A LONG time ago there were a King and Queen who
said every day, "Ah, if only we had a child!" but they never
had one. But it happened that once when the Queen was bathing, a frog
crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, "Your wish
shall be fulfilled; before a year has gone by, you shall have a daughter."
What the frog had said came true, and the Queen had a
little girl who was so pretty that the King could not contain himself
for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends
and acquaintance, but also the Wise Women, in order that they might be
kind and well-disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them
in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat
out of, one of them had to be left at home.
The feast was held with all manner of splendour and when
it came to an end the Wise Women bestowed their magic gifts upon the baby:
one gave virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything
in the world that one can wish for.
When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly
the thirteenth came in. She wished to avenge herself for not having been
invited, and without greeting, or even looking at any one, she cried with
a loud voice, "The King's daughter shall in her fifteenth year prick
herself with a spindle, and fall down dead." And, without saying
a word more, she turned round and left the room.
They were all shocked; but the twelfth, whose good wish
still remained unspoken, came forward, and as she could not undo the evil
sentence, but only soften it, she said, "It shall not be death, but
a deep sleep of a hundred years, into which the princess shall fall."
The King, who would fain keep his dear child from the
misfortune, gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should
be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the Wise Women were plenteously fulfilled
on the young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest, good-natured, and
wise, that everyone who saw her was bound to love her.
It happened that on the very day when she was fifteen
years old, the King and Queen were not at home, and the maiden was left
in the palace quite alone. So she went round into all sorts of places,
looked into rooms and bed-chambers just as she liked, and at last came
to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow winding-staircase, and reached
a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, and when she turned it the
door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle,
busily spinning her flax.
"Good day, old dame," said the King's daughter;
"what are you doing there?" "I am spinning," said
the old woman, and nodded her head. "What sort of thing is that,
that rattles round so merrily?" said the girl, and she took the spindle
and wanted to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the spindle when
the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it.
And, in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell
down upon the bed that stood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this
sleep extended over the whole palace; the King and Queen who had just
come home, and had entered the great hall, began to go to sleep, and the
whole of the court with them. The horses, too, went to sleep in the stable,
the dogs in the yard, the pigeons upon the roof, the flies on the wall;
even the fire that was flaming on the hearth became quiet and slept, the
roast meat left off frizzling, and the cook, who was just going to pull
the hair of the scullery boy, because he had forgotten something, let
him go, and went to sleep. And the wind fell, and on the trees before
the castle not a leaf moved again.
But round about the castle there began to grow a hedge
of thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew close up round
the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen,
not even the flag upon the roof. But the story of the beautiful sleeping
"Briar-rose," for so the princess was named, went about the
country, so that from time to time kings' sons came and tried to get through
the thorny hedge into the castle.
But they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast
together, as if they had hands, and the youths were caught in them, could
not get loose again, and died a miserable death.
After long, long years a King's son came again to that
country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn-hedge, and that
a castle was said to stand behind it in which a wonderfully beautiful
princess, named Briar-rose, had been asleep for a hundred years; and that
the King and Queen and the whole court were asleep likewise. He had heard,
too, from his grandfather, that many kings' sons had already come, and
had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had remained sticking
fast in it, and had died a pitiful death. Then the youth said, "I
am not afraid, I will go and see the beautiful Briar-rose." The good
old man might dissuade him as he would, he did not listen to his words.
But by this time the hundred years had just passed, and
the day had come when Briar-rose was to awake again. When the King's son
came near to the thorn-hedge, it was nothing but large and beautiful flowers,
which parted from each other of their own accord, and let him pass unhurt,
then they closed again behind him like a hedge. In the castle-yard he
saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep; on the roof sat the
pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he entered the house,
the flies were asleep upon the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still
holding out his hand to seize the boy, and the maid was sitting by the
black hen which she was going to pluck.
He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole
of the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the King and Queen.
Then he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that
a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened
the door into the little room where Briar-rose was sleeping. There she
lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away; and he stooped
down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, Briar-rose opened
her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite sweetly.
Then they went down together, and the King awoke, and
the Queen, and the whole court, and looked at each other in great astonishment.
And the horses in the court-yard stood up and shook themselves; the hounds
jumped up and wagged their tails; the pigeons upon the roof pulled out
their heads from under their wings, looked round, and flew into the open
country; the flies on the wall crept again; the fire in the kitchen burned
up and flickered and cooked the meat; the joint began to turn and frizzle
again, and the cook gave the boy such a box on the ear that he screamed,
and the maid plucked the fowl ready for the spit.
And then the marriage of the King's son with Briar-rose
was celebrated with all splendour, and they lived contented to the end
of their days.
From Hesse. The maiden who lies sleeping in a castle surrounded
by a wall of thorns, until the right prince before whom the thorns give
way, sets her free, is the sleeping Brünhild, who, according to the old
Norse saga, is surrounded by a wall of flames through which no one can
force his way but Sigurd, who wakens her. The spindle with which she pricks
herself, and which causes her to fall into this sleep, in the Sleep-thorn
with which Odin pierces Brünhild: compare Edda Saemundar, 2. 186.
In the Pentamerone (5.
5) it is a bit of the beard of flax. See La
belle au bois dormant, in Perrault. The sleep of Snow-white is similar. Both the Italian and French stories have the conclusion which
is lacking in the German, but appears in the The wicked Stepmother (see Fragments, No 5). It is remarkable that amidst the considerable variations
between Perrault and Basile (who is the only one who preserves the beautiful
incident of the baby sucking the spike of flax out of its sleeping mother's
finger), both agree as to the proper names of the children, in so far
as the twins in the Pentamerone are called Sun and Moon; and in
Perrault, Day and Dawn. These names remind us of those of Day, Sun, and
Moon, which also occur in juxtaposition in the genealogy of the Edda.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm. Household
Tales. Margaret Hunt, translator. London: George Bell, 1884.