Once upon a time there was a king, who had a daughter, and she was so
lovely that the reports of her beauty went far and wide; but she was so
melancholy that she never laughed, and besides she was so grand and
proud that she said "No" to all who came to woo her--she would not have
any of them, were they ever so fine, whether they were princes or
noblemen.
The king was tired of this whim of hers long ago, and thought she ought
to get married like other people; there was nothing she need wait
for--she was old enough and she would not be any richer either, for she
was to have half the kingdom, which she inherited after her mother.
So he made known every Sunday after the service, from the steps outside
the church, that he that could make his daughter laugh should have both
her and half the kingdom. But if there were any one who tried and could
not make her laugh, he would have three red stripes cut out of his back
and salt rubbed into them--and, sad to relate, there were many sore
backs in that kingdom. Lovers from south and from north, from east and
from west, came to try their luck--they thought it was an easy thing to
make a princess laugh. They were a queer lot altogether, but for all
their cleverness and for all the tricks and pranks they played, the
princess was just as serious and immovable as ever.
But close to the palace lived a man who had three sons, and they had
also heard that the king had made known that he who could make the
princess laugh should have her and half the kingdom.
The eldest of the brothers wanted to try first, and away he went; and
when he came to the palace, he told the king he wouldn't mind trying to
make the princess laugh.
"Yes, yes! that's all very well," said the king; "but I am afraid it's
of very little use, my man. There have been many here to try their luck,
but my daughter is just as sad, and I am afraid it is no good trying. I
do not like to see any more suffer on that account."
But the lad thought he would try anyhow. It couldn't be such a difficult
thing to make a princess laugh at him, for had not everybody, both grand
and simple, laughed so many a time at him when he served as soldier and
went through his drill under Sergeant Nils.
So he went out on the terrace outside the princess's windows and began
drilling just as if Sergeant Nils himself were there. But all in vain!
The princess sat just as serious and immovable as before, and so they
took him and cut three broad, red stripes out of his back and sent him
home.
He had no sooner arrived home than his second brother wanted to set out
and try his luck. He was a schoolmaster, and a funny figure he was
altogether. He had one leg shorter than the other, and limped terribly
when he walked. One moment he was no bigger than a boy, but the next
moment when he raised himself up on his long leg he was as big and tall
as a giant--and besides he was great at preaching.
When he came to the palace, and said that he wanted to make the princess
laugh, the king thought that it was not so unlikely that he might; "but
I pity you, if you don't succeed," said the king, "for we cut the
stripes broader and broader for every one that tries."
So the schoolmaster went out on the terrace, and took his place outside
the princess's window, where he began preaching and chanting imitating
seven of the parsons, and reading and singing just like seven of the
clerks whom they had had in the parish.
The king laughed at the schoolmaster till he was obliged to hold on to
the door-post, and the princess was just on the point of smiling, but
suddenly she was as sad and immovable as ever, and so it fared no better
with Paul the schoolmaster than with Peter the soldier--for Peter and
Paul were their names, you must know!
So they took Paul and cut three red stripes out of his back, put salt
into them, and sent him home again.
Well, the youngest brother thought he would have a try next. His name
was Hans. But the brothers laughed and made fun of him, and showed him
their sore backs. Besides, the father would not give him leave to go,
for he said it was no use his trying, who had so little sense; all he
could do was to sit in a corner on the hearth, like a cat, rooting about
in the ashes and cutting chips. But Hans would not give in--he begged
and prayed so long, till they got tired of his whimpering, and so he got
leave to go to the king's palace and try his luck.
When he arrived at the palace he did not say he had come to try to make
the princess laugh, but asked if he could get a situation there. No,
they had no situation for him; but Hans was not so easily put off--they
might want one to carry wood and water for the kitchenmaid in such a big
place as that, he said. Yes, the king thought so too, and to get rid of
the lad he gave him leave to remain there and carry wood and water for
the kitchenmaid.
One day, when he was going to fetch water from the brook, he saw a big
fish in the water just under an old root of a fir-tree, which the
current had carried all the soil away from. He put his bucket quietly
under the fish and caught it. As he was going home to the palace, he met
an old woman leading a golden goose.
"Good day, grandmother!" said Hans. "That's a fine bird you have got
there; and such splendid feathers too! he shines a long way off. If one
had such feathers, one needn't be chopping firewood."
The woman thought just as much of the fish which Hans had in the bucket,
and said if Hans would give her the fish he should have the golden
goose; and this goose was such that if any one touched it he would be
sticking fast to it if he only said: "If you'll come along, then hang
on."
Yes, Hans would willingly exchange on those terms. "A bird is as good as
a fish any day," he said to himself. "If it is as you say, I might use
it instead of a fish-hook," he said to the woman, and felt greatly
pleased with the possession of the goose.
He had not gone far before he met another old woman. When she saw the
splendid golden goose, she must go and stroke it. She made herself so
friendly and spoke so nicely to Hans, and asked him to let her stroke
that lovely golden goose of his.
"Oh, yes!" said Hans, "but you mustn't pluck off any of its feathers!"
Just as she stroked the bird, Hans said: "If you'll come along, then
hang on!"
The woman pulled and tore, but she had to hang on, whether she would or
no, and Hans walked on, as if he only had the goose with him.
When he had gone some distance, he met a man who had a spite against the
woman for a trick she had played upon him. When he saw that she fought
so hard to get free and seemed to hang on so fast, he thought he might
safely venture to pay her off for the grudge he owed her, and so he gave
her a kick.
"If you'll come along, then hang on!" said Hans, and the man had to hang
on and limp along on one leg, whether he would or no; and when he tried
to tear himself loose, he made it still worse for himself, for he was
very nearly falling on his back whenever he struggled to get free.
So on they went till they came in the neighborhood of the palace. There
they met the king's smith; he was on his way to the smithy, and had a
large pair of tongs in his hand. This smith was a merry fellow, and was
always full of mad pranks and tricks, and when he saw this procession
coming jumping and limping along, he began laughing till he was bent in
two, but suddenly he said:
"This must be a new flock of geese for the princess: but who can tell
which is goose and which is gander? I suppose it must be the gander
toddling on in front. Goosey, goosey!" he called, and pretended to be
strewing corn out of his hands as when feeding geese.
But they did not stop. The woman and the man only looked in great rage
at the smith for making game of them. So said the smith: "It would be
great fun to see if I could stop the whole flock, many as they are!"--He
was a strong man, and seized the old man with his tongs from behind in
his trousers, and the man shouted and struggled hard, but Hans said:
"If you'll come along, then hang on!"
And so the smith had to hang on too. He bent his back and stuck his
heels in the ground when they went up a hill and tried to get away, but
it was of no use; he stuck on to the other as if he had been screwed
fast in the great vise in the smithy, and whether he liked it or not, he
had to dance along with the others.
When they came near the palace, the farm-dog ran against them and barked
at them, as if they were a gang of tramps, and when the princess came to
look out of her window to see what was the matter, and saw this
procession, she burst out laughing. But Hans was not satisfied with
that. "Just wait a bit, and she will laugh still louder very soon," he
said, and made a tour round the palace with his followers.
When they came past the kitchen, the door was open and the cook was just
boiling porridge, but when she saw Hans and his train after him, she
rushed out of the door with the porridge-stick in one hand and a big
ladle full of boiling porridge in the other, and she laughed till her
sides shook; but when she saw the smith there as well, she thought she
would have burst with laughter. When she had had a regular good laugh,
she looked at the golden goose again and thought it was so lovely that
she must stroke it.
"Hans, Hans!" she cried, and ran after him with the ladle in her hand;
"just let me stroke that lovely bird of yours."
"Rather let her stroke me!" said the smith.
"Very well," said Hans.
But when the cook heard this, she got very angry. "What is it you say!"
she cried, and gave the smith a smack with the ladle.
"If you'll come along, then hang on!" said Hans, and so she stuck fast
to the others too, and for all her scolding and all her tearing and
pulling, she had to limp along with them.
And when they came past the princess's window again, she was still there
waiting for them, but when she saw that they had got hold of the cook
too, with the ladle and porridge-stick, she laughed till the king had to
hold her up. So Hans got the princess and half the kingdom, and they had
a wedding which was heard of far and wide.