







































 

THE UGLY DUCKLING, HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON: 
A STORY OF TRANSFORMATION 

ANITA L. GAMBOS 

Introduction 

The Ugly Duckling is a small story that offers universal hope to the 
disenfranchised. Here, a misfit, rejected by family and society, makes the 
microcosmic journey of all who seek self-actualization. In Fairy Tales 
and the Art of Subversion, Jack Zipes notes in his chapter, "Hans 
Christian Andersen and the Discourse of the Dominated": 

(The Ugly Ducking) has generally been interpreted as a parable of 
Andersen's own success story because the naturally gifted 
underdog survives a period of "ugliness" to reveal its innate beauty. 
(87) 

Therefore, to understand the significance of the transformation, from 
ugly to beautiful, it is important to view the passage against the backdrop 
of Andersen's life. 

Andersen's Life Influences 

Hans Christian Andersen was clearly a product of the nineteenth 
century, a period of broad-sweeping changes in both world and national 
views, when tenets of biology, eugenics and race became subjects of 
public discourse. 

Andersen was born to poverty in 1805 in the old provincial Danish 
town of Odense. The son of a cobbler who loved books and taught him-
self and his son to read, Andersen grew up hearing his father say that he 
(the father) was of aristocratic origin. Andersen's mother worked as a 
washerwoman; she was uneducated and superstitious, but introduced 
Andersen to folklore. He was also greatly influenced by his grandmother, 
a grounds person at Odense Hospital, a local workhouse. Andersen spent 
a great deal of time there listening to elderly, female inmates who 
repeated old stories and the traditional folk tales of Denmark. These 
made a deep and lasting impression. 

Andersen was a poor student and received little education. He spent 
much of his time alone writing short plays and dreaming of becoming an 
actor. Encouraged by his parents, he composed his own fairy tales and 
arranged puppet shows. Andersen was fortunate to live in one of the few 
towns outside of Copenhagen that housed a public theater. He often 
accompanied his father to the town's playhouse. 



 

THE UGLY DUCKLING 

When he was 11, Andersen's life was seriously disrupted when his 
father died, and the family became even more destitute. He was forced to 
go to work. For a short time, he apprenticed to a weaver and a tailor, and 
also worked at a tobacco factory. At the age of 14, he fled to Co-
penhagen to find his way in the theater. During his first years in Co-
penhagen, Andersen fought to gain a toehold in the theater as a ballet 
dancer, actor and singer. Eventually, he succeeded in becoming associ-
ated with the Royal Theater, but had to leave it when his voice began to 
change. 

One of the directors of the Royal Theater, an influential government 
official, Jonas Collins, provided Andersen the means to be educated and 
eventually gain admission to Copenhagen University. These educational 
experiences broadened Andersen's perspective and put him in touch with 
the dramatic social changes of his day. Zipes notes: 

Throughout the western world, a more solidified bourgeois 
public sphere was establishing itself and replacing feudal sys-
tems, as was clearly the case in Denmark. (76) 

It might be said that Andersen in his subsequent life became living proof 
of the social mobility made possible by the bourgeois democracy that 
arose after the signing of Denmark's constitution in 1849. 

After his school years, Copenhagen at last came to mean something 
positive for Andersen, and he began his writing in earnest. The 
University of Southern Denmark's Center on Hans Christian Andersen 
notes on its website: 

Here the proletarian Andersen acquired the culture and educa-
tion associated with bourgeois circles in the Golden Age that 
encompassed the last years of absolute monarchy. . . . Ander-
sen' s entire production of tales is, as it were, suspended be-
tween these two poles. . . 

Having broken with his family and social class, but not yet a member of 
the moneyed class, Andersen understood that he could realize his 
potential and gain greater social standing only through the world of art, 
the only outlet the times provided. The Center's web site also remarks: 

Here, too, he came to know both the bourgeois upper class of 
the capital and the very lowest stratum of its proletariat. He 
came to know the fight for survival at the subsistence level and 
the bitterness of being a supplicant dependent on the good will 
of others. 

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ANITA GAMBOS 

It is Zipes' s opinion that this duality produced deep self-doubts in 
Andersen that impelled him to constantly reprove his value. 

. . . to show his aptitude and disposition were noble and that 
he belonged to the elect. This is apparent in the referential sys-
tem built into most of his tales which are discourses on the 
dominated. (79) 

His friends were patrons rather than intimates, and his constant sense of 
indebtedness to them weighed heavily and perpetuated his isolation. 
Throughout his life, from his own perspective and despite his fame as a 
writer, Andersen was the dominated subject within the dominant social 
circles. Andersen never felt himself to be fully accepted by any group. He 
lived as an outsider, a loner, unable to enjoy the deep attachments and 
obvious social identification that a wife and family would have bestowed. 

Perhaps it is for this reason that he began to travel extensively. He 
considered Germany to be his second home but was also comfortable in 
Italy. His journeying paved the way for international literary fame as his 
first work published in 1829 described his trek from Holmens Canal to 
the east point of Amager, a fantastic tale set in the style of German 
Romantic writers. The work was well received. Andersen was considered 
to be the most widely traveled Danish writer of his day. He spent over 
nine years of his life outside Denmark. 

Andersen's literary fame grew rapidly from the mid-1830s when his 
novels became widely accepted in Germany. However, from 1839 
onwards, it was his fairy tales that earned him acclaim until his death in 
1875. Imbedded in the straightforward narrative easily understood by 
children are subtler and deeper meanings to which adults respond. It is 
to these symbols and meanings that attention is next turned. 

Understanding Tale Symbolism and Meaning 

The Oxford English Dictionary defines symbol as something that 
stands for, represents or denotes something else; a material object rep-
resenting or taken to represent something immaterial or abstract, as a 
being, idea, quality or condition. Meaning is defined as that which is 
intended to be or actually is expressed or indicated; the intent, the spirit. 

Archeologists, seeking to discover historic and cultural meaning 
from artifacts, offer an evolution of symbolic capacity. The Auckland 
Center for the Arts notes that our physical and mental capacity for 
symbolic thought and its representation in language is the result of evo-
lution. The ability to reason, plan and communicate in symbols sets us 

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THE UGLY DUCKLING 

apart from other animals. This generates our culture capacity. Therefore, 
the ability to derive symbolic meaning from tales helps preserve and 
expand the cultural underpinnings that link us all. This is one of 
storytelling's most important functions. 

On an individual level, different cognitive maps guide personal ac-
tions. People sense/sample the world and then interpret! give meaning to, 
according to these cognitive maps. Just as language has an internal 
organization called grammar, cognitive maps are given organization and 
structure through sets of related symbols and meaning. Folk tales, fairy 
tales, myths, lore, are the organizing principles of cognitive maps. 
Therefore, through either the collective or the individual pathways, the 
symbolism of tales helps to organize the internal operating systems both 
for culture in general and for its singular components. Thus, the 
Auckland Center proposes that "approaches that look at symbols and 
meaning may generate coherence and sense." 

In Interpretation of Fairy Tales, Marie Louise von Franz speaks to 
four basic cognitive maps for those interpreting fairy tales. 

Actually you can interpret a fairy tale with any of the four 
functions of consciousness. The thinking type will point out 
the structure and the way in which all the motifs connect. The 
feeling type will put them into value order (a hierarchy of val-
ues) which is also completely rational. With the feeling func-
tion, a good and complete fairy tale interpretation can be 
made. The sensation type will just look at the symbols and 
amplify them. The intuitive will see the whole package (of 
fairy tale) in its oneness, so to speak; he will be most gifted in 
showing that the whole fairy tale is not a discursive story but is 
really one message split up into many facets. (24) 

The cognitive map of this report will follow an intuitive interpretation of 
the major symbols and meaning of The Ugly Duckling. 

Symbolic Analysis of The Ugly Duckling 

From the very first paragraph, story symbols that evoke multiple 
meanings are plentiful. The opening paragraph that describes the long 
golden days of summer, sweet air, tall com and freshly-cut hay leads the 
reader to a pastoral/earth setting, a time of fullness and ripening, a time 
of maturation after quickening. But, beyond the open sunlight, there are 
the shaded deeps (cool lakes of the unconscious where new life can be 
born.) Near the lake shore, storks (symbols of fertility and birth) wade. 
Birds (symbols of freedom that fly with new hopes and dreams of the 
future) chatter overhead. 

Even the manmade objects like the old mansion surrounded by a 

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ANITA GAMBOS 

moat are contained and defined by the watery unconscious. Along the 
stone walls of the mansion, "huge burdock plants with leaves as big as 
platters grow thick and tall. Beneath their leaves it was like a secret 
room." (It is interesting to note that burdock leaves are usually heart-
shaped near the bottom of the plant and egg-shaped at the top.) In this 
womb-like place, recreating the ancient mysteries, the mother duck waits 
for her eggs to hatch, each egg enfolding its own primeval, cosmic 
universe. 

After the ducklings begin to hatch, "the mother let them look as 
much as they liked, for green is good for the eyes." (Through the con-
nection with the green, fertile earth, all living things are made whole, and 
life is supported.) 

The mother duck must still sit on the nest to hatch the last and 
largest egg. An older duck (crone/elder/shaman) cautions the mother 
duck that the egg could be a turkey egg (note the quality of Trickster), 
clearly inferior in the animal hierarchy. The mother duck was encouraged 
to make sure that the product of this larger egg could swim (navigate the 
world emotionally.) 

When the Ugly Duckling hatched, he (advisedly a "he" in this case) 
was gray, not a golden yellow like the other ducklings. This gray 
duckling was suspect, "in the gray zone," not fully accepted, but not yet 
rejected, while the yellow ducklings, the color of sun and summer and 
life, were perceived as the "real ducklings." 

After a swim in the moat (a journey of initiation), the mother duck 
cautions the ducklings to beware of the "mean old cat" living the barn-
yard. The cat can represent the feminine aspect of the personality, the 
unexplored unconscious. It is interesting to note that after the ducklings 
had proven themselves by performing in the moat (masculine activity), 
they were now being cautioned to pay attention to the feminine principle, 
the aspect of being. They could even find it to be dangerous. 

The exhortation to pay attention to appearances is primary. The 
mother duck equates her worth to the perceived value that others place on 
her "well bred" ducklings and, commensurately, on her success as a 
mother. She instructs them to keep their toes turned out properly (be 
outward turning and explore.) 

Particularly evocative is her social instruction to bow to the re-
spected older female duck who is of Chinese heritage (ancient wis- 
dom). She is also addressed as "Your Grace," a designation of nobility. 
She notes that the older duck has a bit of red cloth on her leg so that 
everyone would "take notice of her and treat her with respect." 

Red is the color of blood, of kinship and, in some cultures, of ini-
tiation. (The ducklings were to be presented to their new tribe.) More 
directly, in the Chinese culture, red is the color of good fortune and 
abundance. (By honoring the duck of greater social standing, honor and 
riches might also be conferred on the mother duck and her ducklings.) 

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It was the old duck who commented on what a nice family the 
mother duckling had, but notably excluded the Ugly Duckling from this 
evaluation. She even went so far as to say "too bad you can't start over 
again with him." (Abundance will not come to the Ugly Ducking in his 
current form.) 

On that first day, the barnyard animals' abuse of the Ugly Ducking 
began. (The barnyard can be equated to the town square, the gathering 
place of the lower classes where justice was dispensed.) Though the cat 
never made an appearance, the chickens and ducklings shouted that "The 
cat should grab you," an indication that they wanted some super natural 
force to intervene in the destruction/transformation of the Ugly Duckling. 
Early one morning (at the beginning of his quest), the Ugly Duckling ran 
away. Almost immediately, he encountered animals in the wild and 
assumed they ran/flew away because he was so ugly. The cognitive map 
he carried had to be tested in the wild (the subconscious) to gain the truth 
of his own inner map. Thus, he began a hero's journey, with the hero's 
task of encountering and overcoming his demons. 

He first met wild birds who flew away. (His hopes, his dreams had 
changed.) Next, he met wild ducks who thought him strange and, curi-
ously, said that he could remain in the marsh as long as he didn't marry 
into their family. (This is the psychological distancing device used to 
guard and protect the status quo and keep the tribe intact.) 

One morning, he met a pair of young, wild geese who invited him to 
join them on their side of the marsh. They acknowledged his ugliness 
(differences), but were willing to include him in their community. 
(Through younger, less stultified beings, the order of the status quo 
begins to weaken, and messages from the unconscious arise. Hints are 
given to what is possible.) 

Unfortunately, just as the clues are evidenced, a hunter shoots the 
wild geese as they fly from the rushes. (So, too, are many new ideas 
gunned down aggressively when they land in the sights of the guns of 
established thinking and tried-and-true systems like the proverbial "old 
boys network. ") 

It was when a huge dog, "its eyes gleaming horribly," came upon the 
Ugly Duckling, pushing his dog's nose right into the duckling's face, then 
departing, that the Ugly Duckling decided to leave the swamp. (In 
ancient Babylon, the goddess of Fate is represented by a dog, and often, 
gods accompanying traveling goddesses took the forms of dogs. The dog 
is a sign of protection and power.) It is interesting that it was the 
appearance of a dog that precipitated the Ugly Duckling's hurrying out of 
relatively known safety to the truly unknown. 

Having left the marsh (the world in-between the solid land and the 
watery depths), the Ugly Duckling came to a "sad-looking little farm-
house" which housed an old woman, a cat and a hen. Not seeing well, the 
old woman thought that the duckling was a hen and put him on a 

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ANITA GAMBOS 

nest in hope of his laying eggs. (Many will not see who we really are.) 
After a period of time, "the duckling sat in the comer feeling very, very 
sad. (His feelings began to match the sad environment.) Thoughts of 
fresh air and sunshine came to his mind, and he was filled with an ex-
traordinary longing to swim" (to return to his true nature). 

When he expressed his desire to the hen and cat, they were scornful. 
They encouraged him to be grateful for "a warm room and pleasant 
company." But the Ugly Duckling left the sure comforts of the poor 
farmhouse (where he would have been safe but unrealized), and set out 
on his own path. (The hero could not be seduced from his quest.) He 
came to a beautiful pond (an enclosed pool of emotional content, where 
he could explore his identity). He tried swimming near the other ducks, 
but they turned away. (The journey to self-realization is a solitary one.) 

Winter (the period of frozen time and inward space, the dark night 
of the soul) was coming. A raven (the prophetic bird of death) squawked. 
(Our hero was about to go through the transformative death to self.) One 
evening, he saw a flock of swans fly overhead, and though he did not 
know their identity, he called out to them and felt strangely excited. (His 
intuition and his instincts were waking up, and he was beginning to know 
himself differently.) His voice was so loud and so shrill it frightened him. 
(He was afraid of embracing this new voice/identity that was emerging.) 

Then he dived down to the bottom of the pond (the unconscious) and 
"when he came up again, he was even more excited than before." (He 
was willing to engage deeply for only a moment, but a moment was 
enough to fire his imagination and keep him alive during the upcoming 
wintry trial. It gave him a hint to his most secret, and his truest identity.) 

Winter came. "The duckling had to swim round and round in the 
water to keep it from freezing right up. But every night the pool in which 
he swam grew smaller and smaller." (Self-actualization is not gained 
through a mental process. Though our minds go "round and round," 
transformation happens only when the circuitous thoughts get smaller and 
smaller, as we tire of the mind's game and let it stop.) "At last he froze 
fast into the pond. " (We surrender to our fate, the outward, seemingly 
constricting construct arising from our deepest unconscious.) 

It was a peasant (someone of the land) who found the duckling, 
"broke up the ice with his wooden clog" (a strong, sturdy shoe indicat-
ing that the duckling was headed in a new direction) and carried the 
little ducking home to his wife (the feminine principle accessed fully 
only when we allow ourselves to be carried along.) 

The peasant's children who wanted to play with him made the Ugly 
Duckling "afraid they might hurt him and he fluttered away." (Though 
not necessarily malignant, we tend to be afraid of the primal, previ-
ously-unknown forces that present themselves and flee from them emo- 

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tionally lest we be harmed.) The duckling flew into the milk (the sub-
stance of creation,) butter (a source of richness and abundance,) and 
flour (a distillation of earth energy.) 

Finally, he darted out of the open door (means of escape from our 
darkest parts) and "lay exhausted in the new-fallen snow." (Having 
courage to face his inner genius which is just as frightening as facing the 
demons, the duckling comes to the neutral place of inner stasis where 
transformation happens.) He drags himself to the reeds at the edge of the 
frozen pond (suspended between two worlds where his mind no longer 
works) and survives the winter. 

When Spring came (the time of rebirth, renewal and igniting of the 
light), the ducking "woke to find the sky bright and the larks (harbingers 
of new life) singing." He found that his wings were stronger and carried 
him swiftly away. (He objectified this new found strength not yet 
realizing that it was a part of him.) 

The duckling found himself in a large garden (a place of spiritual 
growth and healing; renewal of energy and focus) where "apple trees 
blossomed (death and rebirth, the fruit of the Tree of Life) and sweet-
smelling lilacs (rich, perfumed, sensory conveyors of new life and tan-
talizing possibilities) dangle their long branches over the waters of a 
lake." (Larger that his former pond, the Ugly Duckling now claims a 
larger space for himself.) 

"Right ahead of him, out of the leafy shadows, came three beautiful 
white swans." (Emerging from the unconscious into the light of day, the 
duckling sees his desire embodied.) He felt a strange sadness (mourning 
and letting go of the hero's journey space) and determined to be with 
them "even though they will peck me to death because I am so ugly." 
Though he feared personal harm and rejection (as he was living in his 
old paradigm), he preferred death to winter's isolation or a return to is 
former life. (Once there is transformation, there is no turning back.) 

When the duckling bowed his head to the water, he saw his reflec-
tion (the outward manifestation of the inner transformation that had 
taken place during the solitary winter). For the first time, he was then 
able to see himself for who he truly had become. "It did not matter that 
he was born in a duck's nest. He was hatched from a swan's egg!" This 
time, he did not go round and round in his head in fruitless mental ex-
ercise. Instead, "the three lovely swans circled round and round and 
stroked him gently with their beaks." (He made the transition from his 
head to his heart. For this he was rewarded.) 

Some little children (reflection of his newly-found ego; he was not 
afraid of them as he was the peasant's children) came into the garden (the 
protected space) and threw bits of bread (the foundational nourishment 
of life). Note that three ingredients that previously he had fled from in 
fear—milk, butter and flour—now, in the fire of his transfor- 

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mation, had become bread, something that could sustain him). The outer 
response (to his inward self acceptance) came from the smallest child. 
"Look! A new swan! The new one is the prettiest one of all." 

The old swans (those who had made a similar journey) bowed their 
heads in agreement. (Instead of his bowing his head to the old barnyard 
duck, these elegant creatures were now bowing to him.) "This made the 
duckling feel quite shy, and he tucked his head under his wing. (Initially, 
we are not always comfortable with the changes that transformation 
brings and sometimes "hide out. ") 

"His heart filled with joy, and he ruffled his feathers and raised his 
slender neck, for he had never dreamed of so much happiness when he 
was an ugly duckling." (Having once been bitten in the neck by the 
chickens, and receiving the necessary wound that initiated the quest, the 
duckling now stretches his elegant neck and claims his new swan self- 
identity. The hero's journey is ended. ) 

Autobiographical Parallels to Andersen's Life 

Andersen fled from his home to escape poverty and social status. 
Though born in the slums, Andersen always believed himself to be 
misplaced, an unacknowledged aristocrat, a beautiful swan. He suffered 
at the hands of the "barnyard animals," those lesser childhood beings 
who wounded him by their taunts about his appearance and his manner-
isms. Though the trappings changed, and he was later adopted by the 
wealthy Collin family, Andersen was always out to prove to others (and 
to remind himself) that he really had the right, despite his poor birth 
circumstances, to "live in the large garden" of his life. He always wanted 
"the little people" to exclaim at his talent and honor him for his 
aristocratic spirit. 

There is little mention made of Andersen's mother in his many 
biographical sketches, though his father and grandmother play promi-
nently. In the tale, the mother duckling is resigned to his oddness and 
gives the duckling a brief chance to fit into the family. But, she quickly 
aligns with public opinion when family and neighbors turn against the 
Ugly Duckling. Though not explicitly stated, one wonders how much of 
this treatment is autobiographical as well. Andersen's family and friends 
could not have been happy to have been so deliberately left behind. The 
tale even describes the Ugly Duckling's family as "cruel." 

The poultry yard scene is interesting. Clearly, the mother duck sees 
herself and her family as more distinguished than the chickens, roosters 
and geese, but not as distinguished as the elder China duck. Andersen 
shows his bias here for hierarchy the titled, the pedigreed, qualities that 
he obviously lacks. Zipes notes: 

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THE UGLY DUCKLING 

A dominated voice of his narration does not condemn his for-
mer social class, rather Andersen loses contact with it by de-
nying the rebellious urges of his class within himself and mak-
ing compromises that affirmed the rightful domination of the 
middle class ethic. . . . (Andersen) rarely suggested alternatives 
or rebellion (in his tales.) Rather, he placed safety before 
idealism and chose moral compromise over moral outrage, in-
dividual comfort and achievement over collective struggle and 
united goals. He aimed for identification with the power estab-
lishment that humiliates subjects rather than opposition to au-
tocracy to put an end to exploitation through power. (83 & 84) 

Andersen was not particularly interested in changing the system, but 
in changing himself to fit into the system. This is further evidenced in the 
instructions that the mother duck gives before the first barnyard foray 
when she tells her ducklings that the world is a place of squabbling and 
snapping. She implies that it is necessary to accept the world the way it 
is. The goal is not to try to change the world, but to hurry past any frays 
that are encountered and survive by looking good. 

Going out into the world and meeting with other creatures who re-
jected the Ugly Duckling, who tried to use him, or who offered him help 
have probable parallels to Andersen's international travels. In seeking out 
the literati of his time, Andersen seemed to be seeking out "those of his 
own kind." He did not return to his birth home, but, instead, searched for 
outward validation of self-worth. 

Like the Ugly Duckling, Andersen was slow to see himself as a 
member of the company of swans. The ending of The Ugly Duckling is 
like Anderson's cry for the world's accreditation. He wants endless con-
firmation that despite his poor beginnings, he had become a true swan-
and not just a beautiful swan, but the best of them all. 

The story of The Ugly Duckling viewed from the perspective of 
Andersen's life is a tale of one who achieved his dream, but who then 
spent a lifetime trying to believe it. 

Transformation Themes in The Ugly Duckling 

The number three is frequently repeated in the story. The duckling 
left the protection of the marsh on the third day. Three dwelled in the 
small farmhouse (old woman, cat and hen). The duckling flew in a panic 
into three household ingredients (milk, butter and flour). Some character 
identification can be made with the Maiden/Mother/Crone, the Triple 
Goddess archetype, as the reader watches the duckling from hatching to 
maturity. After the winter, the Ugly Duckling was surrounded by three 
swans. His transformation occurred in the third season. Three is the 
number of completion, of perfection, the number of 
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ANITA GAMBOS 

integrated divinity. 
Three also mirrors the death-resurrection cycle found in many re-

ligions and traditions. It is also embodied in the three alchemical phases 
of transformation where the crude prima material is transformed into 
gold. von Franz describes the three-fold alchemical process as pro-
gressing through the negredo, the Latin word for the blackness of the 
material when subjected to fire; the albedo, the white substance which 
becomes silver when washed, and the rubedo (the red) which through 
further heating turns into gold. 

The albedo signifies the individual's first clear awareness of the 
unconscious... It means the cool, detached attitude, a stage 
where things look remote and vague, as though seen in the 
moonlight. In the albedo, therefore, it is said that the feminine 
and the moon are ruling. It also means a receptive attitude 
towards the unconscious. "Washing off is the ordeal of coming 
to terms with the shadow; whereas the former stage, the 
negredo marks the first terrible facing of the shadow which is 
torture, and should be followed by working on and differenti-
ating one's inferior side. The alchemists call this "the hard 
work." With the progress of the albedo, the main stream is re-
lieved. Then simple heating changes the albedo into the rubedo, 
which is ruled by the sun and heralds a new state of 
consciousness. (117) 

In The Ugly Duckling, the negredo is the period during the darkness 
of the marsh and the subsequent "walkabout" of experience. The albedo 
is the time of frozen white winter, and the rubedo is the rush of blood, 
the emergence of sun in the return of spring, the season of trans-
formation. 

Finally, in A Psychiatric Study of Myths and Fairy Tales, Julius 
Heuscher notes: 

It is admittedly an oversimplification to reduce the basic chal-
lenge to our evolution to three stages: one, progressive feeling 
of loss of unity with our (spiritual) origins; two, gaining 
awareness of our identity in the course of contact with the ma-
terial world; and three, eventual synthesis on a higher plane. 
(95) 

These three stages are congruent with the alchemical motif already de-
scribed. 

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THE UGLY DUCKLING 

Role of the Mother/Stepmother Figure in The Ugly Duckling 

Jacqueline Schectman, in The Stepmother in Fairy tales, makes in-
teresting observations pertinent to the role of the tale duckling. 

The stepmother. . . is emblematic of whole family systems 
gone awry in the face of inevitable growth and change. To 
know the stepmother. . . is to understand her in the context of 
relationship and the stages of her family life. (100) 

The mother duck is rust introduced when she is nesting, waiting for 
her eggs to hatch. "She had been sitting a long time, or so it seemed to 
her, and she missed the company of all the other ducks." After the other 
eggs hatched, she realized that the biggest one of all still remained 
unhatched. She complains that she is "so tired of waiting," but settles to 
do just that. The mother duckling seems content in her nesting until an 
elder duck raises doubts about the real nature of the large egg. The 
mother duck's response is, "But I've already waited so long. I may as 
well wait a little longer," reflecting the mother duck's concern about her 
time investment, but not necessarily about her duckling. 

When the first ducklings hatch, she quacks at them for maternal 
identification, and they respond with the predictable peeps. However, 
when the Ugly Duckling finally hatches, she "just looked at him" won-
dering about his true identity. Her first thought is, "Into the water he'll 
go, even if have to push him in myself." From the very beginning, the 

 mother duckling was worried about how the Ugly Duckling would reflect    
 on her. 

During the first swim, when she saw how well the Ugly Duckling 
"uses his legs and how straight he holds himself," she concluded that "he 
is my own child after all, and really not so ugly when you look at him 
properly." Though not indicative of unconditional love, the mother duck 
evidences at least some maternal acceptance. 

Before the ducklings enter the barnyard, the mother duck explains 
how to look good and behave correctly so that they are considered to be 
a fine, well-bred family, and she, then, is deemed to be a good mother. 
Soon after they enter, the Ugly Duckling is attacked by the chickens. The 
mother duck cries, "Leave him alone! He's doing no harm." She even 
defends him to the old China duck, "He is good tempered and he swims 
as well as the others. And I am sure he will turn out all right." 

Andersen states ominously, "But that was only the first day." Af-
terwards, the Ugly Duckling's troubles grew until even his own brothers 
and sisters chased him and made fun of him. At this point, "the mother 
duck looked at him sadly and wished he were far away." 

That is the last the reader hears of the mother duck as she is not 
mentioned after the Ugly Duckling runs away. One can only hope in 

74 



 

ANITA GAMBOS 

Schectman's words that 

. . . in becoming who they truly are, her (stepmother's) chil-
dren bring a necessary healing to the home. (101) 

In The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self, Alice 
Miller explores in detail the mother-child dynamic. In treating children, 
she states: 

If we start from the premise that a person's whole development 
(and his balance, which is based on it) is dependent on the way 
his mother experienced his expression of needs and sensations 
during his first days and weeks of life, then we must assume 
that it is here that the beginning of a later tragedy might be set. 
If a mother cannot take pleasure in her child as he is but must 
have him behave in a particular way, then the first value 
selection takes place for the child. Now "good" is differentiated 
from "bad," "nice" from nasty," and "right" from "wrong." 
Against this background will follow all his further valuations of 
himself. (Italics are Alice Miller's) (85) 

Given that The Ugly Duckling is a semi-autobiographical tale and so few 
facts are available about his mother, the conclusions are obvious. That is 
why the Ugly Duckling's flight from the barnyard and subsequent 
solitary winter were so critical. As Miller states, 

His plight is no doubt the result of social pressures, but these do 
not have their effect on his psyche through abstract knowledge; 
they are firmly anchored in his earliest affective experience with 
his mother. Thus his problems cannot be solved with words, but 
only through experience-not merely corrective experiences as an 
adult but, above all, through a conscious experience of his early 
fear of his beloved mother's contempt and his subsequent 
feelings of indignation and sadness. (104) 

Mothers who derive their own value and self-worth by vicariously 
living their children's lives can create real tragedies. These women, 
having never received nurturance from their own mothers, create another 
generation of emotionally-truncated individuals, another tragic 
reenactment of lack and isolation. 

Until the gifted child, the true swan, takes the first step out of the 
barnyard and into the marsh to begin the hero's journey of transforma-
tion, nothing changes for the individual or for the mother. Miller notes, 

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THE UGLY DUCKLING 

In order to become whole we must try, in a long process, to 
discover our own personal truth, a truth that may cause pain 
before giving us a new sphere of freedom. we choose instead 
to content ourselves with intellectual "wisdom," we will re-
main in the sphere of illusion and self-deception. (I) 

Conclusion 

The Ugly Duckling is a tale for all persons, a tale for those who 
wish to dive deeply into the realm of the unconscious. It is a story of 
transformation, of liberation, of rebirth. Written by a man caught be-
tween two worlds, two times, it reveals valuable insights for this time, 
this history. 

Life is the hero's journey. It's time to stop blaming our mothers, fa-
thers, sisters, brothers, life in general. Transformation is a choice. 

WORKS CITED 

Heuscher, Julius. A Psychiatric Study of Myths and Fairy Tales. Springfield, 
 IL: Charles C. Thomas, 1974. 
Miller, Alice. The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self 

New York, NY: Perseus, 1997 revised edition. 
Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford, England: Oxford UP, 2002. 
Schectman, Jacqueline. The Stepmother in Fairy tales. Boston, MA: Sigo, 1993. 
von Franz, Marie Louise. Interpretation of Fairy Tales. Dallas, TX: Spring 
 Publications, 1970. 
Zipes, Jack. Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion. London, England: 
 Methuen., 1988. 
 University of Southern Denmark, Website of the Center of Hans Christian An- 
 dersen, "Short Biography." http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/liv/minibio/ in- 
 dex_e.html 

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