Interlude: Hans the Klutz (A Fairy Tale)

"Klods-Hans" by Hans Christian Andersen

Translated from the Danish by Jean Hersholt with revisions by Daniel Pellerin

(Editorial Comment: The following fiction about political and social conditions in the Kingdom of Denmark at an unspecified period in the remote past was first published by Mr. Andersen in 1855 and never amounted to more than a phantom of the author’s overactive imagination. Any resemblance to current events or living persons, in Denmark or anywhere else, would not only be purely coincidental, it would be absurd.)

     Out in the countryside there was an old mansion where an old squire lived with his two sons, who were so witty as to be too clever by half. They decided to go out and propose to the King’s daughter, which they were at liberty to do since she had announced publicly that she would take for a husband the man who had the most to say for himself.

     The two brothers made their preparations for eight days beforehand. That was all the time they had, but it was enough, for they had much useful knowledge. One of them knew the whole Latin dictionary by heart and had town’s newspaper memorized so well, for three years running, that he could repeat it backwards or forwards. The other had learned all the articles of law that a magistrate must know and was sure he could discuss all matters of state. Besides this he could embroider suspenders, for he was very gentle and clever with his hands.

     “I shall win the Princess!” they both said, and so their father gave each one of them a beautiful horse. The one who had memorized the dictionary and the newspapers got a coal-black horse, while the one who knew all about government affairs and could embroider got a milk-white one. Then they smeared the corners of their mouths with cod-liver oil, to make them even smoother.

     All the servants assembled in the courtyard to watch them get on their horses, but just then the third brother came up; for there were really three, although nobody paid much attention to the third, because he was not so learned as the other two. Everybody called him “Hans the Klutz.”

     “Where are you going in your finest Sunday clothes?” he asked.

     “To the King’s court, to woo the Princess. Haven’t you heard what the King’s herald is proclaiming all over the country?” Then they told him about it.

     “Gracious,” said the Klutz, “I guess I’ll have to go, too!” But his brothers only burst out laughing at him and rode off.

     “Father,” Hans shouted, “Let me have a horse too! I also feel like getting married. If she takes me, she takes me; and if she doesn’t, I’ll take her anyway.”

     “What a lot of nonsense!” replied his father. “You’ll get no horse from me. Why, you don’t even know how to talk properly! Not like your brothers, who are sophisticated fellows.”

     “If I can’t have a horse then I’ll take the billy-goat,” said the Klutz. “He belongs to me, and he can carry me very well.” So he sat stride the billy-goat, dug his heels into its sides, and galloped off.

     “What a ride! Here I come!” shouted Hans, singing so loud that his voice was heard far away.

     Meanwhile his two brothers rode quietly on ahead of him. They did not speak a word, as they were both thinking about all the clever speeches they would have to make, and of course these had to be carefully prepared and memorized beforehand.

     “Halloo!” cried Hans. “Here I come! Look what I found on the road!” Then he showed them a dead crow he had picked up.

     “You Klutz!” said the brothers. “What are you going to do with that?”

     “Why, I am going to give it to the Princess!”

     “Yes, you do that,” they said and rode on laughing.

     “Halloo, here I come again! Just look what I’ve found this time! You don’t find things like this in the road every day!” So the brothers turned around to see what it was this time.

     “Klutz!” they said. “That’s just an old wooden shoe, and the upper part’s broken off. Is the Princess going to get that, too?”

     “She certainly is,” replied Hans, and the brothers again laughed and rode on far in advance of him.

     “Halloo! Here I am again,” shouted the Klutz. “This is getting better and better! This is really something!”

     “Well, what have you found this time?” asked the brothers.

     “Oh, I really can’t tell you,” Hans said. “How pleased the Princess will be!”

     “Ugh!” said the brothers. “Why, it’s nothing but mud out of the ditch!”

     “Yes, of course,” said Hans, “but the very finest sort of mud. Look, it runs right through your fingers.” Then he filled his pockets with it.

     His brothers galloped on as fast as they could, and so they arrived at the town gates a full hour ahead of Hans. Each suitor in turn was given a numbered ticket, and as soon as they arrived they were arranged in neat lines, six to a row, packed together so tightly that they could not even move their arms. That was a wise plan, for otherwise they might have cut each other to pieces, just because they were standing right in front of each another. All the inhabitants of the town gathered around the castle, peering in through the windows to watch the Princess receive her suitors; but as each young man came into the room, he became tongue-tied.

     “No good!” said the Princess. “Take him away!”

     Now came the brother who had memorized the dictionary, but he had completely forgotten it while standing in line. The floor creaked under his feet, and the ceiling was made of mirrors so that he saw himself standing on his head; and at each window stood three clerks and a magistrate, writing down every word that was spoken, so that it could immediately be printed in the newspapers and sold for two pennies on the street corners.

     It was a terrible ordeal, and besides there were such fires in the stoves that the pipe was glowing red-hot.

     “It’s frightfully hot in here,” said the suitor.

     “That’s because my father is roasting chickens today,” said the Princess.

     “Baah!” There he stood. He was not ready for a speech of this kind and could not get out a single word, just when he wanted to say something extremely witty. “Baah!”

     “No good!” said the Princess. “Take him away!” And he had to leave.

     Now the second brother approached.

     “It’s dreadfully warm here,” he said.

     “Yes, we’re roasting chickens today,” replied the Princess.

     “What-what did you-uh-what?” he stammered, and all the clerks carefully wrote down, “What-what did you-uh-what?”

     “No good,” said the Princess again. “Out with him!”

     Now it was the Klutz’s turn, and he rode his billy goat right into the hall.

     “Terribly hot in here,” he said.

     “I’m roasting chickens,” replied the Princess.

     “That’s great!” said Hans. “Then I suppose I can get my crow roasted?”

     “That you can,” said the Princess. “But have you anything to roast it in? I haven’t any pots or pans.”

     “I do!” replied Hans. “Here’s a cooking pot with a tin handle.” Then he pulled out the old wooden shoe and put the crow right into it.

     “Why, that’s enough for a whole meal!” said the Princess. “But where shall we get the sauce?”

     “I have it in my pocket,” the Klutz answered. “In fact, I have so much that I can afford to spill some of it.” Then he poured out a little of the mud from his pocket.

     “I like that!” said the Princess. “You have an answer for everything, and you know how to speak. I’ll take you for my husband. But do you know that everything we say to each other is getting written down and will be published in the paper tomorrow? Look over there and you’ll see in each window three clerks and an old magistrate. That magistrate is the worst of all: he doesn’t understand a single thing!”

     She said this only to frighten him, but all the clerks chuckled with delight and spurted blots of ink on the floor.

     “Oh, so these are the important people!” said Hans. “Then I must give the magistrate the best thing I have.” So he turned out his pockets and threw the wet mud in his face.

     “Cleverly done!” exclaimed the Princess. “I could never have done it, but I’ll learn in time!”

     Thus Hans the Klutz was made king, with a wife and a crown and a real throne to sit on. We have it on the authority of the magistrate’s newspaper—but of course that’s hardly something one can always rely on…

(With thanks to Lars Kaaber)