Author: Rudyard Kipling

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Yearly, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go
By the Pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale below.
Yearly by Muttianee he follows our white men in,
Matun, the old blind beggar, bandaged from brow to chin.

Eyeless, noseless, and lipless, toothless, broken of speech,
Seeking a dole at the doorway he mumbles his tale to each;
Over and over the story, ending as he began:
"Make ye no truce with Adam-zad, the Bear that walks like a Man!

"There was a flint in my musket, pricked and primed was the pan,
When I went hunting Adam-zad, the Bear that stands like a Man.
I looked my last on the timber, I looked my last on the snow,
When I went hunting Adam-zad fifty summers ago!

"I knew his times and his seasons, as he knew mine, that fed
By night in the ripened maizefield and robbed my house of bread.
I knew his strength and cunning, as he knew mine, that crept
At dawn to the crowded goat-pens and plundered while I slept.

"Up from his stony playground, down from his well-digged lair,
Out on the naked ridges ran Adam-zad the Bear,
Groaning, grunting, and roaring, heavy with stolen meals,
Two long marches to northward, and I was at his heels!

"Two long marches to northward, at the fall of the second night,
I came on mine enemy Adam-zad all panting from his flight.
There was a charge in the musket, pricked and primed was the pan,
My finger crooked on the trigger, when he reared up like a man.

"Horrible, hairy, human, with paws like hands in prayer,
Making his supplication rose Adam-zad the Bear!
I looked at the swaying shoulders, at the paunch's swag and swing,
And my heart was touched with pity for the monstrous, pleading thing.

"Touched witth pity and wonder, I did not fire then . . .
I have looked no more on women, I have walked no more with men.
Nearer he tottered and nearer, with paws like hands that pray,
From brow to jaw that steel-shod paw, it ripped my face away!

"Sudden, silent, and savage, searing as flame the blow,
Faceless I fell before his feet, fifty summers ago.
I heard him grunt and chuckle, I heard him pass to his den.
He left me blind to the darkened years and the little mercy of men.

"Now ye go down in the morning with guns of the newer style,
That load (I have felt) in the middle and range (I have heard) a mile?
Luck to the white man's rifle, that shoots so fast and true,
But, pay, and I lift my bandage and show what the Bear can do!"

(Flesh like slag in the furnace, knobbed and withered and grey,
Matun, the old blind beggar, he gives good worth for his pay.)
"Rouse him at noon in the bushes, follow and press him hard,
Not for his ragings and roarings flinch ye from Adam-zad.

"But (pay, and I put back the bandage) this is the time to fear,
When he stands up like a tired man, tottering near and near;
When he stands up as pleading, in wavering, man-brute guise,
When he veils the hate and cunning of his little, swinish eyes;

"When he shows as seeking quarter, with paws like hands in prayer
That is the time of peril, the time of the Truce of the Bear!"

Eyeless, noseless, and lipless, asking a dole at the door,
Matun, the old blind beggar, he tells it o'er and o'er;
Fumbling and feeling the rifles, warming his hands at the flame,
Hearing our careless white men talk of the morrow's game;

Over and over the story, ending as he began:
"There is no trnce with Adam-zad, the Bear that looks like a Man!"

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Type of Poem: Narrative Poem

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: Rudyard Kipling’s "The Truce of the Bear" is a Narrative Poem with strong elements of a Fable and Allegorical Warning. It tells the haunting story of Matun, a maimed and blind old man who repeatedly warns travelers never to trust the deceptive behavior of the monstrous bear, Adam-zad, "the Bear that looks like a Man." The poem’s central theme revolves around betrayal masked as vulnerability, and the fatal consequences of misplaced pity. It is a grim meditation on the danger of underestimating cunning and savagery hidden behind appearances of weakness, and a broader warning against false truces in the face of brutal realities.

The tone is dark, cautionary, and deeply unsettling, with a steady undercurrent of dread that builds as Matun recounts his catastrophic encounter. Through brutal, vivid imagery—such as the "steel-shod paw" that "ripped my face away" and Matun’s flesh described as "slag in the furnace"—Kipling immerses the reader in the horror of Matun's fate. The grotesque physicality of the poem is balanced by its symbolic resonance: Adam-zad is more than just a bear; he embodies the persistent danger of primal violence disguised as surrender. The repetition of Matun’s warning—"make ye no truce with Adam-zad"—functions as a grim refrain, hammering home the lesson that mercy toward the merciless leads to ruin.

Structurally, the poem uses a storytelling framework: Matun is introduced as a pathetic figure, and through his broken speech, the narrative unfolds with a relentless rhythm. The ballad-like repetition and steady cadence mirror the drumbeat inevitability of his fate and the fates of those who ignore his warning. The story itself blurs the line between reality and parable, elevating Matun's experience into a universal caution against self-delusion in the face of ruthless forces. Historically and politically, many critics have seen "The Truce of the Bear" as a veiled reference to contemporary anxieties about colonial dangers or even as an allegory about the deceptive nature of imperial rivalries.

Ultimately, "The Truce of the Bear" is a chilling tale that transcends its hunting-camp setting to become a timeless warning about how appearances can mask lethal intent. Kipling captures the human tendency to extend mercy at the wrong moment—and the terrible cost of misreading the true nature of those who prey on compassion.