"'Alone, always alone,' he answered, 'otherwise you will have neither rest nor happiness. But don't fancy that you have any cause for lamentation or complaint on that account. See life, once for all, as it really exist, and accept reality instead of pursuing phantoms. Would you have every one resemble you? is every creature by to be the hero of some dream of yours? Ah! I see that you are not cured even now.'
"He was right; I was not cured, if you choose to say so. Of course I had to confess that the small birds were wicked, that they were as cruel as they were pretty, and that I must distrust and avoid them. But I sought all kinds of plausible explanations of this incongruity. I said that they had received from nature genius instead of virtue, and that I had no more right to complain of their cruelty than they had to ridicule my ugliness (for ugly I certainly must be) or my harsh voice.
"And having persuaded myself of the truth of this, I flew away and hid myself in the gloomiest part of the forest, weeping over my loneliness and in deceived hopes. And now my eyes were opened to another delusion. To the society of my two brothers I had looked for consolation in every trouble, but before long they declared that one hole was too narrow to satisfy their desires, and that they must seek their fortune elsewhere. In vain did I use and elder brother's right in dissuading them from this mad design. In vain I reminded them of the fate of our parents who had perished in spite of every possible precaution, and showed them how much more they would be exposed in thus throwing themselves in the way of danger. Nothing influenced them—not even the memory of our vows of [{269}] mutual fidelity, not even any entreaties that they would not leave me alone in this dreary solitude. One—the youngest and handsomest, my especial favorite—was possessed by some crazy longing for travel and foreign adventure. He dreamed of some land of promise where all would be good and happy; and on the faith of these dreams he left us one day, bidding good-by to his country, his cradle, and his only friends, to go in search of the Utopia he longed to find. I never saw him again. Did he find the object of his desires? Did he die on the journey? I know not; but one thing we may be sure of—that fate cheated him of his wild and ambitious hopes.
"My other brother left me to follow a scatter-brained young screech-owl who had entangled him in her fascinations. He established himself with her in a neighboring wood, but parted from me with a thousand protestations of eternal friendship and devotion.
"And thus I found myself in that enviable solitude which my sage friend had recommended to me—left to myself and my own sad thoughts. I only went out toward evening to look for food, and then returned to my gloomy hole and left it no more. But isolation, instead of making me courageous, only disgusted me more and more with the life I was leading. From the depths of my retreat, I used to watch with envy the gaiety and animation of other birds. Not that I dreamed of joining in their mirth, for my own experience of their society had taught me to keep at a safe distance; but the sight of their enjoyment led me to believe that I might find companionship quite as agreeable without leaving my own circle. I mingled more and more among the other owls of the forest; I visited them in their own homes, and counted the hours I spent with them and their families as so much gained against grief and dullness. My most intimate friendship was with a highly respectable family who lived not far from my castle, and especially with a young owl, the fourth child of venerable parents who had known and valued my unhappy father. Her sweetness and innocence made her very lovely in my eyes. What was it to me that her beak was too hooked, her eyes too hollow, and her head angular! beauty is the form of the ideal, not a material regularity. While autumn lasted I visited her every day at the hole of her aged parents, and before long we were bound together by ties of indestructible love. In the midst of our happiness winter separated us. What is winter? Why should this spoil-sport intrude on our fairest days? And yet, after all, nature has a right to be cruel and mischievous, since all her children are so! For several months I was parted from her whom I loved; but as soon as spring returned she became my companion, and I brought her home to my bower, which was to serve me now as a nest and as the cradle of my children. There we spent blissful days, the happiest perhaps of my life. Soon the nest was full; two newly hatched little ones raised their bald heads, and filled the air with infantile cries. With what solicitude we watched over them! what care and anxiety we felt for these darling little creatures! At last we had the happiness of seeing them open their eyes and look up at us with that knowing air of intelligence so enchanting to young parents. I thought that happiness was restored to me, and that fate was tired of persecuting me. 'What matters now,' said I, 'the cruelty of the world and its unjust disdain? Do I need any other happiness than this?
"It seemed as if we could see the children grow from day to day, and their good health, noble mien, and cheerful disposition were fast filling our cup of happiness to overflowing. One day their mother went out in search of food, leaving me to watch the nest, for they were as yet too young to be trusted alone. Hour after hour passed on, and yet she did not return. I became very uneasy as I remembered my parents' fate, and at last, telling the children to be very [{270}] quiet and prudent, I sallied forth in search of her. Soon she appeared, flying toward me at the utmost speed of her rushing wings. 'At last I have come,' she cried, 'let us be grateful for my escape! A falcon has been chasing me for two hours past, and I only eluded his pursuit by hiding in the hollow of a tree. We must get back to the children as quick as possible.' And we hastened back to the nest. As we approached the tower, we heard—oh, horror!—sharp cries of pain, and recognized in those screams the voices of our little ones; on we plunged, distracted with fear; and saw the falcon—it was he—rising up into the air clutching in his horrid claws one of our children, the little creature's blood dropping down about us, while he struggled and cried, 'Mother!—Father!'—and then all was still, and the falcon sailed away out of sight.
"You think that was enough, but not so. When we reached the nest and looked for the other one, there we found his poor little body stretched on the wall, torn open with a frightful wound. What shall I tell you? Wild with grief, we wandered for days about the forest, insensible to rain or wind, to hunger or thirst, even to the mocking sneers of the birds who hunted us, pecking at us and tearing out our feathers. What did we care for that or anything else?
"At last my companion said: 'If you have no objection, let us leave forever this hateful wood, which has brought us such misery and bitterness. Let us give up this odious world and find some other home.' 'But where would you have us go?' I asked. 'If we have not found peace in this retreat, why should we find it anywhere else? We could not be more completely hidden in any other place than we have been here, and yet here we have been discovered. I don't feel like beginning a new life nobody knows where.' 'Let us go among human beings,' answered she. 'There, at least we shall find goodness, generosity, and greatness. Just think how admirable their towns and villages are! To be sure I can only judge them by hearsay, but I have every reason to suppose that we should meet with a cordial reception. The very day the falcon chased me I took refuge in a hollow oak, and I listened to the talk of two men who were sitting at the foot of the tree. You never heard anything so beautiful as their words! Anybody could see that they were the kings of the animal creation. They were complaining of the mice that make such havoc among their bins and granaries. Let us go and deliver them from these pests.' 'You have convinced me,' I replied. 'Yes, we will go to mankind an serve them faithfully. How they will respect us and reward our services.' And so after taking a sad farewell of our old friend and adviser, who saw us depart with many forebodings of evil, we winged our way through the forest. Toward evening we reached its outskirts and saw before us a village. We had reached our new country.
"We chose one of the largest barns in this village for our home, and at once opened a desperate warfare against the rats and mice who were attracted thither in large numbers by the provisions. This novel mode of life brought us so much occupation and distraction, that we had no time to dwell upon our grief. Our courage rose once more, and we used to say to each other: 'What sublime beings men are! How grand are all their actions! They are born ignorant and they know everything! They are born feeble and they conquer nature!' These perfections formed the subject of our morning talks when the night's work was over, their hospitality and goodness, our faithful devotion to them, and the gratitude it could not fail to win.