THE LITTLE MERMAID

                                  1872

                 FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

                           THE LITTLE MERMAID

                       by Hans Christian Andersen



FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the

prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very

deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church

steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground

beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King

and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the

bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most

singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of

which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water

causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small,

glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon

land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King.

Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of

the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and

close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very

beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for

the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged

mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman, and

exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve

oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only

allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great praise,

especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her

grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest

was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a

rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all

the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish's tail.

All day long they played in the great halls of the castle, or among

the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows

were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our

houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up

to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to

be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in

which grew bright red and dark blue flowers, and blossoms like

flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and

stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest

sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay

a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from

above, through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of

the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a

purple flower, with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the

young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where

she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed

into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers

like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was

round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at

sunset. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her

sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they

obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her

pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue.

It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure

white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.

She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew

splendidly, and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue,

almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved

to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree

and the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave

her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She

made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the

towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and

beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have

fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest

should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so

sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother

called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood

her; for she had never seen birds.

"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the

grand-mother, "you will have permission to rise up out of the sea,

to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are

sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns."

In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as

each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to

wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the

ocean, and see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell

the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought the

most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough;

there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of

them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who

had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful.

Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the

dark blue water, and watching the fish as they splashed about with

their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining

faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to

our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and

them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a

ship full of human beings, who never imagined that a pretty little

mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards

the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to

the surface of the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of

things to talk about; but the most beautiful, she said, was to lie

in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the coast, and

to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like

hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise

of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the

merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could

not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more

than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these

descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window

looking up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city,

with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the

sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to

the surface of the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She

rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most

beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet

and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over

her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of

wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white veil

across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the

waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister's turn followed; she was the boldest of them all,

and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the

banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and

castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she

heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that

she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning

face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human

children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted

to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a

little black animal came to the water; it was a dog, but she did not

know that, for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at

her so terribly that she became frightened, and rushed back to the

open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest,

the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in

the water, although they had not fish's tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the

sea, but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the

land. She could see for so many miles around her, and the sky above

looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a

great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported

in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils

till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every

direction.

The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter; so when her

turn came, she saw what the others had not seen the first time they

went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were

floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier

than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes,

and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the

largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked

that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as

they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards

evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the

thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the red light glowed

on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all

the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat

calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it

darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they

were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but

now, as grown-up girls, they could go when they pleased, and they

had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again

in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much

more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in

the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms round

each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful

voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a

storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before

the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths

of the sea, and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the

bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song, they took it

for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be

beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and

their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this

way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after

them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and

therefore they suffer more. "Oh, were I but fifteen years old," said

she: "I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the

people who live in it."

At last she reached her fifteenth year. "Well, now, you are

grown up," said the old dowager, her grandmother; "so you must let

me adorn you like your other sisters;" and she placed a wreath of

white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then

the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the

tail of the princess to show her high rank.

"But they hurt me so," said the little mermaid.

"Pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she

would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy

wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much

better, but she could not help herself: so she said, "Farewell," and

rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had

just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were

tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight

beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the

air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on

the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the

sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and

song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns

were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The

little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as

the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass

window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among

them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black

eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept

with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the

prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in

the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so

startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched

out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling

around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns

spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and

everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship

itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the

smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how

handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all

present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the

clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes

from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns

had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon

had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning,

grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little

mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the

water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were

quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon

the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning

appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once

more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying

course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if

they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan

between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To

the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the

sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave

way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the

mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side;

and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the

crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to

avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the

water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a

single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene;

she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince;

when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and

she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she

remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when

he got down to her father's palace he would be quite dead. But he must

not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed

the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to

pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and

falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the

young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy

sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and

he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his

assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift

them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a

single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from

the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the

prince's cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed

his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to

her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him

again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight

of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow

rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast

were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building,

whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron

trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The

sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still,

but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach,

which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the

warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body.

Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of

young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out

farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that

rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the

foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched

to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long

before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed

frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a

number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life

again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent

no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very

unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived

down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father's

castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was

more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during

her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them

nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where

she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till

they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away;

but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home,

always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in

her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble

statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers,

and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long

leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole

place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer,

and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the

secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate

friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the

festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came

from, and where his palace stood.

"Come, little sister," said the other princesses; then they

entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the

water, close by the spot where they knew the prince's palace stood. It

was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of

marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid

gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that

surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble.

Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble

rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the

walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to

look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its

sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through

which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful

plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew

where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the

water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any

of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow

channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the

water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought

himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of

an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags

waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind

caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be

a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the

fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them

relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince,

that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about

half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on

her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of

all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond

of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about

with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own.

They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which

were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods

and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight.

There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable

to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old

grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very

rightly called the lands above the sea.

"If human beings are not drowned," asked the little mermaid,

"can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?"

"Yes," replied the old lady, "they must also die, and their term

of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three

hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam

on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of

those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live

again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we

can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul

which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust.

It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars.

As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth,

so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never

see."

"Why have not we an immortal soul?" asked the little mermaid

mournfully; "I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have

to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of

knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars."

"You must not think of that," said the old woman; "we feel

ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings."

"So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the

sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the

waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything

I can do to win an immortal soul?"

"No," said the old woman, "unless a man were to love you so much

that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his

thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed

his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and

hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would

obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a

soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen.

Your fish's tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is

thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and

they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs,

in order to be handsome."

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her

fish's tail. "Let us be happy," said the old lady, "and dart and

spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live,

which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves

all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball."

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on

earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick,

but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a

deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with

blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone

through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable

fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of

them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they

shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream,

and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own

sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs.

The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court

applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt

quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or

in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she

could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had

not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out

of her father's palace, and while everything within was gladness and

song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she

heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought- "He is

certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose

hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will

venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are

dancing in my father's palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I

have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and

help."

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the

road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived.

She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew

there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the

whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round

everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep.

Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid

was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also

for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm,

bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her

house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and

flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like

serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The

branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms,

moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be

reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never

escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what

she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she

was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of

the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She

fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi

might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her

bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water,

between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were

stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp

something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were

iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at

sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land

animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped

by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught

and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the

little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large,

fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly,

drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built

with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch,

allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a

canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her

little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

"I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid

of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to

sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish's tail,

and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so

that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have

an immortal soul." And then the witch laughed so loud and

disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay

there wriggling about. "You are but just in time," said the witch;

"for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the

end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which

you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the

shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up

into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a

sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that

you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still

have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will

ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if

you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow.

If you will bear all this, I will help you."

"Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as

she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

"But think again," said the witch; "for when once your shape has

become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will

never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father's

palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he

is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to

love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your

hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an

immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart

will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves."

"I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as

death.

"But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle

that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the

depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm

the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the

best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own

blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged

sword."

"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is

left for me?"

"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive

eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have

you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it

off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught."

"It shall be," said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the

magic draught.

"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel

with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she

pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it.

The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no

one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw

something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound

was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught

was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you,"

said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue, so that she

became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi

should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the

witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers

will be torn into a thousand pieces." But the little mermaid had no

occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they

caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a

twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and

between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace

the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within

asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb

and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break.

She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of

each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the

palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not

risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached

the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright.

Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a

two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon,

and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea,

she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the

handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so

earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her

fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white

legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no

clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince

asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at

him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could

not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would

be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp

knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the

prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her

wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon

arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful

creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak

nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward

and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than

all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her.

This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more

sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he

could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with

him."

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the

sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely

white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the

floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment

her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more

directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was

enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling;

and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time

her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives."

The prince said she should remain with him always, and she

received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He

had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on

horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where

the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang

among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of

high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her

steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they

could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds

travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when

all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad

marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the

cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing

sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and

then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After

that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the

distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the

sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown

on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they

did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved

her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head

to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not

receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage

with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

"Do you not love me the best of them all?" the eyes of the

little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed

her fair forehead.

"Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best

heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden

whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship

that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple,

where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of

them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice,

and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are

like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She

belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me

instead of her; and we will never part."

"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the

little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the

temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human

beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves

better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could

not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple,

therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no

more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take

care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake."

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the

beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine

ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely

intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he

really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with

him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the

prince's thoughts better than any of the others.

"I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful

princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring

her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful

maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose

a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those

expressive eyes." And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her

long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of

human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the

sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble

ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king.

And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the

deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she

smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what

wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man

at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down

through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her

father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver

crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the

vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her

mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and

smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but

the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought

it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful

town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The

church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish

of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets,

lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival;

balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was

being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was

learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little

mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful,

was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect

vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long

dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

"It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay

dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh,

I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes

are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion

to me is great and sincere."

The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart

were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and

she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells

rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal.

Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The

priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their

hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid,

dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears

heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy

ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her,

and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride

and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving,

and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had

been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the

bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a

favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea.

When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the

sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not

help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen

similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised

herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all

present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly

before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she

cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She

knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for

whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her

beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while

he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would

breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the

deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her:

she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and

gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and

danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart.

The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven

hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all

became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at

the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of

the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of

morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She

saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself;

but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had

been cut off.

"We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain

help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife:

here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge

it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your

feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish's tail, and

you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your

three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea

foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old

grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off

from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the

prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks

in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die." And

then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the

waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent,

and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's

breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky

on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at

the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered

the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and

the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung

it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it

fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one

more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw

herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was

dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm

rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel

as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her

floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see

through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the

sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by

mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little

mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she

continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I?"

asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who

were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid

has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the

love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal

destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an

immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves.

We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys

mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to

spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred

years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and

take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid,

have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have

suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your

good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same

way, you may obtain an immortal soul."

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun,

and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in

which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw

him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they

gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself

into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and

fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air

to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

"After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom

of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered

one of her companions. "Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where

there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child,

who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of

probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through

the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count

one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or

a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is

added to our time of trial!"

                        THE END

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