Prince Bear

In the old duchy of Mazovia, there lived a prince whose true name was long forgotten. Some say he was called Mieszko, but all the people of Warsaw knew him simply as Prince Bear. And they did not mean it kindly, at least not at first.

The prince was tall beyond measure, broad in the shoulders, heavy in step. His face was coarse, his brow low, his hands large and rough. At first sight, he could easily frighten. Women avoided his gaze. There was strength in him, but little grace. So the name — Prince Bear — clung to his face much more firmly than his birth-given name.

He was respected. He ruled many lands, and ruled them justly. People said that he listened, that he was slow to judge, and that he gave much more to others than he ever took for himself. Those who knew him understood well that beneath the hard surface lived a patient and steady heart. He was a good man.

But he was lonely. For affection rarely blooms on fairness alone, especially when beauty is absent.

***

One day, during mass, the prince noticed a young woman seated among the townsfolk. She was not of noble birth. Nothing in her dress marked her as special. Her physique was fair — a normal, pretty girl, you’d say. But her movements were so calm and graceful that they caught the eye of Prince Bear.

Meanwhile, the priest was telling a tale.

“She looks like she cares, like she really listens”. Thought the prince to himself.

When she stood, the light from the high windows fell across her face.

Prince’s heart skipped a beat.

The mass ended.

***

The next Sunday, Prince Bear returned to the same church. And the next. And next.

He always stood where he could see her, always at a distance. Never saying a word. He had faced hunts and border disputes, yet he could not cross the few steps that separated him from the girl. Each week, he told himself he would speak to her.

“After the mass. Today, after the mass, I will.”

But the tongue didn’t want to listen. The legs kept him in the corner. Each week, he remained silent.

***

Then came a Sunday when he finally resolved to act. He would risk. He gathered all his courage and, instead of going in, waited near the church doors. When the mass ended, the young woman stepped outside.

All dressed in white.

A man walked beside her. Family followed. Bells rang.

Prince Bear stood still.

People congratulated the newlywed.

He watched. And something inside him gave way.

His body grew too heavy. A single tear crossed his cheek. Then his heart stopped, and his breath. His flesh hardened one bit more. At the church entrance — where he stood — he turned to stone.

And there he remains to this day.

***

Those who knew him or remember his story touch his head as they pass — to ease his sorrow, to greet him kindly, or to ask for his blessing — to have more luck in love than he had.

Some still believe that one day, under the touch of a hand, the sad stone bear will turn back into a man. They say that one day his heart will wake to a tenderness that he never had. That there is someone who can love a bear, for whom he waits, and that this someone will come.

Here is where he stands: Jesuit Church, Świętojańska 10, 00-288 Warszawa (Google Maps)