  NATURE, in creating the bear, bestowed upon it many good gifts. It is strong, robust, and hardy. It is warmly clad, and, moreover, can escape the hardships of winter by indulging in a prolonged sleep. One gift, however, was denied it—that of grace; altogether, few animals are more clumsy in their gait and movements than the bear. It is strange that, this being so, the bear should be one of the few animals man has taught to dance. The majority of bears are vegetable eaters. Their claws are not, like those of the feline tribe, formed to tear or slay an enemy, but are designed for digging up the roots that form a large portion of its sustenance. As might be expected from the fact that it is a vegetarian, the bear is generally of an easy temper, and would be glad to leave man alone, if man would but let it alone. This amiability of temper by no means arises from want of courage. If their cubs are in danger, bears will attack against any odds, and if wounded are amongst the most formidable and savage of assailants. The polar bear, living as it does upon seals and fish, is by no means so peacefully inclined as the various species that exist on roots and fruit. It does not wait to be attacked, but at once takes the offensive, and there are few more formidable foes. Bears are fond of sweets, the Asiatic as well as the American species both hunting diligently for the hives of wild bees, which their thick coats enable them to take in defiance of the efforts of their indignant owners. In captivity the animal is readily tamed. Unfortunately the bear possesses but few qualities that would render him of great use to man; had it been otherwise, doubtless it would have been tamed and kept in herds, for there seems no reason whatever why it should not have been as completely domesticated as the sheep and the ox. As, however, its hair is too coarse for working up into textile fabrics, and its milk-giving capacity is small, man has viewed it solely as an animal for the chase, and has hunted it down ceaselessly, the cubs only being occasionally preserved for exhibition in the Zoological Gardens, or with travelling showmen. In the latter case the bear shows great docility, readily learning to obey its master, and frequently manifesting a lively affection for him. Next only to the monkey, the bear is unquestionably the most human of animals in its motions and gestures. In a state of nature, indeed, it rarely rises to its hind feet except for the purpose of attack; but the fact that it is able to walk upon them, and that it frequently sits up on its haunches, and uses its fore paws as hands either for the purpose of putting food to its mouth, scratching itself, or rubbing its head, gives it a very human appearance. If wounded, too, it will sit up, and place its paws over the wound just as a man will do. The American Indians held the bear in very high respect. This did not, indeed, prevent them from hunting it, but, before feasting on its flesh, they would always make a speech, begging its pardon, and deprecating its anger, upon the ground that they did not kill it from illwill, but simply from necessity. The bear dance, in which those engaged in it imitated the movements of the animal, was a religious ceremony, and generally the bear was regarded with respect far beyond that paid to any other animal. It is unfortunate for the bear that it did not from the first cultivate its power of walking upon its hind legs, for there can be no doubt that had it done so it would have stood much higher in the esteem of man. Valuing himself somewhat highly, man is naturally disposed to value animals that approach most nearly to him. The monkey is deified in some parts of India, and the bear might have stood in as high a position, had it but accustomed itself habitually to walk upright. It is true that it has none of the sprightliness of the monkey, but its gravity, its evidently good intentions, and the somewhat rustic awkwardness of its gait, would certainly seem to mark it as intended to be a more genial and friendly companion to man than the skittish and erratic monkey. The polar bear and the North American grizzly, the latter fast approaching extinction, come under a different category altogether, and even the accomplishment of walking upright would have gone but a short way towards endearing them to man. The polar bear, indeed, differs widely from other species. In spite of his great bulk and power, he has none of that awkwardness that distinguishes the various land bears. He can run with considerable swiftness. He is perhaps the best swimmer of all quadrupeds, and is quick and active in his movements; but, upon the other hand, his face expresses none of the easy good temper of the ordinary bear, but it is at once fierce and sullen, watchful and alert. The bear more than any animal conveys the impression of incompleteness, and it is difficult to avoid the belief that being slow of temperament it has taken much longer in its passage upwards from the germ than have other creatures. This being the case, it would be unfair to judge the bear as awkward or clumsy when in fact it is simply incomplete; and it is probable that in the course of another million years or so, when the cycle of its changes is accomplished, it will be an altogether different animal, distinguished for the grace of its movements, and for its still closer resemblance to man. The bear is perhaps more highly appreciated in Germany than elsewhere, it may be because the habits of the people approximate more closely to his than do those of the natives of other countries. At any rate it bears a conspicuous position in their folk-lore, and figures prominently in many a legend and story. It is probable that the tale dear to English children of the three bears was derived from German sources. The bear has by general consent been voted to be the characteristic emblem of Russia, doubtless because the peasants, wrapped up in skins in winter, with hoods of the same over their heads, do present a very striking resemblance to him. The bear was once common in England; its bones are found plentifully among those of other cave-inhabiting animals, and it was still numerous in the island when the Romans first conquered Britain; it vanished, however, even before the wolf, and has been nearly exterminated throughout Western Europe. It figured in the Roman arena, where it was probably goaded to a savagery altogether alien to its nature. It may be assumed that it was at one time regarded in the Old World with something of the superstition with which it was held in the New, being the only animal after whom two constellations have been named. Were there three of them, we should possibly be able to arrive at a satisfactory explanation of the children’s story. It is remarkable that both bears are placed by the ancients in close proximity to the pole, probably in delicate allusion to its climbing powers, as to the present day no bear pit is considered complete unless provided with a pole. It is evident that the ancient astronomers were wags, and while apparently bent solely upon giving names to the constellations, were quietly poking fun at the unlearned. It would be difficult otherwise to account for the position assigned to Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, for there is nothing whatever in the position of the stars forming these constellations that in any way indicates the figure of a bear, the outlines of the various animals in the constellations being purely imaginative and arbitrary. It is somewhat singular that the bear did not figure among the signs of the zodiac, when such comparatively insignificant creatures as the ram and the fish were pressed into the service. Summing up the bear, it may be said that its good qualities predominate over its evil ones, and that it is man’s fault rather than the bear’s that they do not dwell comfortably and sociably together. |
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