And at the centre of it all, as so often before and so often since, a dog; the affectionate, vigilant guard dog Rolle, or, as seen from the other side, the fierce and dangerous “Gunnerud’s dog”. For while Munch is well aware that the dog’s name is Rolle, he consistently refers to it by the impersonal term “Gunnerud’s dog”. Such a monster clearly does not warrant anything as gentle and humanising as a name.

The Munch Museum, MM.T.01437

Rolle had a traumatic childhood. The previous owner, Mr. Schumacher, who despite his name was a farmer, fell ill, and Rolle was simply neglected. Mr. Gunnerud writes: “The dog suffered greatly the first one-and-a-half years of Schumacher’s illness and after his death was always chained up, was teased and tormented by the workmen, never allowed to run free and play with other dogs, eventually becoming traumatised and wary of people.” Interestingly, canine psychologists have recently concluded that puppies that do not get to play with other dogs during the first months of their lives do not have an opportunity to learn the finer points of play-fighting, and later on are therefore unable to distinguish between playful aggression and genuine aggression. In any case, Rolle developed misanthropic tendencies and attacked all who entered his preserve for all he was worth. Mr. Gunnerud also fell victim to this when he paid a visit. “If I walked through Schumacher’s gate in those days, it would look as though it was about to eat me alive, furious and baring its teeth”. Gunnerud was therefore highly sceptical when asked after Schumacher’s death by the new owner of the farm whether he could take over the four-legged fury. The alternative was to have it put it down, so he agreed – very reluctantly – to take on this challenge. However, after a nightmare week of disruptive canine behaviour Axel Gunnerud gained the dog’s trust and devotion. Indeed, so devoted was Rolle that it became his life’s mission to defend his master’s property against all intruders. Whether he did ever frighten off undesirable elements is somewhat doubtful, for if so Gunnerud would probably have praised its admirable qualities as a guard dog citing concrete examples. On the other hand, countless desirable elements such as milk boys, chimneysweeps and postmen tasted Rolle’s wrath. Of course, this was initially Gunnerud’s problem, not Munch’s. And Rolle may well have had a rather broad idea about where the boundaries of his territory ran, so that passers-by on the road had to be given loud warnings, sometimes accompanied by nips on the legs. As Munch puts it: “To begin with, I would stress that Gunnerud’s dog, outside Gunnerud’s house and a good way further up the road leading to other houses is utterly dangerous – This is what it thinks it is supposed to be defending. […] I have myself many times on dark nights been attacked by it – even right outside my own house.” (MM.N.00364)

It would seem beyond doubt that Munch felt the taste of Rolle’s jaws, even if the scars on his leg perhaps mended quicker than those on his soul. And although, as we have seen, Munch was a sworn dog-lover who owned a number of dogs himself, there is after all a great difference between one’s own good-natured dogs and the neighbour’s untrained mutts.

Neighbours and postmen alike eventually complained about this to Munch, who decided to “take up the case”. After various fruitless skirmishes he decides, strongly encouraged by his neighbours Sudmann and Finne, to report Gunnerud to the police. The wheels of the law turn slowly, but after some time Gunnerud is served with a fine, and also ordered to keep Rolle muzzled. The rules concerning keeping dogs on a leash were also stipulated. A situation of relative peace and tolerance ought therefore to have been attainable at Nedre Ullern. But: “When Gunnerud […] was ordered to put on a muzzle [sic!] (and also a leash I believe) he had a sort of strap put on the dog – and thereupon allowed it to run free – The strap was put on as he saw fit – so it hung loose around the dog’s jaws – with the result that it could still happily bite people’s legs. It also ripped the trousers off the fifth postman“ (MM.N.00367). MM.T.02688 shows the inadequacy of the muzzle as Munch saw it.

The obligation to keep the dog on a leash was also laxly implemented, at least according to Munch: “The rope gradually became worn and the dog wandered about freely with Gunnerud and with a greater and greater distance between the dog and Gunnerud – Gunnerud became a centre around which the dog moved about freely in a gradually increasing radius […] morning and afternoon – until the dog would turn up as far down as Skøien – and the centre Gunnerud was not to be seen at all.” (MM.N.00367)

Encouraged by support from the law, and irritated by Gunnerud’s failure to implement what had been agreed, Munch keeps up the fight against the savage creature. However, Munch’s legal action encountered unexpected problems: The other neighbours have evidently grown accustomed to Rolle. Axel Gunnerud composes a friendly, elegantly-worded circular letter – he was a secretary by profession – which he sends to all the neighbours concerned, except Munch. In it, he asks for their candid opinion of Rolle, placing the dog’s fate in their hands: “If there are others [besides Munch] who are bothered by the dog and wish to have it put down, I shall immediately take due and proper account of this”. A couple of neighbours add the odd critical comment about Rolle’s temperament and appearance (“I don’t like the look of it; but the poor creature can’t help that”), yet no one wants to have it put down. Even the milk boy’s father expresses some understanding of Rolle’s behaviour. Gunnerud encloses these comments with a letter to Munch – also friendly and elegantly worded – in which he expresses the hope that “my dog will [not] be more of a nuisance to you than it is to my other neighbours.” He also offers to change the muzzle: “Should you not feel reassured by the type of muzzle I am using – which by the way is the usual type – I am most willing to try another kind.”

However, anyone who believes that Munch would be influenced by the fact that former allies have turned their backs on him should think again. It merely whets his appetite, and he reports Mr. Gunnerud to the police again. Munch then receives a visit from the minions of the law, who apparently ask him the inappropriate question whether he has been bitten, or knows of anyone else who has been bitten since he previously reported the matter. It is no doubt highly awkward for him being forced to answer this question as he writes at least twelve drafts of the letter to the police, in which he argues that lack of further bites does not count. Rolle is undeniably a dangerous dog. From one draft to the next, he polishes the wording to give greatest possible weight to his views: “So it is actually just myself and my friends whom the dog threatens – and when the Police ask whether the dog has now bitten or attacked other people, it would therefore seem to be I and my friends who are to be bitten – After the countless incidents – I and my friends do not intend to expose ourselves to this ordeal any longer – So we must either take a car if the state of the road allows or make long detours – Or I must sell the place and go somewhere else –” (MM.N.00375)

Mr. Gunnerud is spared further sentences, and again tries to extend a conciliatory hand to his quarrelsome neighbour. In a further letter he imposes even more restrictions on himself and the dog, and repeats his offer of a new sort of muzzle. At last Munch reluctantly abandons the fight against Rolle: “In reply to your letter, I should like to inform you that if you get hold of a genuinely adequate muzzle, I shall let the matter rest –” (MM.N.00369). There follow several pages reiterating the old accusations, before he concludes: “I hereby hope that the Punic War which has been raging is now at an end. Further, however, it would be the greatest relief not only to your neighbours – but to yourself – and above all to the dog – if it were to be put down through a well-aimed shot.”

As already mentioned, what is striking about this little quarrel in the West End of Oslo in about 1920 is its typical, everyday nature – a dispute which would have been long forgotten had it not been for the fact that one of the parties involved was a famous artist, who not only wrote about the incident, but also illustrated it with a series of caricature drawings. Even this would probably have gone relatively unnoticed, had it not been for the fact that Munch had six of the drawings lithographed. They thus became part of Munch’s graphic oeuvre, so that both Rolle and Axel Gunnerud, no doubt against their will, gained a small place in world art history.

Most of the drawings were probably done long after Rolle had been put to rest, and the lithographs were not printed until after Munch’s exhibition at Holst Halvorsen’s in 1938, which included some of these drawings. This shows that the memory of this little dispute between neighbours stayed with Munch for the rest of his life, and perhaps even gradually grew in importance. At any rate, Rolle certainly did so: In the drawing The dog attacks the milk boy (MM.T.01326), Rolle, whom Gunnerud described as “a type of Norwegian farm dog”, is considerably larger than the poor milk boy, and in Angry Dog (MM.T.01437) he looks like a monster which even a large Norwegian bear would have avoided taking on.

The drawings featuring Rolle in the central role are a delight. They are unpretentious and characterised by a vivid stroke; they are a touch grotesque, and utterly biased. But even if, through these drawings, Rolle has somewhat undeservedly gained a rather tarnished posthumous reputation, we must comfort ourselves with the knowledge that he was a dog held in affection by the Gunnerud family, and that he was spared the relief Munch considered it would be for him, to be “put down by a well-aimed shot”.

Magne Bruteig