Blockhead Hans

BLOCKHEAD-HANS

Far away in the country lay an old manor-house where lived an old

squire who had two sons. They thought themselves so clever, that if

they had known only half of what they did know, it would have been

quite enough. They both wanted to marry the King’s daughter, for she

had proclaimed that she would have for her husband the man who knew

best how to choose his words.

Both prepared for the wooing a whole week, which was the longest time

allowed them; but, after all, it was quite long enough, for they both

had preparatory knowledge, and everyone knows how useful that is. One

knew the whole Latin dictionary and also three years’ issue of the

daily paper of the town off by heart, so that he could repeat it all

backwards or forwards as you pleased. The other had worked at the laws

of corporation, and knew by heart what every member of the corporation

ought to know, so that he thought he could quite well speak on State

matters and give his opinion. He understood, besides this, how to

embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and scrolls, for he was

very ready with his fingers.

‘I shall win the king’s daughter!’ they both cried.

Their old father gave each of them a fine horse; the one who knew the

dictionary and the daily paper by heart had a black horse, while the

other who was so clever at corporation law had a milk-white one. Then

they oiled the corners of their mouths so that they might be able to

speak more fluently. All the servants stood in the courtyard and saw

them mount their steeds, and here by chance came the third brother;

for the squire had three sons, but nobody counted him with his

brothers, for he was not so learned as they were, and he was generally

called ‘Blockhead-Hans.’

‘Oh, oh!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Where are you off to? You are in your

Sunday-best clothes!’

‘We are going to Court, to woo the Princess! Don’t you know what is

known throughout all the country side?’ And they told him all about

it.

‘Hurrah! I’ll go too!’ cried Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed

at him and rode off.

‘Dear father!’ cried Blockhead-Hans, ‘I must have a horse too. What a

desire for marriage has seized me! If she will have me, she will

have me, and if she won’t have me, I will have her.’

‘Stop that nonsense!’ said the old man. ‘I will not give you a horse.

You can’t speak; you don’t know how to choose your words. Your

brothers! Ah! they are very different lads!’

[Illustration: Then They Oiled the Corners of Their Mouths]

‘Well,’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘if I can’t have a horse, I will take the

goat which is mine; he can carry me!’

And he did so. He sat astride on the goat, struck his heels into its

side, and went rattling down the high-road like a hurricane.

Hoppetty hop! what a ride! ‘Here I come!’ shouted Blockhead-Hans,

singing so that the echoes were roused far and near. But his brothers

were riding slowly in front. They were not speaking, but they were

thinking over all the good things they were going to say, for

everything had to be thought out.

‘Hullo!’ bawled Blockhead-Hans, ‘here I am! Just look what I found on

the road!’—and he showed them a dead crow which he had picked up.

‘Blockhead!’ said his brothers, ‘what are you going to do with it?’

‘With the crow? I shall give it to the Princess!’

‘Do so, certainly!’ they said, laughing loudly and riding on.

‘Slap! bang! here I am again! Look what I have just found! You don’t

find such things every day on the road!’

[Illustration: Hans Fills his Pocket with the Mud]

And the brothers turned round to see what in the world he could have

found.

‘Blockhead!’ said they, ‘that is an old wooden shoe without the top!

Are you going to send that, too, to the Princess?’

‘Of course I shall!’ returned Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed

and rode on a good way.

‘Slap! bang! here I am!’ cried Blockhead-Hans; ‘better and better—it

is really famous!’

‘What have you found now?’ asked the brothers.

‘Oh,’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘it is really too good! How pleased the

Princess will be!’

‘Why!’ said the brothers, ‘this is pure mud, straight from the ditch.’

‘Of course it is!’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘and it is the best kind! Look

how it runs through one’s fingers!’ and, so saying, he filled his

pocket with the mud.

But the brothers rode on so fast that dust and sparks flew all around,

and they reached the gate of the town a good hour before

Blockhead-Hans. Here came the suitors numbered according to their

arrival, and they were ranged in rows, six in each row, and they were

so tightly packed that they could not move their arms. This was a very

good thing, for otherwise they would have torn each other in pieces,

merely because the one was in front of the other.

All the country people were standing round the King’s throne, and were

crowded together in thick masses almost out of the windows to see the

Princess receive the suitors; and as each one came into the room all

his fine phrases went out like a candle!

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Away! out with him!’

At last she came to the row in which the brother who knew the

dictionary by heart was, but he did not know it any longer; he had

quite forgotten it in the rank and file. And the floor creaked, and

the ceiling was all made of glass mirrors, so that he saw himself

standing on his head, and by each window were standing three reporters

and an editor; and each of them was writing down what was said, to

publish it in the paper that came out and was sold at the street

corners for a penny. It was fearful, and they had made up the fire so

hot that it was grilling.

‘It is hot in here, isn’t it!’ said the suitor.

‘Of course it is! My father is roasting young chickens to-day!’ said

the Princess.

‘Ahem!’ There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such a

speech; he did not know what to say, although he wanted to say

something witty. ‘Ahem!’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Take him out!’ and out he had

to go.

Now the other brother entered.

‘How hot it is!’ he said.

‘Of course! We are roasting young chickens to-day!’ remarked the

Princess.

‘How do you—um!’ he said, and the reporters wrote down. ‘How do

you—um.’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Take him out!’

Now Blockhead-Hans came in; he rode his goat right into the hall.

‘I say! How roasting hot it is here!’ said he.

‘Of course! I am roasting young chickens to-day!’ said the Princess.

‘That’s good!’ replied Blockhead-Hans; ‘then can I roast a crow with

them?’

‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the Princess; ‘but have you

anything you can roast them in? for I have neither pot nor saucepan.’

[Illustration: The Reporters giggled & each

dropped a blot of ink on the floor

Then I will give the Editor the best! said Blockhead-Hans

That was neatly done! said the Princess]

‘Oh, rather!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Here is a cooking implement with

tin rings,’ and he drew out the old wooden shoe, and laid the crow in

it.

‘That is quite a meal!’ said the Princess; ‘but where shall we get the

soup from?’

‘I’ve got that in my pocket!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘I have so much

that I can quite well throw some away!’ and he poured some mud out of

his pocket.

‘I like you!’ said the Princess. ‘You can answer, and you can speak,

and I will marry you; but do you know that every word which we are

saying and have said has been taken down and will be in the paper

to-morrow? By each window do you see there are standing three

reporters and an old editor, and this old editor is the worst, for he

doesn’t understand anything!’ but she only said this to tease

Blockhead-Hans. And the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of

ink on the floor.

‘Ah! are those the great people?’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Then I will

give the editor the best!’ So saying, he turned his pockets inside

out, and threw the mud right in his face.

‘That was neatly done!’ said the Princess. ‘I couldn’t have done it;

but I will soon learn how to!’

Blockhead-Hans became King, got a wife and a crown, and sat on the

throne; and this we have still damp from the newspaper of the editor

and the reporters—and they are not to be believed for a moment.