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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.”
The End
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