Fairy Tales

THE LITTLE MERMAID

WAY OUT AT SEA the water is as blue as the petals on the loveliest corn-flower, and as clear as the purest glass, but it’s very deep, deeper than any anchor rope can reach. Many church steeples would have to be placed end to end to reach from the bottom up to the surface and beyond. Down there the sea people live.

You mustn’t think that it’s just a bare white sand bottom. No, the most wonderful trees and plants grow there, and they have such supple stems and leaves that they move as if they were alive with the slightest motion of the water. All the big and little fish slip between the branches like the birds do in the air up here. The sea king’s castle is at the very deepest point. The walls are made of coral, and the long sharp windows of the clearest amber, but the roof is made of sea shells that open and close with the water currents. It looks lovely because there are glittering pearls in each shell; just one of them would be a fine ornament for a queen’s crown.

The sea king had been a widower for many years, but his old mother kept house for him. She was a wise woman, but proud of her nobility, and so she wore twelve oysters on her tail; the other aristocracy could only carry six. Apart from that she deserved a lot of praise, especially since she was so fond of the little sea princesses, her grandchildren. There were six beautiful children, all lovely, but the youngest was the most beautiful. Her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose petal, and her eyes were as blue as the deepest sea, but just like all the others, she had no feet. Her body ended in a fish tail.

All day long they could play in the castle, in the big hall where living flowers grew out of the walls. Whenever the big amber windows were opened up, the fish swam in, like swallows fly into our windows when we open them, but the fish swam right up to the little princesses and ate from their hands and allowed themselves to be petted.

Outside the castle was a big garden with fire-red and dark blue trees where the fruit shone like gold, and the flowers like a flaming fire, because the stems and petals were always moving. The ground itself was the finest sand, but blue, like a flame of sulphur, and there was a strange blue cast over everything down there. Rather than being on the bottom of the ocean, you could imagine yourself high up in the air, with sky both above and below you, and if it was very still, you could glimpse the sun for it appeared as a scarlet flower with all light streaming from its center.

Each of the little princesses had a plot in the garden, where she could dig and plant as she wished. One gave her flower garden the shape of a whale, another thought that hers should resemble a mermaid, but the youngest princess made hers quite round, like the sun, and only had flowers that shone just as red as it did. She was an odd child, quiet and thoughtful, and while her sisters decorated their gardens with all sorts of strange things they had found in sunken ships, she only wanted, except for the red flowers that resembled the sun, a beautiful marble statue of a lovely boy, carved from white, clear stone that had sunk to the sea bottom from a shipwreck. Beside the statue she planted a rose red weeping willow, which grew beautifully and whose branches hung over the statue and down towards the blue sand bottom, where its shadow was violet and moved like the branches. It looked as if the tree and the roots were playing at kissing each other.

Nothing gave her greater pleasure than hearing about the human world above them. The old grandmother had to tell all she knew about ships and towns, people and animals. She especially thought it was strange and splendid that up on the earth the flowers gave off a fragrance that they didn’t do on the bottom of the ocean; and that the forests were green; and that the fish that one saw among the branches could sing so loudly and delightfully that it was a joy. The grandmother called the little birds fish because otherwise they couldn’t understand her since they had never seen a bird.

“When you turn fifteen,” grandmother said, “you’ll be allowed to swim up from the ocean, sit in the moonlight on the rocks, and see the big ships sail by, and forests and towns you’ll see, too!” The following year, one of the sisters would turn fifteen, but the others—well, they were all one year younger than the next, so the youngest had five whole years left before she could rise up from the bottom of the sea to see how we have it up here. But each promised to tell the others what she had seen, and what she had found the most beautiful on the first day, for their grandmother hadn’t told them enough—there was so much they wanted to know!

None of them yearned as much as the youngest, the very one who had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many a night she stood by the open windows and looked up through the dark blue water, where the fish flapped their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars, although they shone dimly, but through the water they looked much bigger than to our eyes; and if it seemed like a dark cloud slipped under them, she knew that either a whale was swimming above her, or it was a ship with many people on-board. Little did they know that there was a lovely little mermaid standing below them, reaching her white hands up towards the ship.

Then the eldest princess turned fifteen and was permitted to go above the surface.

When she came back, she had hundreds of things to tell, but the most lovely thing, she said, was to lie in the moonlight on a sand bank in the calm sea, and see the big city right by the coast, where lights were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to hear the music, and the noise and commotion of carts and people; to see the many church towers and spires, and hear how the bells rang. Just because she couldn’t get there, she longed the most for all these things.

Oh, how intently the youngest sister listened to all this, and afterwards, when she stood by the open window in the evenings and looked up through the dark blue water, she thought about the big city with its noise, and then she thought she could hear the church bells ringing all the way down to where she was.

The next year the second sister was allowed to rise to the surface of the water and swim wherever she wanted. She broke the surface just as the sun set, and that was the sight she found the most beautiful. The whole sky had looked like gold, she said, and she couldn’t describe how wonderful the clouds were. They had sailed over her, red and violet, but even more quickly than the clouds, a flock of wild swans had flown like a long white ribbon over the water towards the setting sun, and she swam towards it, but it sank, and the rosy hue faded from the sea and the clouds.

The following year the third sister ascended. She was the boldest of them all, so she swam up a wide river that ran out to sea. She saw splendid green hills with grapevines; castles and farms peeked out from magnificent forests. She heard how all the birds were singing, and the sun was so warm that she often had to dive under the water to cool her burning face. In a little inlet she met a group of small human children who were quite naked, and they were running and playing in the water. She wanted to play with them, but they ran away frightened, and a little black animal came and barked terribly at her. It was a dog, but since she had never seen a dog before she became frightened and swam out to the open sea, but she never forgot the magnificent forests, the green hills, and the beautiful children who could swim in the water, even though they didn’t have a fish tail.

The fourth sister was not so bold. She stayed out in the wild sea and explained how that was the most beautiful sight. You could see around for many miles, and the sky above was like a huge glass bell jar. She saw ships, but they were so far away that they looked like seagulls. The amusing dolphins had turned somersaults, and the big whales had sprayed water from their blow holes so that it looked like a hundred fountains all around.

Then it was the fifth sister’s turn. Her birthday was during the winter, and so she saw what the others had not seen the first time. The sea appeared quite green, and there were big icebergs floating around. Each one looked like a pearl, she said, and they were even bigger than the church steeples that people built. They had the most fantastic shapes and glittered like diamonds. She had sat on one of the biggest ones, and all the sailing ships gave her a wide berth where she sat with the wind blowing her long hair, but later in the evening it became overcast, and there was lightning and thunder while the black sea lifted the icebergs so high up that they shone red in the strong flashes of lightning. All the ships took in sail, and there was fear and dread, but she sat calmly on her floating iceberg and watched the blue bolts of lightning zigzag into the shining sea.

The first time each of the sisters came up to the surface, she was enthusiastic about all the new and lovely things she saw, but when they now were grown up and could go up there whenever they wanted, they became indifferent to it. They longed for home, and at the end of a month they said that it was, after all, most beautiful down there, and that’s where you felt at home.

On many evenings the five sisters took each other’s arms and rose up over the water in a row. They had lovely voices, more beautiful than any person, and when a storm was brewing so that they thought ships could be lost, they swam in front of the ships and sang so soulfully about how lovely it was on the floor of the ocean and told the sailors not to be afraid to come down there. Of course, the sailors could not understand their words. They thought it was the storm, and they also did not see the wonders of the sea, because when the ship sank, the people drowned and only came as dead men to the sea king’s castle.

When the sisters rose up in the evenings, arm in arm, to the surface of the sea, the little sister stood quite alone and looked after them, and she felt that she was going to cry, but mermaids have no tears, and so she suffered even more.

“Oh, if only I were fifteen!” she said. “I know that I’ll love that world up there and the people who live in it.”

Finally she turned fifteen.

“Now we’re getting you off our hands,” said her grandmother, the old widowed queen. “Come and let me dress you up, like your sisters,” and she placed a wreath of white lilies on her head, but every petal of the flower was half a pearl, and the old queen let eight big oysters clamp onto the princess’ tail to indicate her high rank.

“That really hurts!” said the little mermaid.

“No pain, no gain,” her grandmother said.

Oh, how she wanted to throw off all the finery and take off the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her garden suited her much better, but she didn’t dare change anything. “Good bye,” she said, and floated so easily and lightly, like a bubble, up through the water.

The sun had just gone down as she lifted her head over the sea, but all the clouds were still shining red and gold, and in the middle of the pale pink sky the evening star shone clearly and beautifully. The air was mild and fresh, and the sea was dead calm. There was a large ship with three masts on the sea, but only one sail was up because there wasn’t a breath of wind, and sailors were sitting in the rigging and on the yardarms. There was music and singing, and as the evening grew darker, hundreds of multi-colored lanterns were lit. It looked as if the flags of all nations were waving in the air. The little mermaid swam right up to the cabin porthole, and every time the waves lifted her up, she could see in through the clear panes where she saw many people in evening dress, but the most beautiful was a young prince with big black eyes. He could not have been much over sixteen years old. It was his birthday, and that was the reason for all the festivities. The sailors danced on the deck, and when the young prince appeared, over a hundred rockets were fired into the air and lit up the sky like daylight, so the little mermaid became frightened and dove down into the water. But she soon stuck her head up again, and it seemed as if all the stars in the sky fell down to her. She had never seen such fireworks. Big suns swirled around; magnificent fire-fish were swaying in the blue air; and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea. It was so light on the ship itself that you could see each little rope, let alone the people. Oh, how gorgeous the little prince was! And he shook hands with people and laughed and smiled, while the music played through the lovely night.

It grew late, but the little mermaid couldn’t take her eyes from the ship and the wonderful prince. The colorful lanterns were extinguished. There were no more rockets shooting into the air, and the cannons were silent, but deep in the sea there was humming and buzzing. She floated on the water and rocked up and down, so she could look into the cabin, but the ship increased its speed; one sail after another filled; and the waves became bigger. Great clouds gathered, and far away there was lightning. A terrible storm was coming! The sailors pulled in the sails. The big ship rocked ahead at a furious pace on the wild sea; the water rose like big black mountains, wanting to break over the masts, but the ship dove like a swan down between the huge waves and let itself be lifted high up again on the towering waters. The little mermaid thought it was a pleasing ride, but the sailors didn’t think so. The ship creaked and groaned as the thick planks bulged from the strong thrusts as the sea pushed against it. The mast cracked in the middle, as though it were a reed, and the ship listed on its side, while water came rushing into the hold. Now the little mermaid realized that they were in danger. She herself had to watch out for beams and pieces of the ship that were drifting on the water. One moment it was so coal black that she couldn’t see a thing, but in a flash of lightning, it became so clear that she could see all of them on the ship; each was doing the best he could for himself. She was especially looking for the young prince, and as the ship fell apart, she saw him sink down into the deep sea. At first, she was very happy because now he would come down to her, but then she remembered that people could not live in the sea, and the only way he could come to her father’s castle was as a dead man. No, he must not die! So she swam between beams and planks, drifting on the sea, forgetting entirely that they could crush her. She dove deep into the water and rose again high between the waves and came at last to the young prince, who could hardly swim any longer in the surging sea. His arms and legs were beginning to go limp, the beautiful eyes closed; he would surely have died if the little mermaid had not come. She held his head above the water and let the waves drive them where they would.

In the morning the storm was over; there was not a sliver to be seen of the ship. The sun rose red and shining from the water, and it was as if the prince’s cheeks took life from it, but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his lovely high forehead and stroked his wet hair. She thought he looked like the marble statue down in her little garden. She kissed him again, and wished that he would live.

Then she saw land ahead, high blue mountains with white snow shining on top like a flock of swans. Down by the seashore there were lovely green forests, and in front of the woods was a church or a convent. She wasn’t exactly sure which, but it was a building. There were lemon and orange trees growing there in the garden, and in front of the gate there were tall palm trees. There was a little bay in the sea, where it was completely calm, but very deep, all the way to the rocks, where the fine white sand washed up. She swam there with the handsome prince, laid him on the sand, and made sure that his head was up in the warm sunshine.

Then the bells rang out from the big white building, and many young girls came through the grounds. The little mermaid swam out behind some high rocks that protruded from the water, covered her hair and breast with sea foam so no one could see her little face, and watched to see who would come and find the poor prince.

It wasn’t long before a young girl came. She seemed quite frightened, but only for a moment. Then she hurried to bring other people, and the mermaid saw that the prince was alive, and that he smiled at all those around him, but he didn’t smile at her. Of course he didn’t know that she had saved him. She felt very sad, and when he was carried into the big building, she dove sorrowfully down into the water and found her way home to her father’s castle.

She had always been quiet and thoughtful, but now she became even more so. Her sisters asked her what she had seen on her first trip to the surface, but she didn’t tell them anything.

Many evenings and mornings she swam up to the place where she had left the prince. She saw how the fruits in the garden ripened and were picked. She saw how the snow melted on the high mountains, but she didn’t see the prince, and so she always returned home sadder than before. Her only consolation was to sit in her little garden with her arms around the marble stature who looked like the prince, but she neglected her flowers. They grew as in a wilderness, over the pathways, and braided their long stems and petals into the tree branches so it became quite dark there.

Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer and told one of her sisters. So, immediately the other sisters knew about it, but no one else, except a couple other mermaids, who didn’t tell anyone but their closest friends. One of them knew who the prince was. She had also seen the festivities on the ship and knew where he was from and where his kingdom was.

“Come, little sister,” the other princesses said, and with their arms around each other’s shoulders, they swam in a long row up in the water in front of the prince’s castle, which was built of a pale yellow shiny type of rock with big marble staircases; one went way down into the water. There were magnificent gilded domes rising from the roof, and between the pillars that went all around the building there were life-like marble carvings. Through the clear glass in the tall windows, you could see into the most marvelous rooms, where expensive silk curtains and tapestries were hanging, and all the walls were decorated with large paintings that were a pleasure to look at. In the middle of the main chamber, a large fountain was spraying; the jets of water rose high up to the glass cupola in the roof, through which the sun shone on the water and on all the lovely plants that were growing in the big basin.

Now that she knew where he lived, she swam in the water there many nights and evenings, and swam much closer than any of the others had dared to do. She even went way into the narrow channel under the magnificent marble balcony that cast a long shadow over the water. She sat there and watched the young prince, who thought he was all alone in the clear moonlight.

Many evenings she saw him sailing in his fine boat with music playing and flags waving. She peeked out from between the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery veil, anyone seeing it would think it was a swan stretching its wings.

Many a night when the fishermen were at sea in the torchlight, she heard them tell so many good things about the young prince that it made her happy she had saved his life when he was tossed half-dead in the waves, and she thought about how firmly his head had rested against her breast, and how fervently she had kissed him. But he knew nothing about it and couldn’t even dream about her.

She became more and more fond of human beings, and more and more she wished she could live among them. She thought their world was much bigger than her own because they could sail on the oceans in ships and climb on the high mountains over the clouds, and the lands they owned with forests and fields stretched farther than her eyes could see. There was so much she wanted to know, but her sisters couldn’t answer everything she asked, so she asked her old grandmother, who was well acquainted with the higher world, which is what she quite correctly called the lands above the sea.

“If people don’t drown,” asked the little mermaid, “do they live forever? Don’t they die like us down here in the sea?”

“Oh yes,” said the old woman, “they must also die, and their lifetime is shorter than ours too. We can live for three hundred years, but when we cease to exist, we become only foam on the water and don’t even have a grave amongst our dear ones down here. We have no immortal soul, and can never live again. We are like the green rushes that can’t become green again once they are cut down. Human beings, on the other hand, have a soul that lives forever. It lives after the body has become dust and rises up through the clear air, up to the shining stars! Just as we surface from the sea and see the human’s land, so they surface to unknown lovely places that we can never see.”

“Why didn’t we get an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid sadly, “I would give all the three hundred years I have to live for just one day as a human and then to share in the world of heaven!”

“You mustn’t think about that!” said her old grandmother. “We are much happier and much better off than the people up there.”

“So I shall die and float as foam on the sea, not hear the music of the waves, nor see the lovely flowers or the red sun! Isn’t there anything at all I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No!” said the old queen. “Only if you became so dear to a human that you meant more to him than his father and mother, if he clung to you with all his mind and heart, and if you let the minister lay his right hand in yours with promises of faithfulness here and for all eternity, then his soul would flow into your body and you would share in the happiness of humanity. He would give you a soul and yet keep his own. But that can never happen! What is so lovely here in the sea—your fish tail—they find ugly up there on earth. They don’t know any better because there you must have two clumsy props that they call legs to be considered beautiful!”

The little mermaid sighed and looked sadly at her tail.

“Let’s be satisfied with what we have,” said the old grandmother. “We’ll spring and skip about during the three hundred years we have to live. It’s a good long time. Later we can so much the better rest in our graves.¹ This evening we are going to have a court ball!”

That was also a splendor you never see on the earth. The walls and ceiling of the big dance hall were made of thick clear glass. Several hundred colossal sea shells, rosy red and grass green, stood in rows on each side with burning blue fire that lit up the whole hall and shone out through the walls so that the sea outside was quite illuminated. You could see all the countless fish, big and small, swim towards the glass walls. On some of them the scales glistened a purplish red, on others silver and gold. Straight through the hall a wide stream flowed, and mermen and mermaids were dancing on it to their own lovely song. People on the earth do not have such beautiful voices. The little mermaid sang more beautifully than all the others, and they clapped for her so that she felt joy in her heart for a moment because she knew she had the prettiest voice on earth or in the sea! But soon she began thinking of the world above once again, and she couldn’t forget the charming prince and her sadness over not having an immortal soul like he did. So she sneaked out of her father’s castle, and while there was nothing but joy and song inside there, she sat sad and alone in her little garden. She heard a horn sound down through the water, and she thought, “Now I guess he’s sailing up there, he whom I love more than my father and mother, he who holds all my thoughts, and in whose hands I would place my happiness in life. I would risk everything to win him and an immortal soul! While my sisters are dancing there in father’s castle, I’ll go to the sea witch. I’ve always been so afraid of her, but maybe she can advise and help me.”

Then the little mermaid went out from her garden to the roaring whirlpools; the sea witch lived behind them. She had never gone this way before. There were no flowers growing there, no sea grass, only the bare gray sand bottom that stretched towards the whirlpools, where the water swirled around like roaring mill wheels and pulled everything they grasped down into the deep. She had to walk right between these crushing eddies to enter the sea witch’s property, and for most of the way there was no other approach than over a warm bubbling mud that the witch called her bog moss. Her house lay behind it in a strange forest. All the trees and bushes were polyps, half animal and half plant. They looked like snakes with hundreds of heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms with fingers like supple worms, and from joint to joint they moved from the root to the outermost tip. They wrapped themselves around everything they could grasp in the sea and never released them. The little mermaid was terrified as she stood outside. Her heart beat fast from fear, and she would have turned around, but then she thought about the prince and about the human soul, and these thoughts gave her courage. She tied her long streaming hair tightly to her head so the polyps couldn’t grasp it, folded her arms across her chest, and darted ahead. She moved as fish swim through the water, in between the awful polyps, who stretched out their elastic arms and fingers after her. She saw how they all had something they had caught with their hundreds of small arms holding on like strong bands of iron. People who had died at sea and sunk deep down to the sea bottom peered as white skeletons from the polyps’ arms. They were holding fast to ship rudders and chests, skeletons of land animals, and a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled. That was almost the most frightful for her.

Then she came to a big slimy clearing in the forest, where large, fat water grass snakes slithered around and showed their ugly whitish-yellow bellies. In the middle of the clearing there was a house built from the white bones of shipwrecked people. The sea witch was sitting there, letting a toad eat from her mouth, much like people let little canaries eat sugar. She called the hideous fat grass snakes her little chicklets and let them squirm around on her large, swampy breast.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch. “It’s stupid of you! Nevertheless, you’ll get your way because it will just lead to catastrophe for you, my lovely princess. You want to be rid of your fish tail, and instead have two stumps to walk upon just like people do so that the young prince will fall in love with you, and so that you can win him and gain an immortal soul!” Then the sea witch laughed so loudly and dreadfully that the toad and the snakes fell down writhing on the ground. ”You came just in time,” said the witch. ”After sunrise tomorrow, I wouldn’t have been able to help you for a year. I’m going to fix you a drink, and before the sun rises, you are to swim to land with it, sit on the bank there, and drink it. Then your tail will separate and turn into what people call lovely legs, but it will hurt. It will be as if a sharp sword were cutting through you. All who see you will say that you’re the most beautiful child of man they’ve ever seen. You’ll keep your floating gait; no dancer will float like you, but every step you take will be like stepping on a sharp knife so the blood flows. If you’ll suffer all this, I’ll help you.”

“I know what you want, ” said the sea witch.

“Yes!” said the little mermaid with a trembling voice as she thought about the prince and about winning an immortal soul.

“But remember,” said the witch, “when you have taken a human shape, you can never again become a mermaid. You can never sink down through the water to your sisters and to your father’s castle, and if you don’t win the prince’s love, so that he forgets his father and mother for your sake, thinks of you constantly, and has the minister place your hands in each other’s as man and wife, you won’t gain an immortal soul! The first morning after he marries someone else, your heart will break, and you’ll become foam on the water.”

“I want to do it!” said the little mermaid, pale as death.

“But you’ll have to pay me too,” the witch said, “and it’s not a small thing I demand. You have the most beautiful voice here on the ocean floor, and you think you’re going to bewitch him with it, but you must give that voice to me. I want the most precious thing you have for my priceless drink. After all, I have to add my own blood so the drink will be as sharp as a double-edged sword!”

“But if you take my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what will I have left?”

“Your beautiful appearance,” said the witch, “your graceful gait, and your expressive eyes. You should be able to capture a human heart with those. Well, have you lost your courage? Stick out your little tongue so I can cut it off in payment, and then you’ll get the potent drink.”

“Let it happen,” the little mermaid said, and the witch prepared the kettle to cook the potion. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” she said and scrubbed the kettle with the snakes, which she tied into a knot. Then she slashed her breast and let her black blood drip into the kettle. The steam made the most remarkable figures so that you had to be anxious and afraid. The witch kept putting ingredients into the kettle, and when it was boiling rapidly, it sounded like a crocodile crying. Finally the drink was done, and it looked like the clearest water!

“There you are,” said the witch as she cut out the tongue of the little mermaid, who now was mute and could neither sing nor speak.

“If the polyps should grab you when you go back through my forest,” the witch said, “just throw a single drop of this drink at them, and their arms and fingers will crack into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid didn’t have to do that because the polyps pulled back in fear when they saw the drink shining in her hand like a sparkling star. So she quickly made it through the forest, the moss, and the roaring whirlpools.

She could see her father’s castle. The lights were out in the big dance hall, and they were probably all sleeping in there, but she didn’t dare seek them out since she was mute now and was leaving them forever. She felt as if her heart would break in two from grief. She crept into the garden, and took one flower from each of her sister’s flowerbeds, blew a thousand kisses towards the castle, and then rose up through the dark blue sea.

The sun wasn’t up yet when she saw the prince’s castle and crept up the marvelous marble steps. The moon was shining beautifully clear. The little mermaid drank the sharply burning drink, and it was as if a sharp double-edged sword cut through her fine body so that she fainted from it and lay as if dead. When the sun shone over the sea, she woke up and felt a stinging pain, but there in front of her was the wonderful young prince. He fastened his coal black eyes on her, and she cast hers downward and saw that her fish tail was gone, and that she had the finest little white legs any girl could have, but she was quite naked, so she wrapped herself in her thick, long hair. The prince asked who she was and how she had gotten there, but she just looked mildly and sadly at him with her dark blue eyes. After all, she couldn’t speak. Then he took her by the hand and led her into the castle. As the witch had warned, she felt like she was stepping on sharp awls and knives with each step, but she gladly tolerated it. Holding the prince’s hand, she moved as lightly as a bubble, and he and everyone else marveled at her charming, floating gait.

She was dressed in precious clothes of silk and muslin, and she was the most beautiful one in the castle, but she was mute, could neither sing nor speak. Beautiful slave girls dressed in silk and gold came out and sang for the prince and his royal parents. One sang more sweetly than the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This made the little mermaid sad because she knew that she herself had sung much better! She thought, “Oh, if he only knew that I gave my voice away for all eternity to be with him!”

The slave girls danced in a lovely floating dance to the most marvelous music, and then the little mermaid raised her beautiful white arms, stood on tiptoe, and floated across the floor, and danced as no one else had danced. Her loveliness became more evident with every movement, and her eyes spoke deeper to the heart than the songs of the slave girls.

Everyone was delighted with it, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling, and she danced more and more, even though every time her feet touched the floor, it was like stepping on sharp knives. The prince said that she must always be with him, and she was allowed to sleep outside his door on a velvet pillow.

He had a man’s outfit sewed for her so she could go horseback riding with him. They rode through the fragrant forests, where the green branches hit her shoulders and the small birds sang behind the new leaves. She climbed up the high mountains with the prince, and even though her fine feet bled so all could see, she laughed at it and followed him until they saw the clouds sailing below them, as if they were a flock of birds flying to distant lands.

She floated across the floor, and danced as no one else had danced.

At home at the prince’s castle, when the others slept at night, she went down the wide marble steps, and cooled her burning feet in the cold sea water, and then she thought about those down in the depths of the sea.

One night her sisters came arm in arm and sang so sadly, as they swam across the water, and she waved at them, and they recognized her and told her how she had made all of them so sad. They visited her every night after that, and one night far out at sea she could see her old grandmother, who hadn’t been to the surface for many years, and the sea king, with his crown on his head. They stretched their arms out to her, but didn’t dare come so close to land as her sisters did.

Every day she became dearer to the prince, who loved her as one would a good, dear child, but it certainly didn’t occur to him to make her his queen, and his queen she had to become, or she wouldn’t gain an immortal soul, but would turn to sea foam the morning after his wedding.

“Don’t you love me most of all?” the little mermaid’s eyes seemed to ask, when he took her in his arms and kissed her lovely forehead.

“Yes, I love you best,” said the prince, “because you have the kindest heart of all of them. You’re the most devoted to me, and you look like a young girl I once saw, but will never find again. I was on a ship that sank. The waves drove me ashore to a holy temple, where several young girls were serving. The youngest found me on the shore and saved my life. I only saw her twice, but she’s the only one I could love in this life. You look like her and have almost replaced her memory in my heart. She belongs to the holy temple, and so good fortune has sent you to me. We’ll never part!”

“Oh, he doesn’t know that I saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him through the sea to the temple by the forest, and I hid behind the foam and watched for someone to come. I saw the beautiful girl whom he loves more than me,” and the mermaid sighed deeply, since she couldn’t cry. “He said that the girl belongs to the holy temple, and she’ll never leave there so they won’t meet again. I’m with him and see him every day. I’ll take care of him, love him, and offer him my life.”

Then rumor had it that the prince was to be married to the beautiful daughter of the neighboring king, and because of that he was preparing a splendid ship for a voyage. He was supposedly traveling to see the neighboring king’s country, but people knew that he really was going to see the daughter. A large party was to accompany him, but the little mermaid just shook her head and laughed because she knew the prince’s thoughts much better than anyone else. “I have to go,” he had told her. “I have to go see the lovely princess, my parents insist, but they can’t force me to bring her back here for my wife. I can’t love her! She doesn’t look like the beautiful girl in the temple, like you do. If I ever do choose a bride, it would sooner be you, my silent foundling with the speaking eyes!” He kissed her red mouth, played with her long hair, and laid his head against her heart, so she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul.

“You aren’t afraid of the sea, my silent child?” he asked, when they climbed aboard the magnificent ship that was to take them to the neighboring kingdom. And he told her about storms and calm seas, about strange fish in the depths and what divers had seen, and she smiled at his stories since she knew better than anyone what the ocean floor was like.

In the moonlit night when everyone was sleeping, the little mermaid sat close to the helmsman, who was at the wheel, and stared down into the clear water, and thought she saw her father’s castle. On the highest tower stood her old grandmother with her silver crown on her head, starring up at the keel of the ship through the currents. Then her sisters came up to the surface, stared sadly at her, and wrung their white hands. She waved to them and smiled, and wanted to tell them that she was well and happy, but then the ship’s boy approached, and the sisters dove down, and he thought that the white that he had seen was foam on the sea.

The next morning the ship sailed into the magnificent port in the neighboring kingdom. All the church bells rang, and trombones were played from the high towers while soldiers marched with waving banners and dazzling bayonets. There was a party every day. One festivity followed another, but the princess wasn’t there yet. She was being educated far away in a holy temple, they said, where she was learning all the royal virtues. But at last she came.

The little mermaid waited eagerly to see her beauty, and she could not deny it. She had never seen a more lovely creature. Her skin was so clear and fine, and behind the long dark eyelashes smiled a pair of faithful dark-blue eyes!

“It’s you!” exclaimed the prince, “you, who saved me, when I lay like a corpse on the beach!” And he gathered his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I’m so incredibly happy!” he said to the little mermaid. “The best thing I could wish for has come true. You’ll share my joy since you love me better than any of the others.” And the little mermaid kissed his hand, and thought she felt her heart breaking already, for his wedding night would bring her death and change her to foam upon the sea.

All the church bells rang, and heralds rode through the streets, proclaiming the engagement. Fragrant oils burned in precious silver lamps on all the altars. The priests waved their censers, and the bride and groom grasped hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid was dressed in silk and gold and was holding the bride’s train, but her ears did not hear the festive music; her eyes didn’t see the sacred ceremony. She was thinking about her last night of life and about everything she had lost in this world.

That same evening the bride and groom went aboard the ship. The cannons boomed, all the flags were waving, and in the center of the ship a precious tent of gold and purple with the loveliest cushions had been raised. The bridal couple were going to sleep there in the cool, quiet night.

The sails swelled in the wind, and the ship glided smoothly and almost motionlessly across the clear sea.

When it became dark, colorful lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid had to think about the first time she peered above the waves and saw the same splendor and joy, and she whirled in the dance, swaying as a swallow when it’s being chased. Everyone cheered her, and never had she danced so well before. It was as if sharp knives cut into her fine little feet, but she didn’t feel it; the pain was sharper in her heart. She knew it was the last evening she would see the man for whom she had left her home and family, and for whom she had given her beautiful voice and suffered unending agony without him having the least idea. It was the last night she would breathe the same air as him, would see the deep sea, and the starry blue sky. An eternal night without thought or dreams awaited her, she who had no soul and could not win one. And there was joy and merriment on the ship until long past midnight; she laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart. The prince kissed his lovely bride, and she played with his black hair, and arm in arm they went to bed in the magnificent tent.

It became hushed and still on the ship, only the helmsman was on deck. The little mermaid laid her white arm on the railing and looked to the east towards dawn. She knew that the first sunbeam would kill her. Then she saw her sisters rise up from the sea, and they were as pale as she was, their long beautiful hair no longer streaming in the wind. It had all been cut off.

“We have given it to the sea witch so she would help you, so that you won’t die tonight! She has given us a knife. Here it is! Do you see how sharp it is? Before the sun rises, you must stab the prince in the heart, and when his warm blood drips on your feet, they will grow together into a fish tail, and you’ll become a mermaid again, and come back into the sea with us and live your three hundred years before you become dead, salty sea foam. Hurry! Either you or he must die before the sun rises. Our old grandmother is grieving so much that all her white hair has fallen out, as ours fell to the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back! Hurry, don’t you see the red streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and then you must die!” and they heaved a strange, deep sigh and sank in the waves.

The little mermaid drew the purple curtain away from the tent and saw the beautiful bride sleeping with her head on the prince’s chest. Then she bent down and kissed him on his handsome forehead, looked at the sky, where the morning glow was increasing, looked at the sharp knife, and cast her eyes again upon the prince, who in his dreams said his bride’s name. Only she was in his thoughts, and the knife quivered in her hand, but then she threw it far out into the waves that turned red where it fell, like drops of blood trickling up from the water. One last time she looked at the prince with her partly glazed eyes, dove from the ship into the sea, and felt her body dissolving into foam.

The sun rose from the sea. The rays fell warmly and gently upon the deadly cold sea foam, and the little mermaid did not feel death. She saw the clear sun, and above her swirled hundreds of beautiful, transparent creatures. Through them she could see the ship’s white sails and the red clouds in the sky. Their voices were melodies, but so unearthly that no human ear could hear them, just as no earthly eye could see them. They swayed though the air on their own lightness without wings. The little mermaid saw that she had a shape like them that rose up more and more from the foam.

“To whom am I going?” she said, and her voice sounded like the others and so heavenly that no earthly music could express it.

“To the daughters of the air!” the others answered. “The mermaid has no immortal soul and can never win one unless she wins the love of a human. Her eternal existence depends on an outside power. Daughters of the air don’t have an eternal soul either, but they can shape one through their good deeds. We fly to the warm countries, where pestilence kills people, and we bring cool breezes. We spread the scent of flowers through the air and send peaceful rest and healing knowledge. After we have struggled to do all the good we can for three hundred years, we can earn an immortal soul and share in the human’s eternal joy. You, poor little mermaid, have striven with all your heart for the same thing we have. You have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the world of the air spirits. Through good deeds you can earn yourself an immortal soul in three hundred years.”

The little mermaid lifted her clear arms up towards God’s sun, and for the first time she felt tears. There was noise and life on the ship again, and she saw the prince with his beautiful bride searching for her. They stared mournfully at the bubbling foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself on the waves. Invisibly she kissed the bride’s forehead, smiled at the prince and rose with the other children of the air up into the rosy cloud sailing in the sky.

“In three hundred years we’ll sail into God’s kingdom like this.”

“We can get there even faster,” whispered one. “We swirl unseen into a human home, where there are children, and every day we find a good child who brings joy to his parents and deserves their love, God reduces our time of testing. A child doesn’t know when we fly through the room, and if we smile with joy at him, a year is subtracted from the three hundred years, but if we see a naughty child, then we must cry in sorrow, and every tear adds a day to our time of trial.”

NOTE

1. Andersen evidently forgot that the grandmother has just explained that mermaids do not have graves.