by Hans Christian Andersen
Far out at sea the water is as blue as the bluest cornflower, and as
clear as the clearest crystal; but it is very deep, too deep for any
cable to fathom, and if many steeples were piled on the top of one
another they would not reach from the bed of the sea to the surface of
the water. It is down there that the Mermen live.
Now don't imagine that there are only bare white sands at the bottom; oh
no! the most wonderful trees and plants grow there, with such flexible
stalks and leaves, that at the slightest motion of the water they move
just as if they were alive. All the fish, big and little, glide among
the branches just as, up here, birds glide through the air. The palace
of the Merman King lies in the very deepest part; its walls are of coral
and the long pointed windows of the clearest amber, but the roof is made
of mussel shells which open and shut with the lapping of the water. This
has a lovely effect, for there are gleaming pearls in every shell, any
one of which would be the pride of a queen's crown.
The Merman King had been for many years a widower, but his old mother
kept house for him; she was a clever woman, but so proud of her noble
birth that she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the other grandees
were only allowed six. Otherwise she was worthy of all praise,
especially because she was so fond of the little mermaid princesses, her
grandchildren. They were six beautiful children, but the youngest was
the prettiest of all; her skin was as soft and delicate as a roseleaf,
her eyes as blue as the deepest sea, but like all the others she had no
feet, and instead of legs she had a fish's tail.
All the livelong day they used to play in the palace in the great halls,
where living flowers grew out of the walls. When the great amber windows
were thrown open the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our
rooms when we open the windows, but the fish swam right up to the little
princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be patted.
The Merman King had been for many years a widower, but his old mother
kept house for him; she was a clever woman, but so proud of her noble
birth that she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the other grandees
were only allowed six.|
Outside the palace was a large garden, with fiery red and deep blue
trees, the fruit of which shone like gold, while the flowers glowed like
fire on their ceaselessly waving stalks. The ground was of the finest
sand, but it was of a blue phosphorescent tint. Everything was bathed in
a wondrous blue light down there; you might more readily have supposed
yourself to be high up in the air, with only the sky above and below
you, than that you were at the bottom of the ocean. In a dead calm you
could just catch a glimpse of the sun like a purple flower with a
stream of light radiating from its calyx.
Each little princess had her own little plot of garden, where she could
dig and plant just as she liked. One made her flower-bed in the shape of
a whale; another thought it nice to have hers like a little mermaid; but
the youngest made hers quite round like the sun, and she would only have
flowers of a rosy hue like its beams. She was a curious child, quiet and
thoughtful, and while the other sisters decked out their gardens with
all kinds of extraordinary objects which they got from wrecks, she would
have nothing besides the rosy flowers like the sun up above, except a
statue of a beautiful boy. It was hewn out of the purest white marble
and had gone to the bottom from some wreck. By the statue she planted a
rosy red weeping willow which grew splendidly, and the fresh delicate
branches hung round and over it, till they almost touched the blue sand
where the shadows showed violet, and were ever moving like the branches.
It looked as if the leaves and the roots were playfully interchanging
Nothing gave her greater pleasure than to hear about the world of human
beings up above; she made her old grandmother tell her all that she knew
about ships and towns, people and animals. But above all it seemed
strangely beautiful to her that up on the earth the flowers were
scented, for they were not so at the bottom of the sea; also that the
woods were green, and that
the fish which were to be seen among the
branches could sing so loudly and sweetly that it was a delight to
listen to them. You see the grandmother called little birds fish, or the
mermaids would not have understood her, as they had never seen a bird.
'When you are fifteen,' said the grandmother, 'you will be allowed to
rise up from the sea and sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and look at
the big ships sailing by, and you will also see woods and towns.'
One of the sisters would be fifteen in the following year, but the
others,—well, they were each one year younger than the other, so that
the youngest had five whole years to wait before she would be allowed to
come up from the bottom, to see what things were like on earth. But each
one promised the others to give a full account of all that she had seen,
and found most wonderful on the first day. Their grandmother could never
tell them enough, for there were so many things about which they wanted
None of them was so full of longings as the youngest, the very one who
had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and dreamy. Many a
night she stood by the open windows and looked up through the dark blue
water which the fish were lashing with their tails and fins. She could
see the moon and the stars, it is true; their light was pale, but they
looked much bigger through the water than they do to our eyes. When she
saw a dark shadow glide between her and them, she knew that it was
either a whale swimming above her, or else a ship laden with human
beings. I am certain they never dreamt that a lovely little mermaid was
standing down below, stretching up her white hands towards the keel.
The eldest princess had now reached her fifteenth birthday, and was to
venture above the water. When she came back she had hundreds of things
to tell them, but the most delightful of all, she said, was to lie in
the moonlight, on a sandbank in a calm sea, and to gaze at the large
town close to the shore, where the lights twinkled like hundreds of
stars; to listen to music and the noise and bustle of carriages and
people, to see the many church towers and spires, and to hear the bells
ringing; and just because she could not go on shore she longed for that
most of all.
Oh, how eagerly the youngest sister listened! and when, later in the
evening she stood at the open window and looked up through the dark blue
water, she thought of the big town with all its noise and bustle, and
fancied that she could even hear the church bells ringing.
The year after, the second sister was allowed to mount up through the
water and swim about wherever she liked. The sun was just going down
when she reached the surface, the most beautiful sight, she thought,
that she had ever seen. The whole sky had looked like gold, she said,
and as for the clouds! well, their beauty was beyond description; they
floated in red and violet splendour over her head, and, far faster than
they went, a flock of
wild swans flew like a long white veil over the
water towards the setting sun; she swam towards it, but it sank and all
the rosy light on clouds and water faded away.
The year after that the third sister went up, and, being much the most
venturesome of them all, swam up a broad river which ran into the sea.
She saw beautiful green, vine-clad hills; palaces and country seats
peeping through splendid woods. She heard the birds singing, and the sun
was so hot that she was often obliged to dive, to cool her burning face.
In a tiny bay she found a troop of little children running about naked
and paddling in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they were
frightened and ran away. Then a little black animal came up; it was a
dog, but she had never seen one before; it barked so furiously at her
that she was frightened and made for the open sea. She could never
forget the beautiful woods, the green hills and the lovely children who
could swim in the water although they had no fishes' tails.
The fourth sister was not so brave; she stayed in the remotest part of
the ocean, and, according to her account, that was the most beautiful
spot. You could see for miles and miles around you, and the sky above
was like a great glass dome. She had seen ships, but only far away, so
that they looked like sea-gulls. There were grotesque dolphins turning
somersaults, and gigantic whales squirting water through their nostrils
like hundreds of fountains on every side.
Now the fifth sister's turn came. Her birthday fell in the winter, so
that she saw sights that the others had not seen on their first trips.
The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each
one of which looked like a pearl, she said, but was much bigger than the
church towers built by men. They took the most wonderful shapes, and
sparkled like diamonds. She had seated herself on one of the largest,
and all the passing ships sheered off in alarm when they saw her sitting
there with her long hair streaming loose in the wind.
In the evening the sky became overcast with dark clouds; it thundered
and lightened, and the huge icebergs glittering in the bright lightning,
were lifted high into the air by the black waves. All the ships
shortened sail, and there was fear and trembling on every side, but she
sat quietly on her floating iceberg watching the blue lightning flash in
zigzags down on to the shining sea.
The first time any of the sisters rose above the water she was delighted
by the novelties and beauties she saw; but once grown up, and at liberty
to go where she liked, she became indifferent and longed for her home;
in the course of a month or so they all said that after all their own
home in the deep was best, it was so cosy there.
Many an evening the five sisters interlacing their arms would rise above
the water together. They had lovely voices, much clearer than any
mortal, and when a storm was rising, and they
expected ships to be
wrecked, they would sing in the most seductive strains of the wonders of
the deep, bidding the seafarers have no fear of them. But the sailors
could not understand the words, they thought it was the voice of the
storm; nor could it be theirs to see this Elysium of the deep, for when
the ship sank they were drowned, and only reached the Merman's palace in
death. When the elder sisters rose up in this manner, arm-in-arm, in the
evening, the youngest remained behind quite alone, looking after them as
if she must weep; but mermaids have no tears, and so they suffer all the
'Oh! if I were only fifteen!' she said, 'I know how fond I shall be of
the world above, and of the mortals who dwell there.'
At last her fifteenth birthday came.
'Now we shall have you off our hands,' said her grandmother, the old
queen-dowager. 'Come now, let me adorn you like your other sisters!' and
she put a wreath of white lilies round her hair, but every petal of the
flowers was half a pearl; then the old queen had eight oysters fixed on
to the princess's tail to show her high rank.
'But it hurts so!' said the little mermaid.
'You must endure the pain for the sake of the finery!' said her
But oh! how gladly would she have shaken off all this splendour, and
laid aside the heavy wreath. Her red flowers in
her garden suited her
much better, but she did not dare to make any alteration. 'Good-bye,'
she said, and mounted as lightly and airily as a bubble through the
The sun had just set when her head rose above the water, but the clouds
were still lighted up with a rosy and golden splendour, and the evening
star sparkled in the soft pink sky, the air was mild and fresh, and the
sea as calm as a millpond. A big three-masted ship lay close by with
only a single sail set, for there was not a breath of wind, and the
sailors were sitting about the rigging, on the cross-trees, and at the
mast-heads. There was music and singing on board, and as the evening
closed in hundreds of gaily coloured lanterns were lighted—they looked
like the flags of all nations waving in the air. The little mermaid swam
right up to the cabin windows, and every time she was lifted by the
swell she could see through the transparent panes crowds of gaily
dressed people. The handsomest of them all was the young prince with
large dark eyes; he could not be much more than sixteen, and all these
festivities were in honour of his birthday. The sailors danced on deck,
and when the prince appeared among them hundreds of rockets were let off
making it as light as day, and frightening the little mermaid so much
that she had to dive under the water. She soon ventured up again, and it
was just as if all the stars of heaven were falling in showers round
about her. She had never seen such magic fires. Great suns whirled
round, gorgeous fire-fish hung in the blue air, and all was reflected
in the calm and glassy sea. It was so light on board the ship that every
little rope could be seen, and the people still better. Oh, how handsome
the prince was! how he laughed and smiled as he greeted his guests,
while the music rang out in the quiet night.
It got quite late, but the little mermaid could not take her eyes off
the ship and the beautiful prince. The coloured lanterns were put out,
no more rockets were sent up, and the cannon had ceased its thunder, but
deep down in the sea there was a dull murmuring and moaning sound.
Meanwhile she was rocked up and down on the waves, so that she could
look into the cabin; but the ship got more and more way on, sail after
sail was filled by the wind, the waves grew stronger, great clouds
gathered, and it lightened in the distance. Oh, there was going to be a
fearful storm! and soon the sailors had to shorten sail. The great ship
rocked and rolled as she dashed over the angry sea, the black waves rose
like mountains, high enough to overwhelm her, but she dived like a swan
through them and rose again and again on their towering crests. The
little mermaid thought it a most amusing race, but not so the sailors.
The ship creaked and groaned; the mighty timbers bulged and bent under
the heavy blows; the water broke over the decks, snapping the main mast
like a reed; she heeled over on her side, and the water rushed into the
Now the little mermaid saw that they were in danger, and she
her own sake to beware of the floating beams and wreckage. One moment it
was so pitch dark that she could not see at all, but when the lightning
flashed it became so light that she could see all on board. Every man
was looking out for his own safety as best he could; but she more
particularly followed the young prince with her eyes, and when the ship
went down she saw him sink in the deep sea. At first she was quite
delighted, for now he was coming to be with her, but then she remembered
that human beings could not live under water, and that only if he were
dead could he go to her father's palace. No! he must not die; so she
swam towards him all among the drifting beams and planks, quite
forgetting that they might crush her. She dived deep down under the
water, and came up again through the waves, and at last reached the
young prince just as he was becoming unable to swim any further in the
stormy sea. His limbs were numbed, his beautiful eyes were closing, and
he must have died if the little mermaid had not come to the rescue. She
held his head above the water and let the waves drive them whithersoever
By daybreak all the storm was over, of the ship not a trace was to be
seen; the sun rose from the water in radiant brilliance, and his rosy
beams seemed to cast a glow of life into the prince's cheeks, but his
eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his fair and lofty brow, and
stroked back the dripping hair; it seemed
to her that he was like the
marble statue in her little garden; she kissed him again and longed that
he might live.
At last she saw dry land before her, high blue mountains on whose
summits the white snow glistened as if a flock of swans had settled
there; down by the shore were beautiful green woods, and in the
foreground a church or temple, she did not quite know which, but it was
a building of some sort. Lemon and orange trees grew in the garden, and
lofty palms stood by the gate. At this point the sea formed a little bay
where the water was quite calm, but very deep, right up to the cliffs;
at their foot was a strip of fine white sand to which she swam with the
beautiful prince, and laid him down on it, taking great care that his
head should rest high up in the warm sunshine.
The bells now began to ring in the great white building, and a number of
young maidens came into the garden. Then the little mermaid swam further
off behind some high rocks and covered her hair and breast with foam, so
that no one should see her little face, and then she watched to see who
would discover the poor prince.
His limbs were numbed, his beautiful eyes were closing, and he must
have died if the little mermaid had not come to the rescue.|
It was not long before one of the maidens came up to him. At first she
seemed quite frightened, but only for a moment, and then she fetched
several others, and the mermaid saw that the prince was coming to life,
and that he smiled at all those around him, but he never smiled at her.
You see he did not know that she
had saved him. She felt so sad
that when he was led away into the great building she dived sorrowfully
into the water and made her way home to her father's palace.
Always silent and thoughtful, she became more so now than ever. Her
sisters often asked her what she had seen on her first visit to the
surface, but she never would tell them anything.
Many an evening and many a morning she would rise to the place where she
had left the prince. She saw the fruit in the garden ripen, and then
gathered, she saw the snow melt on the mountain-tops, but she never saw
the prince, so she always went home still sadder than before. At home
her only consolation was to sit in her little garden with her arms
twined round the handsome marble statue which reminded her of the
prince. It was all in gloomy shade now, as she had ceased to tend her
flowers, and the garden had become a neglected wilderness of long stalks
and leaves entangled with the branches of the tree.
At last she could not bear it any longer, so she told one of her
sisters, and from her it soon spread to the others, but to no one else
except to one or two other mermaids who only told their dearest friends.
One of these knew all about the prince; she had also seen the
festivities on the ship; she knew where he came from and where his
kingdom was situated.
'Come, little sister!' said the other princesses, and, throwing
arms round each other's shoulders, they rose from the water in a long
line, just in front of the prince's palace.
It was built of light yellow glistening stone, with great marble
staircases, one of which led into the garden. Magnificent gilded cupolas
rose above the roof, and the spaces between the columns which encircled
the building were filled with life-like marble statues. Through the
clear glass of the lofty windows you could see gorgeous halls adorned
with costly silken hangings, and the pictures on the walls were a sight
worth seeing. In the midst of the central hall a large fountain played,
throwing its jets of spray upwards to a glass dome in the roof, through
which the sunbeams lighted up the water and the beautiful plants which
grew in the great basin.
She knew now where he lived, and often used to go there in the evenings
and by night over the water. She swam much nearer the land than any of
the others dared; she even ventured right up the narrow channel under
the splendid marble terrace which threw a long shadow over the water.
She used to sit here looking at the young prince, who thought he was
quite alone in the clear moonlight.
She saw him many an evening sailing about in his beautiful boat, with
flags waving and music playing; she used to peep through the green
rushes, and if the wind happened to catch her long silvery veil and any
one saw it, they only thought it was a swan flapping its wings.
Many a night she heard the fishermen, who were fishing by torchlight,
talking over the good deeds of the young prince; and she was happy to
think that she had saved his life when he was drifting about on the
waves, half dead, and she could not forget how closely his head had
pressed her breast, and how passionately she had kissed him; but he knew
nothing of all this, and never saw her even in his dreams.
She became fonder and fonder of mankind, and longed more and more to be
able to live among them; their world seemed so infinitely bigger than
hers; with their ships they could scour the ocean, they could ascend the
mountains high above the clouds, and their wooded, grass-grown lands
extended further than her eye could reach. There was so much that she
wanted to know, but her sisters could not give an answer to all her
questions, so she asked her old grandmother, who knew the upper world
well, and rightly called it the country above the sea.
'If men are not drowned,' asked the little mermaid, 'do they live for
ever? Do they not die as we do down here in the sea?'
'Yes,' said the old lady, 'they have to die too, and their lifetime is
even shorter than ours. We may live here for three hundred years, but
when we cease to exist we become mere foam on the water and do not have
so much as a grave among our dear ones. We have no immortal souls; we
have no future life; we are just like the green sea-weed, which, once
cut down, can never revive
again! Men, on the other hand, have a soul
which lives for ever, lives after the body has become dust; it rises
through the clear air, up to the shining stars! Just as we rise from the
water to see the land of mortals, so they rise up to unknown beautiful
regions which we shall never see.'
'Why have we no immortal souls?' asked the little mermaid sadly. 'I
would give all my three hundred years to be a human being for one day,
and afterwards to have a share in the heavenly kingdom.'
'You must not be thinking about that,' said the grandmother; 'we are
much better off and happier than human beings.'
'Then I shall have to die and to float as foam on the water, and never
hear the music of the waves or see the beautiful flowers or the red sun!
Is there nothing I can do to gain an immortal soul?'
'No,' said the grandmother; 'only if a human being so loved you that you
were more to him than father or mother, if all his thoughts and all his
love were so centred in you that he would let the priest join your hands
and would vow to be faithful to you here, and to all eternity; then your
body would become infused with his soul. Thus, and only thus, could you
gain a share in the felicity of mankind. He would give you a soul while
yet keeping his own. But that can never happen! That which is your
greatest beauty in the sea, your fish's tail, is thought hideous up on
earth, so little do they understand about it; to be pretty there you
must have two clumsy supports which they call legs!'
Then the little mermaid sighed and looked sadly at her fish's tail.
'Let us be happy,' said the grandmother; 'we will hop and skip during
our three hundred years of life; it is surely a long enough time; and
after it is over we shall rest all the better in our graves. There is to
be a court ball to-night.'
This was a much more splendid affair than we ever see on earth. The
walls and the ceiling of the great ballroom were of thick but
transparent glass. Several hundreds of colossal mussel shells, rose red
and grass green, were ranged in order round the sides holding blue
lights, which illuminated the whole room and shone through the walls, so
that the sea outside was quite lit up. You could see countless fish,
great and small, swimming towards the glass walls, some with shining
scales of crimson hue, while others were golden and silvery. In the
middle of the room was a broad stream of running water, and on this the
mermaids and mermen danced to their own beautiful singing. No earthly
beings have such lovely voices. The little mermaid sang more sweetly
than any of them, and they all applauded her. For a moment she felt glad
at heart, for she knew that she had the finest voice either in the sea
or on land. But she soon began to think again about the upper world, she
could not forget the handsome prince and
her sorrow in not possessing,
like him, an immortal soul. Therefore she stole out of her father's
palace, and while all within was joy and merriment, she sat sadly in her
little garden. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horn through the water,
and she thought, 'Now he is out sailing up there; he whom I love more
than father or mother, he to whom my thoughts cling and to whose hands I
am ready to commit the happiness of my life. I will dare anything to win
him and to gain an immortal soul! While my sisters are dancing in my
father's palace I will go to the sea-witch, of whom I have always been
very much afraid; she will perhaps be able to advise and help me!'
Thereupon the little mermaid left the garden and went towards the
roaring whirlpools at the back of which the witch lived. She had never
been that way before; no flowers grew there, no seaweed, only the bare
grey sands, stretched towards the whirlpools, which like rushing
mill-wheels swirled round, dragging everything that came within reach
down to the depths. She had to pass between these boiling eddies to
reach the witch's domain, and for a long way the only path led over warm
bubbling mud, which the witch called her 'peat bog.' Her house stood
behind this in the midst of a weird forest. All the trees and bushes
were polyps, half animal and half plant; they looked like hundred-headed
snakes growing out of the sand, the branches were long slimy arms, with
tentacles like wriggling worms, every joint of
which, from the root to
the outermost tip, was in constant motion. They wound themselves tightly
round whatever they could lay hold of and never let it escape. The
little mermaid standing outside was quite frightened, her heart beat
fast with terror and she nearly turned back, but then she remembered the
prince and the immortal soul of mankind and took courage. She bound her
long flowing hair tightly round her head, so that the polyps should not
seize her by it, folded her hands over her breast, and darted like a
fish through the water, in between the hideous polyps, which stretched
out their sensitive arms and tentacles towards her. She could see that
every one of them had something or other, which they had grasped with
their hundred arms, and which they held as if in iron bands. The
bleached bones of men who had perished at sea and sunk below peeped
forth from the arms of some, while others clutched rudders and
sea-chests, or the skeleton of some land animal; and most horrible of
all, a little mermaid whom they had caught and suffocated. Then she came
to a large opening in the wood where the ground was all slimy, and where
some huge fat water snakes were gambolling about. In the middle of this
opening was a house built of the bones of the wrecked; there sat the
witch, letting a toad eat out of her mouth, just as mortals let a little
canary eat sugar. She called the hideous water snakes her little
chickens, and allowed them to crawl about on her unsightly bosom.
'I know very well what you have come here for,' said the witch. 'It is
very foolish of you! all the same you shall have your way, because it
will lead you into misfortune, my fine princess. You want to get rid of
your fish's tail, and instead to have two stumps to walk about upon like
human beings, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and
that you may win him and an immortal soul.' Saying this, she gave such a
loud hideous laugh that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground and
wriggled about there.
'You are just in the nick of time,' said the witch; 'after sunrise
to-morrow I should not be able to help you until another year had run
its course. I will make you a potion, and before sunrise you must swim
ashore with it, seat yourself on the beach and drink it; then your tail
will divide and shrivel up to what men call beautiful legs. But it
hurts; it is as if a sharp sword were running through you. All who see
you will say that you are the most beautiful child of man they have ever
seen. You will keep your gliding gait, no dancer will rival you, but
every step you take will be as if you were treading upon sharp knives,
so sharp as to draw blood. If you are willing to suffer all this I am
ready to help you!'
'Yes!' said the little princess with a trembling voice, thinking of the
prince and of winning an undying soul.
'But remember,' said the witch, 'when once you have received a human
form, you can never be a mermaid again; you will
never again be able to
dive down through the water to your sisters and to your father's palace.
And if you do not succeed in winning the prince's love, so that for your
sake he will forget father and mother, cleave to you with his whole
heart, let the priest join your hands and make you man and wife, you
will gain no immortal soul! The first morning after his marriage with
another your heart will break, and you will turn into foam of the sea.'
'I will do it,' said the little mermaid as pale as death.
'But you will have to pay me, too,' said the witch, 'and it is no trifle
that I demand. You have the most beautiful voice of any at the bottom of
the sea, and I daresay that you think you will fascinate him with it;
but you must give me that voice; I will have the best you possess in
return for my precious potion! I have to mingle my own blood with it so
as to make it as sharp as a two-edged sword.'
'But if you take my voice,' said the little mermaid, 'what have I left?'
'Your beautiful form,' said the witch, 'your gliding gait, and your
speaking eyes; with these you ought surely to be able to bewitch a human
heart. Well! have you lost courage? Put out your little tongue, and I
will cut it off in payment for the powerful draught.'
'Let it be done,' said the little mermaid, and the witch put on her
caldron to brew the magic potion. 'There is nothing like
said she, as she scoured the pot with a bundle of snakes; then she
punctured her breast and let the black blood drop into the caldron, and
the steam took the most weird shapes, enough to frighten any one. Every
moment the witch threw new ingredients into the pot, and when it boiled
the bubbling was like the sound of crocodiles weeping. At last the
potion was ready and it looked like the clearest water.
'There it is,' said the witch, and thereupon she cut off the tongue of
the little mermaid, who was dumb now and could neither sing nor speak.
'If the polyps should seize you, when you go back through my wood,' said
the witch, 'just drop a single drop of this liquid on them, and their
arms and fingers will burst into a thousand pieces.' But the little
mermaid had no need to do this, for at the mere sight of the bright
liquid, which sparkled in her hand like a shining star, they drew back
in terror. So she soon got past the wood, the bog, and the eddying
She saw her father's palace; the lights were all out in the great
ballroom, and no doubt all the household was asleep, but she did not
dare to go in now that she was dumb and about to leave her home for
ever. She felt as if her heart would break with grief. She stole into
the garden and plucked a flower from each of her sisters' plots, wafted
with her hand countless kisses towards the palace, and then rose up
through the dark blue water.
But the little mermaid had no need to do this, for at the mere sight
of the bright liquid which sparkled in her hand like a shining star,
they drew back in terror.|
The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace
and landed at the beautiful marble steps. The moon was shining bright
and clear. The little mermaid drank the burning, stinging draught, and
it was like a sharp, two-edged sword running through her tender frame;
she fainted away and lay as if she were dead. When the sun rose on the
sea she woke up and became conscious of a sharp pang, but just in front
of her stood the handsome young prince, fixing his coal black eyes on
her; she cast hers down and saw that her fish's tail was gone, and that
she had the prettiest little white legs any maiden could desire; but she
was quite naked, so she wrapped her long thick hair around her. The
prince asked who she was and how she came there. She looked at him
tenderly and with a sad expression in her dark blue eyes, but could not
speak. Then he took her by the hand and led her into the palace. Every
step she took was, as the witch had warned her beforehand, as if she
were treading on sharp knives and spikes, but she bore it gladly; led by
the prince, she moved as lightly as a bubble, and he and every one else
marvelled at her graceful gliding gait.
Clothed in the costliest silks and muslins she was the greatest beauty
in the palace, but she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak.
Beautiful slaves clad in silks and gold came forward and sang to the
prince and his royal parents; one of them sang better than all the
others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at
her; that made
the little mermaid very sad, for she knew that she used to sing far
better herself. She thought, 'Oh! if he only knew that for the sake of
being with him I had given up my voice for ever!' Now the slaves began
to dance, graceful undulating dances to enchanting music; thereupon the
little mermaid, lifting her beautiful white arms and raising herself on
tiptoe, glided on the floor with a grace which none of the other dancers
had yet attained. With every motion her grace and beauty became more
apparent, and her eyes appealed more deeply to the heart than the songs
of the slaves. Every one was delighted with it, especially the prince,
who called her his little foundling; and she danced on and on,
notwithstanding that every time her foot touched the ground it was like
treading on sharp knives. The prince said that she should always be near
him, and she was allowed to sleep outside his door on a velvet cushion.
He had a man's dress made for her, so that she could ride about with
him. They used to ride through scented woods, where the green branches
brushed her shoulders, and little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She
climbed up the highest mountains with the prince, and although her
delicate feet bled so that others saw it, she only laughed and followed
him until they saw the clouds sailing below them like a flock of birds,
taking flight to distant lands.
The prince asked who she was and how she came there; she looked at him
tenderly and with a sad expression in her dark blue eyes, but could not
At home in the prince's palace, when at night the others were
asleep, she used to go out on to the marble steps; it cooled her
burning feet to stand in the cold sea-water, and at such times she used
to think of those she had left in the deep.
One night her sisters came arm in arm; they sang so sorrowfully as they
swam on the water that she beckoned to them, and they recognised her,
and told her how she had grieved them all. After that they visited her
every night, and one night she saw, a long way out, her old grandmother
(who for many years had not been above the water), and the Merman King
with his crown on his head; they stretched out their hands towards her,
but did not venture so close to land as her sisters.
Day by day she became dearer to the prince; he loved her as one loves a
good sweet child, but it never entered his head to make her his queen;
yet unless she became his wife she would never win an everlasting soul,
but on his wedding morning would turn to sea-foam.
'Am I not dearer to you than any of them?' the little mermaid's eyes
seemed to say when he took her in his arms and kissed her beautiful
'Yes, you are the dearest one to me,' said the prince, 'for you have the
best heart of them all, and you are fondest of me; you are also like a
young girl I once saw, but whom I never expect to see again. I was on
board a ship which was wrecked; I was driven on shore by the waves close
to a holy Temple where several
young girls were ministering at a
service; the youngest of them found me on the beach and saved my life; I
saw her but twice. She was the only person I could love in this world,
but you are like her, you almost drive her image out of my heart. She
belongs to the holy Temple, and therefore by good fortune you have been
sent to me; we will never part!'
'Alas! he does not know that it was I who saved his life,' thought the
little mermaid. 'I bore him over the sea to the wood where the Temple
stands. I sat behind the foam and watched to see if any one would come.
I saw the pretty girl he loves better than me.' And the mermaid heaved a
bitter sigh, for she could not weep.
'The girl belongs to the holy Temple, he has said; she will never return
to the world, they will never meet again. I am here with him; I see him
every day. Yes! I will tend him, love him, and give up my life to him.'
But now the rumour ran that the prince was to be married to the
beautiful daughter of a neighbouring king, and for that reason was
fitting out a splendid ship. It was given out that the prince was going
on a voyage to see the adjoining countries, but it was without doubt to
see the king's daughter; he was to have a great suite with him. But the
little mermaid shook her head and laughed; she knew the prince's
intentions much better than any of the others. 'I must take this
voyage,' he had said to her; 'I must go and see the beautiful princess;
my parents demand that, but they will never force me to bring her home
as my bride; I can never love her! She will not be like the lovely girl
in the Temple whom you resemble. If ever I had to choose a bride it
would sooner be you with your speaking eyes, my sweet, dumb foundling!'
And he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long hair, and laid his
head upon her heart, which already dreamt of human joys and an immortal
'You are not frightened of the sea, I suppose, my dumb child?' he said,
as they stood on the proud ship which was to carry them to the country
of the neighbouring king; and he told her about storms and calms, about
curious fish in the deep, and the marvels seen by divers; and she smiled
at his tales, for she knew all about the bottom of the sea much better
than any one else.
At night, in the moonlight, when all were asleep, except the steersman
who stood at the helm, she sat at the side of the ship trying to pierce
the clear water with her eyes, and fancied she saw her father's palace,
and above it her old grandmother with her silver crown on her head,
looking up through the cross currents towards the keel of the ship. Then
her sisters rose above the water; they gazed sadly at her, wringing
their white hands. She beckoned to them, smiled, and was about to tell
them that all was going well and happily with her, when the cabin-boy
approached, and the
sisters dived down, but he supposed that the white
objects he had seen were nothing but flakes of foam.
The next morning the ship entered the harbour of the neighbouring king's
magnificent city. The church bells rang and trumpets were sounded from
every lofty tower, while the soldiers paraded with flags flying and
glittering bayonets. There was a fête every day, there was a
succession of balls, and receptions followed one after the other, but
the princess was not yet present; she was being brought up a long way
off, in a holy Temple they said, and was learning all the royal virtues.
At last she came. The little mermaid stood eager to see her beauty, and
she was obliged to confess that a lovelier creature she had never
beheld. Her complexion was exquisitely pure and delicate, and her
trustful eyes of the deepest blue shone through their dark lashes.
'It is you,' said the prince, 'you who saved me when I lay almost
lifeless on the beach?' and he clasped his blushing bride to his heart.
'Oh! I am too happy!' he exclaimed to the little mermaid.
'A greater joy than I had dared to hope for has come to pass. You will
rejoice at my joy, for you love me better than any one.' Then the little
mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were broken already.
His wedding morn would bring death to her and change her to foam.
All the church bells pealed and heralds rode through the town
proclaiming the nuptials. Upon every altar throughout the land fragrant
oil was burnt in costly silver lamps. Amidst the swinging of censers by
the priests the bride and bridegroom joined hands and received the
bishop's blessing. The little mermaid dressed in silk and gold stood
holding the bride's train, but her ears were deaf to the festal strains,
her eyes saw nothing of the sacred ceremony; she was thinking of her
coming death and of all that she had lost in this world.
That same evening the bride and bridegroom embarked, amidst the roar of
cannon and the waving of banners. A royal tent of purple and gold softly
cushioned was raised amidships where the bridal pair were to repose
during the calm cool night.
The sails swelled in the wind and the ship skimmed lightly and almost
without motion over the transparent sea.
At dusk lanterns of many colours were lighted and the sailors danced
merrily on deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of the first
time she came up from the sea and saw the same splendour and gaiety; and
she now threw herself among the dancers, whirling, as a swallow skims
through the air when pursued. The onlookers cheered her in amazement,
never had she danced so divinely; her delicate feet pained her as if
they were cut with knives, but she did not feel it, for the pain at her
heart was much sharper. She knew that it was the last night that she
would breathe the same air as he, and would look upon the mighty deep,
and the blue starry heavens; an endless night without thought and
without dreams awaited her, who neither had a soul, nor could win one.
The joy and revelry on board lasted till long past midnight; she went on
laughing and dancing with the thought of death all the time in her
heart. The prince caressed his lovely bride and she played with his
raven locks, and with their arms entwined they retired to the gorgeous
tent. All became hushed and still on board the ship, only the steersman
stood at the helm; the little mermaid laid her white arms on the gunwale
and looked eastwards for the pink-tinted dawn; the first sunbeam, she
knew, would be her death. Then she saw her sisters rise from the water;
they were as pale as she was; their beautiful long hair no longer
floated on the breeze, for it had been cut off.
Once more she looked at the prince, with her eyes already dimmed by
death, then dashed overboard and fell, her body dissolving into foam.|
'We have given it to the witch to obtain her help, so that you may not
die to-night! She has given us a knife; here it is, look how sharp it
is! Before the sun rises, you must plunge it into the prince's heart,
and when his warm blood sprinkles your feet they will join together and
grow into a tail, and you will once more be a mermaid; you will be able
to come down into the water to us, and to live out your three hundred
years before you are turned into dead, salt sea-foam. Make haste! you or
he must die before sunrise! Our old grandmother is so full of grief that
her white hair has fallen off as ours fell under the witch's scissors.
Slay the prince and come back to us! Quick! Quick! do you not see
the rosy streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise and then
you must die!' saying this they heaved a wondrous deep sigh and sank
among the waves.
The little mermaid drew aside the purple curtain from the tent and
looked at the beautiful bride asleep with her head on the prince's
breast. She bent over him and kissed his fair brow, looked at the sky
where the dawn was spreading fast, looked at the sharp knife, and again
fixed her eyes on the prince, who, in his dream called his bride by
name. Yes! she alone was in his thoughts! For a moment the knife
quivered in her grasp, then she threw it far out among the waves, now
rosy in the morning light, and where it fell the water bubbled up like
drops of blood.
Once more she looked at the prince, with her eyes already dimmed by
death, then dashed overboard and fell, her body dissolving into foam.
Now the sun rose from the sea and with its kindly beams warmed the
deadly cold foam, so that the little mermaid did not feel the chill of
death. She saw the bright sun, and above her floated hundreds of
beauteous ethereal beings, through which she could see the white ship
and the rosy heavens; their voices were melodious, but so spirit-like
that no human ear could hear them, any more than earthly eye could see
their forms. Light as bubbles they floated through the air without the
aid of wings. The little
mermaid perceived that she had a form like
theirs; it gradually took shape out of the foam. 'To whom am I coming?'
said she, and her voice sounded like that of the other beings, so
unearthly in its beauty that no music of ours could reproduce it.
'To the daughters of the air!' answered the others; 'a mermaid has no
undying soul, and can never gain one without winning the love of a human
being. Her eternal life must depend upon an unknown power. Nor have the
daughters of the air an everlasting soul, but by their own good deeds
they may create one for themselves. We fly to the tropics where mankind
is the victim of hot and pestilent winds; there we bring cooling
breezes. We diffuse the scent of flowers all around, and bring
refreshment and healing in our train. When, for three hundred years, we
have laboured to do all the good in our power, we gain an undying soul
and take a part in the everlasting joys of mankind. You, poor little
mermaid, have with your whole heart struggled for the same thing as we
have struggled for. You have suffered and endured, raised yourself to
the spirit-world of the air, and now, by your own good deeds you may, in
the course of three hundred years, work out for yourself an undying
Then the little mermaid lifted her transparent arms towards God's sun,
and for the first time shed tears.
On board ship all was again life and bustle. She saw the prince with his
lovely bride searching for her; they looked sadly at the
as if they knew that she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she
kissed the bride on her brow, smiled at the prince, and rose aloft with
the other spirits of the air to the rosy clouds which sailed above.
'In three hundred years we shall thus float into Paradise.'
'We might reach it sooner,' whispered one. 'Unseen we flit into those
homes of men where there are children, and for every day that we find a
good child who gives pleasure to its parents and deserves their love God
shortens our time of probation. The child does not know when we fly
through the room, and when we smile with pleasure at it one year of our
three hundred is taken away. But if we see a naughty or badly disposed
child, we cannot help shedding tears of sorrow, and every tear adds a
day to the time of our probation.'