As the sad lady sailed over a calm sea, she asked the sailors to take her to the very spot where her husband had been snared by the siren, and they carried out her orders. When the ship reached this spot, the child began to shed a flood of tears, and the mother was completely unable to pacify him. So, she took the apple made of brass and gave it to the boy. While he was playing with the apple, the siren noticed him and approached the ship. After she lifted her head out of the foamy waves, she said to Doralice, “Lady, give me that apple, for I’m very much taken by it.”
But the princess answered she would not give it to her because it was her child’s toy.
“If you will give it to me,” the siren said. “I shall show you your husband up to his breast.”
When Doralice heard these words, she gave the siren the apple because she desired to see her husband. The siren rewarded her for the precious gift and did as she had promised and showed the husband up to his breast. Then she plunged with him into the depths of the ocean and disappeared from sight.
As Doralice watched everything attentively, she longed to see her husband even more. Not knowing what to do or what to say, she sought comfort with her child, and when the little one began to cry once more, the mother gave him the silver apple. But once again the siren saw the apple and asked Doralice to give it to her. But the princess shrugged her shoulders and said that the apple was her child’s toy and could not be given away. Thereupon, the siren said, “If you will give me this apple, which is far more beautiful than the other, I promise to show you your husband down to his knees.”
Poor Doralice, who desired to see her husband more than ever, put the love of her husband before that of her son and cheerfully handed the apple to the siren, who kept her promise and then plunged back into the sea with Fortunio. Meanwhile, Doralice watched in silence and uncertainty, and she had no idea how to free her husband. She picked up her child in her arms, tried to comfort herself with him and to still his weeping. Remembering the apple with which he had been playing, the child continued crying so that mother gave him the golden apple to appease him. When the greedy siren caught sight of his apple and saw that it was more beautiful than the other two, she demanded it at once as a gift from Doralice. She insisted so much that the mother conceded against her will and took it away from her son. In return the siren promised that she would show her husband in his entirely, and in order to carry out her promise, the siren came close to the ship carrying Fortunio on her back. Then she rose somewhat above the surface of the water to reveal him from head to foot. However, as soon as Fortunio felt that he was above the water and resting free on the back of the siren, he was filled with joy, and without hesitating a moment, he cried out, “Oh, if only I were an eagle!”
As soon as he said this, he was immediately transformed into an eagle, and he flew to the mast of the ship. All the sailors watched him as he then descended to the main deck and returned to his proper shape. Then he kissed and embraced his wife and his child and all the sailors. Together they all celebrated Fortunio’s rescue, and they sailed back to King Odescalco’s kingdom. No sooner did they enter the harbor than they began to play their trumpets, drums, castanets, and other instruments that they had with them. When the king heard the music, he was very much astonished and waited with suspense to learn what all this meant. Soon a herald came to announce to the king that his dear daughter had arrived with her husband, Fortunio. When they had disembarked from the ship, they all went to the palace, where they were welcomed with a grand and glorious celebration.
After some days had passed, Fortunio returned to his old home and changed himself into a wolf. Then he devoured Alchia, his wicked mother, and Valentino, his brother, in revenge for the harm that they had done to him. Afterward, he returned to his natural form, mounted his horse, and rode back to his father-in-law’s kingdom, where he lived in peace with Doralice, his dear and beloved wife, for many years to the great delight of them both.
The Day after the Wedding, from Undine1
A German writer of French ancestry, Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué (1777–1843) published his novella Undine in 1811, which George MacDonald, Scottish author of fantasy literature and Christian minister, identified as the “most beautiful” of fairy tales in his essay “The Fantastic Imagination” (1893). This is perhaps not surprising given the role that Christianity plays in Undine.
Undine, a bubbly beauty who was adopted as a child by a fisherman and his wife, marries a knight named Huldbrand. She loves him, and after the wedding she reveals to him she is really a water princess who, thanks to their marriage, now has a soul. Entranced by her beauty, Huldbrand accepts her somewhat extravagant behavior. Unfortunately, some time later, Huldbrand’s heart begins to turn from Undine to his fellow mortal Bertalda, whom Undine has been treating like a sister. After a number of twists and turns that include Undine’s presumed death and the wedding of Huldbrand and Bertalda, the tale ends with Huldbrand’s death and Undine’s transformation into a body of water surrounding his grave.
Undine’s influence on Hans Christian Andersen’s well-known tale “The Little Mermaid” is clear and acknowledged. In both stories, a beautiful mermaid is loyal to her human love object and inspired by the prospect of acquiring a soul. Genre, however, makes a difference in how the two stories approach the soulless mermaid’s desire to be human and be loved by one. In Andersen’s fairy tale for children, the little mermaid trades with the sea witch, but remains otherwise childlike and innocent. In La Motte Fouqué’s gothic fairy-tale novella, the water princess Undine, in spite of her absolute loyalty, is accused of being a “witch, who has intercourse with evil spirits.” Unlike Andersen’s mute heroine, Undine also delivers a number of significant speeches, one of them in the chapter that follows, in which Undine reveals to Huldbrand that he married a water princess in search of a soul.
The fresh light of the morning awoke the young married pair. Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed Huldbrand’s rest; he had been haunted by spectres, who, grinning at him by stealth, had tried to disguise themselves as beautiful women, and from beautiful women they all at once assumed the faces of dragons, and when he started up from these hideous visions, the moonlight shone pale and cold into the room; terrified he looked at Undine, who still lay in unaltered beauty and grace. Then he would press a light kiss upon her rosy lips, and would fall asleep again only to be awakened by new terrors. After he had reflected on all this, now that he was fully awake, he reproached himself for any doubt that could have led him into error with regard to his beautiful wife. He begged her to forgive him for the injustice he had done her, but she only held out to him her fair hand, sighed deeply and remained silent. But a glance of exquisite fervour beamed from her eyes such as he had never seen before, carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore him no ill-will. He then rose cheerfully and left her, to join his friends in the common apartment.
He found the three sitting round the hearth, with an air of anxiety about them, as if they dared not venture to speak aloud. The priest seemed to be praying in his inmost spirit that all evil might be averted. When, however, they saw the young husband come forth so cheerfully, the careworn expression of their faces vanished.
The old fisherman even began to jest with the knight, so pleasantly, that the aged wife smiled good-humouredly as she listened to them. Undine at length made her appearance. All rose to meet her, and all stood still with surprize, for the young wife seemed so strange to them and yet the same. The priest was the first to advance towards her, with paternal affection beaming in his face, and, as he raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank reverently on her knees before him. With a few humble and gracious words, she begged him to forgive her for any foolish things she might have said the evening before, and entreated him in an agitated tone to pray for the welfare of her soul. She then rose, kissed her foster-parents, and thanking them for all the goodness they had shewn her, she exclaimed: “Oh! I now feel in my innerm
ost heart, how much, how infinitely much, you have done for me, dear, kind people!” She could not at first desist from her caresses, but scarcely had she perceived that the old woman was busy in preparing breakfast, than she went to the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not suffer the good old mother to take the least trouble.
She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and attentive, — at once a little matron and a tender bashful girl. The three who had known her longest, expected every moment to see some whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth. But they waited in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an angel. The holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said repeatedly to the bridegroom: “The goodness of heaven, sir, has entrusted a treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am; cherish it as you ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare.”
Towards evening, Undine was hanging on the knight’s arm with humble tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door, where the declining sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass, and upon the tall slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist, as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret seemed hovering on her lips, which however was only disclosed by scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in silence; when he spoke, she only answered him with looks, in which, it is true, there lay no direct reply to his enquiries, but a whole heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see it rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former wildness and swell. “By the morning, it will be quite dry,” said the beautiful wife, in a regretful tone, “and you can then travel away wherever you will, without anything to hinder you.” “Not without you, my little Undine,” replied the knight, laughing; “remember, even if I wished to desert you, the church, and the spiritual powers, and the emperor, and the empire, would interpose and bring the fugitive back again.” “All depends upon you, all depends upon you,” whispered his wife, half weeping, and half smiling. “I think, however, nevertheless, that you will keep me with you; I love you so heartily. Now carry me across to that little island, that lies before us. The matter shall be decided there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling waves, but it is so restful in your arms, and if you were to cast me off, I shall have sweetly rested in them once more for the last time.” Huldbrand, full as he was of strange fear and emotion, knew not what to reply. He took her in his arms and carried her across, remembering now for the first time that this was the same little island from which he had borne her back to the old fisherman on that first night. On the farther side, he put her down on the soft grass and was on the point of placing himself lovingly near his beautiful burden, when she said: “No, there, opposite to me! I will read my sentence in your eyes, before your lips speak; now, listen attentively to what I will relate to you.” And she began:
“You must know, my loved one, that there are beings in the elements which almost appear like mortals, and which rarely allow themselves to become visible to your race. Wonderful salamanders glitter and sport in the flames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep within the earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the forests; and a vast family of water spirits live in the lakes and streams and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, through which the sky looks in with its sun and stars, these latter spirits find their beautiful abode; lofty trees of coral with blue and crimson fruits gleam in their gardens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea, and among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite treasures of the old world, which the present is no longer worthy to enjoy; all these the floods have covered with their secret veils of silver, and the noble monuments sparkle below, stately and solemn, and bedewed by the loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful moss-flower and entwining cluster of sea grass. Those, however, who dwell there, are very fair and lovely to behold, and for the most part, are more beautiful than human beings. Many a fisherman has been so fortunate as to surprise some tender mermaid, as she rose above the waters and sang. He would then tell afar of her beauty, and such wonderful beings have been given the name of Undines. You, however, are now actually beholding an Undine.”
The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful wife was under the spell of one of her strange humours, and that she was taking pleasure in teazing him with one of her extravagant inventions. But repeatedly as he said this to himself, he could not believe it for a moment; a strange shudder passed through him; unable to utter a word, he stared at the beautiful narrator with an immoveable gaze. Undine shook her head sorrowfully, drew a deep sigh, and then proceeded as follows:
“Our condition would be far superior to that of other human beings, — for human beings we call ourselves, being similar to them in form and culture, — but there is one evil peculiar to us. We and our like in the other elements, vanish into dust, and pass away, body and spirit, so that not a vestige of us remains behind; and when you mortals hereafter awake to a purer life, we remain with the sand and the sparks and the wind and the waves. Hence we have also no souls; the element moves us, and is often obedient to us while we live, though it scatters us to dust when we die; and we are merry, without having aught to grieve us, — merry as the nightingales and little gold-fishes and other pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to be higher than they are. Thus my father, who is a powerful water-prince in the Mediterranean Sea, desired that his only daughter should become possessed of a soul, even though she must then endure many of the sufferings of those thus endowed. Such as we are, however, can only obtain a soul by the closest union of affection with one of your human race. I am now possessed of a soul, and my soul thanks you, my inexpressibly beloved one, and it will ever thank you, if you do not make my whole life miserable. For what is to become of me, if you avoid and reject me? Still I would not retain you by deceit. And if you mean to reject me, do so now, and return alone to the shore. I will dive into this brook, which is my uncle; and here in the forest, far removed from other friends, he passes his strange and solitary life. He is however powerful, and is esteemed and beloved by many great streams; and as he brought me hither to the fisherman, a light-hearted laughing child, he will take me back again to my parents, a loving, suffering, and soul-endowed woman.”
She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand embraced her with the most heartfelt emotion and love, and bore her back again to the shore. It was not till he reached it, that he swore amid tears and kisses, never to forsake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy than the Greek Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life from Venus and became his loved one. In endearing confidence, Undine walked back to the cottage, leaning on his arm; feeling now for the first time with all her heart, how little she ought to regret the forsaken crystal palaces of her mysterious father.
The Little Mermaid1
In 1837, Hans Christian Andersen (1805–1875) published “The Little Mermaid” in Danish; its first English-language translation appeared in 1846. “The Little Mermaid” is now Andersen’s most popular fairy tale, thanks in part to the 1989 Disney animated film adaptation that gave it a new interpretation and ending.
A literary tale that was possibly inspired by one of Andersen’s unhappy love experiences, “The Little Mermaid” draws on a web of stories in which the mermaid comes into the human world to marry, rather than seducing humans into her realm. The other best-known stories in this tradition are the medieval tale of the fairy Mélusine and Friedrich de La Motte Fouqué’s German novella about Undine. In contrast to both Mélusine and Undine, various aspects of Andersen’s tale conspire to represent the mermaid as “little”: she is the youngest of six sea-princesses; she has just turned fifteen when she catches sight of her human love interest; the prince calls her “his little foundling” and loves her “just as one loves a dear, good child”; and in the end she becomes one of the “children of the air.” Like her story ancestors,
the Sirens, this little mermaid has the most beautiful singing voice, but she trades it for legs so she can be with the prince in the human world, and entertains him by dancing. Her two legs perhaps symbolically signal her sexual maturity, but the sharp physical pain in her legs when she walks and dances is a constant reminder of how she does not belong at the prince’s court. Her love for the prince, like Mélusine’s and Undine’s, ends unhappily, but unlike them, the little mermaid never has a name or an actual romance. As she dissolves into an air spirit, her final transformation brings her closer to having a soul, thus exemplifying self-sacrifice as a form of self-fulfillment.
Andersen’s little mermaid acquired a name in the Disney film—Ariel, which resonates with spirit and aria—and regained her voice, a powerful agent of her happy ending.2
Far out at sea, the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflowers, and as clear as the purest crystal. But it is very deep—so deep, indeed, that no rope can fathom it; and many church steeples need be piled one upon the other to reach from the bottom to the surface. It is there that the sea-folk dwell.
The Penguin Book of Mermaids Page 11