On a bitter night somewhere between Christmas and the New Year, a man
set out to walk to the neighbouring village. It was not many miles off,
but the snow was so thick that there were no roads, or walls, or hedges
left to guide him, and very soon he lost his way altogether, and was
glad to get shelter from the wind behind a thick juniper tree. Here he
resolved to spend the night, thinking that when the sun rose he would be
able to see his path again.
So he tucked his legs snugly under him like a hedgehog, rolled himself
up in his sheepskin, and went to sleep. How long he slept, I cannot tell
you, but after awhile he became aware that some one was gently shaking
him, while a stranger whispered, ‘My good man, get up! If you lie there
any more, you will be buried in the snow, and no one will ever know what
became of you.’
The sleeper slowly raised his head from his furs, and opened his heavy
eyes. Near him stood a long thin man, holding in his hand a young fir
tree taller than himself. ‘Come with me,’ said the man, ‘a little way
off we have made a large fire, and you will rest far better there than
out upon this moor.’ The sleeper did not wait to be asked twice, but
rose at once and followed the stranger. The snow was falling so fast
that he could not see three steps in front of him, till the stranger
waved his staff, when the drifts parted before them. Very soon they
reached a wood, and saw the friendly glow of a fire.
‘What is your name?’ asked the stranger, suddenly turning round.
‘I am called Hans, the son of Long Hans,’ said the peasant.
In front of the fire three men were sitting clothed in white, just as
if it was summer, and for about thirty feet all round winter had been
banished. The moss was dry and the plants green, while the grass seemed
all alive with the hum of bees and cockchafers. But above the noise the
son of Long Hans could hear the whistling of the wind and the crackling
of the branches as they fell beneath the weight of the snow.
‘Well! you son of Long Hans, isn’t this more comfortable than your
juniper bush?’ laughed the stranger, and for answer Hans replied he
could not thank his friend enough for having brought him here, and,
throwing off his sheepskin, rolled it up as a pillow. Then, after a hot
drink which warmed both their hearts, they lay down on the ground. The
stranger talked for a little to the other men in a language Hans did
not understand, and after listening for a short time he once more fell
asleep.
When he awoke, neither wood nor fire was to be seen, and he did not know
where he was. He rubbed his eyes, and began to recall the events of the
night, thinking he must have been dreaming; but for all that, he could
not make out how he came to be in this place.
Suddenly a loud noise struck on his ear, and he felt the earth tremble
beneath his feet. Hans listened for a moment, then resolved to go
towards the place where the sound came from, hoping he might come across
some human being. He found himself at length at the mouth of a rocky
cave in which a fire seemed burning. He entered, and saw a huge forge,
and a crowd of men in front of it, blowing bellows and wielding hammers,
and to each anvil were seven men, and a set of more comical smiths could
not be found if you searched all the world through! Their heads were
bigger than their little bodies, and their hammers twice the size of
themselves, but the strongest men on earth could not have handled their
iron clubs more stoutly or given lustier blows.
The little blacksmiths were clad in leather aprons, which covered them
from their necks to their feet in front, and left their backs naked.
On a high stool against the wall sat the man with the pinewood staff,
watching sharply the way the little fellows did their work, and near him
stood a large can, from which every now and then the workers would come
and take a drink. The master no longer wore the white garments of the
day before, but a black jerkin, held in its place by a leathern girdle
with huge clasps.
From time to time he would give his workmen a sign with his staff, for
it was useless to speak amid such a noise.
If any of them had noticed that there was a stranger present they took
no heed of him, but went on with what they were doing. After some hours’
hard labour came the time for rest, and they all flung their hammers to
the ground and trooped out of the cave.
Then the master got down from his seat and said to Hans:
‘I saw you come in, but the work was pressing, and I could not stop to
speak to you. To-day you must be my guest, and I will show you something
of the way in which I live. Wait here for a moment, while I lay aside
these dirty clothes.’ With these words he unlocked a door in the cave,
and bade Hans pass in before him.
Oh, what riches and treasures met Hans’ astonished eyes! Gold and silver
bars lay piled on the floor, and glittered so that you could not look at
them! Hans thought he would count them for fun, and had already reached
the five hundred and seventieth when his host returned and cried,
laughing:
‘Do not try to count them, it would take too long; choose some of the
bars from the heap, as I should like to make you a present of them.’
Hans did not wait to be asked twice, and stooped to pick up a bar of
gold, but though he put forth all his strength he could not even move it
with both hands, still less lift it off the ground.
‘Why, you have no more power than a flea,’ laughed the host; ‘you will
have to content yourself with feasting your eyes upon them!’
So he bade Hans follow him through other rooms, till they entered one
bigger than a church, filled, like the rest, with gold and silver.
Hans wondered to see these vast riches, which might have bought all the
kingdoms of the world, and lay buried, useless, he thought, to anyone.
‘What is the reason,’ he asked of his guide, ‘that you gather up these
treasures here, where they can do good to nobody? If they fell into
the hands of men, everyone would be rich, and none need work or suffer
hunger.’
‘And it is exactly for that reason,’ answered he, ‘that I must keep
these riches out of their way. The whole world would sink to idleness if
men were not forced to earn their daily bread. It is only through work
and care that man can ever hope to be good for anything.’
Hans stared at these words, and at last he begged that his host would
tell him what use it was to anybody that this gold and silver should lie
mouldering there, and the owner of it be continually trying to increase
his treasure, which already overflowed his store rooms.
‘I am not really a man,’ replied his guide, ‘though I have the outward
form of one, but one of those beings to whom is given the care of the
world. It is my task and that of my workmen to prepare under the earth
the gold and silver, a small portion of which finds its way every year
to the upper world, but only just enough to help them carry on their
business. To none comes wealth without trouble: we must first dig out
the gold and mix the grains with earth, clay, and sand. Then, after long
and hard seeking, it will be found in this state, by those who have good
luck or much patience. But, my friend, the hour of dinner is at hand. If
you wish to remain in this place, and feast your eyes on this gold, then
stay till I call you.’
In his absence Hans wandered from one treasure chamber to another,
sometimes trying to break off a little lump of gold, but never able to
do it. After awhile his host came back, but so changed that Hans could
not believe it was really he. His silken clothes were of the brightest
flame colour, richly trimmed with gold fringes and lace; a golden girdle
was round his waist, while his head was encircled with a crown of gold,
and precious stones twinkled about him like stars in a winter’s night,
and in place of his wooden stick he held a finely worked golden staff.
The lord of all this treasure locked the doors and put the keys in his
pocket, then led Hans into another room, where dinner was laid for them.
Table and seats were all of silver, while the dishes and plates were of
solid gold. Directly they sat down, a dozen little servants appeared to
wait on them, which they did so cleverly and so quickly that Hans could
hardly believe they had no wings. As they did not reach as high as the
table, they were often obliged to jump and hop right on to the top to
get at the dishes. Everything was new to Hans, and though he was rather
bewildered he enjoyed himself very much, especially when the man with
the golden crown began to tell him many things he had never heard of
before.
‘Between Christmas and the New Year,’ said he, ‘I often amuse myself
by wandering about the earth watching the doings of men and learning
something about them. But as far as I have seen and heard I cannot
speak well of them. The greater part of them are always quarrelling and
complaining of each other’s faults, while nobody thinks of his own.’
Hans tried to deny the truth of these words, but he could not do it, and
sat silent, hardly listening to what his friend was saying. Then he went
to sleep in his chair, and knew nothing of what was happening.
Wonderful dreams came to him during his sleep, where the bars of gold
continually hovered before his eyes. He felt stronger than he had ever
felt during his waking moments, and lifted two bars quite easily on
to his back. He did this so often that at length his strength seemed
exhausted, and he sank almost breathless on the ground. Then he heard
the sound of cheerful voices, and the song of the blacksmiths as they
blew their bellows--he even felt as if he saw the sparks flashing before
his eyes. Stretching himself, he awoke slowly, and here he was in the
green forest, and instead of the glow of the fire in the underworld
the sun was streaming on him, and he sat up wondering why he felt so
strange.
At length his memory came back to him, and as he called to mind all the
wonderful things he had seen he tried in vain to make them agree with
those that happen every day. After thinking it over till he was nearly
mad, he tried at last to believe that one night between Christmas and
the New Year he had met a stranger in the forest, and had slept all
night in his company before a big fire; the next day they had dined
together, and had drunk a great deal more than was good for them--in
short, he had spent two whole days revelling with another man. But here,
with the full tide of summer around him, he could hardly accept his own
explanation, and felt that he must have been the plaything or sport of
some magician.
Near him, in the full sunlight, were the traces of a dead fire, and when
he drew close to it he saw that what he had taken for ashes was really
fine silver dust, and that the half burnt firewood was made of gold.
Oh, how lucky Hans thought himself; but where should he get a sack to
carry his treasure home before anyone else found it? But necessity is
the mother of invention: Hans threw off his fur coat, gathered up the
silver ashes so carefully in it that none remained behind, laid the gold
sticks on top, and tied up the bag thus made with his girdle, so that
nothing should fall out. The load was not, in point of fact, very heavy,
although it seemed so to his imagination, and he moved slowly along till
he found a safe hiding-place for it.
In this way Hans suddenly became rich--rich enough to buy a property of
his own. But being a prudent man, he finally decided that it would be
best for him to leave his old neighbourhood and look for a home in a
distant part of the country, where nobody knew anything about him. It
did not take him long to find what he wanted, and after he had paid for
it there was plenty of money left over. When he was settled, he married
a pretty girl who lived near by, and had some children, to whom on his
death-bed he told the story of the lord of the underworld, and how he
had made Hans rich.
(Ehstnische Marchen.)