The Ugly Duckling

: STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
: Boys And Girls Bookshelf

BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN





It was glorious out in the country. It was summer, and the corn-fields

were yellow, and the oats were green; the hay had been put up in stacks

in the green meadows, and the stork went about on his long red legs, and

chattered Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from his

good mother. All around the fields and meadows were great forests, and

in the mid t of these forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it was really

glorious out in the country. In the midst of the sunshine there lay an

old farm, surrounded by deep canals, and from the wall down to the water

grew great burdocks, so high that little children could stand upright

under the loftiest of them. It was just as wild there as in the deepest

wood. Here sat a Duck upon her nest, for she had to hatch her young

ones; but she was almost tired out before the little ones came; and then

she so seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked better to swim about

in the canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock, and cackle

with her.



At last one egg-shell after another burst open. "Piep! piep!" it cried,

and in all the eggs there were little creatures that stuck out their

heads.



"Rap! rap!" they said; and they all came rapping out as fast as they

could, looking all round them under the green leaves; and the mother let

them look as much as they chose, for green is good for the eyes.



"How wide the world is!" said the young ones, for they certainly had

much more room now than when they were in the eggs.



"Do you think this is all the world?" asked the mother. "That extends

far across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson's field,

but I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together," she

continued, and stood up. "No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies

there. How long is this to last? I am really tired of it." And she sat

down again.



"Well, how goes it?" asked an old Duck who had come to pay her a visit.



"It lasts a long time with that one egg," said the Duck who sat there.

"It will not burst. Now, only look at the others; are they not the

prettiest ducks one could possibly see? They are all like their father;

the bad fellow never comes to see me."



"Let me see the egg which will not burst," said the old visitor.

"Believe me, it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way, and

had much anxiety and trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid of

the water. I could not get them to venture in. I quacked and clucked,

but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that's a turkey egg! Let it

lie there, and come and teach the other children to swim."



"I think I will sit on it a little longer," said the Duck. "I've sat so

long now that I can sit a few days more."



"Just as you please," said the old Duck; and she went away.



At last the great egg burst. "Piep! piep!" said the little one, and

crept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The Duck looked at it.



"It's a very large duckling," said she; "none of the others look like

that: can it really be a turkey chick? Now we shall soon find it out. It

must go into the water, even if I have to thrust it in myself."



The next day the weather was splendidly bright, and the sun shone on all

the green trees. The Mother-Duck went down to the water with all her

little ones. Splash she jumped into the water. "Quack! quack!" she said,

and one duckling after another plunged in. The water closed over their

heads, but they came up in an instant, and swam capitally; their legs

went of themselves, and there they were all in the water. The ugly gray

Duckling swam with them.



"No, it's not a turkey," said she; "look how well it can use its legs,

and how upright it holds itself. It is my own child! On the whole it's

quite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. Quack! quack! come with me,

and I'll lead you out into the great world, and present you in the

poultry-yard; but keep close to me, so that no one may tread on you, and

take care of the cats!"



And so they came into the poultry-yard. There was a terrible riot going

on in there, for two families were quarreling about an eel's head, and

the cat got it after all.



"See, that's how it goes in the world!" said the Mother-Duck; and she

whetted her beak, for she, too, wanted the eel's head. "Only use your

legs," she said. "See that you can bustle about, and bow your heads

before the old Duck yonder. She's the grandest of her tribe; she's of

Spanish blood--that's why she's so fat; and do you see, she has a red

rag around her leg; that's something particularly fine, and the greatest

distinction a duck can enjoy; it signifies that one does not want to

lose her, and that she's to be recognized by man and beast. Shake

yourselves--don't turn in your toes; a well-brought-up duck turns its

toes quite out, just like father and mother, so! Now bend your necks and

say 'Rap'!"



And they did so; but the other ducks round about looked at them, and

said quite boldly:



"Look there! now we're to have these hanging on, as if there were not

enough of us already! And--fie!--how that Duckling yonder looks; we

won't stand that!" And one duck flew up immediately, and bit it in the

neck.



"Let it alone," said the mother; "it does no harm to any one."



"Yes, but it's too large and peculiar," said the Duck who had bitten it;

"and therefore it must be buffeted."



"Those are pretty children that the mother has there," said the old Duck

with the rag on her leg. "They're all pretty but that one; that was a

failure. I wish she could alter it."



"That cannot be done, my lady," replied the Mother-Duck. "It is not

pretty, but it has a really good disposition, and swims as well as any

other; I may even say it swims better. I think it will grow up pretty,

and become smaller in time; it has lain too long in the egg, and

therefore is not properly shaped." And then she pinched it in the neck,

and smoothed its feathers. "Moreover, it is a drake," she said, "and

therefore it is not of so much consequence. I think he will be very

strong: he makes his way already."



"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old Duck. "Make

yourself at home; and if you find an eel's head, you may bring it to

me."



And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which had crept last

out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and jeered, as

much by the ducks as by the chickens.



"It is too big!" they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had been born

with spurs, and therefore thought himself an emperor, blew himself up

like a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon it; then he

gobbled, and grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did not know

where it should stand or walk; it was quite melancholy because it looked

ugly, and was scoffed at by the whole yard.



So it went on the first day; and afterward it became worse and worse.

The poor Duckling was hunted about by every one; even its brothers and

sisters were quite angry with it, and said: "If the cat would only catch

you, you ugly creature!" And the mother said: "If you were only far

away!" And the ducks bit it, and the chickens beat it, and the girl who

had to feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot.



Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the bushes

flew up in fear.



"That is because I am so ugly!" thought the Duckling; and it shut its

eyes, but flew on farther; thus it came out into the great moor, where

the wild ducks lived. Here it lay the whole night long; and it was weary

and downcast.



Toward morning the wild ducks flew up, and looked at their new

companion.



"What sort of a one are you?" they asked; and the Duckling turned in

every direction, and bowed as well as it could. "You are remarkably

ugly!" said the wild ducks. "But that is very indifferent to us, so long

as you do not marry into our family."



Poor thing! it certainly did not think of marrying, and only hoped to

obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp water.



Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two wild geese, or,

properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not long since each had

crept out of an egg, and that's why they were so saucy.



"Listen, comrade," said one of them. "You're so ugly that I like you.

Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Near here, in another

moor, there are a few sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all

able to say 'Rap'! You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as you

are!"



"Piff! paff!" resounded through the air; and the two ganders fell down

dead in the swamp, and the water became blood-red. "Piff! paff!" it

sounded again, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the reeds.

And then there was another report. A great hunt was going on. The

hunters were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were even

sitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far over the

reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and was

wafted far away across the water; and the hunting dogs came--splash,

splash!--into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every

side. That was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned its head, and

put it under its wing; but at that moment a frightful great dog stood

close by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his mouth and his eyes

gleamed horrible and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against the

Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and--splash, splash!--on he went,

without seizing it.



"Oh, Heaven be thanked!" sighed the Duckling. "I am so ugly that even

the dog does not like to bite me!"



And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds and

gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, silence was restored;

but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up; it waited several hours

before it looked around, and then hastened away out of the moor as fast

as it could. It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a storm

raging that it was difficult to get from one place to another.



Toward evening the Duckling came to a miserable little hut. This hut was

so dilapidated that it did not know on which side it should fall; and

that's why it remained standing. The storm whistled round the Duckling

in such a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to stand

against it; and the tempest grew worse and worse. Then the Duckling

noticed that one of the hinges of the door had given way, and the door

hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through the crack into the

room.



Here lived a woman, with her Tom Cat and her Hen. And the Tom Cat, whom

she called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, he could even give out

sparks; but for that one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen

had quite little short legs, and therefore she was called

Chickabiddy-shortshanks; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as

her own child.



In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, and the Tom Cat

began to purr, and the Hen to cluck.



"What's this?" said the woman, looking all around; but she could not see

very well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that

had strayed. "This is a rare prize!" she said. "Now I shall have duck's

eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that."



And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks; but no eggs

came. And the Tom Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady,

and always said, "We and the world!" for she thought they were half the

world, and by far the better half. The Duckling thought one might have a

different opinion, but the Hen would not allow it.



"Can you lay eggs?" she asked.



"No."



"Then you'll have the goodness to hold your tongue."



And the Tom Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and purr and give out

sparks?"



"No."



"Then you cannot have any opinion of your own when sensible people are

speaking."



And the Duckling sat in the corner and was melancholy; then the fresh

air and the sunshine streamed in; and it was seized with such a strange

longing to swim on the water, that it could not help telling the Hen of

it.



"What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have nothing to do,

that's why you have these fancies. Purr or lay eggs, and they will pass

over."



"But it is so charming to swim on the water!" said the Duckling, "so

refreshing to let it close above one's head, and to dive to the bottom."



"Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly," quoth the Hen. "I fancy

you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat about it--he's the cleverest

animal I know--ask him if he likes to swim on the water, or to dive

down; I won't speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; no

one in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any desire

to swim, and to let the water close above her head?"



"You don't understand me," said the Duckling.



"We don't understand you? Then pray who is to understand you? You surely

don't pretend to be cleverer than the Tom Cat and the woman--I won't say

anything of myself. Don't be conceited, child, and be grateful for all

the kindness you have received. Did you not get into a warm room, and

have you not fallen into company from which you may learn something. But

you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate with you. You

may believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you disagreeable things,

and by that one may always know one's true friends! Only take care that

you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out sparks!"



"I think I will go out into the wide world," said the Duckling.



"Yes, do go," replied the Hen.



And the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, and dived, but it was

slighted by every creature because of its ugliness.



Now came the Autumn. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown;

the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up in the air it was

very cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and on

the fence stood the raven, crying, "Croak! croak!" for mere cold; yes,

it was enough to make one feel cold to think of this. The poor little

Duckling certainly had not a good time. One evening--the sun was just

setting in his beauty--there came a whole flock of great handsome birds

out of the bushes; they were dazzlingly white, with long flexible necks;

they were swans. They uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth their

glorious great wings, and flew away from that cold region to warmer

lands, to fair open lakes. They mounted so high, so high! and the ugly

little Duckling felt quite strangely as it watched them. It turned round

and round in the water like a wheel, stretched out its neck toward them,

and uttered such a strange loud cry as frightened itself. Oh! it could

not forget those beautiful, happy birds; and as soon as it could see

them no longer, it dived down to the very bottom, and when it came up

again, it was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those birds,

and knew not whither they were flying; but it loved them more than it

had ever loved any one. It was not at all envious of them. How could it

think of wishing to possess such loveliness as they had? It would have

been glad if only the ducks would have endured its company.



And the Winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was forced to swim

about in the water, to prevent the surface from freezing entirely; but

every night the hole in which it swam about became smaller and smaller.

It froze so hard that the icy covering cracked again; and the Duckling

was obliged to use its legs continually to prevent the hole from

freezing up. At last it became exhausted, and lay quite still, and thus

froze fast into the ice.



Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he saw what had

happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the ice-crust to pieces, and

carried the Duckling home to his wife. Then it came to itself again. The

children wanted to play with it, but the Duckling thought they would do

it an injury, and in its terror fluttered up into the milk-pan, so that

the milk spurted down into the room. The woman clapped her hands, at

which the Duckling flew down into the butter-tub, and then into the

meal-barrel and out again. How it looked then! The woman screamed, and

struck at it with the fire-tongs; the children tumbled over one another,

in their efforts to catch the Duckling; and they laughed and screamed

finely! Happily the door stood open, and the poor creature was able to

slip out between the shrubs into the newly fallen snow; and there it lay

quite exhausted.



But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the misery and want

which the Duckling had to endure in the hard Winter. It lay out on the

moor among the reeds, when the sun began to shine again and the larks to

sing: it was a beautiful Spring.



Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings: they beat the air

more strongly than before, and bore it strongly away; and before it well

knew how all this happened, it found itself in a great garden, where the

elder trees smelt sweet, and bent their long green branches down to the

canal that wound through the region. Oh, here it was so beautiful, such

a gladness of Spring! and from the thicket came three glorious white

swans; they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the water. The

Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by a peculiar

sadness.



"I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will kill me,

because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is of no

consequence! Better to be killed by them than to be pursued by ducks,

and beaten by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of the

poultry-yard, and to suffer hunger in Winter!" And it flew out into the

water, and swam toward the beautiful swans: these looked at it, and came

sailing down upon it with outspread wings. "Kill me!" said the poor

creature, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing but

death. But what was this that it saw in the clear water? It beheld its

own image; and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy, dark-gray bird, ugly and

hateful to look at, but--a swan!



It matters nothing if one is born in a duck-yard, if one has only lain

in a swan's egg.



It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered, now

it realized its happiness in all the splendor that surrounded it. And

the great swans swam around it, and stroked it with their beaks.



Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into the

water; and the youngest cried: "There is a new one!" And the other

children shouted joyously: "Yes, a new one has arrived!" And they

clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their father and

mother; and bread and cake were thrown into the water; and they all

said: "The new one is the most beautiful of all! so young and handsome!"

And the old swans bowed their heads before him.



Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he did

not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He

thought how he had been persecuted and despised; and now he heard them

saying that he was the most beautiful of all birds. Even the elder tree

bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun

shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck,

and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart:



"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the Ugly

Duckling!"