Once upon a time… there lived an unhappy young girl. Unhappy she was, for her mother was dead, her father had married another woman, a widow with two daughters, and her stepmother didn’t like her one little bit. All the nice things, kind thoughts and loving touches were for her own daughters. And not just the kind thoughts and love, but also dresses, shoes, shawls, delicious food, comfy beds, as well as every home comfort. All this was laid on for her daughters. But, for the poor unhappy girl, there was nothing at all. No dresses, only her stepsisters’ hand-me-downs. No lovely dishes, nothing but scraps. No nice rests and comfort. For she had to work hard all day, and only when evening came was she allowed to sit for a while
by the fire, near the cinders. That is how she got her nickname, for everybody called her Cinderella. Cinderella used to spend long hours all alone talking to the cat. The cat said,
Miaow, which really meant, Cheer up! You have something neither of your stepsisters have and that is beauty.
It was quite true. Cindaralla, even dressed in rags with a dusty gray face from the cinders, was a lovely girl. While her stepsisters, no matter how splendid and elegant their clothes, were still clumsy, lumpy and ugly and always would be.
One day, beautiful new dresses arrived at the house. A ball was to be held at Court and the stepsisters were getting ready to go to it. Cinderella, didn’t even dare ask, “What about me?” for she knew very well what the answer to that would be:
“You? My dear girl, you’re staying at home to wash the dishes, scrub the floors and turn down the beds for your stepsisters. They will come home tired and very sleepy.” Cinderella sighed at the cat.
“Oh dear, I’m so unhappy!” and the cat murmured “Miaow”.
Suddenly something amazing happened. In the kitchen, where Cinderella was sitting all by herself, there was a burst of light and a fairy appeared.
“Don’t be alarmed, Cinderella,” said the fairy. “The wind blew me your sighs. I know you would love to go to the ball. And so you shall!”
“How can I, dressed in rags?” Cinderella replied. “The servants will turn me away!” The fairy smiled. With a flick of her magic wand… Cinderella found herself wearing the most beautiful dress, the loveliest ever seen in the realm.
“Now that we have settled the matter of the dress,” said the fairy, “we’ll need to get you a coach. A real lady would never go to a ball on foot!”
“Quick! Get me a pumpkin!” she ordered.
“Oh of course,” said Cinderella, rushing away. Then the fairy turned to the cat.
“You, bring me seven mice!”
“Seven mice!” said the cat. “I didn’t know fairies ate mice too!”
“They’re not for eating, silly! Do as you are told!… and, remember they must be alive!”
Cinderella soon returned with a fine pumpkin and the cat with seven mice he had caught in the cellar.
“Good!” exclaimed the fairy. With a flick of her magic wand… wonder of wonders! The pumpkin turned into a sparkling coach and the mice became six white horses, while the seventh mouse turned into a coachman, in a smart uniform and carrying a whip. Cinderella could hardly believe her eyes.
“I shall present you at Court. You will soon see that the Prince, in whose honor the ball is being held, will be enchanted by your loveliness. But remember! You must leave the ball at midnight and come home. For that is when the spell ends. Your coach will turn back into a pumpkin, the horses will become mice again and the coachman will turn back into a mouse… and you will be dressed again in rags and wearing clogs instead of these dainty little slippers! Do you understand?” Cinderella smiled and said,
“Yes, I understand!”
When Cinderella entered the ballroom at the palace, a hush fell. Everyone stopped in mid-sentence to admire her elegance, her beauty and grace.
“Who can that be?” people asked each other. The two stepsisters also wondered who the newcomer was, for never in a month of Sundays, would they ever have guessed that the beautiful girl was really poor Cinderella who talked to the cat!
When the prince set eyes on Cinderella, he was struck by her beauty. Walking over to her, he bowed deeply and asked her to dance. And to the great disappointment of all the young ladies, he danced with Cinderella all evening.
“Who are you, fair maiden?” the Prince kept asking her. But Cinderella only replied:
“What does it matter who I am! You will never see me again anyway.”
“Oh, but I shall, I’m quite certain!” he replied.
Cinderella had a wonderful time at the ball… But, all of a sudden, she heard the sound of a clock: the first stroke of midnight! She remembered what the fairy had said, and without a word of goodbye she slipped from the Prince’s arms and ran down the steps. As she ran she lost one of her slippers, but not for a moment did she dream of stopping to pick it up! If the last stroke of midnight were to sound… oh… what a disaster that would be! Out she fled and vanished into the night.
The Prince, who was now madly in love with her, picked up her slipper and said to his ministers,
“Go and search everywhere for the girl whose foot this slipper fits. I will never be content until I find her!” So the ministers tried the slipper on the foot of all the girls… and on Cinderella’s foot as well… Surprise! The slipper fitted perfectly.
“That awful untidy girl simply cannot have been at the ball,” snapped the stepmother. “Tell the Prince he ought to marry one of my two daughters! Can’t you see how ugly Cinderella is! Can’t you see?”
Suddenly she broke off, for the fairy had appeared.
“That’s enough!” she exclaimed, raising her magic wand. In a flash, Cinderella appeared in a splendid dress, shining with youth and beauty. Her stepmother and stepsisters gaped at her in amazement, and the ministers said,
“Come with us, fair maiden! The Prince awaits to present you with his engagement ring!” So Cinderella joyfully went with them, and lived happily ever after with her Prince. And as for the cat, he just said “Miaow”!
วันพฤหัสบดีที่ 16 ธันวาคม พ.ศ. 2553
Sleeping Beauty
A long time ago there were a king and queen who were unhappy because they were childless. But it happened that once when the queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, “Your wish shall be fulfilled, before a year has gone by, you shall have a daughter.”
What the frog had said came true, and the queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the king could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends and acquaintances, but also the wise women, in order that they might be kind and well disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them had to be left at home.
A long time ago there were a king and queen who were unhappy because they were childless. But it happened that once when the queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, “Your wish shall be fulfilled, before a year has gone by, you shall have a daughter.”
What the frog had said came true, and the queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the king could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends and acquaintances, but also the wise women, in order that they might be kind and well disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them had to be left at home.
The feast was held with all manner of splendor and when it came to an end the wise women bestowed their magic gifts upon the baby – one gave virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything in the world that one can wish for.
When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the thirteenth came in. She wished to avenge herself for not having been invited, and without greeting, or even looking at anyone, she cried with a loud voice, “The king’s daughter shall in her fifteenth year prick herself with a spindle, and fall down dead.” And, without saying a word more, she turned round and left the room.
They were all shocked, but the twelfth, whose good wish still remained unspoken, came forward, and as she could not undo the evil sentence, but only soften it, she said, it shall not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years, into which the princess shall fall.
The king, who would fain keep his dear child from the misfortune, gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the wise women were plenteously fulfilled on the young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest, good-natured, and wise, that everyone who saw her was bound to love her.
It happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years old, the king and queen were not at home, and the maiden was left in the palace quite alone. So she went round into all sorts of places, looked into rooms and bed-chambers just as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow winding staircase, and reached a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, busily spinning her flax.
“Good day, old mother,” said the king’s daughter, “what are you doing there?”
“I am spinning,” said the old woman, and nodded her head.
“What sort of thing is that, that rattles round so merrily,” said the girl, and she took the spindle and wanted to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the spindle when the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it.
And, in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell down upon the bed that stood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this sleep extended over the whole palace, the king and queen who had just come home, and had entered the great hall, began to go to sleep, and the whole of the court with them. The horses, too, went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons upon the roof, the flies on the wall, even the fire that was flaming on the hearth became quiet and slept, the roast meat left off frizzling, and the cook, who was just going to pull the hair of the scullery boy, because he had forgotten something, let him go, and went to sleep. And the wind fell, and on the trees before the castle not a leaf moved again.
But round about the castle there began to grow a hedge of thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew close up round the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag upon the roof. But the story of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose, for so the princess was named, went about the country, so that from time to time kings’ sons came and tried to get through the thorny hedge into the castle. But they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast together, as if they had hands, and the youths were caught in them, could not get loose again, and died a miserable death.
After long, long years a king’s son came again to that country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn hedge, and that a castle was said to stand behind it in which a wonderfully beautiful princess, named Briar Rose,
had been asleep for a hundred years, and that the king and queen and the whole court were asleep likewise. He had heard, too, from his grandfather, that many kings, sons had already come, and had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had remained sticking fast in it, and had died a pitiful death.
Then the youth said, “I am not afraid, I will go and see the beautiful Briar Rose.” The good old man might dissuade him as he would, he did not listen to his words.
But by this time the hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when Briar Rose was to awake again. When the king’s son came near to the thorn hedge, it was nothing but large and beautiful flowers, which parted from each other of their own accord, and let him pass unhurt, then they closed again behind him like a hedge. In the castle yard he saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep, on the roof sat the pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he entered the house, the flies were asleep upon the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to seize the boy, and the maid was sitting by the black hen which she was going to pluck.
He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the king and queen. Then he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room where Briar Rose was sleeping.
There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away, and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, Briar Rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite sweetly.
Then they went down together, and the king awoke, and the queen, and the whole court, and looked at each other in great astonishment. And the horses in the courtyard stood up and shook themselves, the hounds jumped up and wagged their tails, the pigeons upon the roof pulled out their heads from under their wings, looked round, and flew into the open country, the flies on the wall crept again, the fire in the kitchen burned up and flickered and cooked the meat, the joint began to turn and sizzle again, and the cook gave the boy such a box on the ear that he screamed, and the maid finished plucking the fowl.
And then the marriage of the king’s son with Briar Rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days.
What the frog had said came true, and the queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the king could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends and acquaintances, but also the wise women, in order that they might be kind and well disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them had to be left at home.
A long time ago there were a king and queen who were unhappy because they were childless. But it happened that once when the queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, “Your wish shall be fulfilled, before a year has gone by, you shall have a daughter.”
What the frog had said came true, and the queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the king could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends and acquaintances, but also the wise women, in order that they might be kind and well disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them had to be left at home.
The feast was held with all manner of splendor and when it came to an end the wise women bestowed their magic gifts upon the baby – one gave virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything in the world that one can wish for.
When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the thirteenth came in. She wished to avenge herself for not having been invited, and without greeting, or even looking at anyone, she cried with a loud voice, “The king’s daughter shall in her fifteenth year prick herself with a spindle, and fall down dead.” And, without saying a word more, she turned round and left the room.
They were all shocked, but the twelfth, whose good wish still remained unspoken, came forward, and as she could not undo the evil sentence, but only soften it, she said, it shall not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years, into which the princess shall fall.
The king, who would fain keep his dear child from the misfortune, gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the wise women were plenteously fulfilled on the young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest, good-natured, and wise, that everyone who saw her was bound to love her.
It happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years old, the king and queen were not at home, and the maiden was left in the palace quite alone. So she went round into all sorts of places, looked into rooms and bed-chambers just as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow winding staircase, and reached a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, busily spinning her flax.
“Good day, old mother,” said the king’s daughter, “what are you doing there?”
“I am spinning,” said the old woman, and nodded her head.
“What sort of thing is that, that rattles round so merrily,” said the girl, and she took the spindle and wanted to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the spindle when the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it.
And, in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell down upon the bed that stood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this sleep extended over the whole palace, the king and queen who had just come home, and had entered the great hall, began to go to sleep, and the whole of the court with them. The horses, too, went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons upon the roof, the flies on the wall, even the fire that was flaming on the hearth became quiet and slept, the roast meat left off frizzling, and the cook, who was just going to pull the hair of the scullery boy, because he had forgotten something, let him go, and went to sleep. And the wind fell, and on the trees before the castle not a leaf moved again.
But round about the castle there began to grow a hedge of thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew close up round the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag upon the roof. But the story of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose, for so the princess was named, went about the country, so that from time to time kings’ sons came and tried to get through the thorny hedge into the castle. But they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast together, as if they had hands, and the youths were caught in them, could not get loose again, and died a miserable death.
After long, long years a king’s son came again to that country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn hedge, and that a castle was said to stand behind it in which a wonderfully beautiful princess, named Briar Rose,
had been asleep for a hundred years, and that the king and queen and the whole court were asleep likewise. He had heard, too, from his grandfather, that many kings, sons had already come, and had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had remained sticking fast in it, and had died a pitiful death.
Then the youth said, “I am not afraid, I will go and see the beautiful Briar Rose.” The good old man might dissuade him as he would, he did not listen to his words.
But by this time the hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when Briar Rose was to awake again. When the king’s son came near to the thorn hedge, it was nothing but large and beautiful flowers, which parted from each other of their own accord, and let him pass unhurt, then they closed again behind him like a hedge. In the castle yard he saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep, on the roof sat the pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he entered the house, the flies were asleep upon the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to seize the boy, and the maid was sitting by the black hen which she was going to pluck.
He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the king and queen. Then he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room where Briar Rose was sleeping.
There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away, and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, Briar Rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite sweetly.
Then they went down together, and the king awoke, and the queen, and the whole court, and looked at each other in great astonishment. And the horses in the courtyard stood up and shook themselves, the hounds jumped up and wagged their tails, the pigeons upon the roof pulled out their heads from under their wings, looked round, and flew into the open country, the flies on the wall crept again, the fire in the kitchen burned up and flickered and cooked the meat, the joint began to turn and sizzle again, and the cook gave the boy such a box on the ear that he screamed, and the maid finished plucking the fowl.
And then the marriage of the king’s son with Briar Rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Once upon a time in a great castle, a Prince’s daughter grew up happy and contented, in spite of a jealous stepmother. She was very pretty, with blue eyes and long black hair. Her skin was delicate and fair, and so she was called Snow White.
Though her stepmother was a wicked woman, she too was very beautiful, and a magic mirror told her this every day, whenever she asked it. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the loveliest lady in the land?” The reply was always; “You are, your Majesty,” until the dreadful day when she heard it say, “Snow White is the loveliest in the land.” The stepmother was furious and, wild with jealousy, began plotting to get rid of her. Calling one of her servants, she bribed him with a rich reward to take Snow White into the forest, far away from the castle. Then, unseen, he was to put her to death. The greedy servant, attracted to the reward, agreed to do this deed, and he led the sweet little girl away. However, when they came to the fatal spot, the man’s courage betrayed him and, leaving Snow White sitting beside a tree, he mumbled an excuse and ran off. Snow White was thus left all alone in the forest.
Night came, but the servant did not return. Snow White, alone in the dark forest, began to cry bitterly. She thought she could feel terrible eyes spying on her, and she heard strange sounds and rustlings that made her heart thump. At last, overcome by tiredness, she fell asleep curled under a tree.
Snow White slept fitfully, wakening from time to time with a start and staring into the darkness round her. Several times, she thought she felt something, or somebody touch her as she slept.
At last, dawn woke the forest to the song of the birds, and Snow White too, awoke. A whole world was stirring to life and the little girl was glad to see how silly her fears had been. However, the thick trees were like a wall round her, and as she tried to find out where she was, she came upon a path. She walked along it, till she came to a clearing. There stood a strange cottage, with a tiny door, tiny windows and a tiny chimney pot. Everything about the cottage was much tinier than it ought to be. Snow White pushed the door open.
“l wonder who lives here?” she said to herself, peeping round the kitchen. “What tiny plates! And spoons! There must be
seven of them, the table’s laid for seven people.” Upstairs was a bedroom with seven neat little beds. Going back to the kitchen, Snow White had an idea.
“I’ll make them something to eat. When they come home, they’ll be glad to find a meal ready.” Towards dusk, seven tiny men marched homewards singing. But when they opened the door, to their surprise they found a bowl of hot steaming soup on the table. Upstairs was Snow White, fast asleep on one of the beds. The chief dwarf prodded her gently.
“Who are you?” he asked. Snow White told them her sad story, and tears sprang to the dwarfs’ eyes. Then one of them said, as he noisily blew his nose:
“Stay here with us!”
“Hooray! Hooray!” they cheered, dancing joyfully round the little girl. The dwarfs said to Snow White:
“You can live here and tend to the house while we’re down the mine. Don’t worry about your stepmother leaving you in the forest. We love you and we’ll take care of you!” Snow White gratefully accepted their hospitality, and next morning the dwarfs set off for work. But they warned Snow White not to open the door to strangers.
Meanwhile, the servant had returned to the castle, with the heart of a roe deer. He gave it to the cruel stepmother, telling her it belonged to Snow White, so that he could claim the reward. Highly pleased, the stepmother turned again to the magic mirror. But her hopes were dashed, for the mirror replied: “The loveliest in the land is still Snow White, who lives in the seven dwarfs’ cottage, down in the forest.” The stepmother was beside herself with rage.
“She must die! She must die!” she screamed. Disguising herself as an old peasant woman, she put a poisoned apple with the others in her basket. Then, taking the quickest way into the forest, she crossed the swamp at the edge of the trees. She reached the bank unseen, just as Snow White stood waving goodbye to the seven dwarfs on their way to the mine.
Snow White was in the kitchen when she heard the sound at the door: KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Who’s there?” she called suspiciously, remembering the dwarfs advice.
“I’m an old peasant woman selling apples,” came the reply.
“I don’t need any apples, thank you,” she replied.
“But they are beautiful apples and ever so juicy!” said the velvety voice from outside the door.
“I’m not supposed to open the door to anyone,” said the little girl, who was reluctant to disobey her friends.
“And quite right too! Good girl! If you promised not to open up to strangers, then of course you can’t buy. You are a good girl indeed!” Then the old woman went on.
“And as a reward for being good, I’m going to make you a gift of one of my apples!” Without a further thought, Snow White opened the door just a tiny crack, to take the apple.
“There! Now isn’t that a nice apple?” Snow White bit into the fruit, and as she did, fell to the ground in a faint: the effect of the terrible poison left her lifeless instantly.
Now chuckling evilly, the wicked stepmother hurried off. But as she ran back across the swamp, she tripped and fell into the quicksand. No one heard her cries for help, and she disappeared without a trace.
Meanwhile, the dwarfs came out of the mine to find the sky had grown dark and stormy. Loud thunder echoed through the valleys and streaks of lightning ripped the sky. Worried about Snow White they ran as quickly as they could down the mountain to the cottage.
There they found Snow White, lying still and lifeless, the poisoned apple by her side. They did their best to bring her alive, but it was of no use.
They wept and wept for a long time. Then they laid her on a bed of rose petals, carried her into the forest and put her in a crystal coffin.
Each day they laid a flower there.
Then one evening, they discovered a strange young man admiring Snow White’s lovely face through the glass. After listening to the story, the Prince (for he was a prince!) made a suggestion.
“If you allow me to take her to the Castle, I’ll call in famous doctors to waken her from this peculiar sleep. She’s so lovely I’d love to kiss her!” He did, and as though by magic, the Prince’s kiss broke the spell. To everyone’s astonishment, Snow White opened her eyes. She had amazingly come back to life! Now in love, the Prince asked Snow White to marry him, and the dwarfs reluctantly had to bid good bye to Snow White.
From that day on, Snow White lived happily in a great castle. But from time to time, she was drawn back to visit the little cottage down in the forest, to her dwarf friends.
Though her stepmother was a wicked woman, she too was very beautiful, and a magic mirror told her this every day, whenever she asked it. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the loveliest lady in the land?” The reply was always; “You are, your Majesty,” until the dreadful day when she heard it say, “Snow White is the loveliest in the land.” The stepmother was furious and, wild with jealousy, began plotting to get rid of her. Calling one of her servants, she bribed him with a rich reward to take Snow White into the forest, far away from the castle. Then, unseen, he was to put her to death. The greedy servant, attracted to the reward, agreed to do this deed, and he led the sweet little girl away. However, when they came to the fatal spot, the man’s courage betrayed him and, leaving Snow White sitting beside a tree, he mumbled an excuse and ran off. Snow White was thus left all alone in the forest.
Night came, but the servant did not return. Snow White, alone in the dark forest, began to cry bitterly. She thought she could feel terrible eyes spying on her, and she heard strange sounds and rustlings that made her heart thump. At last, overcome by tiredness, she fell asleep curled under a tree.
Snow White slept fitfully, wakening from time to time with a start and staring into the darkness round her. Several times, she thought she felt something, or somebody touch her as she slept.
At last, dawn woke the forest to the song of the birds, and Snow White too, awoke. A whole world was stirring to life and the little girl was glad to see how silly her fears had been. However, the thick trees were like a wall round her, and as she tried to find out where she was, she came upon a path. She walked along it, till she came to a clearing. There stood a strange cottage, with a tiny door, tiny windows and a tiny chimney pot. Everything about the cottage was much tinier than it ought to be. Snow White pushed the door open.
“l wonder who lives here?” she said to herself, peeping round the kitchen. “What tiny plates! And spoons! There must be
seven of them, the table’s laid for seven people.” Upstairs was a bedroom with seven neat little beds. Going back to the kitchen, Snow White had an idea.
“I’ll make them something to eat. When they come home, they’ll be glad to find a meal ready.” Towards dusk, seven tiny men marched homewards singing. But when they opened the door, to their surprise they found a bowl of hot steaming soup on the table. Upstairs was Snow White, fast asleep on one of the beds. The chief dwarf prodded her gently.
“Who are you?” he asked. Snow White told them her sad story, and tears sprang to the dwarfs’ eyes. Then one of them said, as he noisily blew his nose:
“Stay here with us!”
“Hooray! Hooray!” they cheered, dancing joyfully round the little girl. The dwarfs said to Snow White:
“You can live here and tend to the house while we’re down the mine. Don’t worry about your stepmother leaving you in the forest. We love you and we’ll take care of you!” Snow White gratefully accepted their hospitality, and next morning the dwarfs set off for work. But they warned Snow White not to open the door to strangers.
Meanwhile, the servant had returned to the castle, with the heart of a roe deer. He gave it to the cruel stepmother, telling her it belonged to Snow White, so that he could claim the reward. Highly pleased, the stepmother turned again to the magic mirror. But her hopes were dashed, for the mirror replied: “The loveliest in the land is still Snow White, who lives in the seven dwarfs’ cottage, down in the forest.” The stepmother was beside herself with rage.
“She must die! She must die!” she screamed. Disguising herself as an old peasant woman, she put a poisoned apple with the others in her basket. Then, taking the quickest way into the forest, she crossed the swamp at the edge of the trees. She reached the bank unseen, just as Snow White stood waving goodbye to the seven dwarfs on their way to the mine.
Snow White was in the kitchen when she heard the sound at the door: KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Who’s there?” she called suspiciously, remembering the dwarfs advice.
“I’m an old peasant woman selling apples,” came the reply.
“I don’t need any apples, thank you,” she replied.
“But they are beautiful apples and ever so juicy!” said the velvety voice from outside the door.
“I’m not supposed to open the door to anyone,” said the little girl, who was reluctant to disobey her friends.
“And quite right too! Good girl! If you promised not to open up to strangers, then of course you can’t buy. You are a good girl indeed!” Then the old woman went on.
“And as a reward for being good, I’m going to make you a gift of one of my apples!” Without a further thought, Snow White opened the door just a tiny crack, to take the apple.
“There! Now isn’t that a nice apple?” Snow White bit into the fruit, and as she did, fell to the ground in a faint: the effect of the terrible poison left her lifeless instantly.
Now chuckling evilly, the wicked stepmother hurried off. But as she ran back across the swamp, she tripped and fell into the quicksand. No one heard her cries for help, and she disappeared without a trace.
Meanwhile, the dwarfs came out of the mine to find the sky had grown dark and stormy. Loud thunder echoed through the valleys and streaks of lightning ripped the sky. Worried about Snow White they ran as quickly as they could down the mountain to the cottage.
There they found Snow White, lying still and lifeless, the poisoned apple by her side. They did their best to bring her alive, but it was of no use.
They wept and wept for a long time. Then they laid her on a bed of rose petals, carried her into the forest and put her in a crystal coffin.
Each day they laid a flower there.
Then one evening, they discovered a strange young man admiring Snow White’s lovely face through the glass. After listening to the story, the Prince (for he was a prince!) made a suggestion.
“If you allow me to take her to the Castle, I’ll call in famous doctors to waken her from this peculiar sleep. She’s so lovely I’d love to kiss her!” He did, and as though by magic, the Prince’s kiss broke the spell. To everyone’s astonishment, Snow White opened her eyes. She had amazingly come back to life! Now in love, the Prince asked Snow White to marry him, and the dwarfs reluctantly had to bid good bye to Snow White.
From that day on, Snow White lived happily in a great castle. But from time to time, she was drawn back to visit the little cottage down in the forest, to her dwarf friends.
THE BIRD OF POPULAR SONG
IT is winter-time. The earth wears a snowy garment, and
looks like marble hewn out of the rock; the air is bright and
clear; the wind is sharp as a well-tempered sword, and the
trees stand like branches of white coral or blooming almond
twigs, and here it is keen as on the lofty Alps.
The night is splendid in the gleam of the Northern Lights,
and in the glitter of innumerable twinkling stars.
But we sit in the warm room, by the hot stove, and talk
about the old times. And we listen to this story:
By the open sea was a giant’s grave; and on the
grave-mound sat at midnight the spirit of the buried hero, who
had been a king. The golden circlet gleamed on his brow, his
hair fluttered in the wind, and he was clad in steel and iron.
He bent his head mournfully, and sighed in deep sorrow, as an
unquiet spirit might sigh.
And a ship came sailing by. Presently the sailors lowered
the anchor and landed. Among them was a singer, and he
approached the royal spirit, and said,
“Why mournest thou, and wherefore dost thou suffer thus?”
And the dead man answered,
“No one has sung the deeds of my life; they are dead and
forgotten. Song doth not carry them forth over the lands, nor
into the hearts of men; therefore I have no rest and no
peace.”
And he spoke of his works, and of his warlike deeds, which
his contemporaries had known, but which had not been sung,
because there was no singer among his companions.
Then the old bard struck the strings of his harp, and sang
of the youthful courage of the hero, of the strength of the
man, and of the greatness of his good deeds. Then the face of
the dead one gleamed like the margin of the cloud in the
moonlight. Gladly and of good courage, the form arose in
splendor and in majesty, and vanished like the glancing of the
northern light. Nought was to be seen but the green turfy
mound, with the stones on which no Runic record has been
graven; but at the last sound of the harp there soared over
the hill, as though he had fluttered from the harp, a little
bird, a charming singing-bird, with ringing voice of the
thrush, with the moving voice pathos of the human heart, with
a voice that told of home, like the voice that is heard by the
bird of passage. The singing-bird soared away, over mountain
and valley, over field and wood- he was the Bird of Popular
Song, who never dies.
We hear his song- we hear it now in the room while the
white bees are swarming without, and the storm clutches the
windows. The bird sings not alone the requiem of heroes; he
sings also sweet gentle songs of love, so many and so warm, of
Northern fidelity and truth. He has stories in words and in
tones; he has proverbs and snatches of proverbs; songs which,
like Runes laid under a dead man’s tongue, force him to speak;
and thus Popular Song tells of the land of his birth.
In the old heathen days, in the times of the Vikings, the
popular speech was enshrined in the harp of the bard.
In the days of knightly castles, when the strongest fist
held the scales of justice, when only might was right, and a
peasant and a dog were of equal importance, where did the Bird
of Song find shelter and protection? Neither violence nor
stupidity gave him a thought.
But in the gabled window of the knightly castle, the lady
of the castle sat with the parchment roll before her, and
wrote down the old recollections in song and legend, while
near her stood the old woman from the wood, and the travelling
peddler who went wandering through the country. As these told
their tales, there fluttered around them, with twittering and
song, the Bird of Popular Song, who never dies so long as the
earth has a hill upon which his foot may rest.
And now he looks in upon us and sings. Without are the
night and the snow-storm. He lays the Runes beneath our
tongues, and we know the land of our home. Heaven speaks to us
in our native tongue, in the voice of the Bird of Popular
Song. The old remembrances awake, the faded colors glow with a
fresh lustre, and story and song pour us a blessed draught
which lifts up our minds and our thoughts, so that the evening
becomes as a Christmas festival.
The snow-flakes chase each other, the ice cracks, the
storm rules without, for he has the might, he is lord- but not
the LORD OF ALL.
It is winter time. The wind is sharp as a two-edged sword,
the snow-flakes chase each other; it seems as though it had
been snowing for days and weeks, and the snow lies like a
great mountain over the whole town, like a heavy dream of the
winter night. Everything on the earth is hidden away, only the
golden cross of the church, the symbol of faith, arises over
the snow grave, and gleams in the blue air and in the bright
sunshine.
And over the buried town fly the birds of heaven, the
small and the great; they twitter and they sing as best they
may, each bird with his beak.
First comes the band of sparrows: they pipe at every
trifle in the streets and lanes, in the nests and the houses;
they have stories to tell about the front buildings and the
back buildings.
“We know the buried town,” they say; “everything living in
it is piep! piep! piep!”
The black ravens and crows flew on over the white snow.
“Grub, grub!” they cried. “There’s something to be got
down there; something to swallow, and that’s most important.
That’s the opinion of most of them down there, and the opinion
is goo-goo-good!”
The wild swans come flying on whirring pinions, and sing
of the noble and the great, that will still sprout in the
hearts of men, down in the town which is resting beneath its
snowy veil.
No death is there- life reigns yonder; we hear it on the
notes that swell onward like the tones of the church organ,
which seize us like sounds from the elf-hill, like the songs
of Ossian, like the rushing swoop of the wandering spirits’
wings. What harmony! That harmony speaks to our hearts, and
lifts up our souls! It is the Bird of Popular Song whom we
hear.
And at this moment the warm breath of heaven blows down
from the sky. There are gaps in the snowy mountains, the sun
shines into the clefts; spring is coming, the birds are
returning, and new races are coming with the same home sounds
in their hearts.
Hear the story of the year: “The night of the snow-storm,
the heavy dream of the winter night, all shall be dissolved,
all shall rise again in the beauteous notes of the Bird of
Popular Song, who never dies!”
THE END
looks like marble hewn out of the rock; the air is bright and
clear; the wind is sharp as a well-tempered sword, and the
trees stand like branches of white coral or blooming almond
twigs, and here it is keen as on the lofty Alps.
The night is splendid in the gleam of the Northern Lights,
and in the glitter of innumerable twinkling stars.
But we sit in the warm room, by the hot stove, and talk
about the old times. And we listen to this story:
By the open sea was a giant’s grave; and on the
grave-mound sat at midnight the spirit of the buried hero, who
had been a king. The golden circlet gleamed on his brow, his
hair fluttered in the wind, and he was clad in steel and iron.
He bent his head mournfully, and sighed in deep sorrow, as an
unquiet spirit might sigh.
And a ship came sailing by. Presently the sailors lowered
the anchor and landed. Among them was a singer, and he
approached the royal spirit, and said,
“Why mournest thou, and wherefore dost thou suffer thus?”
And the dead man answered,
“No one has sung the deeds of my life; they are dead and
forgotten. Song doth not carry them forth over the lands, nor
into the hearts of men; therefore I have no rest and no
peace.”
And he spoke of his works, and of his warlike deeds, which
his contemporaries had known, but which had not been sung,
because there was no singer among his companions.
Then the old bard struck the strings of his harp, and sang
of the youthful courage of the hero, of the strength of the
man, and of the greatness of his good deeds. Then the face of
the dead one gleamed like the margin of the cloud in the
moonlight. Gladly and of good courage, the form arose in
splendor and in majesty, and vanished like the glancing of the
northern light. Nought was to be seen but the green turfy
mound, with the stones on which no Runic record has been
graven; but at the last sound of the harp there soared over
the hill, as though he had fluttered from the harp, a little
bird, a charming singing-bird, with ringing voice of the
thrush, with the moving voice pathos of the human heart, with
a voice that told of home, like the voice that is heard by the
bird of passage. The singing-bird soared away, over mountain
and valley, over field and wood- he was the Bird of Popular
Song, who never dies.
We hear his song- we hear it now in the room while the
white bees are swarming without, and the storm clutches the
windows. The bird sings not alone the requiem of heroes; he
sings also sweet gentle songs of love, so many and so warm, of
Northern fidelity and truth. He has stories in words and in
tones; he has proverbs and snatches of proverbs; songs which,
like Runes laid under a dead man’s tongue, force him to speak;
and thus Popular Song tells of the land of his birth.
In the old heathen days, in the times of the Vikings, the
popular speech was enshrined in the harp of the bard.
In the days of knightly castles, when the strongest fist
held the scales of justice, when only might was right, and a
peasant and a dog were of equal importance, where did the Bird
of Song find shelter and protection? Neither violence nor
stupidity gave him a thought.
But in the gabled window of the knightly castle, the lady
of the castle sat with the parchment roll before her, and
wrote down the old recollections in song and legend, while
near her stood the old woman from the wood, and the travelling
peddler who went wandering through the country. As these told
their tales, there fluttered around them, with twittering and
song, the Bird of Popular Song, who never dies so long as the
earth has a hill upon which his foot may rest.
And now he looks in upon us and sings. Without are the
night and the snow-storm. He lays the Runes beneath our
tongues, and we know the land of our home. Heaven speaks to us
in our native tongue, in the voice of the Bird of Popular
Song. The old remembrances awake, the faded colors glow with a
fresh lustre, and story and song pour us a blessed draught
which lifts up our minds and our thoughts, so that the evening
becomes as a Christmas festival.
The snow-flakes chase each other, the ice cracks, the
storm rules without, for he has the might, he is lord- but not
the LORD OF ALL.
It is winter time. The wind is sharp as a two-edged sword,
the snow-flakes chase each other; it seems as though it had
been snowing for days and weeks, and the snow lies like a
great mountain over the whole town, like a heavy dream of the
winter night. Everything on the earth is hidden away, only the
golden cross of the church, the symbol of faith, arises over
the snow grave, and gleams in the blue air and in the bright
sunshine.
And over the buried town fly the birds of heaven, the
small and the great; they twitter and they sing as best they
may, each bird with his beak.
First comes the band of sparrows: they pipe at every
trifle in the streets and lanes, in the nests and the houses;
they have stories to tell about the front buildings and the
back buildings.
“We know the buried town,” they say; “everything living in
it is piep! piep! piep!”
The black ravens and crows flew on over the white snow.
“Grub, grub!” they cried. “There’s something to be got
down there; something to swallow, and that’s most important.
That’s the opinion of most of them down there, and the opinion
is goo-goo-good!”
The wild swans come flying on whirring pinions, and sing
of the noble and the great, that will still sprout in the
hearts of men, down in the town which is resting beneath its
snowy veil.
No death is there- life reigns yonder; we hear it on the
notes that swell onward like the tones of the church organ,
which seize us like sounds from the elf-hill, like the songs
of Ossian, like the rushing swoop of the wandering spirits’
wings. What harmony! That harmony speaks to our hearts, and
lifts up our souls! It is the Bird of Popular Song whom we
hear.
And at this moment the warm breath of heaven blows down
from the sky. There are gaps in the snowy mountains, the sun
shines into the clefts; spring is coming, the birds are
returning, and new races are coming with the same home sounds
in their hearts.
Hear the story of the year: “The night of the snow-storm,
the heavy dream of the winter night, all shall be dissolved,
all shall rise again in the beauteous notes of the Bird of
Popular Song, who never dies!”
THE END
THE LITTLE MERMAID
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
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
The Little Mermaid ++เงือกน้อยผจญภัย++
The Little Mermaid
++เงือกน้อยผจญภัย++
เซบัสเตียนตามมาถึงถ้ำของนางแม่มด ส่งเสียงร้อง “อย่า เอเรียล อย่าเขียน อย่างฟังนางนะ!”
ภาคภาษาอังกฤษ
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
++เงือกน้อยผจญภัย++
The little Mermaid
เช้าวันหนึ่ง ณ ดินแดนใต้ท้องบทะเล ทุกๆ คนกำลังรอคอยฟังการร้องเพลงในคอนเสิร์ตครั้งแรกของเจ้าหญิงเงือกน้อยเอเรียล ซึ่งเธอมีเสียงที่ไพเราะที่สุดในอาณาจักรใต้ทะเลแห่งนี้
กษัตริย์ไตรตันภูมิใจในตัวลูกสาวของเขาอย่างมาก เซบัสเตียน ผู้กำกับวงดนตรีออเคสตร้าของปราสาท เริ่มบรรเลงเปิดตัวพี่สาวของเอเรียลทีละคน จนมาถึงเอเรียล
ทันทีที่เปลือกหอยเปิดขึ้นก็พบว่า เอเรียลหายตัวไปเสียแล้ว
“เอเรียลลลลล!!!!” กษัตริย์ไตรตันคำราม
“โธ่! คอนเสิร์ตของข้าพังหมดแล้ว!” เซบัสเตียนคร่ำครวญ
โดยปกติแล้วเอเรียลจะชอบออกสำรวจใต้ท้องทะเลกับเจ้าปลาน้อยฟาวเดอร์เพื่อนของเธอ เอเรียลหลงใหลสิ่งของเกี่ยวกับโลกมนุษย์ เธอชอบสะสมของแปลกๆ ที่หล่นลงมาในท้องทะเล
แล้ววันนี้เอเรียล กับฟาวเดอร์กำลังสำรวจเรือที่จมอยู่แล้ว เธอก็เก็บส้อมที่อยู่บนเรือมาได้ เธอรีบเอาส้อมไปให้นกนางนวลสคัทเดิ้ลดูว่ามันใช้ทำอะไร คัทเดิ้ลคิดว่าตัวของมันเชี่ยวชาญเรื่องของมนุษย์เป็นที่สุด จึงตอบเอเรียลว่า
“เจ้าสิ่งนี้มันคือหวีไงล่ะจ๊ะสาวน้อย มนุษย์น่ะใช้สิ่งนี้ทำให้ผมของเขาตรงสวย” มันรีบอธิบาย
ทันใดนั้นเอง เอเรียลก็นึกเรื่องคอนเสิร์ตขึ้นมาได้ “โอ้ พระเจ้า” เธอร้องแล้วรีบว่ายกลับไปที่ปราสาทให้เร็วที่สุด
เอเรียลไม่รู้ตัวเลยว่าแม่มดทะเล อูซูร่า คอยจับตามองเธออยู่ตลอดเวลา เมื่อนานมาแล้ว กษัตริย์ไตรตันได้ขับไล่อูซูร่าออกจากอาณาจักร และตอนนี้นางก็กำลังวางแผนที่จะแก้แค้น และก็เป็นอย่างที่เอเรียลกลชัวจริงๆ พ่อของเธอโกรธมากที่เธอพลาดงานคอนเสิร์ต
“เจ้าจะต้องไม่ยุ่งเกี่ยวกับโลกมนุษย์อีกต่อไป จำไว้!” กษัตริย์ไตรตันสั่ง
แต่หลังจากที่เอเรียลออกไปแล้ว กษัตริย์ไตรตันก็รู้สึกเสียใจที่ตนพูดแรงไป
“บางทีเธออาจจะต้องมีใครคอยจับตาดูเอาไว้” เขารำพันกับเซบัสเตียน
จากนั้นเซบัสเตียนก็พบว่า หน้าที่ใหม่ของเขาคือ ติดตามเฝ้าดูเอเรียล จนมาถึงถ้ำเก็บสมบัติของเธอ
“ถ้าฉันได้เป็นส่วนหนึ่งบนโลกมนุษย์ มันจะดีแค่ไหนกันนะ” เงือกน้อยรำพันกับฟาวเดอร์
ในนาทีต่อมา เอเรียลก็เห็นเงาดำที่เหนือผิวน้ำ
“เรือ” เธอร้องขึ้น แล้วว่ายขึ้นไปที่ผิวน้ำ
“ไม่นะ เอเรียล” เซบัสเตียนเรียก แต่เอเรียลไม่สนใจ
เอเรียลเคยเห็นเรือมาแล้วหลายลำ แต่ไม่เคยเข้าใกล้มากขนาดนี้มาก่อนเลย บนเรือกำลังมีงานเลี้ยงฉลองงานวันเกิดของเจ้าชายอีริค
เมื่อความมืดคืบคลานเข้ามา เหล่ากะลาสีก็ช่วยกันจุดดอกไม้ไฟหลากสี ทำให้ท้องฟ้าสว่างไสว แต่ไม่มีใครเลยที่จะสังเกตเห็นเอเรียล ยกเว้นเจ้าแม็กสุนัขเลี้ยงแกะตัวใหญ่
เจ้าชายอีริค ได้รับของขวัญเป็นรูปปั้นตัวเขา จากท่านเซอร์คริมบี้ เพื่อนของเขา
“วิเศษจัง” เขากล่าวขอบคุณ แม้ว่าจริงแล้วเขาจะรู้สึกเขินๆ ที่ได้ของขวัญเป็นรูปจำลองของตัวเอง
หลังจากนั้นก็ถึงเวลาที่ทุกคนจะเต้นรำกัน แม้แต่แม็กก็ร่วมเต้นรำด้วย
ทุกคนกำลังสนุกสนานกัน แม้แต่เอเรียลก็กำลังสนใจกับภาพที่ปรากฏตรงหน้า ทำให้ไม่มีใครสังเกตเห็นเมฆสีดำที่กำลังก่อตัวขึ้น
ทันใดนั้นเอง พายุลูกใหญ่ก็ก่อตัวอย่างรวดเร็ว คลื่นลูกใหญ่ซัดกระแทกเรืออย่างแรง
แสงฟ้าแล่บทำให้เอเรียลมองเห็นกะลาสีหย่อนเรือชูชีพลงน้ำ แล้วพยายามปีนขึ้นไป ส่วนอีริคเขานึกได้ว่าแม็กหายไป จึงกลับไปที่เรืออีกครั้ง หลังจากหย่อนแม็กลงเรือชูชีพอย่างปลอดภัยแล้ว ทันใดนั้นก็เกิดระเบิดขึ้นทำให้อีริคกระเต็นลงไปในทะเลที่บ้าคลั่ง
เอเรียลพุ่งผ่านคลื่นเข้าไปยังจุดที่เห็นว่าเจ้าชายตกลงไป เข้าอยู่ไหนนะ แล้วเธอก็เห็นว่า เขากำลังจมหายไป
เอเรียลพยายามลากเจ้าชายขึ้นสู่ผิวน้ำ และประคองศีรษะของเขาให้พ้นน้ำ กระทั่งลากเขาขึ้นชายฝั่งได้สำเร็จ
เช้าวันรุ่งขึ้น สคัทเติ้ลเห็นเอเรียลอยู่กับอีริคที่ยังไม่ได้สติอยู่บนชายหาด
“ชีพจรไม่เต้น” เจ้านกนางนวลบอก ขณะที่เอาหูแนบที่เท้าของอีริค
“ไม่ ดูสิ เขาหายใจแล้ว” เอเรียลพูด “โอ้โห ดูสิ เขาช่างรูปงามเหลือเกิน”
และวินาทีนั้นเอง เอเรียลก็รู้ตัวว่าเธอรักอีริคเสียแล้ว เธอเริ่มร้องเพลง แล้วอีริคก็เริ่มได้สติ
ทันใดนั้น เอเรียลได้ยินเสียงเห่าของแม็ก เอเรียลรู้ว่าเพื่อนของเจ้าชายอีริคต้องกำลังตามหาเขาอยู่อย่างแน่นอน
เอเรียลกระโดดกลับลงทะเลไปอย่างรวดเร็ว และซ่อนตัวอยู่หลังโขดหินใกล้ๆ ที่สามารถมองเห็นชายหาดได้ แน่นอนที่สุด พักเดียวเท่านั้นแม็กก็ทำจมูกฟุตฟิตๆ ได้กลิ่นเจ้านายของมัน เซอร์คริมบี้ตามมาติดๆ และพาเจ้าชายกลับปราสาท
ทั้งหมดที่อีริคจำได้คือ มีบางคนอยู่กับเขา แต่เขาจำไม่ได้ว่าเธอหน้าตาอย่างไร แต่ว่าเสียงของเธอนั้นยังคงก้องอยู่ในหูของเขา
เมื่อเอเรียลกลับถึงปราสาท เธอดีใจมากที่พบรูปปั้นจำลองของเจ้าชายอีริคที่ถ้ำเก็บสมบัติของเธอ ซึ่งเกิดจากความช่วยเหลือของเจ้าปลาน้อยฟาวเดอร์
“โอ้ ขอบใจมากนะจ๊ะ ข้ารักเจ้ามากเลย” เอเรียลรำพึง
แต่เมื่อกษัตริย์ไตรตันรู้ว่าเอเรียลแอบขึ้นไปที่ผิวน้ำและยังได้พบกับมนุษย์ เขาก็โกรธมากและรีบตามไปที่ถ้ำเก็บสมบัติของเอเรียล
“เจ้าไม่เชื่อฟังข้า” กษัตริย์ไตรตันตะโกน นี่คงจะเป็นทางเดียวที่จะทำให้เจ้าเชื่อฟังข้า
กษัตริย์ไตรตัน ใช้หอกสามง่ามของเขาระเบิดของสะสมที่เอเรียลรักรวมทั้งรูปปั้นของเจ้าชายอีริคด้วย
อูชูร่ามองดูความพังพินาศด้วยความพึงพอใจ “ได้เวลาที่เราจะต้องเตรียมพร้อมแล้วนะ” นางแม่มดพูดกับโฟลแซมและเจ็ทแซม ลูกน้องผู้ซื่อสัตย์ เจ้าปลาไหลทั้งสองมาหาเอเรียลตามคำสั่งของอูซูร่า
พวกมันพบกับเอเรียลซึ่งกำลังร้องไห้อยู่กับรูปปั้นของเจ้าชายที่แตกสลาย “เรารู้ว่ามีใครบางคนช่วยเจ้าได้นะ” โฟลทแซม กระซิบ
เอเรียลที่กำลังสิ้นหวัง จึงตามปลาไหลทั้งสองไปยังถ้ำที่แสนน่ากลัวของนางแม่มดทะเล
อูชูร่าค่อยๆ ตีสนิทอย่างช้าๆ โดยทำเป็นเข้าใจและเห็นใจเอเรียล “ปัญหาของเจ้ามีวิธีแก้ง่ายนิดเดียวนะจ๊ะ ที่รัก” นางบอก
“เจ้าจะต้องเป็นมนุษย์” แต่จะทำได้ยังไงล่ะ เอเรียลถาม
“แค่ลงชื่อสัญญาเท่านั้น” อูชูร่าบอก “ในสัญญาบอกว่า ข้าจะทำให้เจ้ากลายเป็นมนุษย์ เป็นเวลาสามวัน” แต่ว่าเอเรียลจะต้องยอมสละเสียงอันเราะของเธอให้กับนางเป็นข้อแลกเปลี่ยน
แต่ยังมีกฎอีกข้อหนึ่ง “ถ้าหลังจากสามวันแล้ว เจ้าชายยังไม่จุมพิตเจ้า เจ้าจะต้องเป็นสมบัติของข้า”
เอเรียลตัดสินใจลงชื่อในสัญญา และอูชูร่าก็เริ่มใช้เวทมนต์ของนาง
“ฉลาดมากสาวน้อย” อูชูร่าพูด
จากนั้นไม่นาน เอเรียลก็โผล่ขึ้นไปบนชายหาด สคัทเดิ้ลมองเขาอย่างแปลกใจ
“เกิดอะไรขึ้นกับเจ้าเนี่ย สคัทเดิ้ลถาม” เจ้ามีบางอย่างแปลกไปนะ”
“เอเรียลไม่ใช่นางเงือกอีกต่อไปแล้ว” เซบัสเตียนอธิบาย
เจ้าชายอีริคกำลังตามหาหญิงสาวที่มีเสียงอันไพเราะ เสียงที่เค้าไม่มีทางลืมได้ในวันนั้น เมื่อเจ้าชายพบเอเรียล เขาหวังว่าเธอจะใช่หญิงสาวคนนั้น แต่ว่าเอเรียลพูดไม่ได้ ร้องเพลงก็ไม่ได้ ดังนั้นเจ้าชายจึงเข้าใจว่าเอเรียลนั้นไม่ใช่หญิงสาวที่เจ้าชายตามหา
แต่ว่าสาวน้อยคนนี้ต้องการความช่วยเหลือ อีริคจึงเชิญเธอไปเป็นแขกที่ปราสาท
ที่ปราสาท เอเรียลได้ใส่เสื้อผ้าสวยๆ และได้รับการดูแลเป็นอย่างดี ไม่นานนัก เอเรียลก็เริ่มมีความหวัง เจ้าชายดูเหมือนจะตกหลุมรักเธอ
ตอนบ่ายของวันที่สองของการเป็นมนุษย์ของเอเรียล อีริคพาเธอไปพายเรือในบรรยากาศอันแสนโรแมนติคใต้แสงจันทร์ เขาเกือบจะจูบเธอแล้ว ถ้าโฟลทแซมกับเจ็ทแซมไม่ทำเรือล่มเพื่อทำลายบรรยากาศ
“เกือบไปแล้วจริงๆ” อูชูร่าร้องด้วยความตกใจโดยมองผ่านลูกแก้วคริสตัล
นางแม่มดตัดสินใจว่าถึงเวลาแล้วที่จะต้องทำอะไรสักอย่าง ดังนั้นนางจึงปลอมตัวเป็นสาวงามชื่อเวเนสซ่าโดยสวมล็อคเก็ตที่เก็บเสียงของเอเรียลไว้ที่คอ และปรากฏตัวขึ้นที่ข้างกำแพงปราสาทพร้อมเสียงเพลงอันไพเราะของเอเรียล
เมื่ออีริคได้ยินเสียงเขาก็คิดว่าเวเนสซ่าต้องเป็นหญิงสาวที่เคยช่วยชีวิตเขาอย่างแน่นอน
อีริคตัดสินใจแต่งงานกับเวเนสซ่าในวันรุ่งขึ้น งานแต่งงานจะจัดขึ้นในทะเลบนเรือของอีริค
เวเนสซ่าอยู่ในห้องแต่งตัวเพียงลำพังก่อนพิธีจะเริ่ม มองดูกระจกและภูมิใจในความงามของตนเอง เมื่อคัทเติ้ลเห็นสิ่งที่เกิดขึ้นผ่านทางหน้าต่าง มันแปลกใจมากที่เห็นเงาสะท้อนของเวเนสซ่าในกระจก มันรู้ทันทีว่าเวเนสซ่าก็คือนางแม่มดทะเลนั่นเอง
“อีกไม่นาน เงือกน้อยก็จะเป็นสมบัติของข้า รวมทั้งเจ้าชายรูปงาม และท้องทะเลก็จะเป็นของข้าด้วย” สคัทเติ้ลได้ยินนางพูดด้วยละโมบ
“ข้าต้องบอกเอเรียล” คัทเติ้ลตัดสินใจ
สคัทเติ้ลพบเอเรียลกับเซบัสเตียนที่ชายฝั่งจึงรีบแจ้งข่าวร้ายทันที และในระหว่างที่เอเรียลรีบตามไปที่เรือ สคัทเติ้ลได้รวบรวมฝูงนกและสัตว์น้ำมากมาย
พวกมันเข้าจู่โจมเวเนสซ่าทันทีที่นางก้าวเข้ามาในพิธีแต่งงานบนดาดฟ้าเรือ ทำให้ล็อคเก็ตร่วงจากคอของนางและตกแตกเสียงของเอเรียลถูกปลดปล่อยไปสู่เจ้าของที่แท้จริง ในขณะที่เอเรียลปีนขึ้นมาบนดาดฟ้าเรือพอดี
“โอ้ อีริค” เอเรียลพูด ในที่สุดก็สามารถพูดได้อีกครั้ง
“เป็นเจ้ามาตลอดหรือเนี่ย” อีริคคราง
แต่มันก็สายไปเสียแล้ว “ตอนนี้เจ้าเป็นของข้าแล้ว” นางแม่มดทะเลกรีดร้อง แล้วกลายร่างกลับเป็นปีศาจดังเดิม
พระอาทิตย์ลับขอบฟ้าไปอย่างรวดเร็ว เวลาสามวันของนางเงือกน้อยหมดลงแล้วบรรดาแขกในงานต่างพากันตกใจที่เอเรียลกลับกลายเป้นนางเงือก ทันใดนั้นเองเอเรียลและอูชูร่าก็หายกลับลงไปใต้ท้องทะเล
ที่ใต้ท้องทะเล อูชูร่า แสดงหลักฐานที่เอเรียลลงชื่อในสัญญาไว้ให้กษัตริย์ไตรตันดู
“แต่อย่างไรก็ตาม ข้าจะให้อิสระกับลูกสาวของเจ้าก็ได้ แต่เจ้าต้องใช้ตัวเจ้ามาแลก” นางเสนอ
กษัตริย์ไตรตันรักลูกสาวของเขามาก ดังนั้นเขาจึงตกลงรับข้อเสนอของนางแม่มด
“ในที่สุด” อูชูร่าร้องด้วยความยินดี “ข้าก็ได้เป็นเจ้าแห่งท้องทะเลแต่เพียงผู้เดียว” แล้วนางก็ใช้หอกสามง่ามของกษัตริย์ไตรตันเสกให้เขากลายเป็นสัตว์ทะเลที่น่าเวทนา
ขณะเดียวกัน เจ้าชายอีริคก็ออกตามหาเอเรียล “ฉันเสียเธอไปแล้วครั้งหนึ่ง และจะไม่ยอมเสียเธอไปอีก” เขาสาบาน
เขาใช้ฉมวกปาใส่นาง และฉมวกก็พุ่งตรงไปที่นางแม่มดทันที
อูชูร่าก็เล็งหอกไปที่เจ้าชายเช่นกัน แต่เอเรียลเข้าไปผลักนางแม่มด ทำให้ลำแสงพลาดไปโดยเจ้าปลาไหลของนาง แทนที่จะเป็นอีริค
นางแม่มดอูชูร่าโกรธแค้นเป็นอย่างมาก นางขยายร่างให้สูงเสียดฟ้าเหนือท้องทะเล
“ช่างโง่เสียจริงๆ” นางเปล่งเสียง “เจ้าจะได้รู้ถึงพลังอำนาจของแม่มดทะเลอย่างข้า”
สายฟ้าแล่บแปลบปลาบ คลื่นลูกใหญ่พัดโหมกระหน่ำจนเรืออับปางผุพังที่จมอยู่ใต้ท้องทะเลลอยขึ้นมาอย่างรวดเร็ว
อีริคจัดการปีนขึ้นไปบนเรือที่ผุพัง เขาบังคับหางเสือมุ่งหน้าไปที่นางแม่มดทะเลที่สูงตระหง่านเท่าภูเขาและใช้เสาแหลมที่หัวเรือแทงทะลุนางแม่มด นางกรีดร้อง เลือดไหลทะลัก อูชูร่าแตกสลายเป็นฟองโคลนเล็กๆ สีดำสนิท
หลังจากอูชูร่าถูกทำลาย กษัตริย์ไตรตันก็ได้พลังกลับคืนมา เขาตามหาลูกสาวอันเป็นที่รักของเขา
เขาพบเธอบนโขดหินที่เธอชอบนั่งอยู่บ่อยๆ เธอกำลังจ้องมองคร่ำครวญถึงอีริคที่อยู่บนชายหาด กษัตริย์ไตรตันเห็นดังนั้น เขาจึงมอบสิ่งที่เอเรียลต้องการมากที่สุดให้ นั่นคือการที่ทำให้เธอกลายเป็นมนุษย์ตลอดไป เธอก็จะสามารถแต่งงานกับเจ้าชายอีริคได้
งานแต่งงานถูกจัดขึ้นบนเรือของอีริค บรรดาชาวเงือกก็มาร่วมงานอยู่ในทะเล
กษัตริย์ไตรตันรู้สึกใจหายที่เงือกน้อยจะไม่ได้อยู่ใต้ทะเลกับตนอีกแล้ว แต่ในหัวใจของเขาก็มีความสุขที่รู้ว่าเธอจะมีความสุขตลอดไป ที่ได้อยู่กับชายในฝันของเธอ
ภาคภาษาอังกฤษ
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
HAPPY ENDING
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