its ultimate heights through a belated recognition of his own proper
settings. Hamsun was sixty when he wrote "Growth of the Soil." It is the
first work in which he celebrates the life of the open country for its
own sake, and not merely as a contrast to the artificiality and
selfishness of the cities. It was written, too, after he had definitely
withdrawn himself from the gathering places of the writers and the
artists to give an equal share of his time and attention to the tilling
of the soil that was at last his own. It is the harvest of his ultimate
self-discovery.

The various phases of his campaign against city life are also
interesting and illuminating. Early in his career as a writer he tried
an open attack in full force by a couple of novels, "Shallow Soil" and
"Editor Lynge", dealing sarcastically with the literary Bohemia of the
Norwegian capital. They were, on the whole, failures--artistically
rather than commercially. They are among his poorest books. The attack
was never repeated in that form. He retired to the country, so to speak,
and tried from there to strike at what he could reach of the ever
expanding, ever devouring city. After that the city, like the sea, is
always found in the distance. One feels it without ever seeing it.
There is fear as well as hatred in his treatment of it.

In the country it is represented not so much by the store, which, after
all, fills an unmistakable need on the part of the rural population, as
by the representatives of the various professions. For these Hamsun
entertains a hostile feeling hardly less marked than that bestowed on
their place of origin, whither, to his openly declared disgust, they are
always longing. It does not matter whether they are ministers or actors,
lawyers or doctors--they are all tarred with the same brush. Their
common characteristic is their rootlessness. They have no real home,