Hans had served his master for seven years when he said to him, “Lord, my time is up, now I would like to go home to my mother, give me my wages”. The gentleman replied, “You have served me faithfully and honestly, as the service should be, so should the reward” and gave him a piece of gold that was as big as Hansen’s head. Hans took out his handkerchief, wrapped the lump in it, put it on his shoulder, and went home.
As he walked along, always putting one foot in front of the other, he caught sight of a rider trotting briskly and cheerfully past on a lively horse. “Oh,” said Hans very loudly, “how wonderful it is to ride a horse! there someone sits on a chair, doesn’t hit a stone, saves his shoes and gets away, he doesn’t know how.” The rider who had heard that called out to him, “oh, Hans, why are you running on foot too ?“.
“Oh, I have to carry the lump home, it’s gold, but I can’t keep my head straight, and it puts pressure on my shoulder.” “You know what,” said the rider and stopped, “we want to exchange: I give you my horse and you give me your clod.”
“With all my heart,” said Hans, “but I tell you you’ll have to drag yourselves with it.” The rider dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans up, gave him the reins firmly, and said, “If so should go really quickly, so you have to click your tongue and shout hop, hop”.
Hans was happy as he sat on the horse and rode along so frankly and freely. After a while it occurred to him that he should go faster, and he began to click his tongue and call out hop, hop. The horse began to trot, and before Hans knew it he was thrown off and lying in a ditch that separated the fields from the road. The horse would have bolted too if it hadn’t been stopped by a farmer who was coming along and driving a cow in front of him. Hans gathered his limbs and got back on his feet.
But he was cross and said to the farmer, “It’s not fun to ride, especially when you come across a mare like this, which bumps into you and throws you down so that you can break your neck; I sit up now and never again. I’ll praise your cow, someone can follow along at a leisurely pace and, on top of that, he’s sure to have his milk, butter and cheese every day. What would I give if I had such a cow!’ ‘Well,’ said the farmer, ‘if you do such a great favour, I’ll trade the cow for the horse.’ Hans agreed with a thousand joys; the peasant mounted his horse and rode away hastily.
Hans quietly drove his cow in front of him and reflected on the happy deal. “If I only have a piece of bread, and I won’t be short of it, I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like; when I’m thirsty, I milk my cow and drink milk. Heart, what more do you want?”
When he came to an inn, he stopped, happily ate up all he had with him, his lunch and supper, and had half a glass of beer poured for his last few pennies. Then he drove his cow on, always towards his mother’s village. But the heat became more oppressive the nearer noon came, and Hans found himself in a heath, which probably lasted another hour. Then he got so hot that his tongue stuck to his gums from thirst. “This thing needs help,” thought Hans, “now I want to milk my cow and refresh myself with the milk.”
He tied her to a dry tree and put his leather cap under it, but try as he might, not a drop of milk came out. But because he did it clumsily, the impatient animal finally gave him such a blow on the head with one of its hind feet that he stumbled to the ground and for a while could not remember where he was.
Luckily a butcher came along with a young pig lying on a wheelbarrow. “What pranks are those!” he cried, and helped good Hans up. Hans told what had happened. The butcher handed him his bottle and said, “Have a drink and relax. The cow probably doesn’t want to give milk, it’s an old animal that’s only good for pulling or slaughtering.” “Oh, oh,” said Hans, and stroked his hair over his head, “who would have thought that! it is of course good if one can slaughter such an animal in the house, what kind of meat is there! but I don’t care much for the cow meat, it’s not juicy enough for me. Yes, who would have such a young pig! it tastes different, but still the sausages.”
“Listen, Hans,” said the butcher, “I’ll trade you for your love, and I’ll leave you the pig for the cow.” “God reward you for your friendship,” said Hans, handing him the cow and letting him have the little pig untie from the cart, and put in your hand the rope to which it was tied.
Hans moved on and thought about how everything was going as he wished, if he ever had a nuisance it would be made up for at once. After that a fellow came up to him, who was carrying a beautiful white goose under his arm.
They bid each other time, and Hans began to tell him of his good fortune and how he had always exchanged so advantageously. The lad said he was taking the goose to a christening feast. ‘Lift once,’ he continued, grabbing her wings, ‘how heavy she is, but she’s been noodled for eight weeks. If you bite into the roast, you have to wipe the fat off both sides.” “Yes,” said Hans, and weighed it with one hand, “it has its weight, but my pig isn’t a sow either.” Meanwhile he saw himself Bursch turned around in all directions, and probably shook his head.
“Listen,” he began, “it may not be quite right with your pig. In the village through which I passed, one of the mayor’s stalls has just been stolen. I’m afraid, I’m afraid it’s in your hands; it would be a bad deal if they caught you with it, the least is that you would be put into a dark hole.” Good Hans was afraid, “Oh God,” he said, “help me out of trouble, you know around here Better know, take my pig there and let me have your goose.” “I must be risking something,” answered the lad, “but I don’t want to be responsible for your misfortune.”
So he took the rope in his hand and quickly drove the pig away by a side path: but good Hans, relieved of his worries, went home with the goose under his arm. “Come to think of it,” he said to himself, “I still have an advantage in the exchange; first the good roast, then the amount of fat that will trickle out, that gives goose fat bread for a quarter of a year; and finally the beautiful white feathers, I’ll have them stuffed into my pillow, and I’ll probably fall asleep on them without being rocked. How happy my mother will be!”
When he had passed the last village, there was a scissor grinder with his cart, his wheel purring and he was singing
“I sharpen the scissors and turn quickly,
and hang my cloak after the wind”.
Hans stopped and watched him; Finally he spoke to him and said, “You are doing well because you are so merry with your grinding.” “Yes,” answered the scissor grinder, “craft has a golden foundation. A real grinder is a man who, every time he puts his hand in his pocket, finds money in it. But where did you buy the beautiful goose?”
“I didn’t buy it, I exchanged it for my pig.” “And the pig?” “I got that for a cow.” “And the cow?” “I got that for a horse.” “And the horse “For that I gave a lump of gold as big as my head.” “And the gold?” “Oh, that was my wages for seven years of service.” “You always knew how to help each other,” said he Schleifer, “if you can now get it to the point where you hear the money jump in your pocket when you get up, then you’ve made your luck.”
“How am I supposed to start that?” said Hans. “You must become a grinder like me; you don’t really need anything but a whetstone, the other one will find itself. I’ve got one that’s a little damaged, but you shouldn’t give me anything more than your goose for that; do you want that?” “How can you ask,” answered Hans, “I’m going to be the happiest person on earth; If I have money, whenever I reach into my pocket, why do I need to worry any longer?” the goose handed him and took the whetstone.
“Now,” said the grinder, and picked up an ordinary heavy field stone that was lying next to him, “there’s another good stone that’s good to hit and you can knock your old nails straight. Take him and put him up neatly.”
Hans loaded the stone and went on with a happy heart; his eyes shone with joy, “I must have been born lucky,” he exclaimed, “everything I wish comes to me, like a Sunday child.” However, from having been on his feet since daybreak, he began to tire; He was also plagued by hunger, since he had eaten up all his supplies at once in the joy of the cow he had bargained for.
In the end he was only able to go on with difficulty and had to stop at any moment, and the stones weighed him down very badly. Then he couldn’t help thinking how good it would be if he didn’t have to wear them right now.
Like a snail he came crept to a field well, there he wanted to rest and refresh himself with a fresh drink; but so that he would not damage the stones while sitting down, he laid them carefully beside him on the edge of the well. Then he turned and wanted to bend down to drink, when he made a mistake, touched a little, and both stones fell down.
Hans, when he saw her sinking into the depths with his eyes, jumped up for joy, then knelt down and, with tears in his eyes, thanked God that he had shown him this mercy too, and him in such a good way, and without that he had to reproach himself, had freed himself from the heavy stones: that was the only thing that would have hindered him. “As happy as I am,” he exclaimed, “there is no man under the sun.”
With a light heart and free from all burdens, he now jumped until he was home with his mother.
The authors of the fairy tale are the Brothers Grimm. They collected folk tales and published them in the children’s and house fairy tales, 1st volume, 3rd edition, Berlin, 1850. The fairy tale comes from the sixth “increased and improved edition”. Wikisource: Lucky Hans (1837)
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