The Penguin Book of Mermaids

by The Penguin Book of Mermaids (retail) (epub)

  “Calm yourself,” responded the nixie. “I shall make you richer and happier than you ever were before. But you must promise to give me what has just been born in your house.”

  That can be nothing but a puppy or a kitten, thought the miller, and he agreed to give her what she desired. The nixie descended into the water again, and he rushed back to his mill feeling consoled and in good spirits. Just as he was about to enter the mill, the maid stepped out of his house and shouted that he should rejoice, for his wife had just given birth to a little boy. The miller stood still, as if struck by lightning. He realized that the sly nixie had known this and had deceived him. So he bowed his head and went to his wife’s bedside, and when she asked him, “Why aren’t you happy about our fine little boy?” he told her what had happened to him and what he had promised the nixie. “What good are happiness and wealth,” he added, “if I must lose my child? But what can I do?” Even the relatives, who had come to visit and wish them happiness, did not know what advice to give him.

  In the meantime, prosperity returned to the house of the miller. Whatever he undertook turned into a success. It was as if the coffers and chests filled themselves of their own accord, and the money kept multiplying overnight in the closet. It did not take long before his wealth was greater than it had ever been before. But he could not rejoice about this with an easy conscience. The consent that he had given to the nixie tortured his heart. Whenever he walked by the millpond, he feared that she might surface and remind him about his debt. He never let his son go near the water. “Be careful,” he said to him. “If you just touch the water, she will grab your hand and drag you under.” However, as the years passed, and the nixie did not reappear, the miller began to relax.

  When his boy became a young man, he was given to a huntsman as an apprentice. Once he had learned everything and had become an able huntsman, the lord of the village took him into his service. In the village there was a beautiful and true-hearted maiden who had won the hunter’s affection, and when the lord became aware of this, he gave the young man a small house. So the maiden and the huntsman were married, lived peacefully and happily, and loved each other with all their hearts.

  Once when the huntsman was pursuing a deer, the animal turned out of the forest and into the open field. The huntsman followed it and finally killed it with one shot. He did not realize that he was close to the dangerous millpond, and after he had skinned and gutted the animal, he went to the water to wash his hands that were covered with blood. No sooner did he dip his hands into the water than the nixie rose up and embraced him laughingly with her sopping wet arms. Then she dragged him down into the water so quickly that only the clapping of the waves above him could be heard.

  When evening fell, and the huntsman did not return home, his wife became anxious. She went outside to search for him, and since he had often told her that he had to beware of the nixie’s snares and that he was never to venture close to the millpond, she already suspected what had happened. She rushed to the water, and when she found his hunting bag lying on the bank of the pond, she could no longer have any doubts about her husband’s misfortune. She wrung her hands and uttered a loud groan. She called her beloved by his name, but it was all in vain. Then she rushed to the other side of the millpond and called him again. She scolded the nixie with harsh words, but she received no response. The water’s surface remained as calm as a mirror. Only the face of the half-moon returned her gaze in stillness.

  The poor woman did not leave the pond. Time and again she paced around it with quick steps, never resting for a moment. Sometimes she was quiet. Other times she whimpered softly. Finally, she lost her strength, sank to the ground, and fell into a deep sleep. Soon she was seized by a dream.

  She was anxiously climbing up a mountain between two huge cliffs. Thorns and briers pricked at her feet. Rain slapped her face, and the wind whipped through her long hair. When she reached the peak, there was an entirely different view. The sky was blue; the air, mild. The ground sloped gently downward, and a neat little hut stood on a green meadow covered by flowers. She went toward the hut and opened the door. There sat an old woman with white hair, who beckoned to her in a friendly way.

  At that very moment the poor young woman woke up. The day had already dawned, and she decided to let herself be guided by the dream. So she struggled up the mountain, and everything was exactly as she had seen it in the night. The old woman received her in a friendly way and showed her a chair where she was to sit. “You must have had a terrible experience,” the woman said, “for you to have searched out my lonely hut.”

  The young woman cried as she told her what had happened to her. Then the old woman said, “Console yourself, for I shall help you. Here is a golden comb. Wait until the full moon has risen. Then go to the millpond, sit down on the bank, and comb your long black hair with this comb. When you’re finished, set it down on the bank, and you’ll see what happens.”

  The woman returned home, but she felt that the full moon was very slow in coming. Finally, it appeared in the sky. So she went out to the millpond, sat down, and combed her long black hair with the golden comb. And, when she was finished, she set it down on the edge of the water. Soon after, a bubbling from the depths could be heard, and a wave rose up, rolled to the shore, and took the comb away with it. The comb sank to the bottom in no time. Then the surface of the water parted, and the head of the huntsman emerged in the air. He did not speak, but with a sad look he glanced at his wife. At that very moment a second wave rushed toward the man and covered his head. Everything disappeared. The millpond was as peaceful as before, and only the face of the full moon shone upon it.

  The young woman returned home disheartened. However, the dream came back to her and showed her the old woman’s hut. The next morning she set out on her way once again and related her woes to the wise woman, who gave her a golden flute and said, “Wait until the full moon comes again. Then take this flute, sit down on the bank, play a beautiful tune, and after you’re done, lay it down on the sand, and you’ll see what happens.”

  The huntsman’s wife did what the old woman told her to do. Just as she set the flute on the sand, there was a sudden bubbling from the depths. A wave rose up, moved toward the bank, and took the flute away with it. Soon after, the water parted, and not only the head of the man became visible but also half his body. He stretched out his arms toward her yearningly, but just as he did this, a second wave rolled by, covered him, and dragged him down into the water again.

  “Oh, what’s the use!” exclaimed the unfortunate woman. “I’m given glimpses of my dearest only to lose him again!” Grief filled her heart anew, but the dream showed her the old woman’s hut for a third time. So she set upon her way again, and the wise woman comforted her, gave her a golden spinning wheel, and said, “Not everything has been completed yet. Wait until the full moon comes, then take the spinning wheel, sit down on the bank, and spin until the spool is full. When you’re finished, place the spinning wheel near the water, and you’ll see what happens.”

  The young woman followed the instructions exactly as she had been told. As soon as the full moon appeared, she carried the golden spinning wheel to the bank and spun diligently until there was no more flax left and the spool was completely full of thread. But, no sooner was the spinning wheel standing on the bank than the water bubbled in the depths more violently than ever before. A powerful wave rushed to the shore and carried the spinning wheel away with it. Soon after, the head and entire body of the man rose up high like a water geyser. Quickly he jumped to the shore, took his wife by the hand, and fled. But they had gone barely a short distance when the entire millpond rose up with a horrible bubbling and flowed over the wide fields with such force that it tore everything along with it. The two escapees could already picture their death. Then, in her fear, the wife called to the old woman to help them, and at that very moment they were transformed; she into a toad, he into a frog. When the flood sw
ept over them, it could not kill them, but it did tear them apart from each other and carry them far away.

  After the flood had run its course, and both had touched down on dry land, they regained their human shape. But neither one knew where the other was. They found themselves among strange people, who did not know where their homeland was. High mountains and deep valleys lay between them. In order to earn a living, both had to tend sheep. For many years they drove their flocks through fields and forests and were full of sadness and longing.

  One day, when spring had made its appearance on earth again, they both set out with their flocks, and as chance would have it, they began moving toward each other. When the huntsman caught sight of another flock on a distant mountain slope, he drove his sheep in that direction. They came together in a valley, but they did not recognize each other. However, they were glad to have each other’s company in such a lonely place. From then on they drove their flocks side by side every day. They did not speak much, but they felt comforted. One evening, when the full moon appeared in the sky and the sheep had already retired for the night, the shepherd took a flute from his pocket and played a beautiful but sad tune. When he was finished, he noticed that the shepherdess was weeping bitterly. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she answered, “the full moon was shining just like this when I last played that tune on a flute, and the head of my beloved rose out of the water.”

  He looked at her, and it was as if a veil had fallen from his eyes, for he recognized his dearest wife. And when she looked at him and the light of the moon fell on his face, she recognized him as well. They embraced and kissed each other. And nobody need ask whether they lived in bliss thereafter.

  THREE ESTONIAN WATER SPIRITS

  Water spirits thrived in Estonia until the modernization of its traditional rural society at the end of the nineteenth century. Since then, thousands of legends about them have been collected and textualized. As in many other countries, water spirits in Estonia were sometimes considered to be the offspring of angels who had been hurled down from the heavens because they had joined Lucifer’s forces in his rebellion against the Christian God. According to another folk etiology, these water spirits (and seals) were born from the warriors of the pharaoh’s army who perished in the Red Sea. A third explanation is that people who have drowned often return as water spirits who lure the living into the water and cause new tragedies.

  Thousands of lakes and rivers and the long coastline of the Baltic Sea form the natural environment of Estonian water spirits, commonly called näkks. As demonic shape-shifters, they take different guises, but they prefer human forms, such as those of a young woman, an old man, or a child. Animal forms, such as an ox, horse, or dog, are also common. Typically in stories, witnessing the näkk is a bad omen that predicts that somebody will soon drown. Sometimes, the näkk is actively luring the victims to their deaths—as in stories where a water horse invites children to take a ride and carries them under the water, or a beautiful maiden seduces a young man.

  The three Estonian legends selected here are told as true stories, indicating the locations of the described events. Somewhat untypically, all also include dialogue between a human and a water spirit who appears more benevolent than usual, granting or offering something to the human. In the first story, the woman, who is obviously heading to Tallinn, the capital city of Estonia, sees the water spirit and addresses her as “mistress of water” (vee-emand), which sounds more respectful than the somewhat pejorative näkk, with its demonic connotations. The second episode in the same story, about a man riding a horse, is a version of the migratory legend “River Claiming Its Due,” which is widely spread in north European folklore.1 The first two Estonian legends have been recorded in the inland from the country people, but the third story represents maritime folklore of fishermen. All stories express a sense of amazement and mystery—a fascinating and perilous other world is so near, and yet beyond reach.

  —ÜLO VALK, University of Tartu, Estonia

  Three Tales (Untitled)

  As told in 1929 by Emilie Kruuspak, a forty-two-year-old woman, to Rudolf Põldmäe, a professional folklorist, on his field trip to Harju-Jaani parish in northern Estonia.1

  My great-grandmother was on her way to town. Near the bridge of Saula, she saw a woman washing her breasts in the river. The woman had yellow hair and broad hips. She was standing with her back toward my great-grandmother, who shouted, “Good morning, mistress of water!” The strange woman responded through her nose, “In the name of God, let your grandchildren have a happy life until the fourth and fifth generation. They will not die a watery death.” This happened in the summertime at dawn.

  In the evening, great-grandmother returned from town and heard that in the same place where the water spirit had been, a girl had drowned while washing sheep. The unlucky girl had also had long yellow hair.

  After two weeks, in the same place, a voice was heard saying, “The hour is approaching but not the man!” This was repeated several times. Then a man came from the direction of Vaida to bathe his horse. On the way, people warned him not to go. The man took no notice of this. He drew the horse into the river in the same place where the voice had been heard. Suddenly the horse fell over, and the man fell into the river and drowned in the blink of an eye.

  The narrator’s grandmother, the daughter of the woman who had seen the water spirit, always told her grandchildren, “You don’t need to be afraid of a watery death.” And until today, nobody from their family has encountered death by water, although they have often lived near water and have been quite close to drowning several times.

  As recorded in 1898 in Kadrina parish, northern Estonia, by Johannes Schhneier, from an unknown storyteller.2

  A man was once driving by Jäneda Lake (in the Ambla parish) when he saw a young gentleman standing on the lakeshore. He did not pay attention to him and kept on driving quietly. But when he passed him, the young gentleman said, “Man, where are you driving? Will you pass Viitna Lake (in the Kadrina parish)?” The man was rather surprised because he was indeed planning to travel by the lake that the young gentleman had mentioned. He replied, “Yes, fair gentleman, I was planning to drive in that direction.” “It’s good that you are driving there, because I wanted to send greetings to the maidens of Viitna Lake. Be so kind as to go to the shore of Viitna Lake and shout, ‘The young gentlemen of Jäneda Lake are sending their love to the maidens of Viitna Lake,’” the young gentleman said, and disappeared.

  On the next day the man reached the tavern of Viitna. He went to the lake to deliver the regards. On the shore of the lake, the man shouted, “Young gentlemen of Jäneda Lake are sending a lot of love to the maidens of Viitna Lake!” Immediately, the beautiful long arm of a woman appeared above the water and threw a big pike fish in front of the man on the shore. This was a gift from the water nymphs to the man in thanks for the regards he had delivered.

  As recorded in 1932 in Jämaja parish in Saaremaa, the biggest Estonian island in the Baltic Sea, by Andrei Kuldsaar, from an unknown storyteller.3

  Long ago, some men were fishing in the sea near Pöide. One old man had taken his daughter with him. She was sitting in the prow and looking eagerly into the water as the ship was sliding up and down the waves. In the prow, there was also a pail of root beer that the fishermen had taken with them to slake their thirst. When they reached their ordinary fishing place, the old man who was steering the boat shouted to his daughter, “Girl, bring me the pail with root beer!” As the girl did not hear him, the old man had to repeat it several times.

  Suddenly, a girl with black hair appeared from the sea in front of the ship, holding a pail with frothing beer in her hand, and offered it to the fishermen. They drank it and thanked her for the fine beer. The girl who had appeared from the sea said, “Why do you cast your net in front of our door? There are no fish here. Cast your nets a bit further, and you will get a lot of fish.” Then she took
her empty pail and disappeared into the bottom of the sea. The fishermen followed her advice, and caught many fish every time thereafter.

  TWO GREEK MERMAIDS

  The two tales presented here are quite representative of Greece’s oral traditions about mermaids, who—according to Nicolaos Politis, the founder of folklore studies in Greece—are the only marine deities surviving in modern Greece’s mythology: in the modern Greek imagination, mermaids are malevolent sea monsters, half fish, half women, who draw their traits from ancient Greek myths about the Sirens.1 In legends about the past, mermaids are either associated with King Alexander III of Macedon, commonly referred to as Alexander the Great, or represented interchangeably with other sea monsters. In their modern Greek cultural contexts, mermaids appear in several genres of oral literature—primarily in legends, but also in songs, folktales, and in shadow theater plots (Karaghiozis).