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.”