The Ugly Duckling

“Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen,” sang Danny Kay in a happy movie which purported to be based on the life of Hans Christian Andersen.

Copenhagen is wonderful. But not the sugar-sweet place we saw in bright technicolor on the big screen. The movie is a fairy tale.

I read reviews of a new biography of Hans Christian Andersen titled “The Ugly Ducking”. I’ve not read that one yet, but I remember the biography I read before my trip to Denmark with the stamp collectors. Both books tell the story of the poor boy from Odense whose father died when he was eleven years old.

After the international exhibition closed, Wally and I went to Odense. We visited the house where Andersen was born in 1805, two tiny rooms, each no larger than a 9X12 rug. The father mended shoes in his shop in the front room; the parents and two children crowded into the back room for cooking, eating, and sleeping. I don’t know how they lived that way.

Andersen had a half-sister about whom Wikipedia comments, “with whom he managed to speak on only a few occasions before her death.” She was a prostitute.

After his father died, the penniless boy fled to Copenhagen, looking for work in the theater. Andersen was a strange fellow: tall (over 6 feet), awkward, ugly. He had a big nose and enormous feet.

In spite of having no talent for acting, the awkward, ugly boy became the darling of society. A rich merchant, Jonas Collin, sent him to grammar school, paying all his expenses. The King of Denmark gave him a grant to travel to throughout Europe. The Collin family welcomed him into their home, where Hans Christian became friends with the Collin children, Louise and Edvard.

I walked around the old part of Copenhagen looking for plagues saying, “Hans Christian Andersen lived here.” The biggest thrill was in old street where the buildings stood right on the sidewalk. Tucked in between two townhouses, I came upon a long, high wrought iron fence. Looking between the iron bars, I saw a stretch of lawn and a handsome 18th Century mansion. This was the home of the Collins.

A small sign on the gate was printed with “Privit Gron” (private ground), a polite Deanish way of saying, “Keep Out.” I was glad, first to see it was still there, and second, that it was not a museum. I imagined that, behind those tall windows, Hans, Louise, and Edvard sat on gilded chairs enjoying lively conversation over the tea cups.

Andersen was only 17 when he published his first poem. He wrote long poems, short stories, and travelogues, which were collected and reprinted in books. He became popular throughout Europe, even before publishing his collection of fairy tales. With “Fairy Tales” he became rich and famous. The ugly duckling became a swan.

Here I imagine hearing the music from “Swan Lake.” Andersen’s life of the swan was a restless one. He traveled everywhere to acclaim, staying in hotels or with wealthy patrons. In England he once lived for five weeks in Dickens’s home. He never had a home of his own. .

A romantic, he fell in love with unattainable women. He wrote a letter to Jenny Lind, the famous singer, proposing marriage. She rejected him, as did all the others. He also wrote passionate, erotic letters to men, several of which survive. The men he loved also rejected his advances.

Andersen was 67 when he fell out of bed and was badly hurt. He lingered for three years before dying, as he had lived, in the Copenhagen home of friends, the banker Moritz Melchior and his wife.

His fame lives on. Wikipedia reports, “His poetry and stories have been translated into more than 150 languages. They have inspired motion pictures, plays, ballets, and animated films.”
Statues to him have been erected in New York, California, Slovakia, and Poland. In 2006 a $13 million theme park based on Andersen’s tales opened in Shanghai.

But does anyone envy such a life?