“It was a glorious scene; I could dimly descry my father returning from the chase laden with a store of game. Snow mantled the heights, and an icy wind rising with the sun shook the dark pines. The violence of the wind increased, the clouds were driven, torn into shreds, against the jagged rocks, and scattered like flames of living fire flying over the pine forests. The wind, after a fearful blast and deep-drawn sigh, paused as if to view the sport, then rising suddenly, lifted the vapour from the hollows, chasing it from its warm bed up the snowy steeps, and spreading it out in a dark veil across the sun. In the deep gloom the voices of a thousand fiends seemed to rise from vale and crag. The caverns and gorges were filled with the spirits of a gathering storm, shrieking and clamouring like a crowd at the gates of hell, impatient to be let loose to lay waste the land. At last they burst forth; onward they came, guided by a sword of lightning that shivered a great rock close to my feet, and pierced the heart of my favourite tree. I rolled over in a faint of panic fear, and awoke to see the wreck of many a green sapling, the pathways strewn with leaves, branches, and the trunks of giant pines. The storm had abated, and in its track left angry torrents leaping from the once dry rocks, gathering force and roaring in brown torrents down through the chasms, to flood and wreck the smiling plains beneath. This is not all, for a sentimental Bear is a great observer.
“The sun again shone upon the scene with the brightness of hope to the torn breast of Nature, for every green thing took heart and expanded beneath its welcome rays. As for me, nothing daunted, I started and pursued my way until I found a spot inaccessible to everything but sweet solitude and myself.
“During live years my only visitor was an Eagle who perched on a stunted tree not far off. No other living creature had ventured to invade my horizon.
“My occupations were very simple. At dawn I sat on a ledge of rock watching sunrise. The freshness of the morning filled me with a sense of newness of life, and a vividness of imagination whose fruit was a palingenesian poem, in which I meant to express all the griefs of those who had raised the cup of happiness to their lips, only to find it empty and polluted.
“During the day I studied the healing properties of plants, while my evenings were devoted to watching the stars appear one by one in the sky. My heart expanded when gazing on the moon and the sweet planet Venus, and I even at times imagined I must have had some hand in creating the stars and moon, in order that they might shine for my special benefit. Five years were passed in dreaming, after which my eyes opened to behold the vanity of a Bear. My illusions vanished, and objects appeared in their true colours. A sense of loneliness took hold of me, the stars lost their lustre, the flowers and grasses their ethereal fragrance and heavenly hues. I considered my limbs, my claws, my coat, and behold they were made for climbing, crawling, clutching, and covering my nakedness. I found I could neither climb to high heaven nor clutch the stars; on the contrary, my attributes were practical, brutish, and earthly. These mortifying but useful discoveries compelled me to seek other scenes—to return, in fact, to the world and rejoin my fellows.
“Back I accordingly made my way, and, all unused to the craft of wise Bears, became a prey to the cunning of men.
“I started one morning early to carry out my resolution, and had not proceeded far when strange sounds smote my ear, voices shouting, ‘A Bear! a Bear!!’ Pausing to listen where the sounds came from, I was suddenly struck and stunned by an invisible weapon which sent me rolling over on the ground, where I was immediately surrounded by four savage Dogs, followed by three more savage men. In spite of the pain of my wound I struggled bravely, but was at last overpowered, and fainted from loss of blood.
“Upon recovering I found myself tied to a tree with a rope fastened to a ring in my nose. To this day I have never been able to make out how that solid metal ring was spirited into my nose. Verily the skill of man passeth the knowledge of Bears! Homer says the man who has lost his liberty has lost half his soul. I had sustained that loss, and had gained a permanent ornament, so fixed that to regain my liberty I must sacrifice my snout. There was no help for it, I had been rudely pulled up to survey my changed position. Wherein did the change consist? Sun, moon, and stars were still above me, but they had no longer the same interest for me; they were simply sun, moon, stars, and nothing more—heavenly bodies having their own affairs to look after, while I had mine, which proved all-absorbing. Formerly the beautiful in nature was my constant feast; there it was still around me, but it had lost its old fascination and power of feasting the senses.
“The truth is, I had never really renounced the world. For a time I was the slave of morbid fancies, and had no more given up the flesh-and-blood interest in life, than does the Buddhist bonze, who, while he courts seclusion and broods over the ethics of his creed, is careful to nourish and cherish the material part of his being.
“Here I was, by a mere fluke of misfortune, brought face to face with my real self, a heavy-footed, full-grown, and withal sentimental Bear. Many days passed in a sort of stupor of despair, followed by the sweet inward confession of my sins, which brought resignation and a calm I had never before experienced. If anything could replace the loss of liberty, it was the repose of my new life, for my master showed me uniform kindness. I was commensal of his house by day, and by night was consigned to a stable with some other socially-disposed animals.