THEBEAR;OR,ALETTERFROM THEMOUNTAINS.“WHENintroduced to the world, I brought with me a craving for solitude, doubtless bestowed for some wise purpose. But instead of directing my faculties to an end which answered my vocation in the harmony of beings, like most gifted natures, I followed my own inclinations.“Soon after the event which brought me to light, a fall from a lofty tree lamed me for life, and contributed not a little to render me a prey to fits of melancholy.“Our den was the favourite resort of Bears of the surrounding district. My father was a splendid hunter, and entertained his convives sumptuously with the produce of the chase. Life in those days seemed to be one endless round of dancing, gaiety, and feasting. As for myself, I remained a stranger to my father’s guests, whose visits bothered me. Although the good cheer was not wholly distasteful, the frequent and vulgar eating, drinking, and roaring bouts were odious to my nature. This repugnance was not to be attributed to a finely-strung organisation, although modern philosophy points to our organisation as the source and cause of our positive and negative affections.Note.—This letter was meant for private circulation only; the young Bear from whom it was received thought he might venture, without offence, to divulge the secrets of friendship—more especially as the writer had died, leaving this, among other manuscripts, to his care. A dead Bear is not likely to complain of ingratitude.—ED.“My love of silence and solitude at last settled into the gloomy moroseness of amisunderstood Bear, which has always passed as the token of incomprehensible genius, or of virtue too pure for the world. Years of self-examination, added to a growing feeling of dissatisfaction, convinced me at last that pride was the parent of my brood of sickly imaginings, whose ghostly food was the moonbeams, and the sighing of the mountains, as they whispered about me to the passing wind. Before resipiscence, it was needful I should suffer misfortune.“My parents were grieved by my monomania. I had indeed determined to leave them, and seek some distant secluded spot in which I might remain undisturbed and alone. Conscience smote me in vain; my project was at last confided to a friend of the family, who after I had left broke the news to my parents, telling them I had voluntarily renounced the world. Never shall I forget stealing like a thief from the home of my childhood. The morning mist rose over the mountain from the valleys in blinding masses. Soon settling into clouds, one of pearly whiteness, fringed with the golden light of dawn, floated like a curtain in front of my old home.“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 wreckthe 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 byfour 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.“Soon after daybreak I was taken to the doorway, where, seated beneath a plane-tree, the hours passed pleasantly in playing with my master’s children, who showed me much affection, while the thoroughfare along the highroad procured endless amusement.“On fête-days the rustics came to dance under the tree; for my master was an innkeeper, and his house a favourite resort.“There the noise of jingling glasses and songs of gay spirits sounded from dawn to sunset. I had always a formal invitation to the dances, which commenced after the evening repast, and were kept up far intothe night. Usually I had the good fortune to open the ball with the prettiest girl of the crowd, by a dance similar to the one in vogue a Crete, invented for the amiable Ariadne. Since then I have been enabled to study the private life of men of rank, those on the upper range of the social ladder, and give it as my conviction that the poor mountaineers have a happier lot in life than those regarded by the world as the highly-favoured ones. The conclusion forces itself upon me, that men are happy just in proportion as they are ignorant. It is sad it should be so, as it brings them down to the level of the beast, and tempts some to regard even the Bear, owing to the simplicity of his nature and habits, as an infinitely happier animal than man. My rustic life lasted six months, during which time I followed the example of Apollo, deprived of his glory, guarding the flock of Admetus.“One day, while I was seated as usual beneath the tree, a postchaise drawn by four horses stopped at the door, and I learned that its occupant, who had the air of a travelling aristocrat, was a poet of noble birth and European fame, who had been voyaging in search of adventure. This personage left the carriage to take some refreshment, and during his stay I seemed to be the subject of a conversation which ended in the stranger placing some pieces of gold in the hand of my master, who undid my chain and consigned me to the vehicle.“The peaceful valley where I had spent so many happy days was leagues off before I recovered from my surprise. It is needless to remark that any change in my mode of life caused me much pain and anxiety. Believe me, dear reader, happiness is only to be found in the monotony of an uneventful life.“As the scenes of my youth faded in the distance, sorrow took possession of my heart, and at last I bade adieu to my dear mountains. I felt for the first time that loss of one’s country is immortal, and that travels only produce fatigue of body and mind. Now I was enabled to comprehend how Calypso, arrayed in all her charms, could not tempt Ulysses to abandon his poor but much-loved Ithaca, or to relinquish the noble ambition which induced him to return and behold once more the smoke rising from his chimney.“ ‘Vivite felices, quibus est fortuna peracta!Vobis parta quies, nobis maris æquor arandum.’“We embarked at Bayonne on board a ship setting sail for the British Isles, where I afterwards passed two years with my master in a Scottishcastle. This gifted man was to me a most interesting study; at once poet and misanthrope, his example sealed my fate for life, thoroughly curing me of the monomania which had forced me into seclusion. I had at the same time contracted a depraved habit of composing verses or rhymes, which I could not shake off, never fully realising that only a few gifted poets have been enabled to win fame by placing their sentiments on record. Like most half-fledged misunderstood poets, I suffered acutely, being no favourite either of the Muses or the public. Inspiration would not come, in spite of great agony and superbearish effort. It was in vain I lay on my back or rolled on my belly—rhythm, rhyme, and romance proved my severest taskmasters. I walked fast in the dark lanes of the garden, as Pope used to do, scaring the birds by the deep growlings that escaped my breast.“Who would believe it? My poetic breakdown stirred the worst passions of my nature, and drove me to hate every successful songster—to hate past, present, and future—to hate every one and everything saving my own soured self.“Since Solomon’s time many books have been written, but the book which shall faithfully picture the miseries of a literary life has yet to be penned. My master himself, with his acknowledged genius and inordinate—— I must not retail his troubles, as most worthy recipients of his kindness might be tempted to do. I shall content myself, as a faithful servant, by merely raising the corner of the veil. The Muses were his true loves, to whom he was fain to prove unfaithful when he sought the joys of domestic life, to lay the storms of his heart in the haven of home. But it was all too late, the experiment failed, and he fled to end his accumulated woes on a foreign shore.“Here was a lofty example for me, an unfortunate poetaster, proving as it did that poetic genius, just in proportion to its intensity, dries up the font of social happiness and plays fearful havoc with common sense.“Fortunately for me, as it gave me my liberty, whatever it may have done for himself, my gifted master, at the sound of the strife of Grecian insurrection, determined to leave England, resolved to seek a brilliant tomb. Some days before his departure, wishing to make a last appearance in London, he profited by the representation of Hamlet, one of his favourite plays, to show himself once more to the British public. We drove to the theatre in an open carriage, and found the place crowded as we seated ourselves in a stage-box. Our appearancecreated a tremendous sensation, all eyes and eyeglasses were turned towards us; the ladies, bending over the balconies, recalled lovely flowers peeping out from rocky clefts. All were eager to get a glimpse of the great poet; so worshipful indeed was this well-dressed crowd, that the play was totally disregarded till the ghost of the prince stalked across the stage, and as a tribute to Shakespeare, the great character of the phantom was received with profound respect. The details of the tragedy appeared to be of a nature to familiarise the spectators with our presence, like the appropriate music which introduces and accompanies the hero in an opera. But the ghost was too signal an evidence of creative genius to be lightly passed over. This wonderful performance supplied all the metropolitan journals with a glowing leader. It is to these papers, for the past twenty years, we have been indebted for all the political, philosophical, religious, and literary achievements of learned Europe.“Next day we embarked for France, and as good-luck would have it, my master made a roundabout journey to visit some ruins.“One evening when he was seated at the foot of an old tower, I profited by the reverie in which he was plunged to make my escape. For four days and nights I fled from mountain to mountain without once looking behind. At last, on the evening of the fifth day, I again found myself in the Pyrenees. In an excess of joy I knelt down and kissed my native soil, after which I made for the cavern where I first breathed the air. It was inhabited by an old friend of the family, who told me that my parents were dead. After shedding a few tears to their memory, I took up my abode on Mount Perdu, and made myself a happy home.“Although I am a poet in a small way, I love my wife, and find my children perfect; they are moulded very much after their father’s image. We do not see much company, almost none, save one or two desperate duns, who thought so well of me as to come over here all the way from London to “look me up,” as they say. Their excuse for intruding on my privacy is that they frequently pass my way, and it suddenly occurs to them they have each a trifling bill for Mr. Bear. These scraps of paper are the tender links which bind me to the past, and recall the licence of poetic inspiration. Happy is he who dwells at home, and who has never drifted into doggerel!“All I now require is to be left alone to the use of my natural instincts, which have ripened under affliction, and to the enjoymentof the attributes with which nature has endowed me. I have been long in discovering my true self. Now that I have found the rascal, I will keep watch over him, and prove to the world that my wandering life has not been wholly spent in pursuits of vanity.“What more do I require? Does not the naïad of the rock distil from the elements an exhaustless store of water to quench my thirst?The beloved tree of Cybele, does it not shelter my dwelling with its evergreen boughs? Above all, when the day’s toil is ended and I return laden with the trophies of the chase, have I not a devoted partner to welcome me home?“I have now no ambition save one, and that is to make the acquaintance of that heavenly constellation which bears our noble name.”
“WHENintroduced to the world, I brought with me a craving for solitude, doubtless bestowed for some wise purpose. But instead of directing my faculties to an end which answered my vocation in the harmony of beings, like most gifted natures, I followed my own inclinations.
“Soon after the event which brought me to light, a fall from a lofty tree lamed me for life, and contributed not a little to render me a prey to fits of melancholy.
“Our den was the favourite resort of Bears of the surrounding district. My father was a splendid hunter, and entertained his convives sumptuously with the produce of the chase. Life in those days seemed to be one endless round of dancing, gaiety, and feasting. As for myself, I remained a stranger to my father’s guests, whose visits bothered me. Although the good cheer was not wholly distasteful, the frequent and vulgar eating, drinking, and roaring bouts were odious to my nature. This repugnance was not to be attributed to a finely-strung organisation, although modern philosophy points to our organisation as the source and cause of our positive and negative affections.
Note.—This letter was meant for private circulation only; the young Bear from whom it was received thought he might venture, without offence, to divulge the secrets of friendship—more especially as the writer had died, leaving this, among other manuscripts, to his care. A dead Bear is not likely to complain of ingratitude.—ED.
“My love of silence and solitude at last settled into the gloomy moroseness of amisunderstood Bear, which has always passed as the token of incomprehensible genius, or of virtue too pure for the world. Years of self-examination, added to a growing feeling of dissatisfaction, convinced me at last that pride was the parent of my brood of sickly imaginings, whose ghostly food was the moonbeams, and the sighing of the mountains, as they whispered about me to the passing wind. Before resipiscence, it was needful I should suffer misfortune.
“My parents were grieved by my monomania. I had indeed determined to leave them, and seek some distant secluded spot in which I might remain undisturbed and alone. Conscience smote me in vain; my project was at last confided to a friend of the family, who after I had left broke the news to my parents, telling them I had voluntarily renounced the world. Never shall I forget stealing like a thief from the home of my childhood. The morning mist rose over the mountain from the valleys in blinding masses. Soon settling into clouds, one of pearly whiteness, fringed with the golden light of dawn, floated like a curtain in front of my old home.
“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 wreckthe 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 byfour 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.
“Soon after daybreak I was taken to the doorway, where, seated beneath a plane-tree, the hours passed pleasantly in playing with my master’s children, who showed me much affection, while the thoroughfare along the highroad procured endless amusement.
“On fête-days the rustics came to dance under the tree; for my master was an innkeeper, and his house a favourite resort.
“There the noise of jingling glasses and songs of gay spirits sounded from dawn to sunset. I had always a formal invitation to the dances, which commenced after the evening repast, and were kept up far intothe night. Usually I had the good fortune to open the ball with the prettiest girl of the crowd, by a dance similar to the one in vogue a Crete, invented for the amiable Ariadne. Since then I have been enabled to study the private life of men of rank, those on the upper range of the social ladder, and give it as my conviction that the poor mountaineers have a happier lot in life than those regarded by the world as the highly-favoured ones. The conclusion forces itself upon me, that men are happy just in proportion as they are ignorant. It is sad it should be so, as it brings them down to the level of the beast, and tempts some to regard even the Bear, owing to the simplicity of his nature and habits, as an infinitely happier animal than man. My rustic life lasted six months, during which time I followed the example of Apollo, deprived of his glory, guarding the flock of Admetus.
“One day, while I was seated as usual beneath the tree, a postchaise drawn by four horses stopped at the door, and I learned that its occupant, who had the air of a travelling aristocrat, was a poet of noble birth and European fame, who had been voyaging in search of adventure. This personage left the carriage to take some refreshment, and during his stay I seemed to be the subject of a conversation which ended in the stranger placing some pieces of gold in the hand of my master, who undid my chain and consigned me to the vehicle.
“The peaceful valley where I had spent so many happy days was leagues off before I recovered from my surprise. It is needless to remark that any change in my mode of life caused me much pain and anxiety. Believe me, dear reader, happiness is only to be found in the monotony of an uneventful life.
“As the scenes of my youth faded in the distance, sorrow took possession of my heart, and at last I bade adieu to my dear mountains. I felt for the first time that loss of one’s country is immortal, and that travels only produce fatigue of body and mind. Now I was enabled to comprehend how Calypso, arrayed in all her charms, could not tempt Ulysses to abandon his poor but much-loved Ithaca, or to relinquish the noble ambition which induced him to return and behold once more the smoke rising from his chimney.
“ ‘Vivite felices, quibus est fortuna peracta!Vobis parta quies, nobis maris æquor arandum.’
“ ‘Vivite felices, quibus est fortuna peracta!Vobis parta quies, nobis maris æquor arandum.’
“ ‘Vivite felices, quibus est fortuna peracta!
Vobis parta quies, nobis maris æquor arandum.’
“We embarked at Bayonne on board a ship setting sail for the British Isles, where I afterwards passed two years with my master in a Scottishcastle. This gifted man was to me a most interesting study; at once poet and misanthrope, his example sealed my fate for life, thoroughly curing me of the monomania which had forced me into seclusion. I had at the same time contracted a depraved habit of composing verses or rhymes, which I could not shake off, never fully realising that only a few gifted poets have been enabled to win fame by placing their sentiments on record. Like most half-fledged misunderstood poets, I suffered acutely, being no favourite either of the Muses or the public. Inspiration would not come, in spite of great agony and superbearish effort. It was in vain I lay on my back or rolled on my belly—rhythm, rhyme, and romance proved my severest taskmasters. I walked fast in the dark lanes of the garden, as Pope used to do, scaring the birds by the deep growlings that escaped my breast.
“Who would believe it? My poetic breakdown stirred the worst passions of my nature, and drove me to hate every successful songster—to hate past, present, and future—to hate every one and everything saving my own soured self.
“Since Solomon’s time many books have been written, but the book which shall faithfully picture the miseries of a literary life has yet to be penned. My master himself, with his acknowledged genius and inordinate—— I must not retail his troubles, as most worthy recipients of his kindness might be tempted to do. I shall content myself, as a faithful servant, by merely raising the corner of the veil. The Muses were his true loves, to whom he was fain to prove unfaithful when he sought the joys of domestic life, to lay the storms of his heart in the haven of home. But it was all too late, the experiment failed, and he fled to end his accumulated woes on a foreign shore.
“Here was a lofty example for me, an unfortunate poetaster, proving as it did that poetic genius, just in proportion to its intensity, dries up the font of social happiness and plays fearful havoc with common sense.
“Fortunately for me, as it gave me my liberty, whatever it may have done for himself, my gifted master, at the sound of the strife of Grecian insurrection, determined to leave England, resolved to seek a brilliant tomb. Some days before his departure, wishing to make a last appearance in London, he profited by the representation of Hamlet, one of his favourite plays, to show himself once more to the British public. We drove to the theatre in an open carriage, and found the place crowded as we seated ourselves in a stage-box. Our appearancecreated a tremendous sensation, all eyes and eyeglasses were turned towards us; the ladies, bending over the balconies, recalled lovely flowers peeping out from rocky clefts. All were eager to get a glimpse of the great poet; so worshipful indeed was this well-dressed crowd, that the play was totally disregarded till the ghost of the prince stalked across the stage, and as a tribute to Shakespeare, the great character of the phantom was received with profound respect. The details of the tragedy appeared to be of a nature to familiarise the spectators with our presence, like the appropriate music which introduces and accompanies the hero in an opera. But the ghost was too signal an evidence of creative genius to be lightly passed over. This wonderful performance supplied all the metropolitan journals with a glowing leader. It is to these papers, for the past twenty years, we have been indebted for all the political, philosophical, religious, and literary achievements of learned Europe.
“Next day we embarked for France, and as good-luck would have it, my master made a roundabout journey to visit some ruins.
“One evening when he was seated at the foot of an old tower, I profited by the reverie in which he was plunged to make my escape. For four days and nights I fled from mountain to mountain without once looking behind. At last, on the evening of the fifth day, I again found myself in the Pyrenees. In an excess of joy I knelt down and kissed my native soil, after which I made for the cavern where I first breathed the air. It was inhabited by an old friend of the family, who told me that my parents were dead. After shedding a few tears to their memory, I took up my abode on Mount Perdu, and made myself a happy home.
“Although I am a poet in a small way, I love my wife, and find my children perfect; they are moulded very much after their father’s image. We do not see much company, almost none, save one or two desperate duns, who thought so well of me as to come over here all the way from London to “look me up,” as they say. Their excuse for intruding on my privacy is that they frequently pass my way, and it suddenly occurs to them they have each a trifling bill for Mr. Bear. These scraps of paper are the tender links which bind me to the past, and recall the licence of poetic inspiration. Happy is he who dwells at home, and who has never drifted into doggerel!
“All I now require is to be left alone to the use of my natural instincts, which have ripened under affliction, and to the enjoymentof the attributes with which nature has endowed me. I have been long in discovering my true self. Now that I have found the rascal, I will keep watch over him, and prove to the world that my wandering life has not been wholly spent in pursuits of vanity.
“What more do I require? Does not the naïad of the rock distil from the elements an exhaustless store of water to quench my thirst?The beloved tree of Cybele, does it not shelter my dwelling with its evergreen boughs? Above all, when the day’s toil is ended and I return laden with the trophies of the chase, have I not a devoted partner to welcome me home?
“I have now no ambition save one, and that is to make the acquaintance of that heavenly constellation which bears our noble name.”