Sleeping Beauty (Prince Charming and His Princess) フリースブランケット

This design features a painting by the Victorian-era British artist Edward Frederick Brewtnall (1846–1902). It is a richly detailed Pre-Raphaelite-influenced painting that illustrates a key moment from the classic fairy tale: the princess lying in her enchanted sleep, surrounded by layers of wild roses that have grown over the palace during her hundred-year slumber. The roses add both beauty and danger to the scene: delicate blossoms contrast with the sharp thorns, symbolizing the enchantment’s mixture of protection and peril. Their encroachment also heightens the sense of isolation, as if the outside world has vanished behind a barrier of living bramble. Sleeping Beauty lies gracefully on an ornate bed draped in rich fabrics, her body relaxed and her expression serene. The soft lighting creates a warm glow around her figure, giving her an almost ethereal presence. Brewtnall emphasizes her stillness and her perfect calmness, suggesting both innocence and a dream world untouched by the passing of time. Brewtnall’s meticulous attention to detail, typical of artists influenced by the Pre-Raphaelite movement, enriches the scene. Every fold of fabric, every rose petal, and every carved surface is rendered with care, drawing viewers into a world that feels tangible yet dreamlike. The painter's palette (warm browns, deep greens, soft pinks, and glowing golds) reinforces the atmosphere of magical stillness. The long-awaited prince can also be seen as he finally reaches the enchanted princess. The prince, dressed in rich medieval garments, ascends a small flight of steps leading to her bed. Brewtnall paints him with a mixture of awe, caution and earnest devotion. He gazes directly at her face, transfixed by her beauty and by the profound importance of this moment. His body leans forward slightly, hesitant but resolute, capturing the tension of a man on the cusp of breaking an ancient spell. He is not yet touching her; the scene is suspended in that breath of time before action, adding emotional and narrative intensity. The Prince holds a spear in one of his hands, suggesting that he has had to fight to reach Sleeping Beauty. What makes Brewtnall’s version especially compelling is that he does not rush toward the dramatic climax. Instead of showing the awakening kiss, he invites the viewer into the contemplative moment just before it occurs. He is both intruder and saviour, the first living soul to enter the room in a hundred years, standing before a woman whose life is suspended like a musical note held indefinitely. The roses that surround Sleeping Beauty are not simply background decoration. They behave almost like characters. Their vines creep over bedposts, crawl across steps, and clutch at the prince’s approach with curling tendrils. The thorned vines form natural barriers, as though the castle has tried for decades to shield her, preserve her or discourage the unworthy. They frame her bed like an organic cathedral altar, and the prince climbs toward it as if moving through a sacred ritual space. The original artwork depicting Sleeping Beauty was painted by Edward Brewtnall sometime before 1902.