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The Little Sea-Maid
The Little Sea-Maid
[See The Sea Maid And Prince: There upon the sand the Sea Maid and the Prince.]
[See She Kissed His Hand: The little Sea Maid kissed the hand of the Prince.]
Far out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the most
beautiful corn-flower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very
deep, deeper than any cable will sound; many steeples must be placed one above
the other to reach from the ground to the surface of the water. And down there
live the sea-people.
Now, you must not believe there is nothing down there but the naked sand;
no, - the strangest trees and plants grow there, so pliable in their stalks
and leaves that at the least motion of the water they move just as if they had
life. All fishes, great and small, glide among the twigs, just as here the
birds do in the trees. In the deepest spot of all lies the Sea-king`s
castle: the walls are of coral, and the tall, Gothic windows of the clearest
amber; shells form the roof, and they open and shut according as the water
flows. It looks lovely, for in each shell lie gleaming pearls, a single one of
which would have great value in a queen`s diadem.
The Sea-king below there had been a widower for many years, while his
old mother kept house for him. She was a clever woman, but proud of her rank,
so she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the other great people were only
allowed to wear six. Beyond this she was deserving of great praise, especially
because she was very fond of her grand-daughters, the little Sea -
princesses. These were six pretty children; but the youngest was the most
beautiful of all. Her skin was as clear and as fine as a rose leaf; her eyes
were as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the rest, she had no feet, for
her body ended in a fish-tail.
All day long they could play in the castle, down in the halls, where
living flowers grew out of the walls. The great amber windows were opened, and
then the fishes swam in to them, just as the swallows fly in to us when we
open our windows; but the fishes swam straight up to the Princesses, ate out
of their hands, and let themselves be stroked.
Outside the castle was a great garden with bright red and dark blue
flowers; the fruit glowed like gold, and the flowers like flames of fire; and
they continually kept moving their stalks and leaves. The earth itself was the
finest sand, but blue as the flame of brimstone. A peculiar blue radiance lay
upon everything down there: one would have thought oneself high in the air,
with the canopy of heaven above and around, rather than at the bottom of the
deep sea. During a calm the sun could be seen; it appeared like a purple
flower, from which all light streamed out.
Each of the little Princesses had her own little place in the garden,
where she might dig and plant at her good pleasure. One gave her flower-bed
the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers like a little sea
- woman: but the youngest made hers quite round, like the sun and had flowers
which gleamed red as the sun itself. She was a strange child, quiet and
thoughtful, and when the other sisters made a display of the beautiful things
they had received out of wrecked ships, she would have nothing beyond the red
flowers which resembled the sun, except a pretty marble statue. This was a
figure of a charming boy, hewn out of white clear stone, which had sunk down
to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted a pink weeping willow
beside this statue; the tree grew famously, and hung its fresh branches over
the statue towards the blue sandy ground, where the shadow showed violet, and
moved like the branches themselves; it seemed as if the ends of the branches
and the roots were playing together and wished to kiss each other.
There was no greater pleasure for her than to hear of the world of men
above them. The old grandmother had to tell all she knew of ships and towns,
of men and animals. It seemed particularly beautiful to her that up on the
earth the flowers shed fragrance, for they had none down at the bottom of the
sea, and that the trees were green, and that the fishes which one saw there
among the trees could sing so loud and clear that it was a pleasure to hear
them. What the grandmother called fishes were the little birds; the Princess
could not understand them in any other way, for she had never seen a bird.
"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the grandmother, "you
shall have leave to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the
moonlight, and to see the great ships as they sail by. Then you will see
forests and towns!"
In the next year one of the sisters was fifteen years of age, but each of
the others was one year younger than the next; so that the youngest had full
five years to wait before she could come up from the bottom of the sea, and
find how our world looked. But one promised to tell the others what she had
seen and what she had thought the most beautiful on the first day of her
visit; for their grandmother could not tell them enough - there was so much
about which they wanted information.
No one was more anxious about these things than the youngest - just that
one who had the longest time to wait, and who was always quiet and thoughtful.
Many a night she stood by the open window, and looked up through the dark blue
water at the fishes splashing with their fins and tails. Moon and stars she
could see; they certainly shone quite faintly, but through the water they
looked much larger than they appear in our eyes. When something like a black
cloud passed among them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her
head, or a ship with many people: they certainly did not think that a pretty
little sea-maid was standing down below stretching up her white hands
towards the keel of their ship.
Now the eldest Princess was fifteen years old, and might mount up to the
surface of the sea.
When she came back, she had a hundred things to tell, - but the finest
thing, she said, was to lie in the moonshine on a sand-bank in the quiet
sea, and to look at the neighboring coast, with the large town, where the
lights twinkled like a hundred stars, and to hear the music and the noise and
clamor of carriages and men, to see the many church steeples, and to hear the
sound of the bells. Just because she could not get up to these, she longed for
them more than for anything.
O how the youngest sister listened! and afterwards when she stood at the
open window and looked up through the dark-blue water, she thought of the
great city with all its bustle and noise; and then she thought she could hear
the church bells ringing, even down to the depth where she was.
In the following year, the second sister received permission to mount
upward through the water and to swim whither she pleased. She rose up just as
the sun was setting, and this spectacle, she said, was the most beautiful. The
whole sky looked gold, and as to the clouds, she could not properly describe
their beauty. They sailed away over her head, purple and violet-colored, but
far quicker than the clouds there flew a flight of wild swans, like a long
white veil, over the water towards where the sun stood. She swam towards them;
but the sun sank, and the roseate hue faded on the sea and in the clouds.
In the following year the next sister went up. She was the boldest of
them all, and therefore she swam up a broad stream that poured its waters into
the sea. She saw glorious green hills clothed with vines; palaces and castles
shone forth from amid splendid woods; she heard how all the birds sang; and
the sun shone so warm that she was often obliged to dive under the water to
cool her glowing face. In a little bay she found a whole swarm of little
mortals. They were quite naked, and splashed about in the water; she wanted to
play with them, but they fled in affright and a little black animal came, - it
was a dog, but she had never seen a dog, - and it barked at her so terribly
that she became frightened, and tried to gain the open sea. But she could
never forget the glorious woods, the green hills, and the pretty children, who
could swim in the water, though they had not fish-tails.
The fourth sister was not so bold: she remained out in the midst of the
wild sea, and declared that just there it was most beautiful. One could see
for many miles around, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had
seen ships, but only in the far distance - they looked like sea-gulls; and
the funny dolphins had thrown somersaults, and the great whales spouted out
water from their nostrils, so that it looked like hundreds of fountains all
around.
Now came the turn of the fifth sister. Her birthday came in the winter,
and so she saw what the others had not seen the first time. The sea looked
quite green, and great icebergs were floating about; each one separated like a
pearl, she said, and yet was much taller than the church steeples built by
men. They showed themselves in the strangest forms, and shone like diamonds.
She had seated herself upon one of the greatest of all, and let the wind play
with her long hair; and all the sailing ships tacked about in a very rapid way
beyond where she sat: but toward evening the sky became covered with clouds,
it thundered and lightened, and the black waves lifted the great ice-blocks
high up, and let them glow in the red glare. On all the ships the sails were
reefed, and there was fear and anguish. But she sat quietly upon her floating
iceberg, and saw the forked blue flashes dart into the sea.
Each of the sisters, as she came up for the first time to the surface of
the water, was delighted with the new and beautiful sights she saw; but as
they now had permission, as grown-up girls, to go whenever they liked, it
became indifferent to them. They wished themselves back again, and after a
month had elapsed they said it was best of all down below, for there one felt
so comfortably at home.
Many an evening hour the five sisters took one another by the arm and
rose up in a row over the water. They had splendid voices, more charming than
any mortal could have; and when a storm was approaching, so that they could
apprehend that ships would go down, they swam on before the ships and sang
lovely songs, which told how beautiful it was at the bottom of the sea, and
exhorted the sailors not to be afraid to come down. But these could not
understand the words, and thought it was the storm sighing; and they did not
see the splendors below, for if the ships sank they were drowned, and came as
corpses to the Sea-king`s palace.
When the sisters thus rose up, arm in arm, in the evening time, through
the water, the little sister stood all alone looking after them; and she felt
as if she must weep; but the sea-maid has no tears and for this reason she
suffers far more acutely.
"O if I were only fifteen years old!" said she. "I know I shall love the
world up there very much, and the people who live and dwell there."
At last she was really fifteen years old.
"Now, you see, you are grown up," said the grandmother, the old dowager.
"Come, let me adorn you like your sisters."
And she put a wreath of white lilies in the little maid`s hair, but each
flower was half a pearl; and the old lady let eight great oysters attach
themselves to the Princess` tail, in token of her high rank.
"But that hurts so!" said the little Sea-maid.
"Yes, pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady.
O how glad she would have been to shake off all the tokens of rank and
lay aside the heavy wreath! Her red flowers in the garden suited her better;
but she could not help it. "Farewell!" she said, and then she rose, light and
clear as a water-bubble, up through the sea.
The sun had just set when she lifted her head above the sea, but all the
clouds still shone like roses and gold, and in the pale red sky the evening -
stars gleamed bright and beautiful. The air was mild and fresh, and the sea
quite calm. There lay a great ship with three masts; one single sail only was
set, for not a breeze stirred, and around in the shrouds and on the yards sat
the sailors. There was music and singing, and as the evening closed in,
hundreds of colored lanterns were lighted up, and looked as if the flags of
every nation were waving in the air. The little Sea-maid swam straight to
the cabin window, and each time the sea lifted her up she could look through
the panes, which were clear as crystal, and see many people standing within
dressed in their best. But the handsomest of all was the young Prince with the
great black eyes: he was certainly not much more than sixteen years old; it
was his birthday, and that was the cause of all this feasting. The sailors
were dancing upon deck; and when the young Prince came out, more than a
hundred rockets rose into the air; they shone like day, so that the little Sea
- maid was quite startled, and dived under the water; but soon she put out her
head again, and then it seemed just as if all the stars of heaven were falling
down upon her. She had never seen such fire-works. Great suns spurted fire
all around, glorious fiery fishes flew up into the blue air, and everything
was mirrored in the clear blue sea. The ship itself was so brightly lit up
that every separate rope could be seen, and the people therefore appeared the
more plainly. O how handsome the young Prince was! And he pressed the people`s
hands and smiled, while the music rang out in the glorious night.
It became late; but the little Sea-maid could not turn her eyes from
the ship and from the beautiful Prince. The colored lanterns were
extinguished, rockets ceased to fly into the air, and no more cannons were
fired; but there was a murmuring and a buzzing deep down in the sea; and she
sat on the water, swaying up and down, so that she could look into the cabin.
But as the ship got more way, one sail after another was spread. And now the
waves rose higher, great clouds came up, and in the distance there was
lightning. O! it was going to be fearful weather, therefore the sailors furled
the sails. The great ship flew in swift career over the wild sea: the waters
rose up like great black mountains, which wanted to roll over the masts; but
like a swan the ship dived into the valleys between these high waves, and then
let itself be lifted on high again. To the little Sea-maid this seemed merry
sport, but to the sailors it appeared very differently. The ship groaned and
creaked; the thick planks were bent by the heavy blows; the sea broke into the
ship; the mainmast snapped in two like a thin reed, and the ship lay over on
her side, while the water rushed into the hold. Now the little Sea-maid saw
that the people were in peril; she herself was obliged to take care to avoid
the beams and fragments of the ship which were floating about on the waters.
One moment it was so pitch dark that not a single object could be described,
but when it lightened it became so bright that she could distinguish every one
on board. She looked particularly for the young Prince, and when the ship
parted she saw him sink into the sea. Then she was very glad, for now he would
come down to her. But then she remembered that people could not live in the
water, and that when he got down to her father`s palace he would certainly be
dead. No, he must not die: so she swam about among the beams and planks that
strewed the surface, quite forgetting that one of them might have crushed her.
Diving down deep under the water, she again rose high up among the waves, and
in this way she at last came to the Prince, who could scarcely swim longer in
that stormy sea. His arms and legs began to fail him, his beautiful eyes
closed, and he would have died had the little Sea-maid not come. She held
his head up over the water, and then allowed the waves to carry her and him
whither they listed.
When the morning came the storm had passed by. Of the ship not a fragment
was to be seen. The sun came up red and shining out of the water; it was as if
its beams brought back the hue of life to the cheeks of the Prince, but his
eyes remained closed. The Sea-maid kissed his high, fair forehead and put
back his wet hair, and he seemed to her to be like the marble statue in her
little garden: she kissed him again and hoped that he might live.
Now she saw in front of her the dry land - high blue mountains, on whose
summits the white snow gleamed as if swans were lying there. Down on the coast
were glorious green forests, and a building - she could not tell whether it
was a church or a convent - stood there. In its garden grew orange and citron
- trees, and high palms waved in front of the gate. The sea formed a little
bay there; it was quite calm, but very deep. Straight toward the rock where
the fine white sand had been cast up, she swam with the handsome Prince, and
laid him upon the sand, taking especial care that his head was raised in the
warm sunshine.
Now all the bells rang in the great white building, and many young girls
came walking through the garden. Then the little Sea-maid swam farther out
between some high stones that stood up out of the water, laid some sea-foam
upon her hair and neck, so that no one could see her little countenance, and
then she watched to see who would come to the poor Prince.
In a short time a young girl went that way. She seemed to be much
startled, but only for a moment; then she brought more people, and the Sea -
maid perceived that the Prince came back to life, and that he smiled at all
around him. But he did not cast a smile at her: he did not know that she had
saved him. And she felt very sorrowful; and when he was led away into the
great building, she dived mournfully under the water and returned to her
father`s palace.
She had always been gentle and melancholy, but now she became much more
so. Her sisters asked her what she had seen the first time she rose up to the
surface, but she would tell them nothing.
Many an evening and many a morning she went up to the place where she had
left the Prince. She saw how the fruits of the garden grew ripe and were
gathered; she saw how the snow melted on the high mountain; but she did not
see the Prince, and so she always returned home more sorrowful still. Then her
only comfort was to sit in her little garden, and to wind her arm round the
beautiful marble statue that resembled the Prince; but she did not tend her
flowers; they grew as if in a wilderness over the paths, and trailed their
long leaves and stalks up into the branches of trees, so that it became quite
dark there.
At last she could endure it no longer, and told all to one of her
sisters, and then the others heard of it too; but nobody knew of it beyond
these and a few other sea-maids, who told the secret to their intimate
friends. One of these knew who the Prince was; she too had seen the festival
on board the ship; and she announced whence he came and where his kingdom lay.
"Come, little sister," said the other Princesses; and linking their arms
together, they rose up in a long row out of the sea, at the place where they
knew the Prince`s palace lay.
This palace was built of a kind of bright yellow stone, with great marble
staircases, one of which led directly down into the sea. Over the roof rose
splendid gilt cupolas, and between the pillars which surrounded the whole
dwelling, stood marble statues which looked as if they were alive. Through the
clear glass in the high windows one looked into the glorious halls, where
costly silk hangings and tapestries were hung up, and all the walls were
decked with splendid pictures, so that it was a perfect delight to see them.
In the midst of the greatest of these halls a great fountain plashed; its jets
shot high up toward the glass dome in the ceiling, through which the sun shone
down upon the water and upon the lovely plants growing in the great basin.
Now she knew where he lived, and many an evening and many a night she
spent there on the water. She swam far closer to the land than any of the
others would have dared to venture; indeed, she went quite up the narrow
channel under the splendid marble balcony, which threw a board shadow upon the
water. Here she sat and watched the young Prince, who thought himself quite
alone in the bright moonlight.
Many an evening she saw him sailing, amid the sounds of music, in his
costly boat with the waving flags; she peeped up through the green reeds, and
when the wind caught her silver-white veil and any one saw it he thought it
was a white swan spreading out its wings.
Many a night when the fishermen were on the sea with their torches, she
heard much good told of the young Prince; and she rejoiced that she had saved
his life when he was driven about, half dead, on the wild billows: she thought
how quietly his head had reclined on her bosom, and how heartily she had
kissed him; but he knew nothing of it, and could not even dream of her.
More and more she began to love mankind, and more and more she wished to
be able to wander about among those whose world seemed far larger than her
own. For they could fly over the sea in ships, and mount up the high hills far
above the clouds, and the lands they possessed stretched out in woods and
fields farther than her eyes could reach. There was much she wished to know,
but her sisters could not answer all her questions; therefore she applied to
the old grandmother; and the old lady knew the upper world, which she rightly
called "the countries above the sea," very well.
"If people are not drowned," asked the little Sea-maid, "can they live
forever? Do they not die as we die down here in the sea?"
"Yes," replied the old lady. "They too must die, and their life is even
shorter than ours. We can live to be three hundred years old, but when we
cease to exist here, we are turned into foam on the surface of the water, and
have not even a grave down here among those we love. We have not an immortal
soul; we never receive another life; we are like the green sea-weed, which,
when once cut through, can never bloom again. Men, on the contrary, have a
soul which lives forever, which lives on after the body has become dust; it
mounts up through the clear air, up to all the shining stars! As we rise up
out of the waters and behold all the lands of the earth, so they rise up to
unknown glorious places which we can never see."
"Why did we not receive an immortal soul?" asked the little Sea-maid,
sorrowfully. "I would gladly give all the hundreds of years I have to live to
be a human being only for one day, and to have a hope of partaking the
heavenly kingdom."
"You must not think of that," replied the old lady. "We feel ourselves
far more happy and far better than mankind yonder."
"Then I am to die and be cast as foam upon the sea, not hearing the music
of the waves, nor seeing the pretty flowers and the red sun? Can I not do
anything to win an immortal soul?
"No!" answered the grandmother. "Only if a man were to love you so that
you should be more to him than father or mother; if he should cling to you
with his every thought and with all his love, and let the priest lay his right
hand in yours with a promise of faithfulness here and in all eternity, then
his soul would be imparted to your body, and you would receive a share of the
happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and yet retain his own. But
that can never come to pass. What is considered beautiful here in the sea -
the fish-tail - they would consider ugly on the earth: they don`t understand
it; there one must have the clumsy supports which they call legs, to be called
beautiful."
Then the little Sea-maid sighed and looked mournfully upon her fish -
tail.
"Let us be glad!" said the old lady. "Let us dance and leap in the three
hundred years we have to live. That is certainly long enough; after that we
can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we shall have a court ball."
It was a splendid sight, such as is never seen on earth. The walls and
the ceiling of the great dancing-saloon were of thick but transparent glass.
Several hundreds of huge shells, pink and grass-green, stood on each side in
rows, filled with a blue fire which lit up the whole hall and shone through
the walls, so that the sea without was quite lit up; one could see all the
innumerable fishes, great and small, swimming toward the glass walls; of some
the scales gleamed with purple, while in others they shone like silver and
gold. Through the midst of the hall flowed a broad stream, and on this the
sea-men and sea-women danced to their own charming songs. Such beautiful
voices the people of the earth have not. The little Sea-maid sang the most
sweetly of all, and the whole court applauded with hands and tails, and for a
moment she felt gay in her heart, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of
all in the sea or on the earth. But soon she thought again of the world above
her; she could not forget the charming Prince, or her sorrow at not having an
immortal soul like his. Therefore she crept out of her father`s palace, and
while everything within was joy and gladness, she sat melancholy in her little
garden. Then she heard the bugle horn sounding through the waters, and
thought, "Now he is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes hang, and in
whose hand I should like to lay my life`s happiness. I will dare everything to
win him and an immortal soul. While my sisters dance yonder in my father`s
palace, I will go to the sea-witch of whom I have always been so much
afraid: perhaps she can counsel and help me."
Now the little Sea-maid went out of her garden to the foaming
whirlpools behind which the sorceress dwelt. She had never travelled that way
before. No flowers grew there, no sea grass; only the naked gray sand
stretched out toward the whirlpools, where the water rushed round like roaring
mill-wheels and tore down everything it seized into the deep. Through the
midst of these rushing whirlpools she was obliged to pass to get in to the
domain of the witch; and for a long way there was no other road but one over
warm gushing mud: this the witch called her turf-moor. Behind it lay her
house in the midst of a singular forest, in which all the trees and bushes
were polyps - half animals, half plants. They looked like hundred-headed
snakes growing up out of the earth. All the branches were long, slimy arms,
with fingers like supple worms, and they moved limb by limb from the root to
the farthest point; all that they could seize on in the water they held fast
and did not let it go. The little Sea-maid stopped in front of them quite
frightened; her heart beat with fear, and she was near turning back; but then
she thought of the Prince and the human soul, and her courage came back again.
She bound her long flying hair closely around her head, so that the polyps
might not seize it. She put her hands together on her breast and then shot
forward, as a fish shoots through the water, among the ugly polyps, which
stretched out their supple arms and fingers after her. She saw that each of
them held something it had seized with hundreds of little arms, like strong
iron bands. People who had perished at sea, and had sunk deep down, looked
forth as white skeletons from among the polyps` arms; ships` oars and chests
they also held fast, and skeletons of land animals, and a little sea-woman
whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most terrible of all
to our little Princess.
Now she came to a great marshy place in the wood, where fat water -
snakes rolled about, showing their ugly cream-colored bodies. In the midst
of this marsh was a house built of white bones of ship-wrecked men; there
sat the Sea-witch, feeding a toad out of her mouth, just as a person might
feed a little canary-bird with sugar. She called the ugly fat water-snakes
her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl upward and all about her.
"I know what you want," said the Sea-witch. "It is stupid of you, but
you shall have your way, for it will bring you to grief, my pretty Princess.
You want to get rid of your fish-tail, and to have two supports instead of
it, like those the people of the earth walk with, so that the young Prince may
fall in love with you, and you may get an immortal soul." And with this the
Witch laughed loudly and disagreeably, so that the toad and the water-snakes
tumbled down to the ground, where they crawled about. "You come just in time,"
said the Witch: "after tomorrow at sunrise I could not help you until another
year had gone by. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim
to land tomorrow before the sun rises, and seat yourself there and drink it;
then your tail will shrivel up and become what the people of the earth call
legs; but it will hurt you - it will seem as if you were cut with a sharp
sword. All who see you will declare you to be the prettiest human being they
ever beheld. You will keep your graceful walk; no dancer will be able to move
so lightly as you; but every step you take will be as if you trod upon sharp
knives, and as if your blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I can help
you."
"Yes!" said the little Sea-maid, with a trembling voice; and she
thought of the Prince and the immortal soul.
"But remember," said the Witch, "when you have once received a human
form, you can never be a sea-maid again; you can never return through the
water to your sisters, or to your father`s palace; and if you do not win the
Prince`s love, so that he forgets father and mother for your sake, is attached
to you heart and soul, and tells the priest to join your hands, you will not
receive an immortal soul. On the first morning after he has married another
your heart will break, and you will become foam on the water."
"I will do it," said the little Sea-maid: but she became as pale as
death.
"But you must pay me, too," said the Witch; "and it is not a trifle that
I ask. You have the finest voice of all here at the bottom of the water; with
that you think to enchant him; but this voice you must give to me. The best
thing you possess I will have for my costly draught! I must give you my own
blood in it, so that the draught may be as sharp as a two-edged sword."
"But if you take away my voice," said the little Sea-maid, "what will
remain to me?"
"Your beautiful form," replied the Witch, "your graceful walk, and your
speaking eyes: with those you can take captive a human heart. Well, have you
lost your courage? Put out your little tongue, and then I will cut it off for
my payment, and then you shall have the strong draught."
"It shall be so," said the little Sea-maid.
And the Witch put on her pot to brew the draught.
"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she; and she cleaned out the pot with
the snakes, which she tied up in a big knot; then she scratched herself, and
let her black blood drop into it. The stream rose up in the strangest forms,
enough to frighten the beholder. Every moment the Witch threw something else
into the pot; and when it boiled thoroughly, there was a sound like the
weeping of a crocodile. At last the draught was ready. It looked like the
purest water.
"There you have it," said the Witch.
And she cut off the little Sea-maid`s tongue, so that now the Princess
was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak.
She could see her father`s palace. The torches were extinguished in the
great hall, and they were certainly sleeping within, but she did not dare to
go to them, now that she was dumb and was about to quit them forever. She felt
as if her heart would burst with sorrow. She crept into the garden, took a
flower from each bed of her sisters, blew a thousand kisses toward the palace,
and rose up through the dark blue sea.
The sun had not yet risen when she beheld the Prince`s castle, and
mounted the splendid marble staircase. The moon shone beautifully clear. The
little Sea-maid drank the burning sharp draught, and it seemed as if a two -
edged sword went through her delicate body. She fell down in a swoon, and lay
as if she were dead. When the sun shone out over the sea she awoke, and felt a
sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young Prince. He fixed his
coalblack eyes upon her, so that she cast down her own, and then she perceived
that her fish-tail was gone, and that she had the prettiest pair of white
feet a little girl could have. But she had no clothes, so she shrouded herself
in her long hair. The Prince asked how she came there! and she looked at him
mildly, but very mournfully, with her dark-blue eyes, for she could not
speak. Then he took her by the hand, and led her into the castle. Each step
she took was, as the Witch had told her, as if she had been treading on
pointed needles and knives, but she bore it gladly. At the Prince`s right hand
she moved on, light as a soap-bubble, and he, like all the rest, was
astonished at her graceful, swaying movements.
She now received splendid clothes of silk and muslin. In the castle she
was the most beautiful creature to be seen; but she was dumb, and could
neither sing nor speak. Lovely slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped
forward, and sang before the Prince and his royal parents; one sang more
charmingly than all the rest, and the Prince smiled at her and clapped his
hands. Then the little Sea-maid became sad; she knew that she herself had
sung far more sweetly, and thought, -
"O! that he only knew I had given away my voice forever to be with him!"
Now the slaves danced pretty waving dances to the loveliest music; then
the little Sea-maid lifted her beautiful white arms, stood on the tips of
her toes, and glided dancing over the floor as no one had yet danced. At each
movement her beauty became more apparent, and her eyes spoke more directly to
the heart than the song of the slaves.
All were delighted, and especially the Prince, who called her his little
foundling; and she danced again and again, although every time she touched the
earth it seemed as if she were treading upon sharp knives. The Prince said
that she should always remain with him, and she received permission to sleep
on a velvet cushion before his door.
He had a page`s dress made for her, that she might accompany him on
horseback. They rode through the blooming woods, where the green boughs swept
their shoulders, and the little birds sang in the fresh leaves. She climbed
with the Prince up the high mountains, and although her delicate feet bled so
that even the others could see it, she laughed at it herself, and followed him
until they saw the clouds sailing beneath them, like a flock of birds
travelling to distant lands.
At home in the Prince`s castle, when the others slept at night, she went
out on to the broad marble steps. It cooled her burning feet to stand in the
cold sea-water, and then she thought of the dear ones in the deep.
Once, in the night-time, her sisters came, arm in arm. Sadly they sang
as they floated above the water; and she beckoned to them, and they recognized
her, and told her how she had grieved them all. Then she visited them every
night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been
above the surface for many years, and the Sea-king with his crown upon his
head. They stretched out their hands toward her, but did not venture so near
the land as her sisters.
Day by day the Prince grew more fond of her. He loved her as one loves a
dear, good child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; and
yet she must become his wife, or she would not receive an immortal soul, and
would have to become foam on the sea on his marriage morning.
"Do you not love me best of them all?" the eyes of the little Sea-maid
seemed to say, when he took her in his arms and kissed her fair forehead.
"Yes, you are the dearest to me!" said the Prince, "for you have the best
heart of them all. You are the most devoted to me, and are like a young girl
whom I once saw, but whom I certainly shall not find again. I was on board a
ship which was wrecked. The waves threw me ashore near a holy temple where
several young girls performed the service. The youngest of them found me by
the shore and saved my life. I only saw her twice: she was the only one in the
world I could love, but you chase her picture out of my mind, you are so like
her. She belongs to the holy temple, and therefore my good fortune has sent
you to me. We will never part!"
"Ah! he does not know that I saved his life," thought the little Sea -
maid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands. I sat
there under the foam and looked to see if any one would come. I saw the
beautiful girl whom he loves better than me." And the Sea-maid sighed deeply
- she could not weep. "The maiden belongs to the holy temple," she said, "and
will never come out into the world - they will meet no more. I am with him and
see him every day; I will cherish him, love him, give up my life for him."
But now they said that the Prince was to marry, and that the beautiful
daughter of a neighboring King was to be his wife, and that was why such a
beautiful ship was being prepared. The story was, that the Prince travelled to
visit the land of the neighboring King, but it was done that he might see the
King`s daughter. A great company was to go with him. The little Sea-maid
shook her head and smiled; she knew the Prince`s thoughts far better than any
of the others.
"I must travel," he had said to her` "I must see the beautiful Princess:
my parents desire it, but they do not wish to compel 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 to choose a bride, I would rather choose
you, my dear dumb foundling with the speaking eyes."
And he kissed her red lips and played with her long hair, so that she
dreamed of happiness and of an immortal soul.
"You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child?" said he, when they stood
on the superb ship which was to carry him to the country of the neighboring
King; and he told her of storm and calm, of strange fishes in the deep, and of
what the divers had seen there. And she smiled at his tales, for she knew
better than any one what happened at the bottom of the sea.
In the moonlight night, when all were asleep, except the steersman who
stood by the helm, she sat on the side of the ship gazing down through the
clear water. She fancied she saw her father`s palace. High on the battlements
stood her old grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, and looking
through the rushing tide up to the vessel`s keel. Then her sisters came forth
over the water, and looked mournfully at her and wrung their white hands. She
beckoned to them and smiled, and wished to tell them that she was well and
happy; but the cabin-boy approached her and her sisters dived down, so that
he thought the white objects he had seen were foam on the surface of the
water.
The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of the neighboring
King`s splendid city. All the church bells sounded, and from the high towers
the trumpets were blown, while the soldiers stood there with flying colors and
flashing bayonets. Each day brought some festivity with it; balls and
entertainments followed one another; but the Princess was not yet there.
People said she was being educated in a holy temple far away, where she was
learning every royal virtue. At last she arrived.
The little Sea-maid was anxious to see the beauty of the Princess, and
was obliged to acknowledge it. A more lovely apparition she had never beheld.
The Princess` skin was pure and clear, and behind the long dark eyelashes
there smiled a pair of faithful, dark-blue eyes.
"You are the lady who saved me when I lay like a corpse upon the shore!"
said the Prince; and he folded his blushing bride to his heart. "O, I am too,
too happy!" he cried to the little Sea-maid. "The best hope I could have is
fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness, for you are the most devoted to
me of them all!"
And the little Sea-maid kissed his hand; and it seemed already to her
as if her heart was broken, for his wedding morning was to bring death to her,
and change her into foam on the sea.
All the church bells were ringing, and heralds rode about the streets
announcing the betrothal. On every altar fragrant oil was burning in gorgeous
lamps of silver. The priests swung their censers, and bride and bridegroom
laid hand in hand, and received the bishop`s blessing. The little Sea-maid
was dressed in cloth of gold, and held up the bride`s train; but her ears
heard nothing of the festive music, her eye marked not the holy ceremony; she
thought of the night of her death, and of all that she had lost in this world.
On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board the ship. The
cannon roared, all the flags waved; in the midst of the ship a costly tent of
gold and purple, with the most beautiful cushions, had been set up, and there
the married pair were to sleep in the cool, still night.
The sails swelled in the wind, and the ship glided smoothly and lightly
over the clear sea. When it grew dark, colored lamps were lighted and the
sailors danced merry dances on deck. The little Sea-maid thought of the
first time when she had risen up out of the sea, and beheld a similar scene of
splendor and joy; and she joined in the whirling dance, and flitted on as the
swallow flits away when he is pursued; and all shouted and admired her, for
she had danced so prettily. Her delicate feet were cut as if with knives, but
she did not feel it, for her heart was wounded far more painfully. She knew
this was the last evening on which she should see him for whom she had left
her friends and her home, and had given up her beautiful voice, and had
suffered unheard-of pains every day, while he was utterly unconscious of
all. It was the last evening she should breathe the same air with him, and
behold the starry sky and the deep sea; and everlasting night without thought
or dream awaited her, for she had no soul, and could win none. And everything
was merriment and gladness on the ship till past midnight, and she laughed and
danced with thoughts of death in her heart. The Prince kissed his beautiful
bride, and she played with his raven hair, and hand in hand they went to rest
in the splendid tent. It became quiet on the ship; only the helmsman stood by
the helm, and the little Sea-maid leaned her white arms upon the bulwark and
gazed out toward the east for the morning dawn - the first ray, she knew,
would kill her. Then she saw her sisters rising out of the flood; they were
pale, like herself; their long, beautiful hair no longer waved in the wind; it
had been cut off.
"We have given it to the witch, that we might bring you help, so that you
may not die to-night. She has given us a knife; here it is - look! how
sharp! Before the sun rises you must thrust it into the heart of the Prince,
and when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again
into a fish-tail, and you will become a sea-maid again, and come back to
us, and live your three hundred years before you become dead salt sea-foam.
Make haste! He or you must die before the sun rises! Our old grandmother
mourns so that her white hair has fallen off, as ours did under the witch`s
scissors. Kill the Prince and come back! Make haste! Do you see that red
streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die!"
And they gave a very mournful sigh, and vanished beneath the waves. The
little Sea-maid drew back the curtain from the tent, and saw the beautiful
bride lying with her head on the Prince`s breast; and she bent down and kissed
his brow, and gazed up at the sky where the morning red was gleaming brighter
and brighter; then she looked at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes
upon the Prince, who in his sleep murmured his bride`s name. She only was in
his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the Sea-maid`s hand. But then she
flung it far away into the waves - they gleamed red where it fell, and it
seemed as if drops of blood spurted up out of the water. Once more she looked
with half-extinguished eyes upon the Prince; then she threw herself from the
ship into the sea, and felt her frame dissolving into foam.
Now the sun rose up out of the sea. The rays fell mild and warm upon the
cold sea-foam, and the little Sea-maid felt nothing of death. She saw the
bright sun, and over her head sailed hundreds of glorious ethereal beings -
she could see them through the white sails of the ship and the red clouds of
the sky; their speech was melody, but of such a spiritual kind that no human
ear could hear it, just as no human eye could see them; without wings they
floated through the air. The little Sea-maid found that she had a frame like
these, and was rising more and more out of the foam.
"Whither am I going?" she asked; and her voice sounded like that of other
beings, so spiritual, that no earthly music could be compared to it.
"To the daughters of the air!" replied the others. "A sea-maid has no
immortal soul, and can never gain one, except she win the love of a mortal.
Her eternal existence depends upon the power of another. The daughters of the
air have likewise no immortal soul, but they can make themselves one through
good deeds. We fly to the hot countries, where the close, pestilent air kills
men, and there we bring coolness. We disperse the fragrance of the flowers
through the air, and spread refreshment and health. After we have striven for
three hundred years to accomplish all the good we can bring about, we receive
an immortal soul, and take part in the eternal happiness of men. You, poor
little Sea-maid, have striven with your whole heart after the goal we
pursue; you have suffered and endured; you have by good works raised yourself
to the world of spirits, and can gain an immortal soul after three hundred
years."
And the little Sea-maid lifted her glorified eyes toward God`s sun, and
for the first time she felt them fill with tears. On the ship there was again
life and noise. She saw the Prince and his bride searching for her; then they
looked mournfully at the pearly foam, as if they knew that she had thrown
herself into the waves. Invisible, she kissed the forehead of the bride,
fanned the Prince, and mounted with the other children of the air on the rosy
cloud which floated through the ether. After three hundred years we shall thus
float into Paradise!
"And we may even get there sooner," whispered a daughter of the air.
"Invisibly we float into the houses of men where children are, and for every
day on which we find a good child that brings joy to its parents and deserves
their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know when
we fly through the room; and when we smile with joy at the child`s conduct, a
year is counted off from the three hundred; but when we see a naughty or a
wicked child, we shed tears of grief, and for every tear a day is added to our
time of trial."
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