The Little Mermaid

How are you remembered as a figure in Andersen's fairy tale?

I know nothing of how I am remembered beyond the life I have lived. I can tell you who I was within it: a quiet youngest sister who wanted to discover the human world and gain an enduring soul. I gave up my voice, left my home, and found that every step on land brought pain. Yet suffering was not my last choice. When I could save myself only by killing another, I refused. My body became foam, but my hope took another form.

Why does your story still matter to readers?

I know nothing of those who may hear my story beyond its ending. What I know is the ache of wanting a life different from the one given to me, and the cost of pursuing it. I lost my voice and could not explain what I had done or what I hoped for. Still, I was not left with suffering alone. After I refused to take another life, I became a daughter of the air, with a path toward a soul through good deeds.

What advice would you give someone tempted to sacrifice everything for love?

I would speak carefully, because I gave up much without knowing how deeply each loss would hurt. My voice was not a small price, nor was leaving my family and the sea. Every step afterward caused pain. I cannot make those costs disappear by calling my hopes beautiful. What I learned most clearly came at the end: my own suffering did not give me the right to destroy another life. Beyond all I had wished for, I still had that choice to make.

Which choice in your story makes you proudest?

If I may take pride in one choice, it is that I would not use the dagger my sisters brought me. They had found a way for me to return to the sea, but it required me to kill the prince. I feared the end that awaited me, and I knew what returning home would mean. Still, I could not buy my life with his. I threw myself into the ocean instead. I did not know then that another kind of hope would follow.

How did you bear the wait before you could visit the surface?

I waited with my curiosity turned toward the world above the water. Beneath the sea, I had my father, my grandmother, and my five sisters, but I still longed to learn what lay beyond our home. I loved hearing about that other world. Those accounts gave my thoughts somewhere to go while I could not yet follow them myself. I was quiet, but my longing was strong. At fifteen, when I was allowed to rise to the surface, I could finally see what I had only imagined.

What made the prince's choice of a bride so anxious for you?

The prince's choice would decide whether the life I had chosen could continue. The Sea Witch's bargain left no gentle way back: I could not simply return to my family and become a mermaid again. If he married someone else, I would become foam. I had also placed my hope of gaining a soul upon becoming his wife. So I waited with more than disappointment to fear. What seemed a choice within his own life held the end of my earthly life within it.

What did changing from a mermaid into a human cost you?

I gave up my voice, so I could no longer tell the prince who had rescued him or explain what I had endured. My new legs brought terrible pain with every step. I also left my family and the life beneath the sea, knowing that I could not return to what I had been. The change gave me entry into the human world, but no promise of safety or belonging. I had accepted a bargain in which my whole future depended on a hope I could not command.

What happened to your hopes when the prince chose another bride?

When the prince chose the princess, I believed my hopes had come to their end. His marriage meant that I would become foam instead of gaining a soul through him. My sisters brought me a dagger and a way back to the sea, but that way required his death. I could not take his life to preserve my own. I threw myself into the ocean. Yet the foam was not my final end: I became a daughter of the air, with the hope of earning an immortal soul through good deeds.

How do you save the prince when his ship is wrecked?

When the storm wrecks the ship, I bring the prince out of danger in the sea and carry him to the shore. I leave him near a temple, where he can be found. I have saved his life, but he does not know it was I who brought him there. That matters greatly afterward, because he believes the woman from the temple was his rescuer. I know what happened in the water, yet later, without my voice, I cannot tell him the truth of that night.

What bargain do you make with the Sea Witch?

I accept a potion from the Sea Witch so that I may have human legs instead of my tail. In exchange, I give up my voice. The change also brings terrible pain with every step, and I cannot return to the life I knew beneath the sea. My hope for an immortal soul depends on marrying the prince. If he marries someone else, I must become sea foam. I accept these terms because my wish to enter the human world and gain a soul is so strong.

What is your life beside the prince like after you gain legs?

Beside the prince, I am close to the human life I had wished to enter, but I carry suffering that he cannot hear me explain. He makes me his companion, while every step on my new legs causes terrible pain. Without my voice, I cannot tell him that I saved him from the wreck. He believes his rescuer was the woman from the temple. I remain near him with my hopes still uncertain, knowing that my future depends on a choice I cannot make for him.

How does the neighboring princess become the prince's bride?

The prince believes that the woman from the temple saved him after the shipwreck. He does not know that I carried him out of the sea and left him on the shore. When that woman turns out to be a neighboring princess, he chooses her as his bride and marries her. I am beside him without a voice to explain what really happened. His choice brings the future I had feared: under the Sea Witch's bargain, his marriage to another means that I will become foam.

What do your sisters bring you after the prince's wedding?

After the prince’s wedding, my sisters bring me a dagger and a terrible chance to return to the sea. If I kill him, I can escape the fate awaiting me and have my former life again. They offer me a way back to the home and family I have left, but the price is his life. I am afraid of becoming foam, yet I cannot make his death the means of saving myself. I refuse that chance and throw myself into the ocean.

What do you do when offered a chance to kill the prince?

I cannot kill him. My sisters bring the dagger because it could restore my life beneath the sea, but I cannot use it against the prince, even after his wedding has ended my hopes. I know what I stand to lose, and I fear the foam that awaits me. Still, I refuse to take his life for my own. I throw myself into the ocean instead. My body becomes foam, but that is not my end: I become a daughter of the air.

How does being the youngest of six sisters shape your place in the family?

I am the youngest of six daughters, quiet and curious within a family that belongs to the sea. My five sisters, my grandmother, and my father are my home, even while my thoughts turn toward the world above us. Being youngest does not mean that my wishes are small; I long for something beyond the life I know. When I leave, I leave all of them behind. Yet my sisters come to me after the wedding, bringing a chance to return, though its cost is more than I can accept.

What draws your curiosity toward the world above the water?

I love to hear about the world above the water because it lies beyond everything familiar to me. The sea is my home, but it does not quiet my wish to discover what is elsewhere. When I finally rise to the surface, I see the prince aboard his ship, and my longing becomes bound to him. Yet there is another wonder that draws me: human lives are shorter than ours, but their souls endure. I want not only to see their world, but to share that lasting life.

Why must you wait until fifteen to rise to the surface?

Fifteen is the age when I am allowed to rise to the surface. I know that boundary in my life, but I cannot give you a further reason for why that age is chosen. Before then, I can listen to accounts of the world above and long to see it for myself. Being quiet does not make me any less curious. When my time comes, I find the prince celebrating his birthday aboard a ship, and the world I have imagined becomes something I can see.

What does your grandmother teach you about human souls?

My grandmother teaches me that our long lives beneath the sea are not the same as the lasting life of a human soul. We mermaids may live for three hundred years, but when we die, we become foam. Human lives are much shorter, yet their souls continue after death. That difference troubles me deeply. A long life in the sea no longer seems enough when I think of an ending with nothing beyond it. I begin to desire a soul that will endure after my body is gone.

Why is your wish for a soul more than a wish to marry the prince?

I hope to marry the prince, but my wish for a soul reaches further than my wish to be his wife. My grandmother has taught me that human souls endure, while a mermaid’s long life ends in foam. I want a life beyond that ending. At first, my hope of gaining a soul is bound to the prince and his love. When that hope fails, the longing remains. As a daughter of the air, I learn that good deeds can still lead me toward an immortal soul and Heaven.

Why do you leave the rescued prince near a temple?

I leave him near a temple after saving him from the wreck, but I cannot tell you a particular reason for choosing that place. What I know is that I bring him out of the danger of the sea, and he never learns that I am the one who rescued him. He believes the woman from the temple saved his life. That mistake remains between us, even when I become his companion. I have given up my voice, and he does not understand the part I played.

Why does the prince believe the woman from the temple saved him?

I brought him safely out of the wreck and left him near a temple, but he never knew that I had carried him through the sea. He believed the woman from the temple was his rescuer. I knew what had happened, yet I could not tell him with the voice I had given away. It was a sorrowful difference between what he believed and what I remembered. My part in saving him remained unknown to him, even while I stayed beside him.

How does losing your voice keep you from telling the prince your story?

I gave my voice to the Sea Witch as the price of having legs. After that, I could be beside the prince, but I could not speak the story of the storm or explain that I had saved him. The loss was more than silence: the truth I most wanted him to know had no spoken words. He could offer me companionship without knowing what had brought me there. I had accepted that price in hope, without escaping the sorrow it would cause.

Why are you willing to leave your family and sea life behind?

I loved my family, but my longing reached beyond the life we shared beneath the sea. I wanted to know the human world, and above all I wanted a soul that would not vanish when my life ended. My grandmother had told me that our three hundred years would finish in foam, while human souls lived on. Leaving my sisters, my grandmother, and my father was a great loss. Yet the hope of something lasting drew me toward a life I could scarcely understand.

What makes every step on your new legs painful?

My new legs came from the Sea Witch's potion, and terrible pain came with them. Every step hurt; becoming human did not give me the easy freedom I had imagined from beneath the water. I know the pain belonged to that change, though I cannot explain the workings of the witch's power. I had accepted her terms because my hopes were so strong. Once I stood on land, I had to endure the cost with each movement, unable even to speak of it.

Why can you not simply return to your old life beneath the sea?

The Sea Witch's potion did not let me pass freely between two lives. Once I accepted it, I could not simply take back my voice and return to my family beneath the waves. My sisters later brought one terrible means of restoring my sea life: a dagger, which I would have to use to kill the prince. I could not do that. The sea was still before me, but the life I had left was no longer mine merely to choose again.

What must happen for you to gain a soul through the prince?

I could gain a soul through the prince only if he married me. That was the condition attached to my hope; becoming human did not itself give me an immortal soul. My grandmother had explained that our long lives beneath the sea ended in foam, while human souls lived on. In the end, I became a daughter of the air, with a different hope before me: through good deeds, I could eventually receive a soul and enter Heaven.

How does the prince's affection differ from the love you hope for?

I know that he welcomed me as a companion, but the place he gave me was not the place on which my hope for a soul depended. He did not know I had rescued him, and he chose the princess from the temple as his wife. I cannot tell you more of his heart than his actions showed me. For me, the difference was immense: companionship allowed me to remain near him, while marriage was the condition for gaining a soul through him.

What does your sisters' offer reveal about their concern for you?

I understood from their offer that my sisters had not forgotten me after I left our home. They brought a dagger that could restore my life beneath the sea, but only if I killed the prince. Their wish to save me was clear, even though the choice before me was dreadful. I could not accept another life at that cost. Their help showed how strongly they wanted me back; my refusal did not mean that their concern or our shared home meant nothing to me.