the water lashes 
 continually, and with which the wave has strife.” The cliff is 
 
 4 Carmina Miscellanea, LXXV, (Migne CLXXI, 1418-20). Reprinted by 
 Jakob Werner, Beitråge zur Kunde der lateinischen Literatur, 1905, pp. 95-7; quoted 
 ’ by Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum Historiale, lib. XXV, cap. cix; discussed by 
 Hauréau, Les Mélanges Poétiques d’Hildebert de Lavardin, Paris, 1882, no. xlii. 
 
 % Anticlaudianus, lib. IX, cap. ix. (Migne, CCX, 575). 
 
 % Summa de Arte Praedicatoria, cap. xiii (Migne, CCX, 137). 
 
188 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 now hidden by the waves, now rises to the upper air. It suffers 
 continual changes of climate. There are trees of barren and of 
 fruitful branches, and thorn-thickets armed with darts. There 
 are two streams, one pleasant, the other exceedingly disagreeable. 
 Part of Fortune’s house seems about to fall. It is blown by the 
 winds. Fortune herself is in difficulties: “Uneven of gait, chang- 
 ing, retrograde, roving, while going forward she goes back much. 
 In her progress she is both swift and slow. Now in better gown, 
 she is radiant; now in poorer garb she is abased and becomes 
 one of the throng; now reft of raiment, she is exposed. She 
 seems to mourn her ancient glories.” Nobility explains to her 
 mother the reason for coming and asks her for anything glorious, 
 any comely work of virtue.” Fortune replies: "The act of Na- 
 ture, the fashion of virtue, requires no work of ours; such a work 
 of God needs not our action, a work composed of so many gifts 
 of heaven, and lacking no glory of virtue. What power will 
 chance have, when naught is ruled by chance? What power my 
 fickleness, where Constancy doth keep? . . . Her gold needeth 
 no iron. The work of virtue hath no need of me.” Yet she 
 brings gifts. She will try to conquer her bad habit of fickleness 
 in this particular case. She will lay aside her deceit. Reason 
 stands beside her as she gives, to allow no inconstancy, and 
 “compels Fortune to deceive herself, takes away Fortune from 
 herself and makes the false to be true, the untrustworthy faith- 
 ful, the wavering constant, the blind seeing, and for a time compels 
 her wandering to stay.” 
 
 In this account of the work of Fortune, the goddess is dis- 
 cussed in connection with two important topics. (1) We have 
 the old opposition of Reason and Fortune. Fortune’s gifts are 
 not of the same quality as those of the other goddesses and she 
 is somewhat degraded.’ (2) We have one solution of the ques- 
 tion of Nobility’s origin, a subject of great debate in the Middle 
 Ages.*° Nobility of a certain kind, at any rate, comes from the 
 gifts of Fortune. These two points suggest that the author had 
 
 37 Anticlaudianus, lib. VII, cap. viii ff. (Migne, CCX, 557-62). Later imita- 
 tions of this description I hope to discuss elsewhere. 
 
 38 See lib. VIII, cap. ii (Migne, CCX, 561). 
 
 39 See, for example, Dante’s Convivio, Canzone Terza; Chaucer’s Wife of Bath’s 
 Tale, 261 (“Crist wol, we clayme of him our gentillesse”); Gower’s Confessio 
 Amantis, IV, 2204 ff. 
 
 pr PE 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 189 
 
 in mind less the goddess of pure chance than the goddess who 
 bestowed worldly gifts. 
 
 But is this a satisfactory clue to the apparent contradiction 
 in Fortuna”s position? At one moment we are told that Reason 
 stands beside her as she gives, to allow no inconstancy; here the 
 goddess of chance may still be uppermost. But Reason also 
 “takes away Fortune from herself and makes the false to be 
 true.” Here apparently Alanus has achieved the impossible and 
 for a moment stopped the wheel of Fortune; for when Fortuna 
 ceases to be fickle, we remember, she ceases to be Fortuna.* 
 But some figure certainly remains in the person of her who has 
 granted the worldly gifts. Are we to understand that the goddess 
 of mundane glory was once, and is no longer, Fortuna? What is 
 the meaning of such metamorphosis? Is it merely a successful 
 application of the pagan remedy of prudence? A better solution is 
 to be found in the possibility that Alanus did not have the goddess 
 in mind at all, but intended merely a personification of the abstract 
 idea of mundane possessions. In that case the change is quite 
 consistent: worldly glories are inconstant, but may become trust- 
 worthy by a special dispensation of the gods, or by a proper use 
 of the intellect (Reason) in dealing with them. 
 
 In the Anticlaudianus, the confusion of goddess and abstraction 
 originated a unique conception and established one important 
 symbolic attribute of Fortuna—her dwelling-place. What is the 
 idea that gave rise to the allegory of Nobilitas, daughter of For- 
 tuna? The literal meaning of the allegory is just this: nobility 
 comes from worldly possessions; riches and honor create worldly 
 nobility. In other words, Fortuna here is not the giver but the 
 gifts themselves—“‘fortune.”” Such fortune is difficult to attain,— 
 a rock surrounded by a stormy sea; it is sometimes greater and 
 sometimes less,—the rock is submerged or emerges from the sea 
 (the figure of the trees is typical too, where however the symbolic 
 element is introduced if the plucking of the fruit enters into the 
 idea). Wealth and honor fluctuate (a man is sometimes poor and 
 sometimes rich); Fortuna goes forward and backward, she is now in 
 poor raiment now in rich. In Alanus, Fortuna herself suffers; 
 the absolute goddess can never suffer what she inflicts. 
 
 40 Cf. St. Augustine, p. 181 above, and Boethius, p. 191 below. 
 
190 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 The incongruous picture of Fortuna itself is not so much at 
 fault as the fact that it refuses the smooth visualization of a deity 
 living a possible course of life anywhere.” The allegorical method 
 is broken. If Fortuna is in complete control of her gifts, who is 
 responsible for her own occasionally unhappy condition? Somehow 
 the author’s own idea of her has been altered. For Alanus, God is 
 in His heaven, and the other figures are subservient to Him; but 
 Fortuna, the Goddess, is really non-existent. 
 
 II 
 The Compromise 
 
 BOETHIUS 
 
 Boethius (of the fifth and sixth centuries) and even Albertus 
 Magnus (of the thirteenth century) fall chronologically before St. 
 Thomas Aquinas, but they represent the roots of a growth flower- 
 ing later than his work. 
 
 Boethius, as a philosopher, employs the remedy of prudence 
 against Fortuna. His is the great debate of Reason and Fortune. 
 But, as a poet, he lays the foundation for a treatment still higher, 
 and in every way his work is remarkable. As one of the Latin 
 “transmitters of antique and patristic thought,”” he combines 
 the detail of the Classical treatment of Fortune with a richness of 
 theme and style which are striking in themselves for so early a 
 date, and which contain the promise of practically every theme 
 and formula that were used down through the Middle Ages. 
 
 The plot of the Consolation of Philosophy is familiar enough. 
 The author, imprisoned without guilt, has a vision of the lady — 
 Philosophy, to whom he rails against the unreasonableness of for- 
 tune. Philosophy discourses on the ways in which he can accept 
 Fortuna, and in so doing touches on the three great methods. 
 She represents Fortuna as personally appearing to him and defend- 
 ing herself.4* There is a description,“ an apostrophe to the ruler 
 
 41 Cf., for example, the picture of the varying height of Philosophy in Boethius, 
 De Cons. Philos., I, pr. i, where Philosophy is a mixture of type and symbol. There 
 is no possible idea that Boethius believed in her as an existing spirit. Cf. the dis- 
 cussion of the idea as it appears in Homer: Neilson, Court of Love, pp. 9 få. 
 
 “2 Taylor, Mediaeval Mind, I, 88 ff. 
 
 4 Lib. I, pr. ii. 
 
 aa pr. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 191 
 
 of the universe,” and the complaint;‘* and we have the tragic 
 theme, the theme of the “friend in need,” that of "sorrow's 
 crown of sorrows,” and many others.” The influence of Boethius 
 on the Middle Ages can hardly receive full estimate; it cannot 
 be adequately described here, but I hope that this study will be 
 valuable at least in giving hints for a more complete discussion.*3 
 
 (a) The general impression one might carry away from read- 
 ing Boethius is that of the purely pagan Fortuna:*® 
 
 (1) He speaks of Fortune’s fickle bounty.*° He complains that her “fickle 
 hand” deals out changing lots.” Philosophy asks him if he thinks that the universe 
 is guided only by mere chance” and that fortune is allotted by no ruling hand. 
 
 (2) Philosophy herself describes Fortuna: ‘‘Eo usque cum his quos eludere 
 nititur blandissimam familiaritatem, dum intolerabili dolore confundat quos 
 insperata reliquerit.”* Again: "Tu fortunam putas erga te esse mutatum: erras. 
 Hi semper eius mores sunt ista natura. Servavit circa te propriam potius in ipsa sui 
 mutabilitate constantiam. Talis erat, cum blandiebatur, cum tibi falsae inlecebris 
 felicitatis alluderet. Deprehendisti caeci numinis ambiguos vultus. Quae sese 
 adhuc velat aliis, tota tibi prorsus innotuit. Si probas, utere moribus, ne quera- 
 
 "rIs.””5 
 
 (3) Philosophy says: “‘Fortunae te regendum dedisti, dominae moribus opor- 
 tet obtemperes. Tu vero volventis rotae impetum retinere conaris? At omnium 
 mortalium stolidissime, si manere incipit, fors esse desistit.5 
 
 (4) Fortuna was his nurse.57 Wealth and honors are her handmaids.5* To 
 spin her wheel is her unchanging sport.** Perseus and Croesus are overturned 
 
 45], met. v. 
 
 rm priv. 
 
 47 In this study it is impossible to trace the use of all these motifs in the differ- 
 ent writers. Their use is remarkably constant. 
 
 48 Here it is only necessary to recall the translation of Alfred (849-901); the 
 treatment of Tanzo, Domenichi, Bartoli, and Varchi in Italian (sixteenth century); 
 the commentary, by Thomas Aquinas and Badius Ascensius (c. 1510); the transla- 
 tions of Jean de Meun and others in Old French, and of Chaucer, Colville (1556), 
 and Queen Elizabeth (1593, see the edition by Miss Caroline Pemberton, 1899), 
 in English. See list in Encyc. Brit. 
 
 49 See, e.g., Nitzsch, Das System des Boethius, Berlin, 1860, pp. 66 ff. 
 
 50 I, met. i, line 17: "Dum levibus male fida bonis fortuna faveret.” 
 
 5 I, met. v, ll. 28-9. 
 
 58 II, pr. ii, ll. 16-17, 
 bole rprsat, 111 27 ff. 
 
192 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 by her random blow.® She looks on man with a favouring and then with a grudg- 
 ing eye.® 
 
 (5) Philosophy’s remedy is to bear with equal mind the yoke of Fortune. 
 If Boethius masters himself, he will be in possession of what Fortuna cannot take 
 away,—himself. At last Philosophy says: “‘Postremo idem de total concludere 
 fortuna licet in qua nihil expetendum nihil nativae bonitatis inesse manifestum 
 est, quae nec se bonis semper adjungit et bonos quibus fuerit adiuncta non effcit.”* 
 These are the "fomenta rationum,’’® which Philosophy offers to him, with, it will 
 be observed, a touch of the spiritual remedy. 
 
 (b) The next step in Boethius is to reconcile this conception 
 with Christianity. The only consistent reconciliation of this por- 
 trait of Fortuna with Christian doctrine would be to consider her — 
 an evil power (for there is no good in her whatsoever), or else to ~ 
 drop her entirely as allegorical. But, while Boethius is philo- 
 sophically consistent,® he is not consistent in his portraiture of 
 Fortune. He has three distinct pictures. 
 
 The best practical remedy Philosophy can give for the pagan 
 Fortuna is to say, "Bear the yoke of Fortune,” and then, “Quid si 
 haec ipsa mei mutabilitas iusta tibi causa est sperandi meliora?”*7 
 —another way of saying, "Patience!” She then discourses at 
 length on the gifts of fortune and the truly valuable gifts. She 
 identifies real good with God. Fortuna has no part in the truly 
 worthwhile.** Wealth and honors and fame are not enduringly 
 valuable.** But God is the creator of all things, and what seems 
 like the element of chance is only the motion and change on the 
 rim of the great wheel of which God is the center.” How then did 
 
 60 II, pr. ii, ll. 32 ff. 
 
 81 TI, pr. iii, ll. 36-7. 
 
 62 TI, pr. i, ll. 46-8. ¢ 
 
 83 TI, pr. iv, ll. 70-72. 
 
 “TI, pr. vi, ll. 63-6. 
 
 6 I, pr. v 14. 
 
 6 See E. K. Rand, in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, (1904), XV, 8, 10, 
 20. 
 
 87 JI, pr. ii, 11.42-3. This is the ‘‘rhetoricae suadela dulcedinis” (see: Rand, pp. 
 8-9). 
 
 68 See IT, pr. vi, ll. 63 ff. (partly quoted above.) 
 
 69 TI, pr. vi, vii, etc. 4 
 
 70 TV, pr. vi, H. 21 ff. Fate is the rim. Note the confusion of characteristics 
 of Fortune with those of Fate: “Illud certe manifestum est immobilem simplicem- 
 que gerendarum formam rerum esse providentiam, fatum vero eorum quae divina 
 simplicitas gerenda disposuit mobilem nexum atque ordinem temporalem” (IV, 
 pr. vi, ll. 52-6). For the further development of this confusion in Albertus Mag- 
 nus, cf. below, n. 104. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 193 
 
 evil enter the world? To this Boethius gives two answers. The 
 first is his first attempt at reconciling Fortuna with Christianity. 
 
 He explains that evil from a certain point of view is good. 
 Granted that good fortune is bad for us, ill-fortune is good for us: 
 
 Etenim plus hominibus reor adversam quam prosperam prodesse fortunam. 
 illa enim semper specie felicitatis, cum videtur blanda, mentitur: haec semper vera 
 est, cum se instabilem mutatione demonstrat. illa fallit, haec instruit, illa menda- 
 cium specie bonorum mentes fruentium ligat, haec cognitione fragilis felicitatis 
 absolvit. itaque illam videas ventosam fluentem suique semper ignaram, hanc 
 sobriam succinctamque et ipsius adversitatis exercitatione prudentem. postremo 
 felix a vero bono devios blanditiis trahit, adversa plerumque ad vera bona reduces 
 unco retrahit.”! 
 
 She teaches you your true friends, for example.” 
 
 The weakness of this conception is revealed by the confusion 
 of goddess and type. The personified abstraction is used, and yet 
 Boethius seems to have felt he was again describing the goddess 
 (see, in the passage above, ‘‘fluentem suique semper ignaram”’). 
 Fortuna, the goddess, would not suffer her own adversities, but 
 the idea is a compromise. Good-Fortune is a demon; Ill-Fortune 
 is something else,—an angel? 
 
 (c) The second answer Boethius gives to the question of evil 
 is that evil is non-existent.” It is only apparent. God, who is all 
 good, cannot create evil, and thus even good-fortune may work for 
 good ends. Philosophy warns a man not to trust entirely in the 
 strength of his own mind: “Cui si quid eveniat adversi, desinet 
 colere forsitan innocentiam per quam non potuit retinere fortunam. 
 parcit itaque sapiens dispensatio ei quem deteriorem facere 
 possit adv@gitas, ne cui non convenit laborare patiatur.””7* Provi- 
 dence acts In various ways with a motive: 
 
 Aliis mixta quaedam pro animorum qualitate distribuit: quosdam remordet, 
 ne longa felicitate luxurient: alios duris agitari, ut virtutes animi patientiae usu 
 atque exercitatione confirment.” 
 
 Tamne igitur vides quid haec omnia quae diximus consequatur?—Quidnam? 
 inquam.—Omnem, inquit, bonam prorsus esse fortunam. . . . cum omnis for- 
 tuna vel iucunda vel aspera tum remunerandi exercendive bonos tum puniendi 
 
 corrigendive improbos causa deferatur, omnis bona quam vel iustam constat esse 
 vel utilem.7 
 
 % TI, pr. viii, 11. 7-18; and see the whole section. 
 72 Ibid. 18-24. 
 
 78 See Rand, op. cit., p. 20. 
 
 ™ TV, pr. vi, 11. 129-133. 
 
 % TV, pr. vi, 11. 140-44. See the whole passage. 
 % TV, pr. vii, ll. 1-8. 
 
194 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 All fortune is good; and good and bad fortune both have their 
 proper work to do in the world.”” 
 
 This answer to the problem of Fortune’s place in the universe 
 raises the question of the relation of chance to destiny, and of 
 chance to free-will. Boethius in the fifth book settles the ques- 
 tion of free-will and the providence of God by asserting both. 
 God’s providence is beyond the comprehension of our reason.”* 
 
 We must observe that Boethius after his second treatment of 
 Fortuna does not use the figure of the goddess.”” An inference 
 of such a figure in subordination to Divine Providence is easily 
 drawn, but Boethius did not draw it. He later settles the discus- 
 sion of the element of chance by means of the Aristotelian terms, 
 exactly as the Aristotelian discussion passed over into the com- 
 mentaries of the Church Fathers.* That is the end of Fortuna, 
 the goddess of chance, for him philosophically. Yet he suggests 
 very clearly the other possibility. Put the passage "omnem bonam 
 esse fortunam”” with the following, 
 
 Sive igitur famulantibus quibusdam providentiae divinis spiritibus fatum 
 exercetur seu anima seu tota inserviente natura seu caelestibus siderum motibus 
 seu angelica virtute seu daemonum varia sollertia seu aliquibus horum seu omnibus 
 fatalis series texitur,®! 
 
 and you have almost the Christian conception.” The idea as 
 
 77 The idea is taken up from Boethius by Robert Holcot, Lectio XCV: “Et 
 ideo nulla fortuna mala est apud sapientem sicut declarat Boe.,” etc. 
 
 78 See V, pr. vi. 
 
 79 Alfred, who translates Fortune the goddess by woruldsæld, and fortune the 
 abstraction by wyrd, keeps the distinction clear. See XL, §1 (Boethius, IV, pr. 
 vii, 2 ff.), Sedgefield’s ed., p. 137: “Ic wille secgan, pet wyrd bio good, sam hio 
 monnum good pince, sam hio him yfel pince.” 
 
 80 See V, pr. i, 34 ff. (“Aristoteles meus,” etc.), 51 ff. (“Licet igitur definire 
 casum esse inopinatum ex confluentibus causis in his quae ob aliquid geruntur 
 eventum’’). 
 
 81 JV, pr. vi, 48 ff. 
 
 82 See Busetto on Dante, Giornale Dantesco, XII, 129-138. And see Venuti- 
 De Dominicis’ Boezio, vol. I, Grottaferrata, 1911, pp. 128-9: "Per quanto concerne 
 la fortuna, Boezio la presenta come uno specioso, autonomo, ma chimerico potere; 
 é diversa dal fato, non ha posto fisso nel sistema e si riduce a un mezzo educatore 
 in mano di Dio, sottoposto a la provvidenza; & o prospera 0 avversa, ha periscopo 
 il bene: ‘Omnis fortuna bona est.’ ” 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 195 
 
 Boethius left it is as orthodox as that of Thomas Aquinas,” and 
 it has poetic insight as well. 
 
 Three inferences may be drawn from Boethius, however, one 
 from each of his three methods of dealing with the goddess. And 
 in studying his tradition it will be well to discriminate between 
 these, in order to decide fairly what is the main tradition from 
 his work. Isit merely that of the pagan Fortuna, or is his con- 
 tribution greater? 
 
 HENRICUS SEPTIMELLENSIS 
 
 One of the earliest imitations of Boethius was written by 
 Henricus Septimellensis, of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 
 The imitation is proclaimed in its title, De Diversitate Fortunae et 
 Philosophiae Consolatione. The author was a priest in the Church. 
 He had a great inheritance, but was forced to give up his property 
 and go begging:™ 
 
 Prologue:—The mind even as the body may grow infirm. For the body one 
 goes to the doctor; for the spirit one goes to God. Book I.—How bereft is the world 
 of probity! To whom shall I lament? To thee Fortuna, who, perfidious one, dost 
 constrain me to suffer base injuries. I am the scorn of all. How can I cleanse 
 myself of my ill-repute? 
 
 O mala dulcedo, subito quae sumpta venenas, 
 Quaeve recompensas mellea felle gravi! 
 _ * * * * * * * * * * * 
 Quid tibi, magne, tuli? quid, Jupiter? unde nocendi 
 Ista sitis? Coelo fulmina nulla tuli. 
 In fact, all are against me: 
 Sic mihi septenis nocet impia turba planetis. 
 * * * * * * * * * * * 
 Saturnus falcem; fulmen fert Iupiter; arma 
 Mars; Sol fervorem; dira venena Venus; 
 Mercurius virgam; cupidas fert Luna sagittas. 
 Septem septena concitat arma cohors.® 
 
 8 See Taylor, Classical Heritage of the Middle Ages, 3d ed., 1911, p. 54: “The 
 Consolation of Philosophy is not a Christian work. . . . [But its author] presents 
 Pagan ethics from the standpoint of one impressed by the problems which Chris- 
 tianity had made prominent, for instance, that of the compatibility of human 
 free will and God’s foreknowledge.” Cf. Rand, op. cit., and the discussion in 
 Stewart. Rand calls Boethius “the first of the scholastics.” 
 
 % See the introduction in the edition published at Prato, 1841. His biography 
 has been written by Filippo Villani. The text here used is the original, with trans- 
 lation by Manni (Florence, 1730). 
 
 8 Manni, pages 4-6. 
 
196 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Not Tityrus, Tantalus, Niobe, Job, Cadmus, Tristan, or any other ever suffered 
 so much: 
 Obruor oceano, saevisque reverberor undis: 
 Nesciet hinc reditum mersa carina suum.™ 
 The time of prosperity is gone by. Thus Boreas turns the leaves on the trees, and 
 the wheel revolves mortals. Fortune is more cruel than a serpent: 
 O Deus! o quare subito fortuna rotatu 
 Cuncta molendinat mobiliore rotam?8’ 
 Alas, my soul: 
 Quam ferit Alecto, quam Thesiphon aeque fatigat, 
 Cui fortuna nocet, quamve Megaera ferit.3* 
 Henricus orders Fortuna to stop her wheel and hearken: 
 Dic mihi quid feci? Responde, lingua dolosa; 
 Responde per eum, qui super astra sedet.®® 
 The goddess listens, swiftly spins her wheel, and replies. She reminds him of the 
 extent of her power. Greek, Hebrew, Barbarian, and Latin fear and venerate her: 
 Meque Saladinus nimium vexilla salutis 
 Expugnans, hostem sentiet esse suam.*° 
 Let him beware! He replies: what worse can she do, "meretrix fortuna”? Why 
 does her countenance change so? And he reviles her with the usual epithets (in- 
 constans, vaga, mobilis, aspera, caeca, instabilis, levior, perfida, surda, fera).”! 
 She, in turn, warns him to consider before he speaks. She knows her trade. 
 She is the most powerful in the world. People decry her when she is unkind. 
 When she is kind and gives riches— 
 Tunc ego summa parens, et tunc regina verenda 
 Tunc Dea summa Deo praeferor ipsa Iovi.® 
 He continues his assault of names.* She reminds him of his humble origin. Whence 
 comes his pride? She will remain in control in spite of such an ant as he. He re- 
 plies that he will gain strength: 
 Non semper Marium, nec semper saepe rotatum 
 Volvis Apollonium: fortior alter erit, 
 Qui redimens mea probra, fero pugnabit agone, 
 Et tibi forsan atrox auferet ille caput.™ 
 * * * * * * * * * * * 
 Ni melius, quam iura, scias, ignava, rotatus 
 
 Staret, quem gyras, orbis in orbe tuo.% 
 * * * * * * * * * * * 
 
 86 Pages 6-7. 
 
 87 Pages, 10, 13. 
 
 88 Page 14. 
 
 89 Page 14. 
 
 30 Pages 14-15. 
 
 1 Page 15-16. 
 
 92 Pages 16-17. 
 
 % See p. 18: “‘Tu ratione carens nescia habere modum.” 
 % Pages 19-20. 
 
 % Page 21. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 197 
 
 Ergo tibi ius, cum sis furiosa, vetat.% 
 
 The poem combines powerfully all the pagan remedies. It completes its les- 
 son in the third book, where Philosophy with seven companions (the arts) appears 
 and chides the author for forgetfulness. What has he to do with unjust For- 
 tune? The reminiscences of Boethius’s pagan Fortuna are more striking here.” 
 She moves by pure caprice: 
 
 Promovet iniustos fortuna volubilis, ut quos 
 Scandere praecipites fecit, ad ima rotet.% 
 Philosophy’s advice is ultimately that of the spiritual remedy: 
 Fortunam dimitte vagam, permitte vagari, 
 Quae numquam stabili ludere fronte potest. 
 Contra fortunam sis constans, sis patiens, sis 
 Ferreus, adversi te neque frangat hyems. 
 Fortuna ridente gemas; plorante ioceris;* 
 Ipsa sit auspicium tempus in omne tuum 
 Cuncta rotat fortuna rotam, quam cuncta rotantur: 
 Sic tenui magnus orbis in orbe perit. 
 Firmus in adversis; piger ad mala; tardus ad iram; 
 Promptus ad obsequium, (etc.)109 
 Philosophy advises indifference to outer circumstances and fidelity to virtue alone. 
 
 This imitation of Boethius sometimes seems to approach the 
 Christian Fortuna. It suggests, in the plea to God, that Fortuna 
 is not the only power in the universe; but the moral pagan felt 
 that. It does not introduce any greatly original treatment. It 
 is hardly different from that of Hildebert of Lavardin in general 
 intent. 
 
 ALBERTUS MAGNUS 
 
 The great German, Count of Bollstadt, Doctor Universalis, 
 takes up the problem of Fortuna from the same point of view as 
 
 % Page 22. 
 97 See p. 23: 
 Vis ipsam non esse vagam? natura repugnat, 
 Quae dedit instabilem semper, et esse vagam. 
 See a reference to Boethius, p. 24: 
 Nonne meus Severinus inani iure peremptus 
 Carcere Papiae non patienda tulit? 
 which is not exactly the philosophical conclusion that Boethius intended should 
 be drawn from his Consolatio. 
 % Page 26. 
 % Page 31. Cf. Nigellus Wireker. Cf. also Prior Godfrey’s epigram, lxvi, in 
 Wright’s, Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets, II, 112: 
 Extolli noli, quod te fortuna beavit, 
 Pomponi, haec eadem quae levat ipsa premit. 
 100 Pages 31 ff. 
 
198 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 that of Thomas Aquinas. He made a study of the Aristotelian 
 doctrine. His work, of course, falls at an earlier period than that 
 of St. Thomas, for he was born at the end of the twelfth century. 
 I shall not repeat here the substance of the Aristotelian dis- 
 cussion. It will only be necessary to recall that Aristotle leaves 
 the element of chance in the universe as causa per accidens.!" 
 Albertus Magnus summarizes the positions of the different 
 philosophers. In connection with his study of one set of opponents 
 to the theory of chance, he says: "Videtur etiam contra fidem 
 Catholicam esse si ponatur casus et fortuna. Si enim omnia quae 
 futura sunt quocunque modi, praescit Deus.” And he brings up 
 the question of Divine Providence: God could not foresee if 
 
 chance played a part in the world, "Ergo videtur haeresis ponere' 
 
 casum et fortunam.””!?? 
 
 Again if things happen wholly under divine ordinance, we 
 are robbed of human free-will.1% Albertus confirms Boethius’s 
 idea of fate and his wheel figure, perhaps because it seems to 
 retain both the element of chance (or at least change) and divine 
 foreordination: "Cum enim prima causarum sit Deus, et omnium 
 quorum causa est, ipse providentiam habeat.’” He refers to the 
 ”mediantibus causis universalibus,”% and to the fates, ‘‘Nihil 
 
 101 Here of course is the same reference to Nature, distinguishing it from For- 
 tune (see Albertus, Physicorum, lib. II, tr. ii, cap. x, Opera, II, 82 ff.) In Boethius 
 also a distinction is felt to which I have not referred above: *Numquam tua faciet 
 esse fortuna quae a te natura rerum fecit aliena. Terrarum quidem fructus animan- 
 tium procul dubio debentur alimentis. sed si, quod naturae satis est, replere 
 indigentiam velis, nihil est quod fortunae affluentiam petas,” De Philos. Cons., 
 (II, pr. v, 37-42). Nature seems to be the deity who governs vegetable and plant 
 life, and physical and sometimes mental man. The distinction is not always clear. 
 See Albertus, cap. xviii, where Nature and Intellect are set off against each other: 
 “Sed utrumque istorum facientium, natura videlicet et intellectus, sunt de genere 
 causae efficientis.”’ 
 
 102 Physicorum, lib. II, tr. ii, cap x (Opera, II, 83). 
 
 103 “Quod autem hoc nihil sit, videtur: quia sic eveniunt quae eveniunt immo- 
 biliter simpliciter, et non haberent immobilitatem "nisi quoad me vel te qui non 
 praevidemus ea. Hoc autem si verum est, tunc perit liberum arbitrium, et perit 
 consilium, sicut et perit casus et perit fortuna” (zbid. 83-4). 
 
 104 Cap. xix (ibid. 92). See also cap. xx, especially the definition of Fortuna 
 (per accidens) and the Fortuna-like Fata passage: "Si autem consideretur ipsa 
 secundum esse quod habet communiter ex supremis et imis, tunc ipsa est in quibus- 
 dam mobilis per accidens, hoc est, per esse quod habet in illis: de se autem est 
 immobilis: quia procedit ab immobili ordine et cardine causarum.” 
 
 a Cay xax: 
 
 — 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 199 
 
 autem horum quae dicta sunt, est contra fidem vel praescientiam: 
 quoniam praescientia nullam rebus imponit necessitatem.’’!% 
 Thus, Boethius, he says, allows Fate, "quia quae sunt in ipsa 
 intemporaliter et simpliciter et immobiliter, secundum quod 
 descendunt ex ipsa, sic fiunt plus et plus temporalia et multiplicia 
 et mobilia et contingentia.””07 
 
 If we substitute Fortune for this kind of fickle Fate, we have 
 the Christian Fortune; and it is an easy substitution. This is 
 about as close as we shall be able to get to the conception of 
 Fortune in Albertus. He rejects the suggestion of the Mathematici 
 who deny chance and fortune in favor of complete divine ordina- 
 tion: 
 
 Solutionem autem quae’ inducta est, ego non iudico approbandam. Sed 
 potius dicendum est hic modo hoc dicto: quia sic non perit casus, nec perit liberum 
 arbitrium, nec perit consilium, nec omnia hoc modo attingunt finem in natura ordi- 
 natum, sicut probant obiectiones inductae.1"* 
 
 Later in the differentiation between ‘‘constellatio” and “‘fa- 
 tum” and “fortuna,” fortuna seems to be accepted but as subordin- 
 ate to a primal cause.!” 
 
 I can find, then, no single definite conception of Fortune in 
 Albertus Magnus. He wants to retain divine providence and 
 human free-will. One thing we are sure of: he wants to retain 
 Fortuna. What we may deduce from this discussion, since he 
 regards Boethius as in general satisfactory, is much the same as 
 what we get in Boethius. Neither settles the problem. 
 
 106 Cap. xxi. 
 
 107 Thid. 
 
 108 Thid. 
 
 109 Bthicorum, I, tr. vii, cap. vi (Opera, I, 67): “Unde constellatio et fatum et 
 fortuna differunt, licet in eisdem sint subiectis et ab eisdem causis. Fortuna enim 
 est secundum quod adhaeret nato. Fatum autem eadem qualitas secundum quod 
 in tota incomplexione causarum est fusa. Constellatio autem secundum quod 
 est in primis motoribus per diversitatem circulorum et domorum angulorum et 
 respectuum aliorum secundum quod in circulis est causata. Unde una qualitas 
 est in constellatione et fato et fortuna variata secundum esse. Et hoc modo 
 accepta fortuna quidam sub fortuna felicitatem esse ponebant: et ideo dicebant 
 fortunam esse trahentem, sed necessitatem non imponere animis. Animus enim 
 hominis per ordinationem sapientiae, sicut dicit Ptolemaeus, dominatur fortunae 
 et fato et constellationi.” Cf. Eihic., VII, tr. ii, cap. iv: (ibid. 287): "Fortuna 
 enim est qualitas accepta in nato impLexione causarum ab caelo descendens secun- 
 dum nativitatis periodum, qua quis naturalem accipit potentiam,” etc. 
 
200 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 The difficulty in general was not properly dealt with, and one 
 attempt at its solution is obvious in another bit of treatment, 
 where, as in the work of Henricus Septimellensis, God and Fortuna 
 are brought in close proximity. Itis from the twelfth or thirteenth 
 century: 
 
 Gratia, Christe, tibi, quod cum mihi vulnera quaerant, 
 Das ut pro meritis vulnera prima ferant. 
 
 Cui fortuna subest, cujus nutum comitantur 
 Casus, fata, status, tempora, corda, manus. 
 
 En solus tantusque manens quantus voluisti, 
 Omnia velle tuum sunt, et eras, es, eris.19 
 
 III 
 The Christian Fortuna 
 
 In the previous chapter and in this we have seen two great 
 conceptions of Fortuna in the Middle Ages,—the pagan and the 
 Ecclesiastical. The pagan allows Fortuna to exist; the Church, 
 laying emphasis on a single God, does not see its way clear to 
 keep any other deity. The union of these two points of view is 
 found in the poetic vision of Dante, who solves the problem of For- 
 tuna without a compromise and with conclusions satisfactory to 
 both opinions. This work represents only another way in which 
 Dante is the “mediaeval synthesis.”"" He is the creator of the 
 complete Christian Fortuna. 
 
 The passage in which Fortuna appears is so important that I 
 shall quote it entire for convenient reference. Virgil has referred 
 to the goddess; Dante takes the name from his lips and requires 
 an explanation: 
 
 ‘Maestro,’ diss’ io lui, ‘or mi di’ anche: 
 
 Questa Fortuna di che tu mi tocche, 
 
 Che é, che i ben del mondo ha si tra branche?’ 
 E quegli a me: ‘O creature sciocche, 
 
 Quanta ignoranza é quella che vi offende! 
 
 Or vo’ che tu mia sentenza ne imbocche. 
 Colui lo cui saper tutto trascende 
 
 Fece li cieli, e dié lor chi conduce, 
 
 Si che ogni parte ad ogni parte splende, 
 
 10 Archdeacon Henry, De Statu Suo, in Wright’s Satirical Poets, II, 170. 
 
 11 Cf. his union of the pagan and Christian in his use of Courtly Love. See, 
 for this, Taylor’s Mediaeval Mind, II, 555 ff. “Mediaeval synthesis” is Taylor’s 
 expression. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 201 
 
 Distribiiendo egualmente la luce. 
 Similemente agli splendor mondani 
 Ordin6 general ministra e duce, 
 
 Che permutasse a tempo li ben vani 
 Di gente in gente e d’uno in altro sangue, 
 Oltre la difension de’ senni umani: 
 
 Per che una gente impera, e Valtra langue, 
 Seguendo lo giudizio di costei, 
 
 Che é occulto, come in erba l’angue. 
 
 Vostro saper non ha contrasto a lei: 
 Questa provvede, giudica e persegue 
 Suo regno, come il loro gli altri dei. 
 
 Le sue permutazion non hanno triegue; 
 Necessita la fa esser veloce, 
 
 Si spesso vien chi vicenda consegue. 
 
 Quest’ é colei ch’é tanto posta in croce 
 Pur da color che le dovrian dar lode, 
 Dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce. 
 
 Ma ella s’é beata e cid non ode: 
 
 Con V'altre prime creature lieta 
 Volve sua spera, e beata si gode.” 
 
 Fortuna is, then, “general ministra e duce.” She has real if 
 occult order in her business (*questa provvede, giudica,” etc.)"* 
 She deals in mundane wealth (“‘che permutasse a tempo li ben 
 vani””). The treatment is a fusion of the old traits of the pagan 
 goddess with Christian doctrine. Fortuna is pagan and Boethian 
 in that she embodies the pagan whimsicality in outward manner 
 and is yet subordinate to a greater Deity; she does not award neces- 
 sarily according to merit, and yet her madness has method because 
 she is obeying the decrees of a superior will. To give her official 
 recognition as an angelic power with her own peculiar duties, was 
 a step Boethius and Albertus Magnus did not take." So far as 
 Italy is concerned, this is an entirely new poetical conception, 
 however much suggestive material Dante might have found in his 
 predecessors. The most original touch is that of the martyrdom 
 
 1? Inferno, VI, 67-96. See my study of this passage in the Thirty-third An- 
 nual Report of the Dante Society (Cambridge, Mass.), 1916, pp. 13-28. I shall 
 hope to publish later a more detailed investigation of the development of Dante’s 
 conception. 
 
 13 Cf. Graf (Miti, Leggende, etc.), I, 287. *Molte volte, gli é vero, la provvidenza 
 divina, secondo il concetto che se ne forma il credente de! medio evo, opera il male, 
 o sembra operare il male.” 
 
 14 See a summary of the philosophy in this passage, Graf, I, 300-301. 
 
202 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 of the goddess (“‘Quest’ & colei ch’ & tanto posta in croce”); but 
 we are told that she is quite serene about it, because, of course, 
 she knows the heavenly plan (‘‘beata si gode”). The picture is, 
 like everything in Dante, sublime. 
 
 Perhaps the function of Fortuna seems limited here; but if we 
 believe that the bulk of the references to Fortune in Dante depend 
 upon this conception in the background of the poet’s mind, 
 we can widen the field of her activities. She is the guide of man 
 as well as the giver of wealth;"® she bestows fame;"" she is related 
 to Death;"* she controls war.” Reason aids her: riches "vengono 
 
 EN 
 
 da fortuna ch’ é da ragione aiutata . . . o vengono da fortuna 
 aiutatrice di ragione.’’!?° 
 
 This distinction from a steadfast fate is clear in the apparent 
 mobility of Fortuna. Graf describes Dante’s conception of Fate 
 as follows: "Dante, ora fa del volere divino e del fato una sola e 
 medesima cosa, ora sembra che, almeno fantasticamente, li dis- 
 tingua, e distingua pure il fato dalla fortuna.” The line, *Neces- 
 sitå la fa esser veloce,’’ seems merely to mean that, since it is the 
 divine injunction that Fortuna shall carry on her business in 
 her own peculiar way, she is compelled to do so.” 
 
 15 There is a reminiscence of the pagan remedy of fortitude, Inferno, XV, 
 92 ff.; a reference to Aristotle, Convivio, IV, xi, 82 ff.; and complete annihilation of 
 the goddess, De Monarchia, II, x, 70 ff. 
 
 u6 Inferno, XIII, 98; XV, 46; XXX, 146; XXXII, 76. 
 
 "7 Inferno, XV, 70 ff.; Paradiso, XVI, 82 ff. 
 
 8 Canzone X, 90. 
 
 19 De Monarchia, IT, xi, 43; Inferno, XXX, 13. 
 
 120 Convivio, IV, xi, 62 fi. 
 
 121 Miti, etc., I, 277. See his references to Inferno, XXI, 82; Purgatorio, 
 XXX, 142-4, etc. 
 
 122 Cf. Cecco d’Ascoli, Acerba (Rosario’s ed., Lanciano, 1916), lib. II, cap. i, 
 lines 19-22, referred to by Benevenuto de Rambaldi, and quoted by G. Boffito, 
 Giornale Storico, Suppl. 6 (1903), p. 28: 
 
 In cid peccasti, o fiorentin poeta, 
 
 Ponendo che li ben de la fortuna 
 
 Necessitati siano con lor meta: 
 
 Non é fortuna che ragion non vinca. 
 This is merely a refusal to accept the Christian Fortuna and her occult order. It 
 is reminiscent of Thomas Aquinas, and is taken over by Boffito to mean that in 
 Dante’s philosophy no men but the astrologers (who can foresee the blows of For- 
 tune) can have free-will. Boffito thinks Dante refers to Cecco in De Monarchia 
 (I, cap. xii, 1. 6, of Moore's edition). See, for the correction of all this, Benevenuti 
 de Rambaldis de Imola Comentum (Florence, 1887), I, 264, which says that the 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 203 
 
 As to a “remedy” for the work of the Christian Fortune, 
 Dante does not give any; logical deduction suggests the remedy 
 that one is to remember Fortuna’s subservience to God. Of 
 course the realization that the will of Fortune is the will of God 
 means submission to her and humble acceptance of her decree. 
 Thus the remedy would be a mingling of all the pagan remedies. 
 Her cruelty requires patience; her occult reasons call for wise 
 interpretation; and her goods, “‘li ben vani,” are not to be sought. 
 The Ecclesiastical remedy of annihilation is not used, and Fortuna 
 is allowed to remain in the scheme of the universe. (It would be 
 hazardous to assert that Dante did not believe in an actual angel 
 with particular duties of the kind he describes.!) 
 
 Whatever his personal faith, his artistic creed includes a poetic 
 conception unrivalled by predecessors. Philosophy under Chris- 
 tian influence went farther than under the pagan, and did its 
 utmost to deal with Fortuna in a way satisfactory to the popular 
 conscience; but, as Sir Philip Sidney says in his Apologie for 
 Poetrie, poetry is superior to philosophy, and here the final touch 
 has been added by the poet. 
 
 Three great methods, then, of settling the problem of Fortuna 
 are presented to us in the early part of the Middle Ages: (1) 
 Fortuna is completely annihilated; (2) she is retained with a 
 supreme God above her,—their relations are not exactly definite, 
 but obviously she must be in part fulfilling His will; (3) she is 
 retained as a minister of His will, directly appointed to manage 
 casual affairs. The remedy for the Christian Fortuna is similar 
 in many respects to that for the pagan, and it will be difficult— 
 often impossible—to tell which an author had in mind. But the 
 figures themselves are distinct enough. 
 
 passage in Purgatorio, XVI, 73 ff., "Lo cielo i vostri movimenti inizia,” etc., is thus 
 explained by some: ‘‘Si fortuna est, de necessitate est mutabilis, quia ut dicit 
 Boetius: Si manere incipit, sors esse desistit.” See also Murari (Dante e Boezio, 
 pp. 2846), who refers to Horace, Ode I, xxxv, 17, and to Thomas Aquinas, Summa 
 Theologiae, I, quaest. 82, art. 1. 
 
 123 Cf. St. Augustine, De Civ. Dei., V, viii (Migne, XLI, 148), *A quo sunt omnes 
 potestates, quamvis ab illo non sint omnium voluntates”; and Busetto (Giornale 
 Dantesco, XII, 132), *E forse, nelloscriver cosi, sant’ Agostino concepiva, in ordine 
 alle vicende delle cose contingenti, una volonta superiore e indipendente, per quanto 
 la potestå, di che Iddio Vabbia insignita, dipenda dalla Potestå suprema di lui.” 
 See also St. Augustine, De Civ. Dei, V, ix; Boethius, De Philos. Consol., IV, pr. vi, 
 48 ff. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 FORTUNA IN ITALIAN LITERATURE FROM DANTE TO THE 
 RENAISSANCE 
 
 With Dante our study entered the literature of the Italian 
 vernacular. Latin had become more and more restricted to learned 
 discourse, and art in general found its expression in the more 
 familiar speech. Allegory, complaint, satire, and song now 
 employ the language of everyday life; and, after the time of Dante, 
 Latin certainly wasnot that. With the less formal speech comes the 
 more secular and less consciously philosophical literature. Dante 
 may be remembered satisfactorily as a philosopher; but Petrarch 
 and Boccaccio, although they philosophize at times, do not fit 
 conveniently into any such category. 
 
 L 
 
 Among the poets grouped about Dante in the frecento, both the 
 pagan and the Christian Fortuna make their appearance. The 
 Christian goddess is, of course, to be found in the verse directly 
 inspired by Dante. Close reminiscences of the greater poet form 
 the chief theme of two anonymous poems of this period.“* The 
 
 124 See Giornale Storico della Lett. Ital., XIV, 33 (from the Codice Parmense, 
 1081); see also Giornale Storico, XII, 101, c. 98 (from the Codice Parmense): 
 “Ministra e donna delli ben terreni.” The second poem is found in Poeti del 
 Primo Secolo, Il, 312, and cf. 327, 
 
 Ma é la mente dell’ uom tanto grossa, 
 
 Che comprender non puö cosa divina. 
 See also, for the Christian Fortuna, Poeti, etc., 326 ff., *To son la donna, che volgo 
 la rota,” etc., there assigned to Guido Cavalcanti. This is translated by D. G. 
 Rossetti (Oxford ed. of poems, p. 416), who doubts the authorship, and is reprinted 
 by G. Volpi (Rime di Trecentisti Minori, pp. 210 ff.), who assigns it to Gano da Colle. 
 See the theme of the Christian defense, “Ch’ & tanto posta in croce,” in Flamini’s 
 Lirica Toscana, pp. 516 ff. and references. It is difficult to tell what we have in 
 the case of Cino da Pistoia (Vita e Memorie, II, 146): 
 
 Et a la fin costretto da Vartiglio 
 
 Di quella, ch’ognor sembia al mondo inganni, 
 
 Lasciai la Patria, e gli onorati scanni, 
 
 E’] securo cammin di verti piglio. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 205 
 
 pagan Fortuna continues in the poetry of the earlier writers of the 
 thirteenth century.!> 
 PETRARCH 
 
 The importance of Petrarch (1304-1374) in Italian literature 
 needs no discussion. It is well, however, to remember the wide 
 sweep of his influence, as we see the number of times he mentions 
 Fortuna in his works and the emphasis he lays on her activities. 
 The passages in which Fortuna appears are vivid and striking, 
 but none of them is extensive enough in itself to be useful to us 
 here. In general it is the pagan Fortuna who is described, and 
 rarely is there a question of other treatment.” Naturally, 
 Petrarch has a tendency to employ the Fortune of Love rather 
 frequently in the Laura poetry.”’ So much for the general and 
 more or less casual references. 
 
 125 See Poesie Ital. Inedite, ed. Trucchi, II, 55, 98, and IV, 285; Carducci, 
 Cantilene e Ballate, pp. 109 ff. (no. LX XV), which perhaps is a compromise: 
 Non ha diletto Iddio pit grazioso, 
 Se volger degna li occhi suoi in terra, 
 Com’ é di riguardare un virtuoso 
 A cuil’aspra fortuna faccia guerra. 
 For “La Ballata di Frate Stoppa,” see A. Medin’s Ballata della Fortuna, App. 
 II (Propugnatore, 1889, pp. 139 ff.), and Carducci’s Cantilene, pp. 104 ff. (no. 
 LXXIV). Medin (pp. 108 ff.) shows the indebtedness of the Ballata della Fortuna 
 to the other. See Frate Stoppa, stanza iii: 
 Perö che ’] tuor e 'l dare 
 Cristo reservi al suo voler iocondo 
 Å Se la Fortuna e 'l mondo. 
 See also stanza xvii: 
 Adonca & beato colui 
 Ch’ al suo Iove l’animo suo dreza, 
 E sempre serve a lui, 
 Né per adversita mai non s’adreza, 
 Né per mal far mai non guiza 
 Nil ben mondan ch’ é nulla. 
 A touch of the Petrarchan remedy. 
 126See the complaint against all the powers (‘‘stella,’ “fortuna,” "fato,” 
 “morte”), Morte, son. XXX. See also suggestions of the compromise: 
 Utrum mihi possint contingere viderit deus et fortuna mea videritis et vos 
 domini et amici mei (Scritti Inediti, p. 328); 
 A la fortuna avversa 
 Questo rimedio provedesse il cielo 
 Canz. IX, 1. 53 (Mestica’s ed., p. 112). See also Africa, VI, 623. 
 127 See particularly Albertini’s ed., Vita, canzones VII, XVI, sonnets LXXXV, 
 CXVII, CLII, and Morte, son. VI; Mestica's ed., canz. XXVI, 8, sonnets 
 CLXXVII, CXCIII. 
 
206 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 As for deliberate discussion, Petrarch takes up the question 
 of the goddess at two different times. First, in De Remediis Utrius- 
 que Fortunae. This is an extensive development of the theme: 
 Do not trust either Fortune, good or bad. The theme derives 
 immediately from the Classical conception of the two cults of 
 Fortuna, Bona and Mala,”* and from the Classical remedies.!?* 
 Petrarch’s elaboration has been so influential,!% and it embodies so 
 fully the remedy of prudence and of spiritual devotion, that it 
 deserves special attention. The idea, developed from the Classics, 
 growing further in suggestions from Nigellus Wireker and Boethius 
 and becoming generally popular,!* finds here its greatest expres- 
 sion. 
 
 128 See Valerius Maximus, lib. VI, cap. ix: “Jam Alcibiadem quasi duae fortunae 
 partitae sunt: altera, quae ei nobilitatem eximiam, abundantes divitias, formam 
 praestantissimam, favorem civium propensum, summa imperia, praecipuas poten- 
 tiae vires, flagrantissimum ingenium assignaret: altera, quae damnationem, 
 exsilium, venditionem bonorum, inopiam, odium patriae, violentam mortem infli- 
 geret. Nec aut haec, aut illa universa; sed varia, perplexa, freto atque aestui 
 similia.” Cf. Seneca's Thyestes, 454; cf. also the double Fortuna of Antium, in 
 Roscher’s Lexikon, I, 1546-8. 
 
 129 A. Piaget (Martin le Franc, p. 170) says Seneca was the model for Petrarch. 
 The Latin tract, De Remediis Fortmitorum Liber (Opera Quae Supersunt, Suppl., 
 Teubner, Lipsiae, 1902, pp. 44 ff.), is a dialogue between Reason and Sensuality. 
 Jacques Bauchant, who translated it into French for Charles V, puts Gallio for 
 Sensuality and Seneca for Reason (see Piaget, pp. 169-170). Petrarch, in his 
 De Remediis (Dassaminiato’s ed., I, 50 ff.) tells of the relation of his work to Seneca; 
 he says that Seneca did not include remedies against the betrayal of Good Fortune, 
 which Petrarch adds. 
 
 130 For a list of editions, see D. W. Fiske’s Bibliographical Notices, III; note 
 among them (nos. 51, 54), Thomas Twyne’s Phisicke against Fortune, as well 
 Prosperous as Adverse, London, 1579, and Nicole Oresme’s French translation 
 (XIV cent.) The editions frequently include pictures of Fortune (see the German 
 ones of 1539, 1551); see also Weinhold’s Gliicksrad u. Lebensrad, p. 11 (on the Augs- 
 burg, 1532, ed. of De Rem.) and pp. 29, 31 (woodcuts). Piaget notes, p. 170, n. 2, 
 the French translation by Jean Daudin for Charles V, and on p. 169 mentions 
 Bauchant’s translation of Seneca’s tract (see note 129 above). I have a book- 
 catalogue reference toa Scottish (?) edition of a treatise that seems to carry on this 
 theme: (Johnston, 96, March 1913; 122 Budaei) 1521, De Contemptu Rerum 
 - Fortuitarum Libri Tres. Lydgate (Falls of Princes, prol., st. 37-8) refers to Pe- 
 trarch’s "two Fortunes.” 
 
 191 See the development of this theme from Nigellus Wireker on: Bartolommeo 
 da S. Concordio, Ammaestramenti, Distinz. 37, Rub. ii (*Che'l savio né per pros- 
 peritå s’innalza”); Trucchi, Poesie ial. Ined., IT, 98 (“Tu se’ in sulla ruota; or ti 
 ricorda’’); Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. Histor., lib. XXVI, cap. cix ("Nec prosperis 
 
 \ 
 
 EEE a 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 207 
 
 De Remediis aims chiefly to set reason and virtue in opposition 
 to Fortune. A brief outline of the work is enough to indicate the 
 method. The prologue tells us that beasts, possessing no reason, 
 do not feel the vicissitudes of Fortune, but man, who has that 
 noble faculty, does. This uncomfortable state of things can be 
 repaired only by fortifying one’s self with wisdom against Fortuna. 
 Cultivate the intellect by wide reading. Remember that Fortuna 
 prospera is even more dangerous than Fortuna adversa. How many 
 emperors have lost their realms from weakness! To quote from 
 Giovanni Dassaminiato’s translation of Petrarch’s Latin: *A te 
 la fortuna non hae dato regno né tolto, benché la natura t’avesse 
 dato cuore reale.””3 
 
 The first book consists of dialogues between Reason and Joy, and 
 between Reason and Hope. We see the transitoriness of worldly 
 blessings; the exclusive value of spiritual blessings.“* The second 
 book goes over the old ground of philosophical consolation, in a 
 dialogue between Reason and Dolor, which are, after all, the types 
 represented in the dialogue between Philosophy and the grieving 
 Boethius. The difference from Boethius is great, of course, in that 
 Petrarch covers the whole range of possibie sources of grief besides 
 banishment or imprisonment.!* 
 
 excitant; nec adversis castigant”). For discussion, see Flamini, Lir. Tosc., p. 513. 
 See also Eneas, ed. Salverda de Grave, lines 674 ff. 
 
 19 The Italian translation was made by Don Giovanni Dassaminiato. For 
 the Christian fortune, see Stolfi’s preface, I, 30 ff. 
 
 181, 52. See p. 54, for description of the use of valor against the tempeste 
 della fortuna. 
 
 14 Thus: Cap. I, ‘Dell’ etade fiorita e della speranza della lunga vita”; II, 
 Physical beauty passes away; III, Health too; IV, Excel in mind rather than in 
 body; V, Trust not bodily strength; VI, Swiftness may lead to death; VII, Wit too 
 is insidious. Other topics are: He is wise who pretends to have wisdom; Spurn 
 the world, and take pleasure in Christ; True freedom is freedom from sin; Race, 
 city, fortune, give false nobility; Why ornament the body, which is food for worms? 
 Be moderate. The book covers the range of human life,—keeping animals for profit, 
 coming out of prison, alchemy, etc., etc. From CIX on, Speranza speaks. 
 
 18 For the subjects discussed, see the chapter headings: Do not mind lack of 
 beauty; Gold is often hid in a vile heap; Base parentage, race, servitude, and even 
 poverty, do not count; Only virtue counts; Bear an unpleasant wife, infamy, 
 faithless friends, hatred of the people, a step-mother, deaths, a lost kingdom, with 
 stout heart; Consider only avoiding sins; Tomorrow you die; Worry not lest you 
 lie unburied. 
 
208 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 The most important comment on Fortuna is in the prologue 
 of the second book: ‘‘Non voglio, ancora, ch’ e’ t’offenda il nome 
 della fortuna. . . . Ora, perch’ io ho a favellare a persone mas- 
 simamente, che sono poco litterati; viddi che di necessita mi con- 
 viene usare il suo noto e comune vocabulo.’’* Petrarch has used 
 the word many times, but we now see that it has been just an 
 empty name. 
 
 Our next bit of evidence of Petrarch’s attitude toward the 
 goddess is intensely interesting. The liberation of King John of 
 France from the prison of the English king took place in 1360.15” 
 On the thirteenth day of December in that year, John returned to 
 Paris. Shortly afterwards (in January) Petrarch spoke before 
 the French monarch consoling his majesty for his past adversities 
 and rejoicing with him at his escape. He attributed to Fortuna 
 the whole guilt of the king’s suffering.“® In a letter to a friend,” 
 Petrarch describes how his mention of the name Fortuna disturbed 
 his hearers. At dinner, later, he was asked to give his opinion 
 about the goddess; but, having had no time to arrange his ideas 
 formally, he was glad to escape from discourse through an acci- 
 dental turn of the king’s interest. He was not to evade the 
 question entirely, however, for three doctori met with him in his 
 chamber and talked it over the rest of the day from sesta to sera. 
 Evidently the topic could not be lightly dropped and the heresy 
 was nothing new. The experience aroused Petrarch to some 
 systematic thought on the subject; and, five years after, he wrote a 
 letter to Tommaso del Garbo containing his views.’ 
 
 Touching on the question of the comparative superiority of 
 Opinione and Fortuna, Petrarch says Tommaso is not the only one 
 who magnifies Fortuna. Many others join the vulgar throng in the 
 faith of the goddess.” Too many attribute the favor of Fortune 
 
 136 Vol. II, 36. Petrarch refers to St. Jerome for the annihilation of Fortuna 
 (‘quello che sotto brevitå santo Jeronimo scrisse”). 
 
 187 See Barbeu du Rocher, in Mémoires de V Académie des Inscriptions, etc., 2d 
 series, III, 189. John left Calais on Oct. 25th, 1360. 
 
 138 bid. 190. 
 
 139 Thid. 214 ff. 
 
 140 The letter (to Pietro di Poitiers) is quoted by Barbeu du Rocher, pp. 225-7. 
 See the translation in Fracassetti, Lettere Familiari, IV, lib. xxii, lett. xiii. The 
 letter was written Sept. 8, 1362. 
 
 141 See a translation in Fracassetti, Lettere Senili, I, lib. viii, lett. iii, pp. 468 fi. 
 
 142 Jbid. 468: “E alcuno ancora de’ moderni la collocé come Diva nel cielo.” 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 209 
 
 to something besides virtue (Petrarch in De Remediis is obviously 
 one of these), and seek to be friends of Fortune rather than of God. 
 The word "Fortuna” is but an expression: 
 
 Io miserabile peccatore, inteso peraltro a cure secolaresche, udendolo sulla 
 bocca di tutti, e scritto trovandolo in ogni libro, lo ripetei mille volte nelle mie 
 opericcivole: e tanto fui lungi dal pentirmene che scrissi non ha guari un libro 
 avente per titolo: I rimedi dell’ una e dell’ altra fortuna, ove non gia di due Fortune, 
 ma di una sola a due faccie tenni lungo discorso. 
 
 He draws attention to Aristotle, Lactantius, and St. Augustine, 
 who deny the existence of Fortune, and declares emphatically: 
 
 Ed io ti rispondo che la Fortuna veramente ho sempre stimato esser nulla. 
 
 . Credesigeneralmente che quando accade alcuna cosa senza cagione apparente 
 (ché senza causa veramente non accade mai nulla), avvenga per caso, e s’imputa 
 alla Fortuna.14 
 
 Petrarch, then, annihilates Fortune, and in so doing follows 
 both the Classics and the Church Fathers.* This solution of the 
 Fortune problem represents his official and apparently his private 
 belief, but his frequent use of the symbol shows his feeling for the 
 element of chance in the world. 
 
 : BOCCACCIO 
 
 All the world loves the teller of a love-story, and Boccaccio 
 (1313-1375) has long satisfied the world’s desire for that kind of 
 literature. His interest in Fortuna, as one would expect, is very 
 great. In his works I have found over two hundred and fifty 
 minor references to the goddess, which make an approximate 
 average of one to every twenty pages, and probably I have not 
 counted them all. They appear everywhere, even in his letters 
 (without any purpose of particular discussion) ;° and there is an 
 average of at least one full treatment to each of his important 
 works, Since Boccaccio is principally interested in telling love- 
 stories, it is natural that the Fortune of Love isa favorite with him. 
 Such wide and scattered use cannot but point to a quality in the 
 
 18 Jbid. 469-472. Cf. p. 473, where he says that to avoid disputes, he has 
 always used the common parlance about Fortuna: *E mentre uso parole che dalla 
 fortuna prendono la loro etimologia, son peré sempre fermo nel credere che la 
 Fortuna non esista.” He refers to the Christian conception, p. 474: “I quali 
 vogliono ad ogni modo che la Fortuna sia . . . in una qualche ignota ministra ed 
 esecutrice de’ divini voleri.” 
 
 14 See Graf's classification, Miti, Leggende, etc., I, 273. 
 
 145 Lettere (appended to Opere, vol. XVII), pp. 6, 22, 33, 118. 
 
210 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 construction of his plots: Fortuna is the dea ex machina; or at 
 least we must say that the element of chance plays a large part 
 in the narrative. He frequently refers to the pagan remedies— 
 those of fortitude and spiritual devotion.“* He refers to what 
 seems like the compromise,—Fortuna and God (or the gods), 
 with Jove as a possible substitute.” But has he in general any 
 consistent philosophy on the subject? 
 
 In the De Casibus, Boccaccio depicts what seems like the 
 Christian Fortuna. In that work, Fortune continually and faith- 
 fully punishes vice, although it is only indirectly that she herself 
 becomes moral. Boccaccio’s own purpose, which is set forth in 
 his preface, is moral enough: 
 
 Ut dum segnes, fluxosque principes, et Dei iudicio quassatos in solum, reges 
 viderint, Dei potentiam, fragilitatem suam, et fortunae lubricum noscant: et 
 laetis modum ponere discant, ut aliorum periculo suae possint utilitati consulere. 
 
 And again: 
 
 Nam quid satius est, quam vires omnes exponere, ut in frugem melioris vitae 
 retrahantur errantes, 4 desidibus sopitis letalis somnus en vitia repri- 
 mantur, et extollantur virtutes.143 
 
 The greatest sin is pride, *? which is punished regularly by Fortune; 
 for, according to the remedy of spiritual devotion, sin brings you 
 into the power of the goddess, and it is a trait of her character to 
 delight in humiliating the exalted. Consequently she plays an 
 extensive röle here.“° The book is a development of the tragic 
 
 146 Decameron V, i; (ibid. III, 21, 30), X, x, (ébid. V, 133, 135; Fiammetta, IX 
 (ibid. VI, 203); Ameto (ibid. XV, 159); etc. There are references to the possibility 
 of weakening before Fortuna: Donne Famose, cap. XXXI (p. 85); Decam., V,i; 
 (Opere, III, 21); Filostrato, proem. (ibid. XIII, 6). Fortuna becomes an aid to the 
 fearful: Decam., VI, iv (ibid. ILI, 137). 
 
 147 See Fiam., VII, ‘““O supremo Giove . . . E a te, o Fortuna” (zbid. VI, 
 171-2, and cf. 102, 126 ff.); Decam., X, ix (ibid. V, 113); Filocopo, II and IV, Fortu- 
 na and “gli Iddii” (ibid. VII, 159, VIII, 162,177). He distinguishes between Nature 
 and Fortuna, Decam., VI, ii (bid. III, 129): *La natura apparecchiando ad una no- 
 bile anima un vil corpo, o la fortuna apparecchiando ad un corpo dotato d’anima 
 nobile vil mestiero. . . . E certo io maladicerei e la natura parimente e la for- 
 tuna.” 
 
 148 Page 3. See also pp. 273 ("Deum summa veneratione,” etc.), 154 (“Huius 
 pueritiam,” etc.). 
 
 149 See headings to I, iv; I, xiii; II, v; etc. 
 
 150 See the introductory poems; also pp. 98 (‘‘Fortuna tamen rebus,” etc.); 
 15 (“Dum igitur”), 38 (“qui suam similiter””), 249 (“fortunam minari,” her blows), 
 26 (*ut ignominioso’’), 78 (*non minus reliquis””), 246 (“fortunae iacula”), etc., etc.; 
 
 ~~” 
 
 ee 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 211 
 
 theme (with examples) perfected to the highest degree; but let us 
 consider only Boccaccio's attitude toward the goddess. In the 
 sixth book the author has a colloquy with her, and there she 
 expresses her nature fully as Boccaccio conceived it: 
 
 She is not an attractive creature. She has a cruel appearance. 
 She tells him his labors are in vain if he thinks to bring against 
 her any remedy, although philosophers of old have tried to do so. 
 Boccaccio replies that he is working for the glory of God, and 
 wishes to inquire into the secrets of the world, to fly beyond the 
 planets for the clue to the universe. He has come to Fortune for 
 the subjects of his stories. She answers that men have painted her 
 as obstinate, hard, foolish, and blind, because they cannot see the 
 secrets of the heavens; they themselves are blinded by the desire of 
 worldly wealth.” She can, however, furnish stories, etc. The 
 summary reveals that Boccaccio probably had the Christian con- 
 ception in his own mind; but, so far as specific statement is con- 
 cerned, there is at best a compromise." 
 
 In the De Genealogia Deorum as well, Boccaccio seems to be 
 thinking of the Christian Fortune: 
 
 Lachesi poi cognominata dal fine: percioche anco Iddio ha dato il suo fine alle 
 
 cose c’ hanno a venire. . . . Sono appresso di quelli, che vogliono Lachesi esser 
 quella, che noi chiamiamo Fortuna. 
 
 But this is not Boccaccio’s own view necessarily, for he only men- 
 tions it as the idea of some of his contemporaries. 
 
 for longer discussions, see pp. 60 ff. (Poverty and Fortune), and 146 ff. (lib. VI, 
 cap. i). See also the first sentence of Couteau’s edition: “Quant ie considere et 
 pense en diverses manieres les plorables malheuretez de noz predecesseurs . . . 
 qui par fortune ont este trebuschez,” etc.; the title of Lydgate’s translation, (1558 
 ed.) "The tragedies, gathered by Thon Bochas, of all such Princes as fell from theyr 
 estates throughe the mutability of Fortune”; and the introductions to the foreign 
 translations in general (Hortis, Studj sulle Opere Latine, pp. 821 ff.) 
 
 151 Lib. VI, cap. i. 
 
 152 The Christian goddess was, however, easily deduced. See Laurent de 
 Premierfait: “Fortune, qui comme chamberiere de dieu pour la punicion de leurs 
 pecchiez une foiz haulse et aultre foiz abaisse hommes et femmes sanz discretion ne 
 adviz” (Hortis, Studj sulle Opere Latine, Append. IV, p. 732). 
 
 188 Gjoseppe Betussi’s trans. p. 11. Thisis “allegorical” to Boccaccio. He dis- 
 cusses the interpretations of the gods. (*Da Lachesi viene raccolto, e allungato in 
 vita,” p. 10 verso), and in the discussion of Fate (p. 11) refers to Boethius. There 
 is something like the Christian Fortuna in a passage in the Decameron, IX, ii 
 (Opere, IV, 156), where Fortuna acts judiciously; but cf. with this, Decam., IV, 
 i (ibid. IL, 158). 
 
212 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Perhaps we shall find his real views in his commentary on the 
 famous passage concerning Fortuna in Dante: 
 
 Il che qui l’autore usa mostrando la fortuna aver sentimento e deitå; con- 
 ciosiacosaché come appresso apparira, questi accidenti non possano avvenire in 
 quella cosa la quale qui l’autore nomina fortuna, se poeticamente fingendo non 
 s’attribuiscono: dalle quali fizioni & venuto, che alcuni in forma d’una donna 
 dipingono questo nome di fortuna, e fascianle gli occhi, e fannole volgere una ruota, 
 
 siccome per Boezio, de consolatione, appare.!* 
 
 Boccaccio obviously does not give much credit to the "fizioni,” 
 since they are only poetic. 
 
 And yet here again we must seem to risk the charge of impu- 
 dence, and go beyond the author’s own statement of his belief. 
 Boccaccio has Fortuna so often at the tip of his pen that he cer- 
 tainly does not despise the poetic image. He has found her 
 extremely useful to cover the idea of the cause of certain phe- 
 nomena in human life, and he apparently offers no substitute for 
 her. Let us take the description in the Amorosa Visione: 
 
 The scene is the interior of a visionary castle. The room has many paintings: 
 One is that of Fortuna, “‘colei, che muta ogni mondano stato,” sometimes glad» 
 sometimes sad. She turns a great wheel toward the left unceasingly. She is deaf, 
 and hears no prayer. She has no law or compact. She says (I imagine her speech): 
 «Let every man who desires, be bold to mount, but when he falls let him not 
 become angry with me. I never deny any the step. Let come who will.” Isaw 
 men climb with their wits and, arrived at the top, say, “I reign”; others I saw fall 
 to the bottom, and they seemed to say, “I am without reign.” One was sad; 
 another glad. 
 
 The speaker turns to his lady and says: “This is surely our enemy. She once 
 drew me to the bottom of the wheel. I can never be happy again.” The 
 lady replies: "Thou art one of those who desire riches. But behold, she can never 
 make any man truly happy! It is foolish to waste time over earthly possessions. 
 Look upon those who have fallen. See the fall of the city which Cadmus made; see 
 the end of Jocasta, Adrastus, Tideus, Troy, Ilium, Priam, Hecuba, Paris, Troilus, 
 Polydorus, Polixena, Agamemnon, Sennacherib, Aeneas, Turnus, Alexander, 
 Niobe, Cyrus, Persius, Scipio, Asdrubal, Dionysius, Pompey, and Caesar. Now 
 that thou hast seen all earthly things, come to see the eternal.’ 
 
 154 Commento sopra Dante (Opere, XI, 151 ff.; the passage is quoted from 
 pp. 155-6). There is a reminiscence of Dante in the phrase, “L’alta ministra del 
 ‘mondo Fortuna” (Teseide, VI, i, ibid. IX, 186), and a reference to Boethius in 
 Teseide, IV, 12 (ibid. 123). 
 155 Cf. his Amorosa Visione, cap. XXXI (Opere, XIV, 127): 
 Il dir, Fortuna, & un semplice nome; 
 Il posseder quel ch’ella då, & vano. 
 166 Cap. XXXI onward (ibid. XIV, 125 ff.). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 213 
 
 This summary, which is not by any means full, may convey 
 some idea of the picture Boccaccio draws in his presentation of 
 Fortuna. In the Fiammetta, for example, he gives a splendid 
 elaboration of the apostrophe and complaint,’ and there are many 
 other passages which I cannot touch on here. 
 
 The minor references to Fortuna in the lyric poetry of the period 
 are all to the pagan goddess. Thus, in Fazio degli Uberti (11367), 
 a follower of the tradition of Dante, we have at most a com- 
 promise.%® Burchiello (1404-1448), a follower of Petrarch, uses 
 the primitive pagan figure: 
 
 Ma se Fortuna la mia vela sventola, 
 Mi farö la minestra colla pentola.!9 
 
 And the warning of Petrarch to beware Fortuna Bona is found ina 
 sonnet of Pucci (of the end of the fourteenth century): ‘‘(Re) e 
 marchesi in questo mondo ho fatti.”16 
 
 II 
 
 FEDERIGO FREZZU® 
 
 Frezzi’s Quadriregio, an allegorical poem in imitation of Dante, 
 includes a long descriptive passage placing Fortuna in the realm 
 of Satan: 
 
 The author arrives by going through an aspero cammin. He sees Fortuna from 
 a distance: ‘‘Mirabil si, ch’ancor men maraviglio” (p. 147). Minerva warns him 
 to be on his guard against the goddess when Fortuna smiles. She is the lady who 
 tricks many in the world. See how treacherous her demeanor is; her face becomes 
 cloudy, when from on high a man is sunk to earth. ‘I then saw how tall the lady 
 was, taller than any column. She turned seven large wheels with her hand (like 
 spheres in this world). The fourth was as high as the place from which Jove strikes 
 with his arrows. The rest were smaller. The parts of the wheels that go upward 
 were gilded and precious and fair. Two men sang with lightness of heart at the 
 top, and two sang a contrary song below.” Fortuna speaks: “I move the wheel. 
 
 167 Cap. V (ibid. VI, 102 ff.). 
 
 158 Liriche, ed. Renier, p. 135 (“Poi che fortuna nel viso . . . el forte Marte 
 col voler di Giove”). For his other references, see pp.7 ff. (canzone I, contra 
 Fortuna, praying her to be friendly) and 253, ll. 47-8. 
 
 159 Sonnetti, p. 110. See also pp. 26 (*Perché Fortuna”), 59 (“Istettano’’), 
 140 (‘‘Fortuna, å un caso,” and cf. the sonnet on p. 237 to which this one is the 
 answer), 215 (‘‘I’ credo che fortuna”); also second pagination, 29 ("Dove poi mi 
 guido fatale stella: E se ben la Fortuna”), 42 (“E pur che la fortuna”). 
 
 160 Sonnet vii, Poesia, Ferri’s ed., p. 125. 
 
 161 + 1416. 
 
214 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 None have faith in me. He who goes up and down is Ixion and suffers such pen- 
 ance because he wished to ravish Jove’s wife. Bernabo of Milan is on the third 
 circle; his nephew is on another; Renzo Tribuno is on the second.” The traveller 
 leaves the scene by climbing a monte ruinoso. 
 Ma quel che vvol Fortuna, e Dio dispone, . 
 Se Dio non lo rivela, mai si vede 
 Da intelletto creato, o per ragione.!'6 
 
 The Fortune here was obviously meant to be something like the 
 Christian goddess, but she is in fact a curious development of the 
 old demonic idea. 
 
 Next it will be worth while, for the sake of brevity, to consider 
 the Italian novelists in a group, widely separated as some of them 
 are chronologically. In the tradition of the novel from Boccaccio, 
 the authors make frequent use of the goddess in their plots, 
 although not quite so liberally as Boccaccio himself. Sercambi 
 (1347-1424) has not many references.'* Fortuna, however, takes 
 a prominent part in the Pyramus and Thisbe story. Da Prato, 
 in his Paradiso degli Alberti (c. 1420), which has a Classical setting, 
 uses Fortuna among the other gods." Sacchetti (c. 1330-c. 1400) 
 brings the figure vividly into his work. In the latter part of the 
 fifteenth century, Masuccio Salernitano makes freer use of the 
 goddess—always the pagan conception. He has two apostrophes 
 to Fortuna, which are a little more extensive than his other treat- 
 ment.!7 Jacopo Sannazaro (1458-1530), author of the Arcadia, 
 makes more frequent use of Fortuna in his poetry than in his 
 prose.*8 Giovanni Fiorentino (—1378—) introduces two fairly 
 long complaints in verse,'*® and mentions the goddess a number of 
 times in prose. In general it must be said that with the smaller 
 
 162 Quadriregio, I, 150, 11. 10-12. The whole passage is in book II, cap. xiii, 
 pp. 147 ff. 
 
 163 See D’Ancona’s ed., p. 103 (novella 13); Renier’s ed., pp. 226 (no. 64), 
 262 (no. 74), etc. 
 
 164 Renier’s ed., p. 326 (no. 93). 
 
 16 JT, 105; see also 119 (*lieta fortuna che i graziosi iddii conceduti si ci Anno”). 
 . For the pagan Fortuna, see pp. 142, 171. 
 
 16 Novelle, IIT, 266, 269. 
 
 167 J] Novellino, pp. 342, 439. 
 
 168 Prose: Opere, pp. 94, Fortuna and the gods, 46, 52, 95, the pagan Fortuna 
 (all in Arcadia). Poetry: pp. 126 (eclogue XII in Arcadia), 341 (son. XII), 344 
 (son. XVIII), etc. 
 
 169 J] Pecorone, I, 273 (xiv, 2); IT, 37 (xvi, 2). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 215 
 
 men the use of Fortuna is extensive, but not so rich as in the more 
 prominent authors; and that it is always the pagan goddess who 
 appears. 
 
 The minor poetry of the Italian vernacular includes some in- 
 stances of fuller treatment. We have a remarkable example of 
 something between the Ecclesiastical remedy and the Christian 
 conception in the Ballata della Fortuna.” The poem runs as 
 follows: 
 
 For the little that Fortune has given me, I thank Him who created the moon; I 
 thank the King of the universe, who exalted Troy and Rome. Fortune made the 
 Pisans great; and putting them down, again raised them. Thus Fortune has turned 
 many on her wheel. We must get used to her, for: 
 
 Fortuna nonn’ é nulla al mio parere, 
 anz’ & 'l piacier di Dio in tutte cose. 
 
 She guides the Church, and is responsible for much harm (as, presumably, God 
 permits evil.) 
 
 There are other poems,—of the omnipotence of Fortune,!" and 
 of the Fortune who causes death.! And we also have the interest- 
 ing record of an actual tournament of Reason against Fortune 
 (“contrasto fra la Sapienza e la Fortuna,” October 4, 1490),!78 
 which, as an example of the remedy of prudence, is worth particu- 
 lar notice. Vecchio asks Fortune and Sapience which of the two 
 is the more powerful in the world. Fortune claims the honor, 
 boasting of her usual tricks,—exalting, debasing, and so on. Sapi- 
 ence, in turn, asserts her power, and says that she too governs the 
 greatness of man. Vecchio is in doubt. The débat continues, with 
 a recitation of the examples of prowess on each side. The two 
 contestants choose their champions, and the poetical part of the 
 tournament ceases. It was followed by the actual joust. The 
 hostile parties were marshalled, accompanied by an audience, 
 “seguitando ciascun il suo carro trionfale gridando chi viva la 
 Fortuna, e chi la Sapienza.” The side of Fortuna in this case 
 won: “Et cosi il dubbio del vecchio restd chiaramente risoluto.” 
 
 170 By A. Medin, in Propugnatore, 1889, pp.101 ff. The ballad is dated 
 1405. Medin (pp. 108 ff.) shows the tradition from Dante; cf. above, note 125. 
 Here Fortuna, however, is not exactly the Christian figure. 
 
 171 Bracci, Canti Carnascialeschi Trionfi, etc., p. 324. 
 
 172 Lamenti de’ Secoli XIV e XV, ed. A. Medin, pp. 58 ff. 
 
 173 The parts were taken by Annibale Bentivoglio, son of Giovanni II, and 
 Niccolö Rangone, the latter’s son-in-law. 
 
216 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 A great celebration followed; “‘comincié il popolo a gridare viva la 
 fortuna.” "4 This time the remedy of prudence evidently did not 
 work. So much for the minor poetry, in which Fortuna chiefly 
 appears as the pagan goddess.!"5 
 
 AENEAS SYLVIUS 
 Aeneas Sylvius, later Pope Pius the Second (1405-1464), 
 says plainly enough: "Chi neghera essere la fortuna universale 
 regolatrice? Chi é che non ne desideri ardentemente il favore?” 
 But he adds: ‘“‘Dicono alcuni la fortuna nulla portere sull’ animo 
 dei savi: la qual cosa io concedo, se di quei savi si ragiona che 
 
 della sola virtu si dilettano, i quali eziando nella poverta, 0 
 
 straziati dalle malattie, o chiusi persino nel bue di Falaride, credono 
 posseder vita beata.” (But there are few so virtuous.)!”° This 
 is the remedy of prudence. That Aeneas Sylvius was especially 
 interested in Fortuna, is made evident in his Somnium de Fortuna, 
 in which he depicts with great detail the home of the goddess.1”” 
 
 BOIARDO 
 
 In the Orlando Innamorato the pagan Fortuna plays a large 
 part,!Ӥ and Boiardo (1434-1494) introduces Morgan the Fay with 
 many characteristics of the goddess of chance. Her house, like 
 that of the goddess, is situated on an island. She is called “Fata 
 del Tesoro,’?79 which suggests the Fortune of riches. Her per- 
 sonal description does not contain so much necessarily suggestive 
 of Fortune, but it is suitable enough for her: 
 
 N Che sempre fugge intorno il piano e'l monte, 
 E dietro é calva, e’ crini ha solo in fronte.!80 
 
 174 Summarized by Medin, Bailaia, etc., App. I (Propugnatore, 1889, pp. 127 ff.) 
 See also Ghirardacci’s Historia di Bologna, vol. III (MS.), under the year 1490. 
 1% For other examples, see Ferrario’s Poesie Pastorali e Rusticali, pp. 12, 13, 
 184, 249; Giusto de Conti’s La Bella Mano, in Lirici Antichi, p. 178. 
 176 Di Due Amanti, p. 80. 
 177 Pontif. Epist., ep. CVIIL (Opera Omnia, pp. 611 ff.). See other references, 
 ibid. 462, 569, 601, 761; Di Viris Illustribus, pp. 16, 38; Di Due Amani, p. 29. 
 178 See I, i, st. 65; I, iv, 6; I, viii, 24; I, xii, 58, 60, 73, 77; I, xvi, I (opening of 
 the canto): 
 Tutte le cose sotto de la luna, 
 L’alta ricchezza, e’ regni de la terra 
 Son sottoposti a voglia di Fortuna. 
 Note a reference to the compromise, II, xiv, 67, “Come volse Fortuna, o Dio 
 beato.” See the long passage, I, xxi, 44 ff. 
 179 See II, vii, 34. 
 180 TT, viii, 39. 
 
 a 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 217 
 
 As Orlando sees her in the garden, she is very beautiful'™ (although 
 her hair hangs only from her forehead): 
 
 Lei tutti i crini avea sopra la fronte, 
 
 La faccia lieta, mobile e ridente; 
 
 Atte a fuggire avea le membra e pronte, 
 Poca treccia di dietro, anzi niente. 
 
 Il vestimento candido e vermiglio, 
 
 Che sempre scappa a cui gli da di piglio.15* 
 
 The Fata has the key of the prison in which Rinaldo is held, and 
 Orlando takes her by the forelock to make her surrender it to him. 
 First she escapes, but later he again succeeds in catching her and 
 forcing her to yield.'* The moral seems to be hinted early: 
 
 Ogni cosa virtute vince al fine, 
 Chi segue vince, pur che abbia virtute.!* 
 
 And the Fata swears by the Demogorgon never after to do him 
 harm.!% This is åa combination of Fortune, Fate, and Occasio. 
 Boiardo thus shows, both by his numerous references elsewhere to 
 Fortuna herself and by her influence here on Morgan the Fay 
 and her house, his intense interest in the goddess. She remains 
 pagan. The Fata Morgana as a figure of the powers of evil gives 
 a hint of the old demonic conception. 
 
 LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI 
 
 In his general philosophy, Alberti (1404-1472) continues the 
 tradition from Petrarch’s De Remediis*% In Della Tranquillita 
 dell’ Animo he opposes strength and wisdom to the adversities of 
 Fortune, and his Fortune is a compromise: 
 
 La Fortuna buona ben possiamo noi appetire dagli Dii; ma da noi, dal nostro 
 studio, da nostra diligenza impetreremo sapienza, ornamenti d’animo, e lode di 
 ben composta mente. Chiederai nei tuoi casi avversi forse dagli Dii sapienza e 
 virtå. . . . La fortuna persé, non dubitare, sempre fu esempre sara imbecillissima 
 e debolissima, a chi se gli opponga.1%7 
 
 SE 42. 
 
 182 St. 43. 
 
 183 See I, viii, 54, 57-60; IT, ix, 1-20, 26; IT, xiii, 29. 
 
 189 TT, viii, 55. 
 
 18 JJ, xiii, 26-7. 
 
 18 Like most of those who use the remedy of fortitude or that of prudence, he 
 employs the dialogue form for his exposition. 
 
 187 Lib. IIT, Opere Volgari, I, 113-114; and cf. 202 (Avvertimenti Matrimonial). 
 
218 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Many times throughout his works the goddess makes an appear- 
 ance, and most often as the unfavorable deity. 
 
 The importance he attributes to Fortuna is best seen in the 
 "Proemio” of his great work, Della Famiglia. Here, too, we have 
 the remedy of spiritual devotion. The book, it seems, is partly to 
 investigate how much power this goddess really has: “‘Spesso 
 solea fra me maravigliarmi e dolermi, se tanto valesse contro agli 
 uomini essere la fortuna iniqua e maligna, e se cosi a lei fusse con 
 volubilita e temerita sua licito, famiglie ben copiose d’uomini 
 virtuosissimi . . . porle in povertå, solitudine e miseria.””% 
 Alberti reviews the great examples of those who have sought fame 
 and glory. For such ambition, virtue is of no more value than 
 Fortuna; the way to keep fame and glory is, however, “le buone e 
 sante discipline del vivere.”!8° Thus Fortune is weak in contending 
 with virtue, and virtue really should be thought sufficient to gain 
 and hold any lofty position: “Pit di certo stimeremo vaglia la 
 ragion che la fortuna, pit la prudenzia che alcuno caso.’%° Alberti 
 uses, therefore, first the remedy of prudence and then that of 
 spiritual devotion.!*" 
 
 GIOVANNI GIOVIANO PONTANO 
 
 In Giovanni Pontano (1426-1503) we have a curious return to 
 the scholastic discussions. Strangely enough, Pontano considered 
 that Fortune still needed an extensive analysis. In a way, of 
 course, he is only reviving the treatment in the Church Fathers; 
 but he is not popularising their doctrine, for he writes in Latin. 
 His work De Fortuna need not be summarized here, for it merely 
 reviews the old doctrine of the Fathers with their remedy of 
 prudence. ‘‘Fortunam non esse Deum,” because Fortuna is 
 unjust and robs the meritorious of due reward: “Tyrannorum haec 
 sunt non Dei, cuius est summa bonitas, absoluta iustitia, rectissi- 
 mum iudicium, aequissima rerum omnium dispensatio.””*” Like — 
 Lactantius, Pontano must believe that the universe is founded ona 
 rational order; but he admits that fortuna is a powerful cause 
 
 188 Opere, II, 4 ff.; and see 4-5. 
 
 189 Tbid. 6 ff.; for his examples, see p. 10. 
 
 190 Jbid. 15. 
 
 191 See the contrast of Virtue and Fortune, ibid. III, 34 (Deiciarchia, I); the 
 remedy of spiritual devotion, IT, 381, (Della Fam., IV); the remedy of fortitude, 
 IU, 200 (Il Teogenio, I). 
 
 192 Opera Omnia, Pars II, pp. 129 ff.; see also 131 v. ff., "Moderatur autem 
 ac regit Deus, quo existunt cuncta, igitur et curam habet universorum,” etc. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 219 
 
 (since the good do not always prosper), and that it is a cause ex 
 accidenti.1% Jt is concerned only with the things about which man 
 has free-will. It differs from Fate, because Fate administers affairs 
 with some order. Boethius, he notes, makes Fate the servant of 
 Providence.!™4 
 
 In regard to good and bad fortune, Pontano introduces the 
 moral question. A man is properly fortunate only when he is 
 good. The goods of Fortune come from the heavens and the stars. 
 God is the centre of all causes. There is nothing beyond God— 
 and Pontano quotes St. Thomas Aquinas.1% 
 
 It might be well to observe in passing that Pontano himself 
 uses the pagan Fortuna in his poetry.!% Did he think the figure 
 merely Classical "local color’’? 
 
 III 
 
 This bit of philosophy from Pontano brings our study well 
 into the middle of the fifteenth century. Pontano’s discussion 
 may be taken as a survival of scholasticism, revealing the temper 
 of the late Medieval attitude in Italy toward Fortuna. The point 
 at which the Renaissance begins is, of course, not clear; but it is 
 marked as a period of great adventure and discovery. It dis- 
 covered a vast new continent. It found out that the world went 
 round the sun, that the universe did not revolve about the earth, 
 and consequently that man was but an item in the news of the 
 universe. The systematized religion of the Middle Ages seemed 
 doomed to be laid aside as incomplete, because it did not include 
 definite explanations of the vast new wonders. The science of its 
 devotees was manifestly wrong. The foundation for future sects 
 and new creeds was laid in the work of Wycliffe, Huss, Melanch- 
 thon, and Luther, and the individual right of man to set up his 
 own faith was proclaimed. In many ways, therefore, the intellect- 
 ual and spiritual life was like that of the Golden Age in Rome. The 
 new life implied the rebirth of distrust and scientific skepticism. 
 The interest was again in the unknown. 
 
 LORENZO DE’ MEDICI 
 Throughout the poetry of Lorenzo de’ Medici (1449-1492), 
 
 198 Pages 130v.-136. He refers to Aristotle (pp. 132, 133v., 136v., etc.). 
 
 194 Pages 139v.-140. 
 
 19 Pages 173v.-175. 
 
 1% Carmina, I, 28 (11. 877 ff.), 38 (1. 58, with an echo of Ovid, I, i), 66 (1. 1032), 
 91 (1. 507); IL, 392 (xxxi, ll. 9-10), 393 (Il. 25-6). 
 
220 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 Fortuna remains consistently the pagan goddess, except in one 
 passage: 
 
 Or servo e prigion son io e i miei figli; 
 
 Se la Fortuna ministra di Dio 
 
 Questa ha voluto, ognuno esemplo pigli.1*” 
 
 These verses involve a reminiscence both of Boethius and of Dante, 
 and are probably not very significant for Lorenzo’s general con- 
 ception of the goddess, since his work, in quality and spirit, belongs 
 so entirely to the later period. In his other allusions to the goddess, 
 which, to be sure, are not very extensive (except the bit of maca- 
 ronic verse ‘‘Amico, mira ben questa figura”’)!** he uses always 
 the pagan figure; and, as in the case of Petrarch and especially in 
 that of Boccaccio, she is often concerned with love.!*? 
 
 POLITIAN 
 Angelo Ambrogini (1454-1494), known as Poliziano, continues 
 the style of Lorenzo de’ Medici and is closely related to him. 
 In his works there is a Tenzone d’Amore e di Fortuna, to which 
 Lorenzo de’ Medici, Girolamo Benivieni, and Pandolfo Collenuccio 
 contributed. The theme is as follows: 
 
 Love, says Lorenzo de’ Medici, gives comfort when sighs come forth *come vuol 
 mia dura sorte”; Fortune sees the sighs and takes them to add to my sufferings; 
 I fool her, however, for Love brings sweetness. Pandolfo replies: Love and Fortune 
 are joined against you. Poliziano says: Love mitigates the effects of Fortune; 
 Love is stronger and stimulates the sufferer. Benivieni answers: Fortune keeps 
 your attention on the sad effects alone; sweet is the grief, however, as sweet was 
 the cause.200 
 
 This pleasant and sugary wrangling is typical of the attitude of 
 these poets toward Fortuna. They are as little concerned with 
 Christian ethics as with philosophizing in general. Poliziano also 
 makes frequent use of the pagan Fortuna who controls love 
 affairs.2% 
 BENIVIENI 
 The pagan goddess appears again in the poetry of Benivieni 
 
 197 Opere (1825), III, 38 (La Rappresentazione). 
 
 198 Poesie, (1801), p. 169. 
 
 199 Opere, (1825), I, 10 (son. viii), IT (son. ix), etc. 
 
 200 Poliziano, Le Stanze, l’Orfeo, etc., Carducci’s text, ed. Donati, 1910, pp. 230- 
 SIE 
 
 201 See Carducci’s ed., 1863, pp. 85 ff. (La Giosira, II, st. 34 ff.), 143 (ll. 164 ff.) 
 155 (ll. 366 ff.), etc. 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA Do 
 
 (11542), and his friends.?” It is natural that Fortuna should have 
 a place in a work like Dela Vanita Inganni et Superbia del Mondo.” 
 Her gifts, while she is pagan and often when she is Christian, are 
 merely vanities. 
 PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA 
 
 In his work In Astrologiam, Pico della Mirandola (1463-1494) 
 echoes the doctrines and decisions of the Church Fathers and of 
 Aristotle :?% 
 
 Fortunam verd cum dico, coelum non dico, sed eam causam . . . quam 
 
 vulgö fortunam dicimus, atque his verbis solemus exprimere, ita sors tulit, ita 
 evenit, ita res cecidit, per quam fit ut ludentes afferis, aut iaciant quod volunt, 
 aut quod non volunt . . . quam per se nec dependere de coelo, nec idem esse quod 
 fatum, nec providentiae derogare divinae, et quid demim aut esse, aut non esse 
 possit.?% 
 He shows that fortuitous events do not depend on the heavens;?% 
 and he touches on the Aristotelian causa per accidens, and the need 
 of postulating consciousness and free-will in what we call chance 
 events. By way of illustration, he tells the story of a man digging a 
 ditch and accidentally discovering a treasure. Finally, he decides 
 that people err who deny the existence of Fortuna entirely.?” 
 The passage is worth quoting as a late justification of the Christian 
 Fortuna: 
 
 Si igitur curant humana dii (sic enim loquimur) ut custodes angelos, et intelli- 
 gentium causarum serium ordinem complectamur Dei veri consilio providentiaeque 
 famulantem. . . . Vulgatissimum est exemplum de servis e6dem missis å Domino, 
 ut convenirent ignaris tamen Domini voluntatis, quorum conventus atque con- 
 cursus ipsis servis inopinatus atque fortuitus, Domino praevisus et praeordinatus 
 est. Sic procurans utilitatem pauperis agricolae custos angelus potest ad eum 
 locum effodiendum invitare motibus occultis, ubi novit angelus esse thesaurum, 
 ut quod pauperi fuit fortuna, consilium tamen angelo fuerit. Hoc respiciens 
 Aurelius Augustinus quinto de Civitate Dei libro, non inquit causas quae dicuntur 
 fortuitae, unde et fortuna nomen accepit, nullas esse dicimus, sed latentes easque 
 tribuimus vel veri Dei vel quorumlibet spirituum voluntati: Dixit quorumlibet 
 spirituum quoniam tam å bonis hoc fieri potest quam angelis malis, licet non omnia 
 
 202 Opere, pp. 81 (egl. i), 103v. (egl. vi), 109v. (egl. viii), 261v. (really 201v., 
 Frottola pro Papa Leone in renovatione ecclesie). See also 126v. (M. Domenico 
 Benivieni a PAutore). 
 
 203 Thzd. 1540. 
 
 204 Lib. III, cap. xxvii (Opera, I, 349, Aristotle and Boethius; 351, St. Thomas 
 Aquinas). 
 
 205 Thid. 350-351. 
 
 206 Lib. IV, cap. ii, "Fortuita å coelo non esse” (bid. 353). 
 
 207 Lib. IV, cap. iii (bid. 354). 
 
222 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 possint mali quae boni, nec idem utrisque finis: sed bonis quidem commune 
 hominum bonum, malis verd malum, frustrante illorum tamen malitiam bonitate 
 divina, dum in bonum ordinat redigitque quicquid ab illis mala fuerit voluntate 
 patratum.?05 
 
 This theory presents the tradition of the demonic as well as of the 
 angelic Fortuna.2%* 
 PULCI 
 In the Morgante Maggiore, Pulci (1432-1484) often refers to 
 the pagan Fortune. She is nearly always unfavorable, and the 
 author or the speaker feels weak before her powers: 
 
 Perö non facciam mai ignun disegno, 
 Ch’un altro non ne faccia la fortuna, 
 E da sempre nel brocco a mezzo il segno 
 Sanza pieta, sanza ragione alcuna: 
 Questa persegue i buon, perché gli ha a sdegno, 
 Infin che v’é de le barbe sol’ una; 
 E fa de’ matti savj, e i savj matti; 
 E chi prestar vorrebbe, ch’ egli accatti.2° 
 
 This hardly allows a Christian interpretation.” Even in a prayer 
 to the Virgin, Pulci has no hesitation in saying: 
 
 La fortuna che sue rote gira, 
 M’ha qui condotto con gli sproni in mano, 
 E di me fatto il berzaglio e la mira.” 
 
 LODOVICO ARIOSTO 
 Ariosto (1474-1533) introduces plenty of traditional Fortuna 
 material into the Orlando Furioso and elsewhere in his verse. 
 She is always pagan.”* He gives over long passages to her, and 
 also briefly notices her activities. His use of the complaint is 
 especially effective: 
 
 Oimé, Fortuna fella, 
 Dicea, che cambio é questo che tu fai? 
 Colei che fu sopra le belle bella, 
 
 208 Thid. See also vol. IT, 372-3 (De Rerum Praenotione, lib. V, cap. viii). 
 209 He refers (II, 372) to Proclus Platonicus defining Fortuna as a demonic 
 power. 
 210 Canto XXI, 82. 
 21 See the weakness in Canto XX VIII, 150. 
 22 Canto XVII, 2. 
 218 See, however, the interesting lines: 
 Presaga che quel giorno esser rubella 
 Dovea Fortuna alla cristiana fede (Orl. Fur., I, x). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 223 
 
 Ch’ esser meco dovea, levata m’hai. 
 
 Ti par ch’ in luogo et in ristor di quella 
 Si debba por costei ch’ ora mi dai? 
 Stare in danno del tutto era men male, 
 Che fare un cambio tanto diseguale.>* 
 
 Fortune usurps the function of Death: 
 
 Colei che di bellezze e di virtuti 
 
 Unqua non ebbe, e non avra mai pare, 
 Sommessa e rotta tra gli scogli acuti 
 
 Hai data ai pesci et agli augei del mare; 
 E costei che dovria gia aver pasciuti 
 Sotterra i vermi, hai tolta a preservare 
 Dieci o venti anni pit che non dovevi, 
 Per dar pid peso agli mie’ affanni grevi.** 
 
 Fortuna appears on every occasion with great vitality, and takes 
 an active part in many scenes.?'5 
 
 PIETRO BEMBO 
 Bembo (1470-1547) discusses at length, in the prose of Giz 
 Asolani, the opposition of strength to Fortuna: 
 
 Pid si conviene calpestando valorosamente la nemica fortuna ridersie beffarsi 
 de’ suoi giuochi, che lasciandosi sottoporre a lei per vilta piagnere e rammaricarsi 
 a guisa di fanciullo ben battuto. E se pure egli ancora non ha dagli antichi maestri 
 tanto di sano avvedimento appreso, o seco d’animo dalle culle recato, che egli 
 incontro a’ colpi d’una femmina si possa, o si sappia schermire, che femmina pare 
 che sia la fortuna, se noi alla sua voce medesima crediamo, assai avrebbe fatto men 
 male.2!7 
 
 Here is the recognition of a formulated philosophy among the 
 ”antichi maestri”” concerning Fortune’s function and character. 
 The maesiri may be merely the Classical authors, but they may 
 also represent the whole line of tradition of the remedy of fortitude, 
 which is uppermost here. 
 
 In the same work Bembo pauses to debate whether the love of 
 wealth or Fortuna herself is the cause of our grief at the loss of 
 riches.”* This seems to us moderns a more or less idle discussion, 
 
 4 Jbid. XX, cxxxii. 
 
 215 Jbid. cxxxiii. 
 
 216 See, for long treatments, the two apostrophes, ibid. VIII, xl-xliv, lxii; Rime 
 e Satire, son. I (on love); etc. 
 
 27 Degli Asolani, lib. ii (Opere, I, 95-6). 
 
 8 Jbid. 101: "E posto che il cadere in basso stato a coloro solamente sia 
 nojoso, i quali dell’ alto son vaghi, non percié l’amore, che alle ricchezze o agli 
 onori portiamo, siccome tu dicesti, ma la fortuna, che di loro si spoglia, ci fa dolere.” 
 
224 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 but it illustrates how often Fortuna was in the mind of the fifteenth 
 century.?'? 
 TRISSINO 
 Trissino (1478-1550) feels he has little strength against Fortuna. 
 But with him, after all, she is hardly more than a compromise:”° 
 
 Ma chi puö contrastare a la fortuna?*" 
 And then: 
 
 Quei, ch’ ebber possanza 
 Maggiore, e fur pil cari a la fortuna; 
 Dicea Angel di Dio.?22 
 
 He wrote a long and remarkable apostrophe to the goddess, which 
 gathers up all the previous themes of the pagan Fortuna. His 
 references to her always show particular interest.” 
 
 The other poets who fall at the end of the fifteenth century, 
 or in the early part of the sixteenth, may conveniently be con- 
 sidered together. They refer consistently to the pagan figure. 
 Benedetto Gareth (1450-1514) has a fine sonnet with material 
 already familiar to us in other poets,” and he has several minor 
 references. De Jennaro (of the end of the fifteenth century) 
 alludes to the goddess a few times.” A remarkable poetic treat- 
 ment, with the use of the remedy of spiritual devotion, is found in 
 Fregoso’s Dialogo di Fortuna (1521), which falls a little outside of 
 my period, but which is so striking as to be worth special notice: 
 
 The poem begins with the complaint that Fortuna has always been churlish 
 to the author: She cannot give me another blow. Why does God so torture my 
 life (if there is a ruler of the heavens)? 
 
 Ma non mi puo caper ne l’intelletto 
 Che la Fortuna volontate sia 
 
 219 See, for other references in Bembo, ibid. 52, 53, 65, 73, 146 (allin Degli Asol.); 
 Rime, 87 (son. XCV), 88 (son. XCVII), 94 (son. CIX), 187 (capit. V). 
 
 220 See Tutte le Opere, I, 303, 319 (Sofonisba). 
 
 221 Italia Liberata, I, 316 (lib. viii). 
 
 222 Ibid. 337 (lib. ix). 
 
 223 See ibid. I, 340; IT, 244; III, 156; Tutte le Opere, I, 303, 314, 321 (all in Sofo- 
 nisba); 360, 361 (Serventese). 
 
 224 TJ] Chariteo, ed. Pércopo, p. 45 (son. XXXVI, *Mutabile, inconstante, impia 
 fortuna’). 4 
 
 225 I] Canzoniere, ed. Barone, pp. 324 (no. 78), 375 (no. 102, and see the answer 
 of Antonello de Petrucchi, p. 377, son. XXXIV). 
 
on 
 
 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 22 
 
 Del sommo Giove come alcuni han detto 
 Dio dunque ingiusto, e instabile seria. 
 
 Some urge us to rule Fortune by wisdom, but I stand as a reef beaten by the waves. 
 
 The speaker’s friend replies: I shall help you like a doctor. I tell you the stars 
 have power over the body but not over the soul. The earthly passions are in 
 Fortune’s power, but not Virtue. 
 
 Cosi chi de Fortuna se innamora, 
 In vista bella, in fatti travagliosa 
 Il verme ha sempre dentro. 
 
 Even while the speaker and his friend are talking, a naked woman rises like a 
 swan from the waves. She is of radiant beauty. Necessity leads her to appear. 
 She is the daughter of Time; her mother was Experience. She is Truth, an immor- 
 tal goddess. She has a son who is persecutor of all her sect, and is called Odio. 
 He has become a friend of Ignorantia, who is blind and foolish and opposes this 
 fair goddess. Truth has appeared to teach who Fortune really is. 
 
 The two walk with her while she discusses the problem. She says that For- 
 tuna is daughter of Human Judgment and Opinion: 
 
 Dal giudicio di saggi over di stolti 
 De tutto el mondo la Fortuna pende 
 Come in essempli alcun hanno recolti. 
 
 Riches and honor are Fortune’s goods. Her gifts are not enduring. She says 
 that Fortuna differs from chance in that she does not proceed from the stars, but 
 from human intent. Man has free-will, which is necessary for the creation of vice 
 and virtue. 
 
 They come to the palace of Fortuna. The prudent and the strong win 
 entrance. The riches within only create more desire.?*5 
 
 So Fortuna again has control of worldly possessions only and the 
 moral of the poem is in its emphasis on spiritual devotion. 
 
 In 1502 an interesting entertainment was given for the pleasure 
 of Lucrezia Borgia. The comedy of the Menaechmi was preceded 
 by a kind of pageant, setting forth the contest between Virtu 
 and Fortuna. Juno sends Fortuna to combat with Hercules, who 
 succeeds in overcoming and binding her. Juno comes to Fortuna’s 
 rescue and bids Hercules to release her. He obeys on condition that 
 neither Juno nor Fortuna ever do harm to the house of Hercules or 
 of Borgia henceforth.”’ Virtu here seems to mean merely physical 
 
 226 The dialogue (which is unpaged except by signature letters) is between 
 Bartholomeo il Simoneta and Curtio Lancino. 
 
 227 D”Ancona, Origini del Teatro Italiano, II, 74. D’Ancona refers to Gre- 
 gorovius’s Lucrezia Borgia, trans. R. Marino, Firenze, 1874, p. 414, and to Alvisi’s 
 Cesare Borgia, Imola, 1878, p. 235. 
 
226 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 strength embodied in the prowess of Hercules, and consequently 
 this seems to be only the remedy of fortitude. 
 
 MACHIAVELLI 
 
 Niccolö Machiavelli (1469-1527) gave particular attention to 
 Fortuna. His utilitarian spirit evidently thought all the dis- 
 cussions up to his time unsatisfactory; the ""compromise” was to 
 him no explanation, and he was not interested in the poetic 
 Christian conception. He investigated the case of Fortuna in 
 ancient Rome, and gives å good summary of. conditions there, 
 mentioning the temples and commenting on Livy’s account.” 
 According to ancient opinion, “I] popolo Romano nello acquistare 
 Vimperio fusse pit favorito dalla fortuna, che dalla virtu”; but 
 with this Machiavelli is not in agreement, holding that the Romans 
 were finally indebted to their own efforts.??* 
 
 He seriously considers the subject of Fortuna again in ZH 
 Principe and permits Fortuna’s existence philosophically: 
 
 Many have held in the past and still hold that the world is controlled by the 
 Divine power and by Fortune, and that consequently there is no free-will: “Al 
 che pensando io qualche volta, mi sono in qualche parte inchinato nella opinione 
 loro. Nondimanco perché il nostro libero arbitrio non sia spento, giudico potere 
 esser vero, che la fortuna sia arbitra della meta delle azioni nostre, ma che ancora 
 ella ne lasci governare Valtra meta 0 poco meno a noi.” Fortuna goes where there 
 is no organized resistance or valor to withstand her. Italy is an open country to 
 her. Ruin comes from depending too much on Fortuna. One must use wisdom 
 and conform to the spirit of the times." It depends on the times whether the 
 rash win and the prudent fail. The cautious man may not strike at the proper 
 moment. Impetuosity is, in general, better than caution: ‘‘Perché la fortuna é 
 donna, ed é necessario volendola tener sotto, batterla ed urtarla; e si vede che 
 la si lascia pid vincere da questi, che da quelli che freddamente procedono. E perö 
 sempre, come donna, é amica de’ giovani, perché sono meno rispettivi, pit feroci, 
 e con pit audacia la comandano.”*" Greatness comes from conquering the god- 
 dess.?* 
 
 228 See Livy I, 46, etc.; and see Roscher's references to him. 
 
 229 Discorsi sopra le Deche di Tito Livio, IX, i (Opere, IV, 223). 
 
 230 Cf. Discorsi, III, ix (ibid. V, 60): ‘““Donde ne nasce che in un uomo la 
 fortuna varia, perché ella varia i tempi, ed egli non varia i modi.” 
 
 231 J] Principe, Cap. XXV (ibid. V, 301 ff.); cf. Bembo, p. 223 above. Chapter 
 VIII of I! Principe discusses how one can sometimes rise, not by Fortune or virtue. 
 but simply by base means. Chapter XV is on the resistance of strength to Fortune, 
 
 232 T principi diventano grandi quando superano le difficulta e le opposizioni 
 che sono fatte loro, e peré la fortuna, massime quando vuole far grande un principe 
 nuovo, il quale ha maggior necessita di acquistar riputazione che uno ereditario, 
 gli fa nascere dei nimici,”” etc. (Il Principe, cap. xx). 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA Dr 
 
 When Machiavelli employs Fortuna for more artistic purposes, 
 she acquires a peculiar and very real vitality. 
 For example: 
 
 O fortuna, tu suoi pure, sendo donna, essere amica de’ giovani; a questa volta 
 tu se’ stata amica dei vecchi! Come non ti vergogni tu ad avere ordinato, che si 
 delicato viso sia da si fetida bocca scombavato.2% 
 
 And again: 
 Ma perché il pianto all ’uom fu sempre brutto, 
 Si debbe a’ colpi della sua fortuna 
 Voltar il viso di lacrime asciutto.* 
 
 Although the familiar formulae appear again in these lines, a 
 genuine passion gives life to them. 
 
 With similar strength, Machiavelli voices a triumphant pæan 
 to the majesty of the goddess, and he includes a brief description of 
 her dwelling-place. So, materialist and skeptic, he subscribes with 
 full accord to the traditional pagan view: 
 
 With what verses shall I sing of Fortune’s realm, and her prosperous and 
 adverse chances? How injuriously she judges us below, all the world which is 
 gathered beneath her throne! Giovanni Battista, thou canst not and need’st not 
 fear any blows but hers. She is often accustomed to oppose with greater force where 
 she sees nature is of most power. She sways all; she is ever violent unless unusual 
 virtue extinguish her power. Consider these verses, and let the cruel goddess also 
 read what I write of her. 
 
 Many call her omnipotent. Often she holds the good under her feet and 
 exalts the wicked. She gives the unworthy a throne, subjects Time to her will, 
 and does not continue her favor to any one. We know not what her ancestry is, 
 but everyone including Jove is afraid of her power. Above isa palace (which is 
 described). She gives to him whom she loves. (A curious conception of several 
 wheels of Fortune is introduced here.) Fortune changes the course of the world. 
 Few have been happy in the past, and those died before their wheel turned back or, 
 whirling, bore them low.?* 
 
 To the opportunist, the ruling goddess of chance is a very real 
 spirit, and in the last analysis Machiavelli allows human free-will 
 hardly its ‘moiety of power” over man’s destiny.?3 
 
 283 Clizia, IV, i (Opere, VII, 146). 
 234 Dell’ Asino d'Oro, cap. iii (ibid. 341). 
 2% Capitolo di Fortuna (ibid. 366 ff.). 
 236 For other references, see Discorsi, lib. ii, iii (zbid. IV, 222, 287; V, 60, 128); 
 Commedia, II, iv (ibid. VIL, 178); also ibid. VII, 324, 349, 385, and notice 330,— 
 I varj casi, la pena e la doglia 
 * * * * * * * * * * 
 
 Canterö io, purché fortuna voglia. 
 
PE TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 GUICCIARDINI 
 The successor of Machiavelli, Francesco Guicciardini (1483- 
 1540), continues the belief in the pagan Fortuna: 
 
 Chi considera bene non pué negare che nelle cose umane la fortuna ha grandis- 
 sima potestå, perché si vede che a ogn’ ora ricevono grandissimi moti da accidenti _ 
 fortuiti, e che non é in potesta degli uomini né a prevedergli né a schifargli; e 
 benché lo accorgimento e sollecitudine degli uomini possa moderare molte cose, 
 nondimeno sola non basta, ma gli bisogna ancora la buona fortuna. 
 
 Again: 
 
 Coloro ancora, che attribuendo il tutto alla prudenza e virtd escludono quanto 
 possono la potestå della fortuna.?*” 
 
 Fortune and Virtue are equal powers.”* This explanation is 
 Machiavelli’s from another point of view, for Virtz seems to mean 
 strength,” and the remedy is less that of spiritual devotion than 
 that of fortitude. 
 
 Guicciardini does, however, offset Fortuna with another 
 deity”? apparently the Christian God. It seems likely from his 
 discussion that he believed in Fortuna and thought it wise to include 
 another god for the sake of optimism. In pagan times, as we have 
 seen, there was always a remedy for the afflictions of pure chance. 
 
 IV 
 
 This study of Guicciardini completes our examination of the 
 problem of Fortuna in Italy through the Middle Ages. In the 
 literature from Dante's time to the Renaissance there were those 
 who, like Petrarch, attempted to annihilate the goddess. There 
 were others who, taking the hint from Dante, retained her as å 
 poetic figure. Philosophy has always tried to annihilate her and 
 poetry has sought to keep her, whether subservient or not to a 
 greater Deity. One philosopher alone, Pico della Mirandola, 
 justifies the poetic conception of the Christian figure. Giovanni 
 Pontano sounds the last note of the uncompromising Ecclesiastical 
 
 237 Ricordi Politici e Civili, xxx, xxxi (Opere Ined., I, 97 ff.). 
 
 238 See Discorsi Politici, v, vi (ibid. 270, 271-2). 
 
 239 Compare the pageant above, p. 225. See, here, Disc. Polit., viii (ibid. 288): 
 “Cognosciuto molte volte la virtd o la fortuna degli Spagnuoli essere maggiore che 
 la sua.” 
 
 240 Tbid. 330, 373; cf. 394, La prudenza e i buoni consigli degli uomini non 
 sono sufficienti a resistere né alla voluntå di Dio, né alla potestå della fortuna.” 
 
TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 229 
 
 philosophy. And then, with the beginning of the Renaissance, 
 in the work of Machiavelli and Guicciardini we have indication 
 that philosophically the goddess will be allowed to remain, entirely 
 free from any other deity and certainly independent. With them 
 the opposition of “‘Viriw’’ means rather the opposition of physical 
 strength. Pulci and Trissino actually feel weak in the face of her 
 powers. The movement is a return to the pagan faith in the god- 
 dess, with only the pagan remedy of fortitude. It is significant 
 that in 1512, when Massimiliano Sforza entered Milan, he was 
 greeted by an elaborate allegorical arch on which Fortuna, the 
 chief figure, towered above Fama, Speranza, Audacia, and Peni- 
 tenza.™! 
 
 But how far did any one in the Middle Ages or the Renaissance, 
 indeed at any time after the introduction of Christianity, believe 
 in an actual goddess of Fortune such as we find so often described 
 in the literature of these periods? That a survival like this would 
 be impossible can be maintained only by one who holds that 
 Christianity succeeded in making a complete conversion of every- 
 body, or by one who hesitates to think that human beings cherish 
 faith in any god at all. The figure of Fortuna simply represents 
 the expression of one human attitude toward the controlling forces 
 of the universe. There is abundant evidence that a belief in 
 chance lasted during the Middle Ages and gained strength at the 
 time of the Renaissance. From the many examples of the personi- 
 fication in literature there is also sufficient evidence that it was 
 possible to conceive of this element of chance in terms of a goddess. 
 How far the belief in chance and the use of the personification 
 overlapped, it is, of course, impossible to say. The degree to which 
 the personification becomes the personal deity will depend on the 
 extent to which the individual is accustomed to conceive of super- 
 human powers in human terms: an extent which, to say the least, 
 is far from negative in most of human kind. The problem, in other 
 words, is purely individual. Yet the extraordinary vitality of 
 Fortuna after she has left Roman literature (surviving cheerfully 
 one annihilation after another), her rich equipment which is the 
 gift of no single poet but a general inheritance, her serene course, 
 her renewed vigor and the burst of splendor with which she greets 
 
 241 Burckhardt, Civilisation of the Renaissance in Italy (Middlemore’s trans.), 
 p. 421, n. 3. 
 
230 TRADITION OF THE GODDESS FORTUNA 
 
 the Renaissance, such characteristics seem to imply that her vivid- 
 ness carried over into the religion of at least one element among the 
 people. 
 
 The unimaginative as well as the unrational will ever see the 
 universe swayed only by chance; the imaginative will personify 
 this force; the intellectual and the scientific will keep faith in a 
 hidden order; the intellectual gifted with due imagination will 
 perceive a rational Deity in control of the apparent element of 
 chance. Fortuna can survive as a pagan deity as long as the purely 
 imaginative survive or the romanticists. She is a favorite during 
 romantic periods. The cult of flux and change, of the strange and 
 the unusual, of him who is desideroso veder cose nuove, favors 
 the special adoration of her who is “‘of chaunges newe lady and 
 princesse.””* Under Christianity she is able-to keep only a sub- 
 ordinate röle. But her tradition with numerous references and 
 descriptions is impressive at all times, and her infinite variety 
 always finds some devotees. Such is her career, at least in Italy, 
 in the radiant human comedy and tragedy of many centuries. 
 
 242 Lydgate, Falls of Princes, VI, i, st. 30. 
 
 | 
 | 
 i 
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