The Ugly Duckling
By Hans Christian Andersen
(1844)
It was lovely summer weather in the country,
and the golden corn, the green oats, and the
haystacks piled up in the meadows looked
beautiful. The stork walking about on his
long red legs chattered in the Egyptian
language, which he had learnt from his
mother. The corn-fields and meadows were
surrounded by large forests, in the midst of
which were deep pools. It was, indeed,
delightful to walk about in the country. In
a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farm-house
close by a deep river, and from the house
down to the water side grew great burdock
leaves, so high, that under the tallest of
them a little child could stand upright. The
spot was as wild as the centre of a thick
wood. In this snug retreat sat a duck on her
nest, watching for her young brood to hatch;
she was beginning to get tired of her task,
for the little ones were a long time coming
out of their shells, and she seldom had any
visitors. The other ducks liked much better
to swim about in the river than to climb the
slippery banks, and sit under a burdock
leaf, to have a gossip with her.
At length one shell cracked, and then
another, and from each egg came a living
creature that lifted its head and cried,
“Peep, peep.”
“Quack, quack,” said the mother, and then
they all quacked as well as they could, and
looked about them on every side at the large
green leaves. Their mother allowed them to
look as much as they liked, because green is
good for the eyes.
“How large the world is,” said the young
ducks, when they found how much more room
they now had than while they were inside the
egg-shell.
“Do you imagine this is the whole world?”
asked the mother; “Wait till you have seen
the garden; it stretches far beyond that to
the parson's field, but I have never
ventured to such a distance. Are you all
out?” she continued, rising; “No, I declare,
the largest egg lies there still. I wonder
how long this is to last, I am quite tired
of it;” and she seated herself again on the
nest.
“Well, how are you getting on?” asked an old
duck, who paid her a visit.
“One egg is not hatched yet,” said the duck,
“it will not break. But just look at all the
others, are they not the prettiest little
ducklings you ever saw? They are the image
of their father, who is so unkind, he never
comes to see.”
“Let me see the egg that will not break,”
said the duck; “I have no doubt it is a
turkey's egg. I was persuaded to hatch some
once, and after all my care and trouble with
the young ones, they were afraid of the
water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no
purpose. I could not get them to venture in.
Let me look at the egg. Yes, that is a
turkey's egg; take my advice, leave it where
it is and teach the other children to swim.”
“I think I will sit on it a little while
longer,” said the duck; “as I have sat so
long already, a few days will be nothing.”
“Please yourself,” said the old duck, and
she went away.
At last the large egg broke, and a young one
crept forth crying, “Peep, peep.” It was
very large and ugly. The duck stared at it
and exclaimed, “It is very large and not at
all like the others. I wonder if it really
is a turkey. We shall soon find it out,
however when we go to the water. It must go
in, if I have to push it myself.”
On the next day the weather was delightful,
and the sun shone brightly on the green
burdock leaves, so the mother duck took her
young brood down to the water, and jumped in
with a splash. “Quack, quack,” cried she,
and one after another the little ducklings
jumped in. The water closed over their
heads, but they came up again in an instant,
and swam about quite prettily with their
legs paddling under them as easily as
possible, and the ugly duckling was also in
the water swimming with them.
“Oh,” said the mother, “that is not a
turkey; how well he uses his legs, and how
upright he holds himself! He is my own
child, and he is not so very ugly after all
if you look at him properly. Quack, quack!
come with me now, I will take you into grand
society, and introduce you to the farmyard,
but you must keep close to me or you may be
trodden upon; and, above all, beware of the
cat.”
When they reached the farmyard, there was a
great disturbance, two families were
fighting for an eel's head, which, after
all, was carried off by the cat.
“See, children, that is the way of the
world,” said the mother duck, whetting her
beak, for she would have liked the eel's
head herself. “Come, now, use your legs, and
let me see how well you can behave. You must
bow your heads prettily to that old duck
yonder; she is the highest born of them all,
and has Spanish blood, therefore, she is
well off. Don't you see she has a red flag
tied to her leg, which is something very
grand, and a great honor for a duck; it
shows that every one is anxious not to lose
her, as she can be recognized both by man
and beast. Come, now, don't turn your toes,
a well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide
apart, just like his father and mother, in
this way; now bend your neck, and say
‘quack.’”
The ducklings did as they were bid, but the
other duck stared, and said, “Look, here
comes another brood, as if there were not
enough of us already! and what a queer
looking object one of them is; we don't want
him here,” and then one flew out and bit him
in the neck.
“Let him alone,” said the mother; “he is not
doing any harm.”
“Yes, but he is so big and ugly,” said the
spiteful duck “and therefore he must be
turned out.”
“The others are very pretty children,” said
the old duck, with the rag on her leg, “all
but that one; I wish his mother could
improve him a little.”
“That is impossible, your grace,” replied
the mother; “he is not pretty; but he has a
very good disposition, and swims as well or
even better than the others. I think he will
grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he
has remained too long in the egg, and
therefore his figure is not properly
formed;” and then she stroked his neck and
smoothed the feathers, saying, “It is a
drake, and therefore not of so much
consequence. I think he will grow up strong,
and able to take care of himself.”
“The other ducklings are graceful enough,”
said the old duck. “Now make yourself at
home, and if you can find an eel's head, you
can bring it to me.”
And so they made themselves comfortable.
But the poor duckling, who had crept out of
his shell last of all, and looked so ugly,
was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not
only by the ducks, but by all the poultry.
“He is too big,” they all said, and the
turkey cock, who had been born into the
world with spurs, and fancied himself really
an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel
in full sail, and flew at the duckling, and
became quite red in the head with passion,
so that the poor little thing did not know
where to go, and was quite miserable because
he was so ugly and laughed at by the whole
farmyard.
So it went on from day to day till it got
worse and worse. The poor duckling was
driven about by every one; even his brothers
and sisters were unkind to him, and would
say, “Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat
would get you,” and his mother said she
wished he had never been born. The ducks
pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the
girl who fed the poultry kicked him with her
feet.
So at last he ran away, frightening the
little birds in the hedge as he flew over
the palings. “They are afraid of me because
I am ugly,” he said. So he closed his eyes,
and flew still farther, until he came out on
a large moor, inhabited by wild ducks. Here
he remained the whole night, feeling very
tired and sorrowful.
In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in
the air, they stared at their new comrade.
“What sort of a duck are you?” they all
said, coming round him. He bowed to them,
and was as polite as he could be, but he did
not reply to their question.
“You are exceedingly ugly,” said the wild
ducks, “but that will not matter if you do
not want to marry one of our family.” Poor
thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all
he wanted was permission to lie among the
rushes, and drink some of the water on the
moor.
After he had been on the moor two days,
there came two wild geese, or rather
goslings, for they had not been out of the
egg long, and were very saucy.
“Listen, friend,” said one of them to the
duckling, “you are so ugly, that we like you
very well. Will you go with us, and become a
bird of passage? Not far from here is
another moor, in which there are some pretty
wild geese, all unmarried. It is a chance
for you to get a wife; you may be lucky,
ugly as you are.”
“Pop, pop,” sounded in the air, and the two
wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and
the water was tinged with blood. “Pop, pop,”
echoed far and wide in the distance, and
whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the
rushes. The sound continued from every
direction, for the sportsmen surrounded the
moor, and some were even seated on branches
of trees, overlooking the rushes. The blue
smoke from the guns rose like clouds over
the dark trees, and as it floated away
across the water, a number of sporting dogs
bounded in among the rushes, which bent
beneath them wherever they went. How they
terrified the poor duckling! He turned away
his head to hide it under his wing, and at
the same moment a large terrible dog passed
quite near him. His jaws were open, his
tongue hung from his mouth, and his eyes
glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close
to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth,
and then, “splash, splash,” he went into the
water without touching him.
“Oh,” sighed the duckling, “how thankful I
am for being so ugly; even a dog will not
bite me.”
And so he lay quite still, while the shot
rattled through the rushes, and gun after
gun was fired over him.
It was late in the day before all became
quiet, but even then the poor young thing
did not dare to move. He waited quietly for
several hours, and then, after looking
carefully around him, hastened away from the
moor as fast as he could. He ran over field
and meadow till a storm arose, and he could
hardly struggle against it.
Towards evening, he reached a poor little
cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only
remained standing because it could not
decide on which side to fall first. The
storm continued so violent, that the
duckling could go no farther; he sat down by
the cottage, and then he noticed that the
door was not quite closed in consequence of
one of the hinges having given way. There
was therefore a narrow opening near the
bottom large enough for him to slip through,
which he did very quietly, and got a shelter
for the night.
A woman, a tom cat, and a hen lived in this
cottage. The tom cat, whom the mistress
called, “My little son,” was a great
favorite; he could raise his back, and purr,
and could even throw out sparks from his fur
if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen
had very short legs, so she was called
“Chickie short legs.” She laid good eggs,
and her mistress loved her as if she had
been her own child.
In the morning, the strange visitor was
discovered, and the tom cat began to purr,
and the hen to cluck.
“What is that noise about?” said the old
woman, looking round the room, but her sight
was not very good; therefore, when she saw
the duckling she thought it must be a fat
duck, that had strayed from home. “Oh what a
prize!” she exclaimed, “I hope it is not a
drake, for then I shall have some duck's
eggs. I must wait and see.”
So the duckling was allowed to remain on
trial for three weeks, but there were no
eggs. Now the tom cat was the master of the
house, and the hen was mistress, and they
always said, “We and the world,” for they
believed themselves to be half the world,
and the better half too. The duckling
thought that others might hold a different
opinion on the subject, but the hen would
not listen to such doubts.
“Can you lay eggs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then have the goodness to hold your
tongue.”
“Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw
out sparks?” said the tom cat.
“No.”
“Then you have no right to express an
opinion when sensible people are speaking.”
So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling
very low spirited, till the sunshine and the
fresh air came into the room through the
open door, and then he began to feel such a
great longing for a swim on the water, that
he could not help telling the hen.
“What an absurd idea,” said the hen. “You
have nothing else to do, therefore you have
foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay
eggs, they would pass away.”
“But it is so delightful to swim about on
the water,” said the duckling, “and so
refreshing to feel it close over your head,
while you dive down to the bottom.”
“Delightful, indeed!” said the hen, “why you
must be crazy! Ask the cat, he is the
cleverest animal I know, ask him how he
would like to swim about on the water, or to
dive under it, for I will not speak of my
own opinion; ask our mistress, the old
woman– there is no one in the world more
clever than she is. Do you think she would
like to swim, or to let the water close over
her head?”
“You don't understand me,” said the
duckling.
“We don't understand you? Who can understand
you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more
clever than the cat, or the old woman? I
will say nothing of myself. Don't imagine
such nonsense, child, and thank your good
fortune that you have been received here.
Are you not in a warm room, and in society
from which you may learn something. But you
are a chatterer, and your company is not
very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for
your own good. I may tell you unpleasant
truths, but that is a proof of my
friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay
eggs, and learn to purr as quickly as
possible.”
“I believe I must go out into the world
again,” said the duckling.
“Yes, do,” said the hen.
So the duckling left the cottage, and soon
found water on which it could swim and dive,
but was avoided by all other animals,
because of its ugly appearance.
Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest
turned to orange and gold. Then, as winter
approached, the wind caught them as they
fell and whirled them in the cold air. The
clouds, heavy with hail and snow-flakes,
hung low in the sky, and the raven stood on
the ferns crying, “Croak, croak.” It made
one shiver with cold to look at him. All
this was very sad for the poor little
duckling.
One evening, just as the sun set amid
radiant clouds, there came a large flock of
beautiful birds out of the bushes. The
duckling had never seen any like them
before. They were swans, and they curved
their graceful necks, while their soft
plumage shown with dazzling whiteness. They
uttered a singular cry, as they spread their
glorious wings and flew away from those cold
regions to warmer countries across the sea.
As they mounted higher and higher in the
air, the ugly little duckling felt quite a
strange sensation as he watched them. He
whirled himself in the water like a wheel,
stretched out his neck towards them, and
uttered a cry so strange that it frightened
himself. Could he ever forget those
beautiful, happy birds; and when at last
they were out of his sight, he dived under
the water, and rose again almost beside
himself with excitement. He knew not the
names of these birds, nor where they had
flown, but he felt towards them as he had
never felt for any other bird in the world.
He was not envious of these beautiful
creatures, but wished to be as lovely as
they. Poor ugly creature, how gladly he
would have lived even with the ducks had
they only given him encouragement.
The winter grew colder and colder; he was
obliged to swim about on the water to keep
it from freezing, but every night the space
on which he swam became smaller and smaller.
At length it froze so hard that the ice in
the water crackled as he moved, and the
duckling had to paddle with his legs as well
as he could, to keep the space from closing
up. He became exhausted at last, and lay
still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.
Early in the morning, a peasant, who was
passing by, saw what had happened. He broke
the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe, and
carried the duckling home to his wife. The
warmth revived the poor little creature.
But when the children wanted to play with
him, the duckling thought they would do him
some harm; so he started up in terror,
fluttered into the milk-pan, and splashed
the milk about the room. Then the woman
clapped her hands, which frightened him
still more. He flew first into the
butter-cask, then into the meal-tub, and out
again. What a condition he was in! The woman
screamed, and struck at him with the tongs;
the children laughed and screamed, and
tumbled over each other, in their efforts to
catch him; but luckily he escaped. The door
stood open; the poor creature could just
manage to slip out among the bushes, and lie
down quite exhausted in the newly fallen
snow.
It would be very sad, were I to relate all
the misery and privations which the poor
little duckling endured during the hard
winter; but when it had passed, he found
himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst
the rushes. He felt the warm sun shining,
and heard the lark singing, and saw that all
around was beautiful spring.
Then the young bird felt that his wings were
strong, as he flapped them against his
sides, and rose high into the air. They bore
him onwards, until he found himself in a
large garden, before he well knew how it had
happened. The apple-trees were in full
blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their
long green branches down to the stream which
wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked
beautiful, in the freshness of early spring.
From a thicket close by came three beautiful
white swans, rustling their feathers, and
swimming lightly over the smooth water. The
duckling remembered the lovely birds, and
felt more strangely unhappy than ever.
“I will fly to those royal birds,” he
exclaimed, “and they will kill me, because I
am so ugly, and dare to approach them; but
it does not matter: better be killed by them
than pecked by the ducks, beaten by the
hens, pushed about by the maiden who feeds
the poultry, or starved with hunger in the
winter.” Then he flew to the water, and swam
towards the beautiful swans. The moment they
espied the stranger, they rushed to meet him
with outstretched wings. “Kill me,” said the
poor bird; and he bent his head down to the
surface of the water, and awaited death. But
what did he see in the clear stream below?
His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird,
ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a
graceful and beautiful swan.
To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard,
is of no consequence to a bird, if it is
hatched from a swan's egg.
He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow
and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy
so much better all the pleasure and
happiness around him; for the great swans
swam round the new-comer, and stroked his
neck with their beaks, as a welcome.
Into the garden presently came some little
children, and threw bread and cake into the
water.
“See,” cried the youngest, “there is a new
one;” and the rest were delighted, and ran
to their father and mother, dancing and
clapping their hands, and shouting joyously,
“There is another swan come; a new one has
arrived.” Then they threw more bread and
cake into the water, and said, “The new one
is the most beautiful of all; he is so young
and pretty.” And the old swans bowed their
heads before him.
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head
under his wing; for he did not know what to
do, he was so happy, and yet not at all
proud. He had been persecuted and despised
for his ugliness, and now he heard them say
he was the most beautiful of all the birds.
Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into
the water before him, and the sun shone warm
and bright. Then he rustled his feathers,
curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully,
from the depths of his heart, “I never
dreamed of such happiness as this, while I
was an ugly duckling.”
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