SLEEPING BEAUTY, OR THORNY ROSE
There once was a king and a queen who every day repeated: “Oh, if only we had a child!” But they never had one. It came to pass as the queen once sat in her bath that a frog crawled out of the water onto dry land and spoke to her: “Your wish will come true. Before a year has gone by you will give birth to a daughter.” It happened just as the frog said it would, and the queen bore a daughter who was so lovely that the king was beside himself with joy and threw a great party. He invited not only his relatives, friends, and acquaintances but also all the weird sisters, the sorceresses, so that they would be kind and well-disposed toward the child. There were thirteen in his kingdom, but because he only had twelve golden plates from which they might eat, one of them had to stay home. The festivity was celebrated with great pomp, and at the end, each of the wise women gave the child a wondrous gift: the one gave virtue, the other gave beauty, the third gave wealth, and each, in turn, gave everything there was to hope for in this world. But no sooner had the eleventh sorceress bestowed her gift than the thirteenth suddenly stormed in. She wanted to avenge the slight of not having been invited, and without greeting anyone or even looking them in the eye, she cried out in a loud voice, “In her fifteenth year the princess will prick her finger on a spinning needle and fall dead.” And without uttering another word, she turned and left the hall. Everyone was speechless with horror, when the twelfth sorceress, who had not yet bestowed her gift, stepped forward, and because she could not cancel the evil pronouncement but only mollify its effect, she said, “The princess will not die, but only fall into a hundred-year-long sleep.”
Determined to protect his child from all misfortune, the king ordained that every spinning wheel in his kingdom be burned. But the good wishes of the other weird sisters were fulfilled, for the child grew up to be so lovely, virtuous, kind, and understanding that everyone who set eyes on her immediately had to love her. It so happened that on the very day on which she turned fifteen, the king and queen were not home, and the girl was left alone in the castle. She wandered everywhere, entered every room and chamber, and finally came to an old tower. She climbed the narrow winding stairway and came to a little door. In the lock, she spied a rusty key, and when she turned it the door sprung open, and there before her sat an old woman at a spinning wheel assiduously spinning flax.
“Good day to you, old woman,” said the princess. “What are you doing?”
“I’m spinning,” the old woman replied with a nod.
“What is that thing so lustily leaping about?” asked the princess, who took the spindle and wanted to start spinning herself. But no sooner had she touched the spindle than the evil wish was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger.
At the very moment she felt the prick, she dropped down on a bed that happened to be standing there and fell into a deep sleep. The sleep spread all over the castle – the king and the queen, who just then came home, began to yawn and soon drifted off, as did all their courtiers. Sleep fell upon the horses in the stable, the hounds in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the wall, yes, even the fire flickering in the oven went still and fell asleep, the roast stopped roasting, and the cook who was just about to pull the ear of the kitchen boy, on account of some mistake, let go and fell asleep. And the wind went still, and not a single leaf stirred on the trees outside.
All around the castle grew a hedge of thorns that got taller every year and finally covered the entire castle, and kept on growing until nothing more was visible, not even the flag on the rooftop. But the legend lived on of the lovely sleeping princess – Thorny Rose, that’s what they called her – so that from time to time princes came and tried to hack their way through the hedge of thorns to get to the castle. But they never made it, for the thorns held strong like stubborn hands, so the youths got caught in the tangle and, unable to tear themselves free, died miserable deaths. After many years, another prince came riding through the land and heard an old man tell of the hedge of thorns, that there was a castle hidden behind it, in which a lovely princess named Thorny Rose already lay sleeping for a hundred years, and with her slept the king and queen and all their courtiers. He had also heard from his grandfather that many a prince had come and tried to hack their way through the hedge, but that they had all been trapped in the tangle and died sad deaths. The youth declared, “I’m not afraid. I want to go and see the lovely Thorny Rose.” The kindly old man tried to dissuade him, but he would not listen to reason.