THE UGLY DUCKLING by Hans Christian Andersen 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
Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
te klaga :D
