|
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.”
|
