Far out in the
ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as
crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it:
many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground
beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his
subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea
but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow
there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest
agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both
large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here
upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its
walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest
amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows
over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl,
which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.
The
Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for
him. She was a very wise woman, and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on
that account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others, also of high
rank, were only allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great
praise, especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her
grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest
of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as
blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet, and her
body ended in a fish’s tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the
castle, or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber
windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our
houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up to the
princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked.
Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright red and
dark blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like
gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself
was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything
lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from above,
through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of the sea. In
calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a purple flower, with the
light streaming from the calyx. Each of the young princesses had a little plot
of ground in the garden, where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One
arranged her flower-bed into the form of a whale; another thought it better to
make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was
round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset. She was
a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted
with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she
cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a
beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out
of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.
She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly,
and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue
sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved to and fro like the branches; it
seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play, and trying to
kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world
above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships
and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful
and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and
not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that
the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure
to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not
have understood her; for she had never seen birds.
“When
you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grand-mother, “you will have
permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight,
while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and
towns.”
In
the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year
younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her
turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean, and see the earth as we do.
However, each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit, and
what she thought the most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them
enough; there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of
them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who had the longest
time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the
open window, looking up through the dark blue water, and watching the fish as
they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars
shining faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to our
eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew
that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human
beings, who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath
them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.
As
soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to the surface of the
ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the
most beautiful, she said, was to lie in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the
quiet sea, near the coast, and to gaze on a large city nearby, where the lights
were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music,
the noise of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the
merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could not go
near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more than ever. Oh, did
not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these descriptions? and
afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark blue
water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even
fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the
sea.
In
another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of
the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was
setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky
looked like gold, while violet and rose-colored clouds, which she could not
describe, floated over her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a
large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white
veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the waves,
and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.
The
third sister’s turn followed; she was the boldest of them all, and she swam up
a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills
covered with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud
trees of the forest; she heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were
so powerful that she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her
burning face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human
children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted to play with
them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal came to
the water; it was a dog, but she did not know that, for she had never before
seen one. This animal barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and
rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful
forest, the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in the
water, although they had not fish’s tails.
The
fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the sea, but she
said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see for so
many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had
seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they looked like sea-gulls.
The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from
their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every
direction.
The
fifth sister’s birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came, she saw
what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite
green, and large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but
larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most
singular shapes, and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one
of the largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked that
all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as they could from the
iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening, as the sun went down,
dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and
the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving
sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she
sat calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it darted
its forked flashes into the sea.
When
first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they were each
delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now, as grown-up
girls, they could go when they pleased, and they had become indifferent about
it. They wished themselves back again in the water, and after a month had
passed they said it was much more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at
home. Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms
round each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful
voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a storm, and
when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before the vessel, and sang
sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea, and begging the
sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not
understand the song, they took it for the howling of the storm. And these
things were never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were
drowned, and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.
When
the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest
sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the
mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more. “Oh, were I but fifteen
years old,” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the
people who live in it.”
At
last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well, now, you are grown up,” said the
old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other
sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower
leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach
themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.
“But
they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.
“Pride
must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken
off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her
own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself:
so she said, “Farewell,” and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the
water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the
clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight
beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild
and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only
one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or
amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came
on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations
waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now
and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass
window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a
young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen
years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors
were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a
hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid
was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out
her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her,
she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about,
splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the
clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all
the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen.
And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all
present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night
air.
It
was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or
from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more
rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became
restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves:
still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on
the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly
unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose
higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance.
A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the
great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose
mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived
like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests.
To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At
length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the
lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like
a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little
mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was
obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay
scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not
see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she
could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship
parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she
thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings
could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father’s palace he
would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and
planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush
her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling
with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was
fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing
him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little
mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the
waves drift them where they would.
In
the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could
be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought
back the hue of health to the prince’s cheeks; but his eyes remained closed.
The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he
seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him
again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she
saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans
were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by
stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell.
Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty
palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still,
but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was
covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine,
taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the
large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The
little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some
high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with
the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to
see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw
a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first,
but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw
that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him.
But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her
very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down
sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father’s castle. She had always
been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters
asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water;
but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to
the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen
till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but
she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more
sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden,
and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince;
but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the
paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so
that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no
longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the
secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend
happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board
ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.
“Come,
little sister,” said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and
rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they
knew the prince’s palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone,
with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea.
Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that
surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the
clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk
curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings
which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a
fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling,
through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants
growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she
spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would
swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once
she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a
broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who
thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of
an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She
peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long
silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out
its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were
out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the
young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed
about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on
her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all
this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human
beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose
world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in
ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands
they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the
reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were
unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother,
who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands
above the sea.
“If
human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they live forever?
do they never die as we do here in the sea?”
“Yes,” replied
the old lady, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than
ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here
we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a
grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never
live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can
never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives
forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the
clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and
behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious
regions which we shall never see.”
“Why
have not we an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid mournfully; “I would
give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being
only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that
glorious world above the stars.”
“You
must not think of that,” said the old woman; “we feel ourselves to be much
happier and much better off than human beings.”
“So
I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be
driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty
flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”
“No,”
said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more
to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were
fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised
to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body
and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a
soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s
tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be
quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have
two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”
Then
the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish’s tail. “Let us
be happy,” said the old lady, “and dart and spring about during the three
hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after
that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a
court ball.”
It
is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and
the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May
hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood
on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole
saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable
fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the
scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver
and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen
and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has
such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them
all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her
heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth
or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could
not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal
soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father’s palace,
and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little
garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the
water, and thought - “He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes
depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I
will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are
dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have
always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”
And
then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the
foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that
way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy
ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming
mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the
fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little
mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also
for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling
mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the
centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi,
half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads
growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like
flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could
be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped
from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that
she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning
back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she
longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her
head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands
together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through
the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were
stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp
something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron
bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had
sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and
chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a
little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most
shocking of all to the little princess.
She
now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes
were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst
of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings.
There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people
sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes
her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.
“I
know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you
shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You
want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it,
like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you,
and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and
disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there
wriggling about. “You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise
to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will
prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise,
and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and
shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a
sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the
prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same
floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly;
but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp
knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help
you.”
“Yes,
I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the
prince and the immortal soul.
“But
think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human
being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to
your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love
of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your
sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your
hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul.
The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will
become foam on the crest of the waves.”
“I
will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.
“But
I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You
have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you
believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice
you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my
draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a
two-edged sword.”
“But
if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”
“Your
beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these
you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your
little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the
powerful draught.”
“It
shall be,” said the little mermaid.
Then
the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.
“Cleanliness
is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied
together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the
black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible
shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch
threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was
like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it
looked like the clearest water. “There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she
cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again
speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through
the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and
their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had
no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught
sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.
So
she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing
whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom
were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to
them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her
heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds
of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace,
and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she
came in sight of the prince’s palace, and approached the beautiful marble
steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the
magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate
body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and
shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her
stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so
earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish’s
tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as
any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in
her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came
from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but
she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be,
she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she
bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince’s side as a
soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying
movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and
was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could
neither speak nor sing.
Beautiful
female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the
prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the
prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little
mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she
thought, “Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to
be with him.”
The
slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful
music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips
of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able
to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive
eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every
one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling;
and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot
touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.
The
prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to
sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page’s dress made for her,
that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the
sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the
little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the
tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her
steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds
beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While
at the prince’s palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go
and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them
in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.
Once
during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they
floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and
told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place
every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not
been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her
father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her,
but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.
As
the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would
love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet,
unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the
morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of
the sea.
“Do
you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to
say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.
“Yes,
you are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are
the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I
shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me
ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service.
The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but
twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like
her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the
holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will
never part.”
“Ah,
he knows not that it was I who saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I
carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the
foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty
maiden that he loves better than he loves me;” and the mermaid sighed deeply,
but she could not shed tears. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple,
therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I
am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him,
and give up my life for his sake.”
Very
soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of
a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out.
Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the
king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A
great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her
head. She knew the prince’s thoughts better than any of the others.
“I
must travel,” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess; my
parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I
cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you
resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my
dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.” And then he kissed her rosy mouth,
played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she
dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. “You are not afraid of the
sea, my dumb child,” said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which
was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her
of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what
the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew
better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.
In
the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm,
who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She
thought she could distinguish her father’s castle, and upon it her aged
grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing
tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and
gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and
smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the
cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the
foam of the sea which he saw.
The
next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to
the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and
from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying
colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed.
Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.
But
the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up
and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue.
At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether
she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a
more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her
long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.
“It
was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,”
and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I am too happy,” said he to
the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my
happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”
The
little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken.
His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the
foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town
proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on
every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom
joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid,
dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing
of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of
the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the
world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons
were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple
and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of
the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable
wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a
number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck.
The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea,
when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance,
poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all
present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her
tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a
sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening
she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her
home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily
for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would
breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an
eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and
now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long
after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of
death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she
played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid
tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood
at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the
vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that
first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of
the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no
more in the wind, and had been cut off.
“We
have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you
may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very
sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince;
when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and
form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us
to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt
sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother
moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell
under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not
see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and
you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down
beneath the waves.
The
little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair
bride with her head resting on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed
his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and
brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the
prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his
thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she
flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell,
and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering,
half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into
the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the
waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did
not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her
floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them
the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was
melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also
unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like
theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam.
“Where am I?” asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those
who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.
“Among
the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal
soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the
power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air,
although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds,
procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air
that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers
to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years
to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the
happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole
heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself
to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred
years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”
The
little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for
the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the
prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride
searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew
she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her
bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the
air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.
“After
three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she.
“And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we
can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on
which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their
love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly
through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count
one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked
child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time
of trial!”
