Kabanata Kabanata 57 · The Little Peasant

. The Little Peasant

There was a certain village wherein no one lived but really rich

peasants, and just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant.

He had not even so much as a cow, and still less money to buy one, and

yet he and his wife did so wish to have one. One day he said to her,

“Hark you, I have a good thought, there is our gossip the carpenter, he

shall make us a wooden calf, and paint it brown, so that it look like

any other, and in time it will certainly get big and be a cow.” The

woman also liked the idea, and their gossip the carpenter cut and

planed the calf, and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with its

head hanging down as if it were eating.

Next morning when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant

called the cow-herd and said, “Look, I have a little calf there, but it

is still small and has still to be carried.” The cow-herd said, “All

right, and took it in his arms and carried it to the pasture, and set

it among the grass.” The little calf always remained standing like one

which was eating, and the cow-herd said, “It will soon run alone, just

look how it eats already!” At night when he was going to drive the herd

home again, he said to the calf, “If thou canst stand there and eat thy

fill, thou canst also go on thy four legs; I don’t care to drag thee

home again in my arms.” But the little peasant stood at his door, and

waited for his little calf, and when the cow-herd drove the cows

through the village, and the calf was missing, he inquired where it

was. The cow-herd answered, “It is still standing out there eating. It

would not stop and come with us.” But the little peasant said, “Oh, but

I must have my beast back again.” Then they went back to the meadow

together, but some one had stolen the calf, and it was gone. The

cow-herd said, “It must have run away.” The peasant, however, said,

“Don’t tell me that,” and led the cow-herd before the mayor, who for

his carelessness condemned him to give the peasant a cow for the calf

which had run away.

And now the little peasant and his wife had the cow for which they had

so long wished, and they were heartily glad, but they had no food for

it, and could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be killed. They

salted the flesh, and the peasant went into the town and wanted to sell

the skin there, so that he might buy a new calf with the proceeds. On

the way he passed by a mill, and there sat a raven with broken wings,

and out of pity he took him and wrapped him in the skin. As, however,

the weather grew so bad and there was a storm of rain and wind, he

could go no farther, and turned back to the mill and begged for

shelter. The miller’s wife was alone in the house, and said to the

peasant, “Lay thyself on the straw there”, and gave him a slice of

bread with cheese on it. The peasant ate it, and lay down with his skin

beside him, and the woman thought, “He is tired and has gone to sleep.”

In the meantime came the parson; the miller’s wife received him well,

and said, “My husband is out, so we will have a feast.” The peasant

listened, and when he heard about feasting he was vexed that he had

been forced to make shift with a slice of bread with cheese on it. Then

the woman served up four different things, roast meat, salad, cakes,

and wine.

Just as they were about to sit down and eat, there was a knocking

outside. The woman said, “Oh, heavens! It is my husband!” She quickly

hid the roast meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow,

the salad on the bed, the cakes under it, and the parson in the

cupboard in the entrance. Then she opened the door for her husband, and

said, “Thank heaven, thou art back again! There is such a storm, it

looks as if the world were coming to an end.” The miller saw the

peasant lying on the straw, and asked, “What is that fellow doing

there?” “Ah,” said the wife, “the poor knave came in the storm and

rain, and begged for shelter, so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese,

and showed him where the straw was.” The man said, “I have no

objection, but be quick and get me something to eat.” The woman said,

“But I have nothing but bread and cheese.” “I am contented with

anything,” replied the husband, “so far as I am concerned, bread and

cheese will do,” and looked at the peasant and said, “Come and eat some

more with me.” The peasant did not require to be invited twice, but got

up and ate. After this the miller saw the skin in which the raven was,

lying on the ground, and asked, “What hast thou there?” The peasant

answered, “I have a soothsayer inside it.” “Can he foretell anything to

me?” said the miller. “Why not?” answered the peasant, “but he only

says four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.” The miller was

curious, and said, “Let him foretell something for once.” Then the

peasant pinched the raven’s head, so that he croaked and made a noise

like krr, krr. The miller said, “What did he say?” The peasant

answered, “In the first place, he says that there is some wine hidden

under the pillow.” “Bless me!” cried the miller, and went there and

found the wine. “Now go on,” said he. The peasant made the raven croak

again, and said, “In the second place, he says that there is some roast

meat in the tiled stove.” “Upon my word!” cried the miller, and went

thither, and found the roast meat. The peasant made the raven prophesy

still more, and said, “Thirdly, he says that there is some salad on the

bed.” “That would be a fine thing!” cried the miller, and went there

and found the salad. At last the peasant pinched the raven once more

till he croaked, and said, “Fourthly, he says that there are some cakes

under the bed.” “That would be a fine thing!” cried the miller, and

looked there, and found the cakes.

And now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller’s wife

was frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with

her. The miller would have liked much to know the fifth, but the little

peasant said, “First, we will quickly eat the four things, for the

fifth is something bad.” So they ate, and after that they bargained how

much the miller was to give for the fifth prophesy, until they agreed

on three hundred thalers. Then the peasant once more pinched the

raven’s head till he croaked loudly. The miller asked, “What did he

say?” The peasant replied, “He says that the Devil is hiding outside

there in the cupboard in the entrance.” The miller said, “The Devil

must go out,” and opened the house-door; then the woman was forced to

give up the keys, and the peasant unlocked the cupboard. The parson ran

out as fast as he could, and the miller said, “It was true; I saw the

black rascal with my own eyes.” The peasant, however, made off next

morning by daybreak with the three hundred thalers.

At home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful

house, and the peasants said, “The small peasant has certainly been to

the place where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in

shovels.” Then the small peasant was brought before the Mayor, and

bidden to say from whence his wealth came. He answered, “I sold my

cow’s skin in the town, for three hundred thalers.” When the peasants

heard that, they too wished to enjoy this great profit, and ran home,

killed all their cows, and stripped off their skins in order to sell

them in the town to the greatest advantage. The Mayor, however, said,

“But my servant must go first.” When she came to the merchant in the

town, he did not give her more than two thalers for a skin, and when

the others came, he did not give them so much, and said, “What can I do

with all these skins?”

Then the peasants were vexed that the small peasant should have thus

overreached them, wanted to take vengeance on him, and accused him of

this treachery before the Mayor. The innocent little peasant was

unanimously sentenced to death, and was to be rolled into the water, in

a barrel pierced full of holes. He was led forth, and a priest was

brought who was to say a mass for his soul. The others were all obliged

to retire to a distance, and when the peasant looked at the priest, he

recognized the man who had been with the miller’s wife. He said to him,

“I set you free from the cupboard, set me free from the barrel.” At

this same moment up came, with a flock of sheep, the very shepherd who

as the peasant knew had long been wishing to be Mayor, so he cried with

all his might, “No, I will not do it; if the whole world insists on it,

I will not do it!” The shepherd hearing that, came up to him, and

asked, “What art thou about? What is it that thou wilt not do?” The

peasant said, “They want to make me Mayor, if I will but put myself in

the barrel, but I will not do it.” The shepherd said, “If nothing more

than that is needful in order to be Mayor, I would get into the barrel

at once.” The peasant said, “If thou wilt get in, thou wilt be Mayor.”

The shepherd was willing, and got in, and the peasant shut the top down

on him; then he took the shepherd’s flock for himself, and drove it

away. The parson went to the crowd, and declared that the mass had been

said. Then they came and rolled the barrel towards the water. When the

barrel began to roll, the shepherd cried, “I am quite willing to be

Mayor.” They believed no otherwise than that it was the peasant who was

saying this, and answered, “That is what we intend, but first thou

shalt look about thee a little down below there,” and they rolled the

barrel down into the water.

After that the peasants went home, and as they were entering the

village, the small peasant also came quietly in, driving a flock of

sheep and looking quite contented. Then the peasants were astonished,

and said, “Peasant, from whence comest thou? Hast thou come out of the

water?” “Yes, truly,” replied the peasant, “I sank deep, deep down,

until at last I got to the bottom; I pushed the bottom out of the

barrel, and crept out, and there were pretty meadows on which a number

of lambs were feeding, and from thence I brought this flock away with

me.” Said the peasants, “Are there any more there?” “Oh, yes,” said he,

“more than I could do anything with.” Then the peasants made up their

minds that they too would fetch some sheep for themselves, a flock

apiece, but the Mayor said, “I come first.” So they went to the water

together, and just then there were some of the small fleecy clouds in

the blue sky, which are called little lambs, and they were reflected in

the water, whereupon the peasants cried, “We already see the sheep down

below!” The Mayor pressed forward and said, “I will go down first, and

look about me, and if things promise well I’ll call you.” So he jumped

in; splash! went the water; he made a sound as if he were calling them,

and the whole crowd plunged in after him as one man. Then the entire

village was dead, and the small peasant, as sole heir, became a rich

man.