By Hans Christian Andersen
Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the finest corn-flower, and as transparent as the purest glass. But it is very deep, much deeper indeed than any anchor-chain can fathom; many steeples would have to be piled one on the top of the other in order to reach from the bottom to the surface of the water. Down there live the sea-folks.
You must not think that there is nothing but the bare white sand at the bottom of the ocean; no, on the contrary, there grow the most peculiar trees and plants, having such pliable trunks, stalks, and leaves that they stir at the slightest movement of the water, as if they were alive. All the big and small fishes glide through their branches as birds fly through the trees. Where the ocean is deepest stands the sea-king’s castle; its walls are built of coral, and the high arched windows are cut out of the clearest amber; the roof is covered all over with shells, which open and close according as the current of the water sets.
It looks most beautiful, for each of them is filled with pearls of priceless value; a single one of them would be a fit ornament for a queen’s diadem.
The sea-king had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother was keeping house for him. She was a clever woman, but she was very proud of her noble birth; therefore she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while other distinguished sea-folks were only allowed to wear six. In every other respect she deserved unmingled praise, especially for her tender care of the sea-prin-cesses, her grand-daughters. They were six in number, and the youngest was the most beautiful of all. Her skin was as clear and delicate as the petals of a rose, her eyes as blue as the sea in its greatest depth; but she also, like the others, had no legs— her body ended in a fish-tail. All day long the princesses used to play about in the spacious halls of the castle, where flowers blossom from the walls. When the large amber windows were thrown open the fishes came swimming to the princesses, as the swallows sometimes fly in when we open the windows; the fishes were so tame that they ate out of their hands, and suffered the princesses to stroke them.
In front of the castle was a large garden in which bright red and dark blue flowers were growing; the fruit glittered like gold, and the flowers looked like flames of fire; their stalks and leaves were continually moving. The ground was covered with the finest sand, as blue as the flame of sulphur. A peculiar blue light was shed over everything; one would rather have imagined one’s self to be high up in the air, having above and below the blue sky, than at the bottom of the sea. When the sea was calm one could see the sun; it looked like an immense purple flower, from which the light streamed forth in all directions.
Each of the little princesses had her own place in the garden, where she was allowed to dig and to plant at her pleasure. One gave her flower-bed the shape of a whale, another preferred to form it like a little mermaid; but the youngest made hers as round as the sun, and her flowers were also of the purple hue of the sun. She was a peculiar child, always quiet and sensitive; while her sisters thought a great deal of all sorts of curious objects which they received from wrecked ships, she only loved her purple flowers, and a beautiful figure, representing a boy, carved out of clear white marble, which had come from some wreck to the bottom of the sea. She had planted a red weeping willow close by the marble figure, which throve well and was hanging over it with its fresh branches reaching down to the blue sand and casting a violet-colored shadow. Like the branches, this shadow was continually mov-ing, and it gave one the impression as if the top and the roots of the tree were playing together and trying to kiss each other.
The little mermaid liked most of all to hear stories about mankind above, and the grandmother had to tell her all she knew about ships, towns, and animals; she was very much surprised to hear that on earth the flowers were fragrant (the sea-flowers had no smell) and that the woods were green, that the fishes which one saw there on the trees could sing beautifully and delight everybody. The grandmother called the little birds fishes; otherwise her grand-daughters would not have understood her, as they had never seen a bird.
“When you are fifteen years old,” said the grandmother, “you will be allowed to rise up to the surface of the sea and sit on the cliffs in the moon-light, where the big ships will be sailing by. Then you will also see the woods and towns.”
In the following year the eldest princess would complete her fifteenth year; the other sisters were each one year younger than the other; the youngest therefore had to wait fully five years before she could go up from the bottom of the sea and look at the earth above. But each promised to tell her sisters what she liked best on her first visit; for their grandmother, they thought, did not tell them enough-there were so many things on which they wished to be informed. None of them, however, longed so much to go up as the young-est, who had to wait the longest time, and was always so quiet and pensive.
Many a night she stood at the open window and looked up through the dark blue water, watching the fishes as they splashed in the water with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and the stars —they looked quite pale, but appeared through the water much larger than we see them. When something like a dark cloud passed over her and concealed them for a while, she knew it was either a whale, or a ship with many human beings, who had no idea that a lovely little mermaid was standing below stretching out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.
The eldest princess now completed her fifteenth year, and was allowed to rise up. When she came back she had to tell about hundreds of things: the greatest pleasure, she said, was to lie in the moonlight on a sandbank, when the sea was calm, and to look at the near coast and the large town where the lights sparkled like many hundreds of stars; to hear the music and noise caused by the clamor of carriages and human voices, to see the many church-steeples and to listen to the ringing of the bells. The youngest sister listened attentively to all this, and when she again, at night, stood at the open window and looked up through the dark-blue water, she thought of the great town, with all its bustle and noise, and imagined she heard the ringing of the bells in the depth of the sea.
In the following year the second sister’s turn came to rise up to the surface of the sea and to swim whither she pleased. She came up just as the sun was setting, and this aspect she considered the most beautiful of all she saw.
The whole sky looked like gold, and she could not find words to describe the beautiful clouds. Purple and violet, they were sailing by over her head; but even quicker than the clouds she saw a flight of wild swans flying towards the sun; she followed them, but the sun sank down and the rosy hue on the surface of the water and in the clouds vanished
The year after, the third sister rose up. She was the boldest of all, and swam up the mouth of a broad river. She saw beautiful green hills covered with vines. Strongholds and castles peeped out of the splendid woods; she heard the birds sing, and the sun was shining so warmly that she had often to dive down and cool her burning face. In a little creek she found a troop of human children playing; they were quite naked, and splashed in the water; she wished to play with them, but they ran away, terrified. Then a little black animal, a dog, came— she had never seen one before—and barked so dreadfully at her that she was frightened, and hurried back as fast as she could to the open sea. But she could never forget the stately woods, the green hills, and the nice children who could swim, although they had no fish-tails.
The fourth sister was not so daring; she remained out in the open sea, and declared that there it was most pleasant to stay. There, she said, one could look around many miles, and the sky appeared to one like an immense glass globe.
She had also seen ships, but only from a great distance; they looked to her like seagulls. The playful dolphins, she said, threw somersaults, while the big whales spouted up the sea-water through their nostrils, as if many hundred fountains were playing all around her.
Now the fifth sister’s turn came, and as her birthday was in winter she saw something different from her sisters on her first visit. The sea looked quite green; enormous icebergs were floating around her —every one of them was like pearl, she said, although they were much higher than the church steeples built by men. They had the most peculiar shapes and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself on one of the highest, and while the wind was playing with her hair she noticed how the ships were tossed about; towards the evening the sky became covered with black clouds, it lightened and thundered, and the big ice-blocks reflected the flashes of lightning while they were tossed up by the roaring sea. The sailors reefed all their sails, for they were terrified and anxious; but she was sitting quietly on the floating iceberg, and watching how the flashes of lightning descended zigzag into the foaming sea.
The first time one of the sisters came to the surface, all the new and beautiful things charmed her; but now, being as grown-up girls allowed to rise whenever they pleased, all this became indifferent to them, and after a month they declared that it was best down below in their own home. On many a night the five sisters would rise to the surface of the water arm in arm, in a row, and sing, for they had beautiful voices, much finer than any human being ever has; and when a storm was approaching, and they thought that some ships might be wrecked, they swam in front of them, singing of the beautiful things at the bottom of the sea, and bidding the people not to be afraid, but come down. The people, however, did not understand them, and mistook their singing for the noise of the wind; they never saw the treasures below, for when the ship went down they were drowned, and only arrived dead at the sea-king’s castle. When her sisters thus went up arm-in-arm, the youngest princess used to stand alone and follow them with her eyes; then she often felt as if she must cry; but mermaids have no tears, therefore they suffer
much more than we do.
“Oh! that I were already fifteen years old,” she said; “I know I shall love the world above, and the people that dwell in it, very much.”
At last she was fifteen. “You are now grown up,” said her grandmother, the old dowager-queen, to her; “now let me adorn you like your sisters.” She placed a wreath of white lilies on her head, the petals of the flowers being half-pearls; and in order to show her high rank the old lady caused eight oysters to be fixed to her grand-daughter’s tail.
“They hurt me, Granny,” said the little mermaid. “Never mind, my child, pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. The little princess would have gladly taken off all her ornaments and the heavy wreath; her purple flowers would have suited her much better, but she could not offend her grandmother.
“Farewell!” she said, and rose up as lightly as a bubble. The sun had just set when she lifted her head out of the water, but the clouds were still colored like purple and gold; the evening-star sparkled beautifully through the rose-tinted atmosphere; the air was mild and fresh, and the sea perfectly calm. There was a big ship with three masts lying before her; only one sail was set, as not a breath of air was stirring; the sailors were sitting about on deck and in the rigging. There were music and dancing on board, and when it became dark many hundreds of colored lamps were lighted, and it looked as if the flags of all nations were floating in the air. The little mermaid swam up close to the cabin windows, and when the waves lifted her up she could see many well dressed people through the clear panes. The most beautiful of them was a young prince with large black eyes-he certainly seemed not older than sixteen; it was his birthday, and that was the cause of all this rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, and when the young prince stepped out of the cabin-door hundreds of rockets were thrown up into the air, and became for some moments as bright as day. The little mermaid was frightened, and dived under the water; but soon she lifted up her head again, and then it seemed to her as if all the stars were falling down from the sky. She had never seen such a display of fire-works. Large Catherine-wheels turned rapidly round, splendid fiery fishes flew through the air, and all was reflected by the bright calm sea. On the ship it was so light that one could distinctly see everything, even the smallest rope. And the young prince was so beautiful! He shook hands with the people and smiled graciously, while the music sounded dreamily through the starry night.
It became very late, but the little mermaid could not turn her eyes away from the ship and the beautiful prince. The colored lamps were extinguished; no more rockets were sent up nor cannons fired off. But in the sea, deep below, was a strange murmuring and humming, while the little mermaid was rocking on the waves and looking into the cabin. Soon the wind began to blow; one sail after another was furled; the waves rose up high; flashes of lightning were seen in the distance; a terrible storm was approaching. Then all the sails were reefed. The large ship in its rapid course was tossed about like a nutshell by the waves, which rose up as high as mountains, as if they would roll over the top of the masts. The ship dived like a swan down between the waves, and was then carried up again by them to a great height. The little mermaid thought it was a pleasant journey; not so the sailors. The ship creaked and groaned; her strong planks, were bending under the weight of the heavy waves which entered into her; the mainmast was broken like a reed; the ship lay over on her side, and the water rushed over her. The little mermaid then perceived that the crew was in danger; she herself had to be careful, lest the posts and planks floating about on the water might hurt her. For moments it was so dark that one could distinguish nothing, but when it lightened everything was visible.
The little mermaid was looking out for the prince; she saw him sink down into the depths when the ship broke up. She was very pleased, for now she thought he would come down to her. But soon she remembered that men cannot live in the water, and that he would arrive dead at her father’s castle. No, he must not die! Heedless of the beams and planks floating on the waters, she dived down to the bottom, and came up again in search of the prince. At last she found him; his strength was failing him; he was no longer able to swim in the storm-tossed sea; his arms and legs became powerless; his beautiful eyes closed; he would surely have died had not the little mermaid come to his assis-tance. She held up his head, and let the waves drift them where they would.
Next morning the storm had abated, but not a plank was visible of the ship anywhere; the sun rose purple and radiant out of the water, and seemed to impart new life to the prince’s cheeks; his eyes, however, remained closed.
The mermaid kissed his beautiful forehead, stroked back his wet hair; he looked to her very much like the white marble figure in her little garden at home. She kissed him again and again, and wished that he were alive.
Now she had before her eyes the dry land, where high mountains towered into the clouds, while the snow was glittering on their summits, and looking like swans resting there. Down on the coast were magnificent green woods, and quite in the foreground stood a church or a convent—she did not know which; but at any rate it was a building. Lemon and orange trees were growing in the garden, and high palms stood before the gate. The sea formed a little bay here and was quite calm, although very deep; she swam straight to the cliff, where the fine white sand had been washed ashore, and put, him down, taking special care that his head was raised up to the warm sunshine. Then all the bells began to ring in the large white building, and many young girls passed through the garden. The little mermaid swam farther out, hid herself behind some rocks, covered her hair and breast with sea-foam, lest anybody might see her little face, and watched to see who would come to the poor prince. After a while a young girl came to the spot where the prince was lying; at first she seemed very much frightened, but she soon recovered herself, and called some people. The little mermaid saw that the prince came back to life, and smiled at all who stood around him, but at her he did not smile; he little knew that she had saved him. She was very sad; and when they had taken him into the large building, she dived down and so returned to her father’s castle.
She had always been silent and pensive; now she was still more so. Her sisters asked her what she had seen when she went up for the first time, but she told them nothing. Many a morning and many an evening she returned to the spot where she had left the prince; she saw how the fruit in the garden became ripe and was gathered, how the snow melted on the high mountains; but she never caught sight of the prince, and each time she returned home she was more mournful than before.
Her only consolation was to sit in her little garden, and to put her arms round the marble figure which resembled the prince, but she no longer looked after her flowers. Her garden became a wilderness; the plants straggled over the paths, and twined their long stalks and leaves round the trunks and branches of the trees, so that it became quite dark and gloomy.
At last she could bear it no longer, and confided her troubles to one of her sisters, who of course told the others. These, and a few other mermaids
who mentioned it confidentially to their intimate friends, were the only people who were in the secret. One of them knew the prince, and could tell them where his kingdom was. She also had witnessed the festival on board the ship.
“Come, dear sister,” said the other princesses; and arm-in-arm, in a long row, they rose up to the spot where the prince’s castle stood. It was built of bright yellow stone, and had broad marble staircases, one of which reached right down to the sea. Magnificent gilt cupolas surmounted the roof, and in the colonnades, running all round the building, stood lifelike marble statues.
Through the clear panes in the high window could be seen splendid halls, where costly silk curtains and beautiful tapestry hung, and the wall was coy. ered with paintings so exquisite that it was a pleasure to look at them. In the center of the largest hall a fountain played; its jets rose as high as the glass cupola in the ceiling, through which the sun shined upon the water and the beautiful plants growing in the great basin.
Now she knew where he dwelt, and near there she passed many an evening and many a night on the water. She swam much closer to the shore than any of the others would have ventured; nay, she even went up the narrow canal under the magnificent marble balcony which threw a large shadow on the water. Here she sat and gazed at the young prince, who thought that he was quite alone in the moonlight. Often she saw him sailing in a stately boat, decorated with flags, and with music on board. She listened from behind the green rushes; and when the wind caught her long silver-white veil, and people noticed it, they imagined it was a swan opening its wings. Many a time at night, when the fishermen were upon the sea with torches, she heard them say many good things about the prince, and she was glad that she had saved his life when he was drifting half-dead upon the waves; she remembered how his head had rested on her bosom, and how fervently she had kissed him, but he knew nothing about it, and did not even dream of her. Her love for mankind grew from day to day, and she longed more and more to be able to live among them, for their world seemed to her so much larger than hers. They could cross the sea in large ships, and ascend mountains towering into the clouds.
The lands which they possessed, both woods and fields, stretched farther than her eyes could reach. There were still so many things on which she wished to have information, and her sisters could not answer all her questions; therefore she asked her grandmother, who knew the upper world very well, and appropriately styled it “the countries above the sea.”
“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they
live for ever? Do they not die as we do down here in the sea?”
“Yes” replied the old lady. “They also die, and their life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to be three hundred years old; but when we cease to exist here we are turned into foam on the surface of the water, and have not even a grave in the depth of the sea among those we love. We never live again; our souls are not immortal; we are like the green seaweed, which, when once severed from its root, can never grow again. Men, on the other hand, have a soul which lives for ever after the body has become dust; it rises through the sky, up to the shining stars. As we rise out of the sea, and behold all the countries of the earth, so they rise to unknown glorious regions which we shall never see.”
“Why have we not also an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid, sor-rowfully. “I would gladly give all the years I have yet to live, if I could be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of seeing that marvelous country beyond the sky.”
“You must not dream of that,” replied the old lady. “We are much happier
and better off than mankind above.”
“Then I shall die, and drift on the sea as foam, never hearing the music of the waves, or seeing the beautiful flowers and the red sun. Is there not anything I can do in order to obtain an immortal soul?”
“No!” said the grandmother. “Only if a man would love you so much that you would be dearer to him than father or mother, if he would cling with all his heart and all his love to you, and let the priest place his right hand into yours, with the promise to be faithful to you here and to eternity, then his soul would flow over into your body, and you would receive a share of the happiness of mankind. He would give you a soul and yet keep his own. But that can never happen! What is beautiful here below, your fish tail, they consider ugly on earth-they do not know any better; up there one must have two clumsy limbs, which they call legs, in order to be beautiful.”
The little mermaid sighed, and looked at her fish-tail mournfully. “Let us be merry,” said the old lady. “Let us dance and make the best of the three hundred years of our life. That is truly quite enough; afterwards repose will be more pleasant. Tonight we will have a court ball.”
Such a splendid sight is never seen on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ballroom were of thick transparent glass. Several hundred enormous shells, purple and bright green, stood at each side in long rows, filled with blue fire, which lit up the whole room and shined through the walls so that the sea outside was quite illuminated; one could see countless fishes, of all sizes, swimming against the glass walls; the scales of some gleamed with purple, others glittered like silver and gold. A broad stream ran through the middle of the ballroom, upon which the sea-folks, both men and women, danced to the music of their own sweet songs. Human beings have not such beautiful voices. The little mermaid sang best of all, and the whole court applauded with fins and tails. For a moment she felt a joy in her heart at the thought that she possessed the most beautiful voice of all living on earth or in the sea. But soon her mind returned to the world above; she could not forget the beautiful prince, nor cease grieving that she did not possess an immortal soul like his. Therefore she stole out of her father’s castle; and while within the others enjoyed songs and merriment, she sat sorrowfully in her little garden.
Then she heard a bugle sound through the water, and thought, “Surely now he is sailing above, he who fills my mind, and into whose hands I should like to entrust my fate. I will dare all in order to obtain him and an immortal soul! While my sisters are dancing in my father’s castle I will go to the sea-witch, whom I have always feared so much; perhaps she can advise and help me.”
Then the little mermaid left her garden and went out to the roaring whirlpools where the witch dwelt. She had never gone that way before; no flowers, no seaweed even, was growing there-only bare gray sandy soil surrounded the whirlpools, where the water rushed round like mill-wheels and drew everything it got hold of down into the depths. She had to pass right through these dreadful whirlpools in order to reach the witch’s territory. For a good part of the way the road led over warm bubbling mud; this the witch called her peat-moor. Behind this her house stood, in a strange wood, for all the trees and bushes were polypes-half-animals and half-plants. They looked like snakes, with many hundred heads, growing out of the ground. All the branches were slimy arms with fingers like supple worms, every limb was moving from the root to the highest branch, all they could seize out of the sea they clutched and held fast, never letting it go again. The little mermaid stopped timidly in front of them; her heart was beating with fear, she nearly turned back again; but then she thought of the prince and the immortal soul, and regained her courage. She twisted her long flowing hair round her head, lest the polypes might seize it; she crossed her hands upon her breast, and shot through the water like a fish, right past the dreadful polypes, which stretched out their supple arms and fingers after her. She saw that each of them had seized something and held it tightly with hundreds of little arms. The polypes held in their arms white skeletons of people who had perished at sea and had sunk into the depth, the oars of ships, and chests, skeletons of land animals, and a little mermaid whom they had caught and strangled: this latter was the most dreadful sight to the little princess.
Then she came to a big marshy place in the wood, where large fat water-snakes were rolling about, and showing their ugly light yellow bodies.
In the middle of this place stood a house, built with the white bones of shipwrecked people; there the sea-witch sat, letting a toad eat out of her mouth, as we should feed a little canary with sugar. The ugly fat water-snakes she called her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her.
“I know very well what you want,” said the sea-witch. “It is silly of you, but you shall have your way; you will become wretchedly unhappy, my beautiful princess. You wish to get rid of your fish-tail and have two limbs instead, which men use for walking, that the young prince may fall in love with you and that you may gain him, and an immortal soul.” Thus saying the old witch laughed loud and hideously, so that the toads and the snakes fell to the ground, where they wriggled about. “You are just in good time,” said the witch; “if you had come to-morrow after sunrise, I should not have been able to help you for a whole year. I will prepare you a drink, and you must swim ashore before the sun rises, and sit down and drink it; then your tail will disappear and shrink together into what mankind call legs; but it will hurt you, as if a sharp sword pierced you. Every man who sees you will say that you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. You will keep your gracefulness, and no dancer will be able to move as lightly as you; but at each step that you take you will feel as though you trod on a sharp knife, and as if your blood must flow. If you are ready to suffer all this, I will help you.”
“Yes!” said the little mermaid, with a trembling voice; and she thought of
the prince and the immortal soul.
“But remember,” said the witch, “if you have once received a human form you can never become a mermaid again; you will never be able to return again to your sisters and to your father’s castle; and if you fail to gain the prince’s love, so that he forgets, for your sake, father and mother, clings to you with body and soul, and makes the priest join your hands, that you become man and wife, you will not obtain an immortal soul. On the first morning after he has wedded another, your heart will break, and you will become foam on the water.”
“I will have it,” said the little mermaid, and turned as pale as death.
“But you must pay me,” said the witch, “and it is not a little that I ask. Lou have the most beautiful voice of all who live at the bottom of the sea; you may think you can bewitch him with it; but this voice you must give me. I will have the best thing you possess in exchange for my costly drink, for I must give you my own blood, that the drink may be strong enough, and as cutting as a two-edged sword.”
“If you take my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left to me?”
“Your fine figure,” said the witch, “your gracefulness and your speaking eyes— with these you may easily capture a human heart. Now, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue, that I may cut it off in payment, and I will give you the wonderful drink.”
“Do it,” said the little mermaid; and the witch placed her pot on the fire
to prepare the draft
“Cleanliness is a good thing” she said, and scoured the kettle with snakes which she had tied into a bundle; then she pricked herself in the breast and let her black blood drop into it. The steam rose up in the strangest shapes; any one who could have seen it, would have been frightened to death. Every moment the witch threw new things into the pot, and when it boiled the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. At last the drink was ready, and looked like the clearest water.
“There it is,” said the witch, and cut the little mermaid’s tongue off; so now she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. “If the polypes should seize you when you go back through my wood,” said the witch, “you have only to throw one drop of this fluid over them, and their arms and fingers will break into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no need of it; the polypes shrunk back in fear at the sight of the sparkling drink, which shined in her hand like a glittering star.
Thus she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh and the roaring whirlpools. She could see her father’s castle; the torches in the ballroom were all extinguished; they were all asleep; she dared not go to them; now she was dumb and on the point of leaving them for ever, she felt as though her little heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a blossom from each of her sisters’ flower-beds, kissed her hands a thousand times towards the castle, and rose up through the dark blue sea. The sun had not yet risen when she reached the prince’s castle and went up the magnificent marble steps. The moon was shining more brightly than usual. The little mermaid took the burning draft, and felt as though a two-edged sword pierced her tender body; she fainted, and lay there as if dead. When the sun rose out of the sea she awoke and felt a sharp pain, but just before her stood the beautiful young prince. He fixed his black eyes upon her, so that she cast hers down, and noticed that her fish tail had dis-appeared, and that she had, instead, two of the prettiest feet any girl could wish for. As she had no clothes she wrapped herself in her long hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from; she looked at him sweetly and yet mournfully with her dark blue eyes, for she was unable to speak. Then he took her by the hand and led her into the castle. At every step she took she felt, as the witch had told her in advance, as if she trod upon needles and knives; but she
suffered it willingly, and stepped as lightly as a soap-bubble at the prince’s side, who, with all the others, admired her graceful movements.
They gave her splendid dresses of silk and muslin to put on, and she was the most beautiful of all women in the castle; but she was mute, and could neither sing nor speak. Lovely slaves, dressed in silk and gold, came to sing before the prince and his royal parents. One sang better than all the rest, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. Then the little mermaid became sorrowful; she knew that she had been able to sing much more
sacrificed my voice for ever!”
sweetly, and thought, “Oh! if he only knew that in order to be with him I have Then the slaves danced graceful dances to the loveliest music; and the little mermaid lifted her beautiful white arms, balanced herself on tiptoe, and glided, dancing, over the floor; none of them could equal her. At every movement her beauty became still more apparent, and her eyes spoke more deeply to the heart than the songs of the slaves. All were charmed, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling. She danced again, and again, although she felt, whenever her feet touched the ground as though she trod upon sharp knives. The prince wished her always to remain with him, and gave her permission to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door.
He had her dressed like a page, that she might accompany him on horse-back. They rode through the fragrant woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders and the birds sang in the fresh foliage. She climbed with the prince to the summits of the high mountains, and although her tender feet bled so much that even others could see it, she smiled and followed him until they saw the clouds sailing beneath their feet, like a flight of birds traveling to foreign countries. At home, in the prince’s castle, when the others slept at night, she went out on the broad marble staircase; it was cooling for her burning feet to stand in the cold sea-water, and then she thought of those below in the deep. One night her sisters came up arm in arm; they sang mournfully as they floated on the water; she beckoned to them, and they recognized her and told her how much she had grieved them. After this she saw them every night, and once she also saw her old grandmother, who had not come up to the surface for many, many years, and the sea-king with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so close to the land as her sisters.
The prince cared more for her from day to day; he loved her as one would love a dear good child, but he never had the least thought of marrying her; and yet she had to become his wife before she could obtain an immortal soul, otherwise she would turn to foam on the sea the morning after his wedding.
“Don’t you love me most of all?” the mermaid’s eyes seemed to say when the prince took her in his arms and kissed her beautiful forehead.
“Yes, I care most for you,” he said, “for you have the best heart of them all. You are most devoted to me, and resemble a young girl whom I once saw, but whom I shall certainly not find again. I was on board a ship which was wrecked; the waves washed me ashore near a sacred temple, where several young girls officiated. The youngest of them found me on the beach, and saved my life. I only saw her twice; she would be the only girl in the world I could love; but you are like her, and you almost efface her likeness from my heart. She belongs to the sacred temple, and therefore my good fortune has sent you to me. Let us never separate.”
“Alas! he does not know that I have saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him across the sea towards the wood where the temple stands; I was sitting behind the foam, looking to see if any one would come to him. I saw the beautiful girl whom he loves better than me.” She sighed deeply, for she could not weep. “The girl belongs to the sacred temple, he has said. She will never come out into the world; they will never meet again; but I am near him, and see him every day. I will care for him, love him, and sacrifice my life for him.”
But soon the rumor spread that the prince was to marry the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king, and that was why they were equipping a magnificent ship. They say the prince is traveling to see the neighboring king’s country, but in reality he goes to see his daughter. A large suite is to accompany him. The little mermaid shook her head and smiled; she knew the prince’s thoughts much better than the others. “I must travel,” he had said to her; “I must go and see the beautiful princess, for my parents wish it; but they will not compel me to marry her. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful girl in the temple, whom you resemble. Should I one day select a bride, I should prefer you, my dumb foundling with the eloquent eyes.” And he kissed her ruby lips, and played with her long tresses, and placed his head on her bosom, so that she began to dream of human happiness and an immortal soul.
“You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child?” he said to her when they were standing on the stately ship that was to take him to the neighboring king’s country. He told her of the storm and of the calm, of the strange fishes in the deep, and of the marvelous things divers had seen there. She smiled at his words, for who knew more about the things at the bottom of the sea than she did? In the moonlight night, when all were asleep except the man at the wheel, she sat on board, gazing down into the clear water.
Then she imagined she saw her father’s castle; and her grandmother with her silver crown on her head, looking up through the violent currents at the ship’s keel. Her sisters came up to the surface, looked mournfully at her, and wrung their white hands. She beckoned them, smiled, and wished to tell them she was comfortable and happy, but a sailor boy approached her, and her sisters dived under, so that he thought the white objects he had seen
were foam on the surface of the water.
The next morning the ship arrived in the harbor of the neighboring king’s splendid city. All the church bells were merrily pealing, trumpets were sounding from the high towers, while the soldiers paraded, with colors flying and bayonets glittering. Every day another festivity took place; balls and entertainments followed one another; but the princess had not yet come. They said she was being educated in a sacred temple far away, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she arrived. The little mermaid was anxious to see her beauty, and did not fail to acknowledge it when she saw her. She had never seen a lovelier being; her complexion was clear and delicate, and behind dark lashes smiled a pair of dark blue, faithful-looking eyes.
“You are she who saved me when I was lying like a dead body on the beach,” said the prince, and he pressed his blushing bride to his heart. “I am too happy;” he said to the little mermaid. “My greatest hopes have been realized. You will be glad to hear of my happiness, for you have always been so kind to me.” The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart was going to break. She knew that she was to die on his wedding morning, and turn to foam on the sea.
The church bells pealed, heralds rode through the streets and announced the engagement. On all the altars sweet-smelling oil burnt in costly silver lamps. The priests swung their censers; bride and bridegroom joined hands, and received the bishop’s blessing. The little mermaid was dressed in silk and gold, and carried the bride’s train; but her ears did not hear the festive music, her eyes did not see the sacred ceremony; she thought of the night of her death, and all that she had lost in this world.
The very same evening bride and bridegroom went on board the ship; the cannons roared; the flags streamed in the wind; in the middle of the ship a beautiful tent of purple and gold was erected for the royal couple.
The sails swelled in the wind, and the ship glided gently and lightly through the smooth sea. When it became dark, colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of the first time she rose to the surface, when she had witnessed the same splendor and joy; she danced madly, hovering like a swallow when it is pursued. All applauded her, for she had never danced so well. It was like sharp knives cutting her tender feet, but she did not feel it; her heart suffered much greater pain. She knew that it was the last evening that she was to be with him-him for whom she had deserted her relatives and her home, sacrificed her sweet voice, and daily suffered endless pain, while he had not the slightest idea of it. It was the last night that she could breathe the same air with him, and see the deep sea and the starry sky; eternal night, without thought or dream, was waiting for her who had not been able to gain a soul. On board the ship joy and merriment lasted till long past midnight; she laughed and danced while her heart was full of thoughts of death. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, and she fondly touched his dark curls, and arm in arm they retired to rest in the magnificent tent.
Then all became still on board; only the man at the wheel remained at his post. The little mermaid rested her white arms on the railing of the ship, and looked towards the east for the morning dawn; the first sunbeam she knew would kill her. She saw her sisters rising out of the waves; they were as pale as herself; their beautiful long hair was no longer fluttering in the wind —it was cut off. “We have given it to the witch, that we might help you, and save you from death to-night. She has given us a knife; here it is! Look how sharp it is!
Before the sun rises you must thrust it into the prince’s heart, and when the warm blood spurts upon your feet, they will grow together again into a fish-tail, and you will be a mermaid once more; then you can come back to us, and live your three hundred years before you become dead salt sea-foam. Hasten!
You or he must die before the sun rises. Our grandmother is so grieved, her white hair has also been cut off by the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and return to us! Hasten! Do you see that red streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and then you must die!”
Then they heaved a mournful sigh, and disappeared in the waves.
The little mermaid drew back the purple curtain at the door of the tent, and saw the beautiful bride lying with her head on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed his forehead, and looked up to the sky, where daybreak was approaching; then she looked at the sharp knife, and again at the prince, who murmured his bride’s name in his dreams. Only she was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the little mermaid’s hand. Suddenly she threw it far out into the sea, and where it fell the waves looked red, and it seemed as it drops of blood were spurting up out of the water. As she was passing away she looked once more at the prince, then threw herself down from the ship into the sea, and felt her body dissolving into foam.
The sun rose out of the sea, and his rays fell with gentleness and warmth upon the cold sea-foam; the little mermaid felt no pain of death. She saw the bright sun, and above her were hovering hundreds of transparent beings; their language was melodious, but so ethereal that no human ear could hear them, and no earthly eye could see them; they were lighter than air, and floated about in it without wings. The little mermaid noticed that she had a body like theirs, which rose higher and higher out of the foam.
“Where am I coming to?” she asked, and her voice sounded like that of the other beings— so ethereal that no earthly music could equal it. “To the daughters of the air,” replied the others. “The mermaids have no immortal souls, and can never obtain one unless they gain the love of human beings; their eternal existence depends on another’s power. The daughters of the air have no immortal soul either, but they can obtain one for themselves by good actions. We fly to the hot countries where the poisonous vapors kill mankind, and bring them cool breezes. We spread the fragrance of the flowers through the air, and refresh and heal them. When we have striven for three hundred years to achieve all the good that is in our power, we obtain an immortal soul, and share the eternal happiness of mankind. You poor little mermaid, you have striven with all your heart for the same object; you have endured and suffered; now you have risen to the aerial world; and now, after three hundred years of good works, you will gain an immortal soul for yourself.”
And the little mermaid raised her eyes up to the sun and felt tears in them
for the first time.
On the ship there was life and noise once more; she saw how the prince and his beautiful bride were looking for her; mournfully they gazed at the glittering foam, as if they knew that she had thrown herself into the waves. Invisibly she kissed the bride’s forehead and caressed the prince; then she rose with the other children of the air up to the rosy cloud which sailed through the ether.
“After three hundred years we float thus into the eternal Kingdom of God!”
“But we may get there sooner,” whispered one of the daughters of the air.
“Invisibly we penetrate into the houses of human beings, where they have children, and for every day on which we find a good child that causes its parents joy and deserves their love, God shortens our period of probation. The child does not know when we fly through the room, and if we smile for joy, one of the three hundred years is taken off; but if we see a naughty or wicked child, we must shed tears of sorrow, and every tear augments our period of probation by one day.
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