Seeking Realms

The theme of mer-marriage, as in the case of Undine and later the Little Mermaid, leads us to believe that water beings are seeking out sanctity as they attempt to assimilate into the human world. Even though her world is rich with beauty and “far superior to that of other human beings” Undine leaves it behind in search for a soul and an afterlife. She searches for a way to eternity, calling it an “awake to a purer life.” The recurring story of intermarriage is an attempt to sway humanity into a feeling of superiority. Merbeings are the ones who seek our world, who seek our terrestrial realm, who seek our devotion. When Undine declares that “all beings aspire to be higher than they are” as she has just entered into her marriage, it leads to the claim that man is at the top of that list. And what an assertion, that the afterlife is purer than an existence in harmony with the elements of the earth. This yearn for heaven justifies degradation of earth’s natural resources when even the elements would give up their place on it.

This promotion of superiority and eternal greatness all comes to culmination in the 19th century. A culmination that backfires. After centuries of developing the Christian pomposity of humanity, morality and command of nature through mermaid lore, the public attained a thirst for mermaids. In an industrialized world, humanity wished for a way back to nature. To live in the sea, unscathed from the moral compass of a burgeoning nation and industry. The Feejee mermaid is proof of this as it found people schooling to get a glimpse. And when they saw the bleak counterfeit they had to turn back to the world “disgusted… re-enter(ing) the coal smog of New York city’s streets. (Scribner 125) Mermaid tales attempted to lead us to the verdict that water spirits sought out our realm and our morality due to a superiority. But the narrative had an adverse effect, especially in regard to industrialism. Humans attempted to “peek into the mystical wonder” of merfolk and instead had to remain in their “black cities and black lungs.”

Undines Speech and Christian Essentialism

In “The Day after the Wedding, from Undine,” found in The Penguin Book of Mermaids, religious imagery stands out thematically, driving the chapter’s narrative. As Undine gives her speech to Huldbrand she confesses that her kind “vanish into dust, and pass away, body and spirit, so that none of the stage 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” (105). This elemental imagery of dust reflects that of Genesis 3:19 “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” The scripture from the Book of Genesis is supposed to be a reminder that there is no amount of human achievement that can defy human destiny. Allusions to such scripture heavily frames the context in biblical cosmology, where there is one divine order that holds the power to determine what life holds value. Yet Undine had referred to this process of returning to “dust,” “sand,” “sparks,” and “wind”  as a sort of “evil.” The prevalent hierarchy of the divine order and the soulless is represented syntactically where the divine mortals “awake to purer life,” while the soulless nature spirits “remain” in the material world, one with the elements. The chapter’s biblical imagery depicts the ways in which Christian essentialism is legitimized falsely naturalizing religious teleology. 

Undine’s speech to Huldbrand lays the ground for the idea that all beings aspire to have and desire a divine soul, under the notion that moral advancement is dependent on Christian faith. In the following quote from that stated previously Undine goes on to say that water spirits “have no souls; the element moves [them], and is often obedient to [them] while [they] live, though it scatters [them] to dust when [they] die; and [they] are merry, without having aught to give [them] […] but all beings aspire to be higher than they are” (105). The environment and its elements, in this case, are personified—“the elements moves us”—making nature both animated and simultaneously passive. Nature is alive yet lacks free will. The water spirits are depicted as beings without divine agency, very much alive but not sanctified. The elements “move” them, yet are “obedient” to them, making Undine and other water spirits paradoxically passive and active in life. It lays a foundation for ideology that believes if a being “has no soul” then they are drifters in life and the environment. The final line presents that theological claim generalizing that “all beings aspire to be higher than they are.” It essentially claims that all life strives toward salvation because that is part of the order of life. 

The chapter sets the narrative that these “soulless” beings may be joyful but they are incomplete. By doing this Christian essentialism is put onto the pedestal as divine and part of natural evolution. That everyone must be incomplete and therefore feel the need to aspire to a “higher” way of life. Depictions of religious teleology is a way to dictate rhetoric of moral and cultural superiority. 

Redefinition for Rights

Besides the obvious intrigue of this week’s readings that discuss so many sightings of mermaids in very early years, I was drawn to the way they discuss the shift of their view. While we’ve analyzed at length the difference between their original view in society as creatures of lust, to a symbol of femininity and fertility, to their modern interpretation as child’s play, there doesn’t seem to be much of this recognition from the previous generations during the existence.

The exact statement really holds a lot of value: “The Mermaid has long been considered by many as a fabulous animal, but some naturalists have declared there is too much evidence of the existence of these animals to warrant them in pronouncing the mermaid to be solely a creature of fancy” (Penguin, 241). Their verbiage in particular, referring to them as animals, really begins a new definition in and of itself. While they’re somewhat referred to as a cross between fish and human in the rest of the reading, it’s clear where the author of this particular section draws the line. Their animal existence seems to completely separate them from the human existence, as if totality is the only true definition of being excluded from animal definition.

It’s especially intriguing because of how it leans into the idea that in the wake of their reality, they are animals, but humans are not. Only in fiction can they be considered entirely something of marvel, but when they may actually be something of fact, their existence must become detached from ours. Despite the same evolutionary process that created us being something that would be a part of their existence, and the fact that their cognitive ability matches our own, they must be completely disconnected and unassociated with the “perfection” that humanity supposedly holds. Even the contemplation of their existence needing to have complete evidence, despite there already having been, proves this need to deny them so we do not have to work around any creature that we would consider remotely comparative to us.

It truly in one sentence reflects our disrespect of them, our need to stare and make them “creatures of fancy” when we don’t believe they can defend themselves or find any kind of retaliation, but in the event of their actuality, we’re unsure of how to respond besides disconnection as animalistic beings. Without this shield of their non-existence, we’d have to recognize the inevitability of coexistence with something as cognitive as us, and humanity’s selfishness cannot do this. Instead, we refuse to accept them as a part of us, or a part of the world whatsoever.

Human Curiosity – The Mermaid Craze

This week, the readings gave us a deeper dive into the 19th century Mermaid phenomenon and how the populations of Britain and the United States reacted to these “mythical beings.” A trend I took note of, specifically when reading Penguins “The Feejee Mermaid Hoax” and A Human History: Freakshows and Fantasies, is the desperate level of connection humans crave to have with nature, the other, the unknown. The obscene is a reflection upon human knowledge, desire to gain more of it, no matter the cost. Humans want to understand what they are bred and taught to not. “As they had since Medieval times, merpeople continued to strike varying measures of skepticism and credulity, fear and wonder, among Westerners. (A Human History)  The question I want to dig upon is not the idea of how humans do this but the why? Why do these creatures promote skepticism, wariness, imagination, and creativity? Why are mermaids a phenomenon the human psyche is fixated upon? 

Are they seen as a connection to what we once were, what we could have been? Do they allow us to see a part of ourselves at one with nature in a way in which man can never be again, roots we have long forgotten? Are they to be seen as a warning – a sign of consequence from the removal of oneself from faith and society? All of these questions have surrounded humans since the dawn of the first “mermaid sighting,” another world meant for us to remain separate from. Is this why they remain hidden from us? Are we too unwilling and cruel to the environment and its gifts to behold such a beauty it has created, no communication ever being able to be established with us humans, so far lost from our origin? 

Why is there so much fear surrounding all unknown species? Why are humans so desperate to conceal what we believe we cannot understand? How do we know we won’t understand until it arrives right in front of us? Why is knowledge used as such a weapon of destruction among human kind? Perhaps the mermaid is only one part of our journey – the path towards enlightenment beyond human conception, the world around us we have exploited and refused to truly gaze upon.

Pretty Little Children of Nature

In the story of Undine there is an undercurrent of belief that humans have superiority over natural elements, based on the assertion that only humans have a soul, unlike nature. This belief reflects the on and off again thought that nature is a force outside of humans to be controlled for human prosperity, without concern for the impact this has on nature’s designs. This subjection of nature and the creatures within it makes it easier for humans to take what they need from it, without letting their souls feel the guilt of taking from another entity. When humans argue for their superiority over nature and other humans, their first tactic is to dehumanize. Instead of looking to the similarities nature and humans have with each other they create the image of “other” and infantilize it so their position seems more experienced and all-knowing.

Undine explains to her new husband about her and other elementals with this dehumanizing language, even though she states prior to this that the elementals do identify as human beings. She says, “hence we have no soul; 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…merry as the nightingales and little gold-fishes and other pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to be higher than they are” (Penguin,105). Characterizing the power in nature as being like children makes it a less consequential part of the human world, one that needs help and guidance. Only participating in the human world and obtaining a soul made the elemental more than they are on their own, making the human world the superior entity.

Conveniently in the human world there are those designated to award souls and personhood. In the case of this story it does this through marriage by a religious figure who one must be humble towards. This release of power for human theology and methodology is portrayed as a reasonable trade while power is still wielded in the human world over each other, but only by the few. Relinquishing power is the price of admission to be part of the human world because the human world only thrives on its assertion of its own control, not its inherent ability to do so.

Framing the elementals as being powerful in this Earth-bound world but reduced to nothing because there is not something to grieve them, also removes responsibility from humans for caring about anything outside of themselves and their interests. Asserting that there is a temporary power of nature but humans (having anointed themselves with the idea of a continuing spirit) in their existence will be forever. It prioritizes the human experience over the natural world, not considering how the two are intertwined in the same existence.

Elemental Spirits

In Undine (penguin), one of the passages that stood out to me was when Undine explains the existence of other elemental beings. The text says “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 under 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.” I think this description is important because it shows how magical the natural world is and it also makes me think about how humans create the boundary between themselves and nature. 

One thing that stood out to me in this quote is how much imagery it provides. Each spirit is tied to an element, fire, earth, air, water and each one carries a different personality. Salamanders are “wonderful” and full of light, gnomes are “lean and malicious”, air spirits are wanders, and water spirits are shown as a “vast family”. By giving each element a personality it shows that the natural world is alive and has hidden powers that are beyond human control. At the same time, the story makes it clear that these spirits “rarely allow themselves to become visible” which suggests secrecy and distance meaning the separation from the natural world. They exist alongside humans but stay hidden.I like the wording of this quote because it’s super detailed but at the same time it also organizes nature into different categories. Some spirits sound enchanting while others feel dangerous but they all align to “your race” meaning human beings. This separation creates the idea that these creatures are like humans but not quite, which makes them fascinating but also threatening.  

Another thing I found interesting was the way Undine delivers her speech because it connects to her own identity. Undine is a water spirit who gained a soul through marriage, she belongs to the world of elemental beings but she’s also separated from it. Undine is both an insider and an outsider to human life. She knows their world, but she is now speaking to humans and describing them as different. By saying “your race” she shows that she is in between the two categories, human and nonhuman. 

This part of the story shows how the line between nature and humanity is blurred and it connects to Undine’s in between identity. The descriptions of the elements bring out both the beauty and the fear people attach to nature and the way the spirits are kept separate from humans makes me think of the bigger question of how to define what belongs to the human world and what exists outside of it.   

Week 6: Breaching the boundary

In my post from last week I talked about how Melusine’s curse is an example of how outside forces can impact the bond between us and them, but I only read the summary of the legend of Melusine from the Penguin Book of Mermaids. Whoops! The Romance of the Faery Melusine, although a more difficult read, offers much more depth than just a mere summary. So for this post, I will do an analysis on how the environment around Raymondin reflects the shattering of the boundary between the natural and the supernatural as a result of his curiosity in chapter 19 of The Romance of the Faery Melusine.

At the start of Chapter 19, we see Raymondin in a state of restlessness brought on by his “regret and his anguish,” pacing up and down in his room distractedly. (119) His regret comes from his suspicions about Melusine, while his anguish stems from the grief that Melusine might be betraying them, as per the title of the chapter. The tapestry in the room is a stark contrast from the overall mood of this scene. While the design is quite elegant, Raymondin is only focused on a fawn with open legs and horns that “seemed to mock him” because the woman he married has tainted their marriage with her curse. This leads to his murderous obsession with Melusine’s secret, donning his armor and grabbing some weapons to protect himself in case Melusine attacks.

Of course, this obsession leads to an “irresistible and fatal” urge, as seen when Raymondin charges up the stairs to Melusine’s room, eager to strike (120-121). The climbing of the “narrow winding stair, steeper and steeper, to the very top” shows his bilnd franticness in discovering Melusine’s secret. And apparently, what lies at the top of the stairs is a place where “he had never been before.” He finds himself in some unknown territory, a dwelling place for the other, in which no one had dared to explore further. At the top, however, there is only one obstacle in his way: a door.

The door serves as a barrier between the natural world and the supernatural. The natural-ness of the door comes from its composition of wood, iron, and stone. Raymondin, already driven by his curiosity-fueled obsession, begins the process of unlocking the door, chipping away at the barrier separating the supernatural from the supernatural. After he opens it, he breaches the barrier, finding himself “in another world.”

The “world” he steps in is decorated to resemble the depths of the ocean, coupled with a “strange sound of splashing water.” It is oddly spacious for a room located at the top of a tower, essentially making it a pocket dimension for Melusine, and its unnaturalness comes from how it is decorated: “Thousands of shells in unknown forms, thousands and thousands of pebbles in all colours, including great rocks…” (123-124) And in this world lies a giant glass wall, serving as the final separator between him and her. And lo and behold, at the end of the chapter, he looks through the glass, that final barrier, and discovers Melusine’s half-human half-serpent form, and as his face falls into the sand, (125) he is left truly devastated.

Curiosity is the driver of the soul. Sometimes it rewards us, sometimes it kills us. And when curiosity gets the best of us, it drives us into obsession, leading us into places unknown. Some places are better off unexplored, yet our obsessions compell us to explore deeper. As seen in Raymondin’s obsession with Melusine’s secret, curiosity can make us overstep boundaries when it comes to discovering something beyond our comprehension.

Love at First Sight or Blinded by Lust?

There are a number of relationships that start to form slowly after a couple of nights out or social events being attended. However, there also seems to be a select group of bonds that immediately start to take course within the first few seconds of conversation or even just with a couple of glances back and forth. These very relationships that spark from the first altercation between one another is by no means “untrue” since there are in fact sacred bonds that form rapidly, but when someone decides to choose a companion after the first encounter it is quite a risk and after going over the reading and truly delving into the moments leading up to Raymondin and Melusine’s first altercation, it is quite evident that this was more so a lustful connection more than it was a passionate bond between to souls.

Although one may argue that what Raymondin felt towards Melusine was pure and that the betrayal was just a mere innocent mistake, one also needs to realize that Raymondin was also incredibly hesitant to initiate the bond right from the beginning. Now, this sort of reaction is something that is common in people that are under pressure (like Raymondin in this instance) or it could also be that he was truly infatuated with Melusine from the beginning which is quite odd seeing as how they have had no true interactions beforehand. This hesitancy from Raymondin’s part can be seen in when they converse about their future intentions,

“‘That is well Raymondin, but there is something else.'” “Surprised, he could not stop himself from blurting out ‘You have me at your mercy!'” (Lebey,Knight 27)

This sentiment Raymondin has is something that can be defined as an action driven by lust and pressure which resulted in him committing to something he was not emotionally prepared for, further showcasing the consequences of following through with a relationship after just one altercation between one another. Not only does this turn out to be true after Raymondi is adamant on Melusine becoming his bride, but it later officially establishes itself when he betrays Melusine and breaks the vow he did not even take as seriously as he should have to begin with; only proving that he rushed out of lust and not because of actual love.

Jealously into Concern

This post is about Chapter 14: Betrayal

This chapter focuses on Raymondin being deathly curious about what Melusine is doing privately during the one day he can’t see her. From what I can understand it seems to prove what I thought in my previous post where Raymondin was tempted/egged on to seek the truth. From this quote on page 121, “There where he had never been before. Neither he, nor anyone, except her – and – who else? He believed there must be someone, but without entirely believing it”, it seems Raymondin is driven by jealously and paranoia. Once the thought of Melusine doing something behind his back with another person (implied a man) he becomes “Suddenly frantic” (121). I like how in this chapter we focus on Raymondin’s perspective and are given more of a reasoning why he breached the trust between him and Melusine, despite all the love he held for his wife he is still human and allowed his insecurities to drive him. Admitting being unable to understand why he wasn’t deathly curious before, “He could no longer understand why he waited”. I would like to point out while this can be seen as infidelity, a man being possessive, alongside possibly control, Raymondin’s jealously soon shifts to concern.

“Suddenly a terrible idea seized him. Suppose he came from the parapet, out of the high airs? Could it be the Devil…? The painful thought of what he might be undertaking, despite his grief and shame, slightly relieved his jealousy, and even strengthened him. Ah! If that should be the case he would be sure to win, since he fought on the side of God! And above all, to save her! It seemed to him that when he rescued her she would thank him for overcoming the evil.” (121)

One can see this as him deflecting/downplaying his jealously but he has little evidence to go off of that Melusine could be cheating. As she only spends one day a week without letting anyone see her, and Raymondin more alludes to someone, aka anyone, seeing something he’s can’t as the main reason for his jealously. I see this part as Raymondin now seeing it as an odd situation, why is Melusine going off on her own for a single day every week? I believe he thinks something else is going on and is shown even more terrified that his beloved wife could be in danger. This serves as a sympathetic way to tell the reader that while Raymondin’s actions were unfounded and aren’t justified, they are understandable. Showing the situation is black and white, and it simply isn’t a breach of trust or Raymondin not believing in his wife enough.

Reaping the forbidden fruit

This week’s reading of Melusine “Departure” made me think about the innate human desire to cave into temptation, seeking answers to our curiosities, and how it sometimes results in our loss of innocence. The chapter “Departure” shows distinctive parallels between a well known creation story, Adam and Eve. The story of Adam and Eve is set in a paradise-like setting, a garden filled with harmony and pure bliss. The couple’s innocence shatters due to their disobedience to their creator, rendering their realities forever-changed and negatively altered. Similarly, Raymondin and Melusine live in the comfort of their noble walls, a kingdom in which they are protected from the outside world. It is Raymondin’s curiosity that leads the couple to their tragic fall, “he, through his curiosity, she, without it being her fault, by her very nature. And he no doubt threw the fault on her, and she told herself that they would still be happy but for his cursed curiosity” (142).  Raymondin heavily projects his wrongdoings onto his wife, and breaks a promise that disrupts their routinely peace and innocence.

Despite all of his begging for things to remain unchanged, to continue to live with each other, the damage is irreversible. “God, this same God, does not permit it” Melusine exclaims, which ties back to the Christian re-framing of this story. Even though Melusine forgives her husband, she implies that God does not- for he broke his promise to her in front of his people and has made his initial wrath and disdain known. With my limited knowledge of Christianity, “The Romance of the Faery Melusine” by Lebey reads as a cautionary-tale of what it means to let our suspicion blind us from our morals. Suspicion is a sin, one in which Raymondin acted on to fulfill his desire of the unknown. Humans and their natural desire to seek what they cannot, even if that means jeopardizing their wealth, well-being, and marriage truly shows how powerful our want to be in control is. It makes me wonder if the love that Raymondin claimed to have for Melusine, was more of a desire to control her. And when her true form was revealed, Raymondin might’ve been more upset at the loss of the illusion of control more than her being a hybrid.