Henry Kleist, the most sane of German romantics, has a strange essay in which he quotes the recognition of an invincible fencer who had to fight with a bear: “Moreover,” says the master of Rapira, “that he retorted all my blows, he simply did not accept false attacks: looking into my eyes, he, as if seeing my soul in them, stood with his paw raised to strike and, if my attacks were deceiving, did not move.