[First published in the edition of 1812, this is another tale from the old nanny, Marie, in the Wild household, next-door neighbours to the Grimms in Cassel. About the Grimm Collection.]
In days of yore there was a king and a queen who every day used to say, “Oh, if we only had a child!” yet they never had one. Once when the queen was bathing, it happened that a frog crawled ashore out of the water and said to her, “Your wish will be fulfilled: before a year’s out, you’ll give birth to a daughter.” What the frog said came to pass, and the queen gave birth to a girl; she was so beautiful that in his joy the king didn’t know what to do and arranged a great feast. He invited not only his relatives, friends, and acquaintances, but also the wise women, that they might be gracious and well disposed toward the child.
There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but because he had only twelve gold plates from which they might eat, one of them had to stay home. The feast was celebrated with all splendor, and when it came to an end, the wise women presented the child with their marvelous gifts. One gave it virtue, the second beauty, the third riches, and so on, with everything the heart desires. When eleven had finished bestowing their gifts, suddenly the thirteenth came in. She wanted to revenge herself for not having been invited, and without greeting anyone or so much as looking at anyone, she cried out in a loud voice, “In her fifteenth year the king’s daughter will prick herself with a spindle and fall down dead.” Without another word she turned about and left the hall. Everybody was frightened. Then the twelfth, who still had her wish left, stepped up and because she couldn’t undo the evil gift but merely temper it, said, “It won’t be a real death; the princess will fall into a hundred years’ deep sleep.”
The king wanted to guard his dear child against this misfortune and issued a decree that all spindles throughout the whole kingdom should be burned. The gifts of the wise women were, however, quite fulfilled in the girl, for she was so beautiful, well mannered, friendly, and intelligent that whoever looked at her couldn’t help loving her. On the very day she became fifteen the king and the queen happened not to be at home, and the girl was left all alone in the palace. She went all about, looking into rooms and chambers to her heart’s content, and finally even got to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow winding stairs and came to a little door. There was a rusty key in the lock, and when she turned it, the door flew open and in the little room was sitting an old woman with a spindle and spinning her flax industriously. “Good day, Granny,” said the king’s daughter, “what are you doing there?” “I’m spinning,” said the old woman, bobbing her head. “What sort of thing is it that’s jumping about so gaily?” asked the girl. She took the spindle and wanted to spin too, but no sooner had she touched the spindle than the spell started working and she pricked her finger with it.
The very moment she felt the prick, she fell down on the bed there and lay in a deep sleep. This sleep spread over the whole palace: the king and the queen, who’d just come home and had entered the great hall, fell asleep, and the entire court with them. The horses in the stable also fell asleep, the dogs in the courtyard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the wall, even the fire that was flickering on the hearth died down and fell asleep, and the roast stopped sizzling, and the chef who was about to pull the scullery boy’s hair because he’d done something wrong let the boy go and fell asleep. The wind died down, and not a leaf stirred on the trees in front of the palace.
Around about the palace a hawthorn hedge began to grow. This grew higher every year and finally surrounded the entire palace and even grew out beyond it, so that nothing more was to be seen of it, not even the flag on the roof. The legend of the beautiful sleeping Hawthorn Blossom—for such was the name of the king’s daughter—went about the country, so that from time to time kings’ sons came and tried to break through the hedge and reach the palace. They found it impossible, however, for the hawthorn bushes held together as if they had hands, and the young men remained stuck in them, couldn’t get free, and died miserable deaths. Once again after many, many years, a king’s son came to the country and heard an old man telling about the hawthorn hedge: a palace was said to be behind it, in which a most beautiful king’s daughter, named Hawthorn Blossom, had already been sleeping a hundred years, and the king and the queen and the whole court sleeping along with her. From his grandfather the old man also knew that many kings’ sons had already come and tried to break through the hawthorn hedge but had remained stuck in it and had died miserable deaths. Then the youth said, “I’m not afraid; I’ll go out and see the fair Hawthorn Blossom.” No matter how hard the good old man tried to dissuade him, he wouldn’t listen to his words.
Now the hundred years were just up, and the day had come on which Hawthorn Blossom was to wake up again. When the king’s son approached the hawthorn hedge, there were nothing but beautiful big hawthorn blossoms that moved aside of themselves and let him through unharmed, closing again behind him like a hedge. In the palace courtyard he saw the horses and spotted hunting dogs lying asleep; on the roof were perched the pigeons with their heads under their wings. When he entered the house, the flies were asleep on the walls. In the kitchen the chef was still holding his hand as if about to take hold of the scullery boy, and the kitchen maid was sitting in front of the black chicken which she was supposed to pluck. Then he went on and in the great hall saw the whole court lying asleep, and up near the throne lay the king and the queen. He went on still farther, and everything was so quiet that one could hear oneself breathe.
Finally he got to the tower and opened the door of the small room in which Hawthorn Blossom was sleeping. There she lay and was so beautiful that he couldn’t turn his eyes away and stooped down and kissed her. As he touched her with his lips, Hawthorn Blossom opened her eyes, woke up, and looked at him in friendly fashion. Then they went downstairs together, and the king woke up and the queen and the whole court, and they all looked at one another in astonishment. The horses in the courtyard got up and shook themselves; the hounds jumped about, wagging their tails; the pigeons on the roof drew their heads from under their wings, looked about, and flew out into the country. The flies on the walls went on crawling; the fire in the kitchen came up, blazed, and cooked the meal; the roast began to sizzle again; and the chef boxed the scullery boy’s ears so that he cried out; and the maid finished plucking the chicken.
Then they celebrated the wedding of the king’s son with Hawthorn Blossom in all splendor, and they lived happily until their death.