mud/content/library/grimm/061_the_little_peasant.txt

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.