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Grimms' Fairy Tales
Hans
in Luck
Hans had served his master for seven years,
so he said to him, "Master, my time is up; now I should
be glad to go back home to my mother; give me my wages."
The master answered, "You have served me faithfully
and honestly; as the service was so shall the reward be;"
and he gave Hans a piece of gold as big as his head. Hans
pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped up the
lump in it, put it on his shoulder, and set out on the way
home.
As he went on, always putting one foot before the other,
he saw a horseman trotting quickly and merrily by on a lively
horse. "Ah!" said Hans quite loud, "what
a fine thing it is to ride! There you sit as on a chair;
you stumble over no stones, you save your shoes, and get
on, you don't know how."
The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, "Hollo!
Hans, why do you go on foot, then?"
"I must," answered he, "for I have this
lump to carry home; it is true that it is gold, but I cannot
hold my head straight for it, and it hurts my shoulder."
"I will tell you what," said the rider, "we
will exchange: I will give you my horse, and you can give
me your lump."
"With all my heart," said Hans, "but I can
tell you, you will have to crawl along with it."
The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up;
then gave him the bridle tight in his hands and said, "If
you want to go at a really good pace, you must click your
tongue and call out, "Jup! Jup!"
Hans was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and
rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought
that it ought to go faster, and he began to click with his
tongue and call out, "Jup! Jup!" The horse put
himself into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he
was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch which separated
the field from the highway. The horse would have gone off
too if it had not been stopped by a countryman, who was
coming along the road and driving a cow before him.
Hans got his limbs together and stood up on his legs again,
but he was vexed, and said to the countryman, "It is
a poor joke, this riding, especially when one gets hold
of a mare like this, that kicks and throws one off, so that
one has a chance of breaking one's neck. Never again will
I mount it. Now I like your cow, for one can walk quietly
behind her, and have, over and above, one's milk, butter
and cheese every day without fail. What would I not give
to have such a cow." "Well," said the countryman,
"if it would give you so much pleasure, I do not mind
giving the cow for the horse." Hans agreed with the
greatest delight; the countryman jumped upon the horse,
and rode quickly away.
Hans drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over
his lucky bargain. "If only I have a morsel of bread
-- and that can hardly fail me -- I can eat butter and cheese
with it as often as I like; if I am thirsty, I can milk
my cow and drink the milk. Good heart, what more can I want?"
When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great
content ate up what he had with him -- his dinner and supper
-- and all he had, and with his last few farthings had half
a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onwards along the
road to his mother's village.
As it drew nearer mid-day, the heat was more oppressive,
and Hans found himself upon a moor which it took about an
hour to cross. He felt it very hot and his tongue clave
to the roof of his mouth with thirst. "I can find a
cure for this," thought Hans; "I will milk the
cow now and refresh myself with the milk." He tied
her to a withered tree, and as he had no pail he put his
leather cap underneath; but try as he would, not a drop
of milk came. And as he set himself to work in a clumsy
way, the impatient beast at last gave him such a blow on
his head with its hind foot, that he fell on the ground,
and for a long time could not think where he was.
By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road
with a wheel-barrow, in which lay a young pig. "What
sort of a trick is this?" cried he, and helped the
good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened. The butcher
gave him his flask and said, "Take a drink and refresh
yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk, it is an
old beast; at the best it is only fit for the plough, or
for the butcher." "Well, well," said Hans,
as he stroked his hair down on his head, "who would
have thought it? Certainly it is a fine thing when one can
kill a beast like that at home; what meat one has! But I
do not care much for beef, it is not juicy enough for me.
A young pig like that now is the thing to have, it tastes
quite different; and then there are the sausages!"
"Hark ye, Hans," said the butcher, "out
of love for you I will exchange, and will let you have the
pig for the cow." "Heaven repay you for your kindness!"
said Hans as he gave up the cow, whilst the pig was unbound
from the barrow, and the cord by which it was tied was put
in his hand.
Hans went on, and thought to himself how everything was
going just as he wished; if he did meet with any vexation
it was immediately set right. Presently there joined him
a lad who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm.
They said good morning to each other, and Hans began to
tell of his good luck, and how he had always made such good
bargains. The boy told him that he was taking the goose
to a christening-feast. "Just lift her," added
he, and laid hold of her by the wings; "how heavy she
is -- she has been fattened up for the last eight weeks.
Whoever has a bit of her when she is roasted will have to
wipe the fat from both sides of his mouth." "Yes,"
said Hans, as he weighed her in one hand, "she is a
good weight, but my pig is no bad one."
Meanwhile the lad looked suspiciously from one side to
the other, and shook his head. "Look here," he
said at length, "it may not be all right with your
pig. In the village through which I passed, the Mayor himself
had just had one stolen out of its sty. I fear -- I fear
that you have got hold of it there. They have sent out some
people and it would be a bad business if they caught you
with the pig; at the very least, you would be shut up in
the dark hole."
The good Hans was terrified. "Goodness!" he said,
"help me out of this fix; you know more about this
place than I do, take my pig and leave me your goose."
"I shall risk something at that game," answered
the lad, "but I will not be the cause of your getting
into trouble." So he took the cord in his hand, and
drove away the pig quickly along a by-path.
The good Hans, free from care, went homewards with the
goose under his arm. "When I think over it properly,"
said he to himself, "I have even gained by the exchange;
first there is the good roast-meat, then the quantity of
fat which will drip from it, and which will give me dripping
for my bread for a quarter of a year, and lastly the beautiful
white feathers; I will have my pillow stuffed with them,
and then indeed I shall go to sleep without rocking. How
glad my mother will be!"
As he was going through the last village, there stood a
scissors-grinder with his barrow; as his wheel whirred he
sang --
"I sharpen scissors and quickly grind,
My coat blows out in the wind behind."
Hans stood still and looked at him; at last he spoke to
him and said, "All's well with you, as you are so merry
with your grinding." "Yes," answered the
scissors-grinder, "the trade has a golden foundation.
A real grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand
into his pocket finds gold in it. But where did you buy
that fine goose?"
"I did not buy it, but exchanged my pig for it."
"And the pig?"
"That I got for a cow."
"And the cow?"
"I took that instead of a horse."
"And the horse?"
"For that I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And the gold?"
"Well, that was my wages for seven years' service."
"You have known how to look after yourself each time,"
said the grinder. "If you can only get on so far as
to hear the money jingle in your pocket whenever you stand
up, you will have made your fortune."
"How shall I manage that?" said Hans. "You
must be a grinder, as I am; nothing particular is wanted
for it but a grindstone, the rest finds itself. I have one
here; it is certainly a little worn, but you need not give
me anything for it but your goose; will you do it?"
"How can you ask?" answered Hans. "I shall
be the luckiest fellow on earth; if I have money whenever
I put my hand in my pocket, what need I trouble about any
longer?" and he handed him the goose and received the
grindstone in exchange. "Now," said the grinder,
as he took up an ordinary heavy stone that lay by him, "here
is a strong stone for you into the bargain; you can hammer
well upon it, and straighten your old nails. Take it with
you and keep it carefully."
Hans loaded himself with the stones, and went on with a
contented heart; his eyes shone with joy. "I must have
been born with a caul," he cried; "everything
I want happens to me just as if I were a Sunday-child."
Meanwhile, as he had been on his legs since daybreak, he
began to feel tired. Hunger also tormented him, for in his
joy at the bargain by which he got the cow he had eaten
up all his store of food at once. At last he could only
go on with great trouble, and was forced to stop every minute;
the stones, too, weighed him down dreadfully. Then he could
not help thinking how nice it would be if he had not to
carry them just then.
He crept like a snail to a well in a field, and there he
thought that he would rest and refresh himself with a cool
draught of water, but in order that he might not injure
the stones in sitting down, he laid them carefully by his
side on the edge of the well. Then he sat down on it, and
was to stoop and drink, when he made a slip, pushed against
the stones, and both of them fell into the water. When Hans
saw them with his own eyes sinking to the bottom, he jumped
for joy, and then knelt down, and with tears in his eyes
thanked God for having shown him this favour also, and delivered
him in so good a way, and without his having any need to
reproach himself, from those heavy stones which had been
the only things that troubled him.
"There is no man under the sun so fortunate as I,"
he cried out. With a light heart and free from every burden
he now ran on until he was with his mother at home.
From Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Household Tales, trans. Margaret
Hunt (London: George Bell, 1884), 1:325-330. |
