Sleeping Beauty III
Welcome back! We're recapping Charles Perrault's original Sleeping Beauty. Just a heads-up, around here we often refer to the author as CP, or Chaz, and other informal monikers. We're friends, it's cool. We left the story last time just as our protag, the young princess, pricked her finger on a spindle in the complete absence of any practical parental forethought and planning...
The “good dame” who had been cluelessly harbouring a murder weapon in the princess’s home for the past seventeen years cried out when the princess fell to the floor. “People came running from every quarter,” which makes it seem like this super remote tower wasn’t as super remote as it’d have to be for this to remotely make sense, but, you know, okay. (I think in the movie Maleficent was v involved in the staging of this whole scene, and … I can see why that decision was made.)
Because the good people of the castle were either optimistic or of the sort that Must Do Something In A Crisis, they went about splashing the princess with (Fiji) water, giving her rug burns, and rubbing essential oils (“royal essence of Hungary”?) on her temples. Surprisingly, none of this worked.
Just then, the king, who is now home (note to CP: Continuity) rushed in the room. All in a moment, he “remembered the fairy prophecy.” Hold up. They’d forgotten it? I mean, that explains a bit (see: the last thousand words), but, like, did they do a whole mass frenzy thing when the princess was zero and then kinda feel like they were covered for no particular reason? As it turns out: Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what they did.
The king abandons his only character trait (“Must Do Things”) and decides that “what had happened was inevitable, since the fairies had decreed it”. I mean, it makes sense. I’m just also saying that it would have made a bit more sense if he’d been a little less calm about it. Particularly seeing as he’d apparently only just remembered that his daughter was cursed.
He puts her in a dedicated chamber, “upon a bed embroidered in gold and silver”, because Perrault likes his rich and uncomfortable fabrics.
The princess retained her (fairy-ensured) beauty while asleep; she does not look dead, which is good. She’s also breathing. Another royal edict from the king: she’s to sleep until she wakes. Nice of him to say. No other option, but still, a good summary of what’s happening. He’s showing excellent command over the situation! Good job, king! (How’s your wife doing?)
CP being ironic again: the story continues with, “When the ACCIDENT happened to the princess…” I’ll have to go to the French and see if this was a translation thing, or if he’s trying a funny. Not an accident, strictly speaking, Chaz.
We get an update on the location of the Extremely Smart fairy. She’s twelve thousand leagues away from the castle. No prob, though – a friendly dwarf who just so happened to have a pair of seven-league boots ran over to keep her posted. (Okay, math: At seven leagues per step, the dwarf’s gonna take 1,714 steps and then be a couple leagues away from the Extremely Smart Fairy. That’s not shouting distance, exactly, so he’s going to have to get closer. Does he take a microstep? Just sort of lean forward? Take a step and hope something soft stops him in time? Or does he step back and forth, shooting himself over the same seven-league area in which he believes the Extremely Smart Fairy to reside, shouting all the way, hoping that she’ll hear and correctly interpret the message yelled from the heavens? I know, I know: he takes off the boots once close, or gets a horse, or some other smart and boring solution. I like my way.)
The Extremely Smart Fairy immediately heads to court, and, by the way, she’s also the Extremely Rad Fairy, because her chosen means of transit back is a CHARIOT OF FIRE, DRAWN BY DRAGONS. By the way. It does 12,000 leagues an hour, what can your chariot do?
The king meets her at her chariot (matter of course); and she looked around and saw what he had done (=accepted the situation; put sleeping daughter on block of gold fabric) and approved. However, the Extremely Rad Fairy is also a bit psychic, and can see the future. “She bethought herself that when the princess came to be awakened, she would be much distressed to find herself all alone in the castle.” (Good news, everyone! I am also a little bit psychic. You probably are, too. Let’s take a minute to update our resumes.)
We back? Good. The Extremely Rad Fairy (I’m deciding that rad can encompass “smart” as well as “psychic in a commonsensical sort of way”; she’s still both) tippity taps everyone with her wand—except for the king and queen, Charles notes. She also tapped the horses, the mastiffs, and “little Puff, the pet dog of the princess, who was laying on the floor beside her bed.” This is adorable, but seems like an odd time for CP to have decided to invest in character development. (Note to CP: Consistency.) (This also seems like the kind of thing an author would include as a request from cute offspring, or because he’d lost a bet.) Everyone – go to sleep! (Feels like we’re playing a game of mafia, no? What’s going to happen next!?) The fires somehow slept as well, and the pheasants roasting on their spits stopped turning. There’s going to be just an awful amount of rotten meat to clean up in 100 years. Thank goodness for vultures.
We’ll end today on a clutch productivity tip from CP: “All was done in a moment, for the fairies do not take long over their work.” Lifehack! Become a fairy, zip through your to-do lists at 12,000 leagues an hour, provided you’re the sort of fairy who has an extremely rad chariot.
We out.