Hans in Luck

Once upon a time there was a young man named Hans who had served his master for seven years. One day Hans said to him, “Master, my time is up. Now I’d like to go home to my mother, so please give me my wages.”

His master answered, “You have served me faithfully and honestly, and your reward shall be as good as your service.” And he gave Hans a lump of gold as big as his head.

Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped the lump in it, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and set off for home.

As he walked along, putting one foot in front of the other, he saw a horseman come trotting quickly and merrily past on a lively horse. “Ah!” said Hans out loud. “What a fine thing it is to ride! You sit there as if you were in a chair, you never trip over stones, you save your shoes, and you get where you’re going before you know it.”

The rider had heard him, and he stopped and called out, “Hey there, Hans! Why are you going on foot?”

“I have to,” Hans answered, “because I’ve got this lump to carry home. It’s gold, that’s true, but it’s so heavy I can’t hold my head up straight, and it hurts my shoulder.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said the rider. “Let’s trade. I’ll give you my horse, and you give me your lump.”

“Gladly,” said Hans. “But I warn you, you’ll have to trudge along with it.”

The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up into the saddle. Then he put the reins firmly into his hands and said, “If you want to go really fast, just click your tongue and shout, ‘Jup! Jup!’”

Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse and rode away, so bold and free. After a while he thought he ought to be going faster, so he began to click his tongue and shout, “Jup! Jup!” The horse broke into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew what was happening, he had been thrown off and was lying in the ditch that ran between the field and the road. The horse would have run off too, if a countryman coming along the road, driving a cow ahead of him, had not caught it.

Hans got to his feet again, but he was cross, and he said to the countryman, “This riding is no joke, especially when you end up with a mare like this one, who kicks and throws you off hard enough to break your neck. I’ll never get on her again. Now your cow, I like her. You can walk along quietly behind her, and on top of that you get your milk, butter, and cheese every single day. What wouldn’t I give for a cow like that!”

“Well,” said the countryman, “if it would make you so happy, I don’t mind trading my cow for your horse.”

Hans couldn’t have been happier, and he agreed at once. The countryman swung himself onto the horse and rode quickly away.

Hans drove his cow calmly ahead of him, thinking over his lucky bargain. “As long as I have a bit of bread,” he thought, “and I’m sure to find some, I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like. And when I’m thirsty, I can milk my cow and drink the milk. Goodness me, what more could I want?”

When he came to an inn he stopped, and he was so pleased with himself that he ate up everything he had brought along, his lunch and his supper too, every last crumb. With his last few pennies he bought half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow on along the road toward his mother’s village.

As noon came nearer, the heat grew heavier, and Hans found himself on a moor that took about an hour to cross. He was so hot and so thirsty that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “I know how to fix this,” thought Hans. “I’ll milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk.”

He tied her to a dead tree, and since he had no pail, he held his leather cap underneath her. But no matter how hard he tried, not a drop of milk came out. And because he went about it so clumsily, the impatient animal at last kicked him in the head with her hind hoof so hard that he fell to the ground, and for a long while he had no idea where he was.

As luck would have it, just then a butcher came along the road pushing a wheelbarrow with a young pig lying in it. “What’s going on here?” he cried, and he helped Hans to his feet.

Hans told him what had happened. The butcher handed him his flask and said, “Have a drink and get your strength back. That cow will never give milk; she’s an old animal. At best she’s good for pulling a plow, or for the butcher.”

“Well, well,” said Hans, smoothing down his hair, “who would have thought it? Of course, it’s a fine thing to be able to slaughter an animal like that at home. Think of all the meat! But I don’t care much for beef; it isn’t juicy enough for me. Now a young pig like yours, that’s the thing to have. It tastes completely different, and then there are the sausages!”

“Listen, Hans,” said the butcher. “Since I’m so fond of you, I’ll trade with you. You can have the pig for the cow.”

“Heaven reward you for your kindness!” said Hans, and he handed over the cow. The butcher untied the pig from the wheelbarrow and put the cord it was tied with into Hans’s hand.

Hans went on his way, thinking how everything was turning out just as he wished. Whenever some trouble did come along, it was put right at once. Before long a boy fell into step beside him, carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They said good morning to each other, and Hans began telling him about his luck and how every trade he had made had turned out well. The boy told him he was taking the goose to a christening feast.

“Just lift her,” he added, and he held her up by the wings. “Feel how heavy she is. She’s been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Whoever gets a bite of her once she’s roasted will have to wipe the fat off both sides of his mouth.”

“Yes,” said Hans, weighing her in one hand, “she’s a good weight. But my pig isn’t bad either.”

Meanwhile the boy kept glancing warily this way and that, and he shook his head. “Listen,” he said at last, “there may be something wrong with your pig. In the village I just came through, somebody stole a pig right out of the Mayor’s own sty. I’m afraid… I’m afraid that’s the one you have there. They’ve sent people out looking, and it would be a bad business if they caught you with that pig. At the very least they’d lock you up in a dark cell.”

Hans was terrified. “Oh, goodness!” he said. “Help me out of this mess. You know your way around here better than I do. Take my pig and give me your goose.”

“It’s dangerous for me,” answered the boy, “but I don’t want it to be my fault if you get into trouble.” So he took the cord in his hand and drove the pig off quickly down a side path.

Free of his worries, Hans walked on toward home with the goose under his arm. “Come to think of it,” he said to himself, “I’ve even come out ahead on this trade. First there’s the good roast, and then all the fat that will drip from it, enough to spread on my bread for three months. And last of all there are the beautiful white feathers. I’ll have my pillow stuffed with them, and then I’ll fall asleep without anyone rocking me. How happy my mother will be!”

As he passed through the last village, he came upon a scissors-grinder with his barrow. The man’s wheel whirred, and he sang:

I sharpen scissors, I turn and grind, and my coat flies out in the wind behind.

Hans stood still and watched him. At last he said to him, “You must be doing well, since you’re so cheerful at your grinding.”

“Yes,” answered the scissors-grinder, “this trade is a gold mine. A real grinder is a man who finds money every time he puts his hand in his pocket. But where did you buy that fine goose?”

“I didn’t buy it. I traded my pig for it.”

“And the pig?”

“I got that for a cow.”

“And the cow?”

“I took her in exchange for 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’ work.”

“You’ve done well for yourself every time,” said the grinder. “Now if you could just manage to hear money jingling in your pocket every time you stand up, your fortune would be made.”

“How can I do that?” asked Hans.

“You must become a grinder, like me. You don’t need anything special for it, only a grindstone; the rest takes care of itself. I have one right here. It’s a little worn, it’s true, but you needn’t give me anything for it except your goose. Will you do it?”

“How can you even ask?” answered Hans. “I’ll be the luckiest man in the world! If I have money every time I put my hand in my pocket, what else will I ever need to worry about?” And he handed over the goose and took the grindstone in exchange.

“Now,” said the grinder, picking up an ordinary heavy stone that lay beside him, “here’s a good strong stone for you into the bargain. You can hammer on it nicely and straighten out your old nails. Take it with you and look after it carefully.”

Hans loaded himself with the stones and went on with a contented heart, his eyes shining with joy. “I must have been born under a lucky star!” he cried. “Everything I wish for comes my way, as if I were fortune’s favorite.”

By now he had been on his feet since daybreak, and he began to grow tired. Hunger gnawed at him too, for in his joy over the bargain that got him the cow, he had eaten up all his food at once. At last he could only go on with great effort and had to stop every minute or so, and the stones weighed him down terribly. He couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be if he didn’t have to carry them just now.

Slow as a snail, he crept up to a well in a field. There he meant to rest and refresh himself with a cool drink of water. So as not to damage the stones when he sat down, he laid them carefully beside him on the edge of the well. Then he sat down himself and was just bending over to drink when he slipped, knocked against the stones, and both of them fell into the water.

When Hans saw the stones sink to the bottom with his own eyes, he jumped for joy. Then he knelt down and, with tears in his eyes, thanked God for doing him this kindness too. God had freed him from those heavy stones, the only things that had still been troubling him, and so neatly that he had nothing to blame himself for.

“There’s no man under the sun as lucky as I am!” he cried. And with a light heart, free of every burden, he ran on until he was home with his mother.