by Jane Yolen
The peasant did as his daughter told him. The tsar listened to him and gave him a hundred and fifty eggs, saying, “Give these eggs to your daughter; let her hatch one hundred and fifty chicks by tomorrow.”
The peasant returned home, even more sad and grieving than the first time. “Ah, my daughter,” he said, “you are barely out of one trouble before another is upon you.”
“Grieve not, Father,” answered the seven-year-old girl. She baked the eggs for dinner and for supper and sent her father to the king. “Tell him,” she said to her father, “that one-day grain is needed to feed the chicks. In one day let a field be plowed and the millet sown, harvested, and threshed; our chickens refuse to peck any other grain.”
The tsar listened to this and said, “Since your daughter is so wise, let her appear before me tomorrow morning—and I want her to come neither on foot nor on horseback, neither naked nor dressed, neither with a present nor without a gift.”
“Now,” thought the peasant, “even my daughter cannot solve such a difficult riddle; we are lost.”
“Grieve not,” his seven-year-old daughter said to him. “Go to the hunters and buy me a live hare and a live quail.” The father bought her a hare and a quail.
Next morning the seven-year-old girl took off her clothes, donned a net, took the quail in her hand, sat upon the hare, and went to the palace. The tsar met her at the gate. She bowed to him, saying, “Here is a little gift for you, Your Majesty,” and handed him the quail. The tsar stretched out his hand, but the quail shook her wings and—flap, flap!—was gone.
“Very well,” said the tsar, “you have done as I ordered you to do. Now tell me—since your father is so poor, what do you live on?”
“My father catches fish on the shore, and he never puts bait in the water; and I make fish soup in my skirt.”
“You are stupid! Fish never live on the shore, fish live in the water.”
“And you—are you wise? Who ever saw a cart bear foals? Not a cart but a mare bears foals.”
The tsar awarded the foal to the poor peasant and took the daughter into his own palace; when she grew up he married her and she became the tsarina.
CLEVER ANSWERS
Russia
A soldier had served in his regiment for fully twenty-five years without ever having seen the tsar in person. When he returned home and was questioned about the tsar, he did not know what to say. His parents and friends began to taunt him. “You served for twenty-five years,” they said, “yet you never saw the tsar.”
The soldier felt humiliated, so he made ready and went to have a look at the tsar. He came to the palace.
The tsar asked him, “What have you come for, soldier?”
“Your Majesty, I served you and God for a full twenty-five years, yet I never saw you in person; so I have come to look at you.”
“Well, look your fill.” The soldier walked around the tsar three times examining him.
The tsar said, “Am I handsome?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” answered the soldier.
“And now, soldier, tell me—is it far from heaven to earth?”
“It is so far that when a noise is made there, we can hear it here.”
“And is the earth wide?”
“The sun rises over there and sets over here: that’s the width of the earth.”
“And is the earth deep?”
“I had a grandfather who died about ninety years ago. He was buried in the earth and since then has never come home; so it must be deep.”
Then the tsar sent the soldier to prison, saying, “Keep your eyes open, soldier! I will send you thirty geese; try to pluck a feather out of each one.”
“Very well,” the soldier said.
The tsar summoned thirty wealthy merchants and proposed the same riddles to them that he had proposed to the soldier. They racked their brains but were unable to answer the questions, and the tsar ordered them to be put in prison.
The soldier asked them, “Honorable merchants, why have you been imprisoned?”
“The tsar asked us how far heaven is from earth, how wide the earth is, and how deep it is, but we are uneducated people and could not find the answers.”
“If each one of you will give me a thousand rubles, I will tell you the answers.”
“Gladly, brother, only tell us.”
The soldier took a thousand rubles from each and told them how to solve the tsar’s riddles. Two days later the tsar summoned the merchants and the soldier before him; he proposed the same riddles to the merchants, and as soon as they answered correctly, he let them go. Then he said to the soldier, “Well, have you managed to pluck a feather from each?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, and it was a golden feather, too.”
“And how far is it to your home?”
“It cannot be seen from here, so it must be far.”
“Here is a thousand rubles for you; God speed you.”
The soldier returned home and began to live a carefree and easy life.
A DISPUTE IN SIGN LANGUAGE
Israel
Once there was a wicked priest who hated Jews. One day he summoned the chief rabbi and said to him, “I want to have a dispute with a Jew in the language of signs. I give you thirty dys to prepare yourself, and if nobody appears to take part in the dispute, I shall order that all the Jews be killed.”
“What was the rabbi to do? He brought the bad tidings to his people and ordered them to fast and to pray in the synagogue. A week went by, two weeks, three weeks passed, but there was no one with the courage to accept the priest’s challenge and the great responsibility. It was already the fourth week, and still there was no one to represent the Jews in the dispute.
Then along came a poultry dealer who had been away, bringing chickens from the nearby villages into the town. He had not heard what was going on there, but he noticed on his arrival that the market was closed, and at home he found his wife and children fasting, praying, and weeping.
“What is the matter?” asked the poultry dealer. His wife replied, “The wicked priest has ordered a Jew to hold a discussion with him in the language of signs. If there is no one who is able to do so, all of us will be killed.”
“Is that all the matter?” wondered the poultry dealer in surprise. “Go to the rabbi, and tell him that I am ready to participate.”
“What are you talking about? How can you understand the priest? Greater and wiser men than you have not been willing to take upon themselves this task!” cried his wife.
“Why should you worry? In any case we shall all be killed.” And off they went together to the rabbi.
“Rabbi,” said the man, “I am ready to meet the priest!”
The rabbi blessed him. “May God help you and bring you success.”
So the priest was told that a Jew, sent by the rabbi, would hold a discussion with him in sign language.
“You have to understand my signs and to answer them in the same way,” explained the priest to the Jew before a great assembly. Then he pointed a finger to him. In reply the Jew pointed two fingers. Then the priest took a piece of white cheese from his pocket. In reply the Jew took out an egg. Then the priest took the seeds of some grain and scattered them on the floor. In reply, the Jew set a hen free from the coop and let it eat up the seeds.
“Well done,” exclaimed the priest in amazement. “You answered my questions correctly.” And he gave the poultry dealer many gifts and ordered his servant to bathe him and to give him fine garments to wear.
“Now I know that the Jews are wise men, if the most humble among them was able to understand me,” admitted the priest.
The town was in great excitement, and the people waited in suspense for the result of the dispute. When they saw the poultry dealer leaving the priest’s house in fine garments and with a happy expression on his face, they understood that everything was in order, blessed be the Almighty.
“How did it go? What did the priest ask you?” all the people wanted to know. The
rabbi called the poultry dealer to his home and asked him to relate what had happened.
And this is what the poultry dealer related: “The priest pointed with one finger to my eyes, meaning to take out my eye. I pointed with two fingers to imply, I would take out both his eyes. Then he took out a piece of cheese to show that I was hungry while he had cheese. So I took out an egg to show that I was not in need of his alms. Then he spilled some wheat grain on the floor. So I fed my hen, knowing it was hungry and thinking what a pity to waste the grain.”
At the same time the priest’s friends questioned him: “What did you ask the Jew? What did he reply?”
The priest related: “At first I pointed one finger, meaning that there is only one king. He pointed with two fingers, meaning that there are two kings, the King in Heaven and the king on earth. Then I took out a piece of cheese, meaning, Is this cheese from a white or a black goat? In answer he took out an egg, meaning, Is this egg from a white or a brown hen? Finally I scattered some grain on the floor, meaning that the Jews are spread all over the world. Whereupon he freed his hen which ate up all the grain, meaning that the Messiah will come and gather all the Jews from the four corners of the world.”
LEOPARD, GOAT, AND YAM
Africa (Hausa)
A certain man was running away from his village, and he was taking with him all his property. This consisted of a leopard, a goat, and a yam. Now in time he came to a river where there was only one canoe. It was so small that it was impossible for him to take more than one part of his property with him at a time. Now how did he succeed in getting it all to the other side? If he left the yam with the goat or the leopard with the goat, the goat would eat the yam or the leopard devour the goat.
The answer is: He took the goat over first and then the yam. He then recrossed the goat and ferried over the leopard, returning a fourth time for the goat.
AN ENDLESS STORY
Japan
Long ago all the rats in Nagasaki got together and decided that since there was nothing left to eat in Nagasaki, they would cross over to Satsuma. They boarded a ship and set out. It happened that on the way they met a ship on which all the rats in Satsuma had gone aboard, intending to go to Nagasaki. They asked one another how things were and discovered that there was nothing to eat in either Satsuma or Nagasaki. There was no use in going to Nagasaki nor any use in going to Satsuma, so they decided to jump into the sea and drown.
The first rat began to cry, chu chu, and jumped over with a splash. Then another rat cried, chu chu, and jumped over with a splash. Then another cried, chu chu, and jumped over with a splash …
The wisdom of the babe and of the oldest member of a particular society is often celebrated in folklore. They share a kind of innocence and clear-sightedness that translates into sagacity. There seems to be an untapped power in both the baby and the ancient.
The connections between both ends of the age spectrum are most clearly and cleverly revealed in those stories about changelings in which a centuries-old fairy is laid in the cradle disguised as a fretful babe. Especially in Northern Europe—in the Scandinavian countries and in Ireland—are such tales to be found.
GLOOSCAP AND THE BABY
American Indian (Algonquian)
Glooscap, having conquered the Kewawkqu’, a race of giants and magicians, and the Medecolin, who were cunning sorcerers, and Pamola, a wicked spirit of the night, besides hosts of fiends, goblins, cannibals, and witches, felt himself great indeed, and boasted to a woman that there was nothing left for him to subdue.
But the woman laughed and said, “Are you quite sure, master? There is still one who remains unconquered, and nothing can overcome him.”
In some surprise Glooscap inquired the name of this mighty one.
“He is called Wasis,” replied the woman, “but I strongly advise you to have no dealings with him.”
Wasis was only a baby, who sat on the floor sucking a piece of maple sugar and crooning a little song to himself. Now Glooscap had never married and was ignorant of how children are managed, but with perfect confidence he smiled at the baby and asked it to come to him. The baby smiled back but never moved, whereupon Glooscap imitated a beautiful birdsong. Wasis, however, paid no attention and went on sucking his maple sugar. Unaccustomed to such treatment, Glooscap lashed himself into a rage and in terrible and threatening accents ordered Wasis to come to him at once. But Wasis burst into dire howls, which quite drowned the god’s thundering, and would not budge for any threats.
Glooscap, thoroughly aroused, summoned all his magical resources. He recited the most terrible spells, the most dreadful incantations. He sang the songs which raise the dead, and those which send the Devil scurrying to the nethermost depths. But Wasis merely smiled and looked a trifle bored.
At last Glooscap rushed from the hut in despair, while Wasis, sitting on the floor, cried, “Goo, goo!” And to this day the Indians say that when a baby says “Goo,” he remembers the time when he conquered mighty Glooscap.
THE BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS
Ireland
Mrs. Sullivan fancied that her youngest child had been exchanged by “fairies’ theft,” and certainly appearances warranted such a conclusion; for in one night her healthy, blue-eyed boy had become shriveled up into almost nothing, and never ceased squalling and crying. This naturally made poor Mrs. Sullivan very unhapy; and all the neighbors, by way of comforting her, said that her own child was, beyond any kind of doubt, with the Good People, and that one of themselves was put in his place.
Mrs. Sullivan of course could not disbelieve what everyone told her, but she did not wish to hurt the thing; for although its face was so withered, and its body wasted away to a mere skeleton, it had still a strong resemblance to her own boy. She, therefore, could not find it in her heart to roast it alive on the griddle, or to burn its nose off with the red-hot tongs, or to throw it out in the snow on the roadside, notwithstanding these, and several like proceedings, were strongly recommended to her for the recovery of her child.
One day who should Mrs. Sullivan meet but a cunning woman, well known about the country by the name of Ellen Leah (or Grey Ellen). She had the gift, however she got it, of telling where the dead were, and what was good for the rest of their souls; and could charm away warts and wens, and do a great many wonderful things of the same nature.
“You’re in grief this morning, Mrs. Sullivan,” were the first words of Ellen Leah to her.
“You may say that, Ellen,” said Mrs. Sullivan, “and good cause I have to be in grief, for there was my own fine child whipped off from me out of his cradle, without as much as ‘by your leave’ or ‘ask your pardon,’ and an ugly dony bit of a shriveled-up fairy put in his place; no wonder, then, that you see me in grief, Ellen.”
“Small blame to you, Mrs. Sullivan,” said Ellen Leah, “but are you sure ’tis a fairy?”
“Sure!” echoed Mrs. Sullivan, “sure enough I am to my sorrow, and can I doubt my own two eyes? Every mother’s soul must feel for me!”
“Will you take an old woman’s advice?” said Ellen Leah, fixing her wild and mysterious gaze upon the unhappy mother; and, after a pause, she added, “but maybe you’ll call it foolish?”
“Can you get me back my child, my own child, Ellen?” said Mrs. Sullivan with great energy.
“If you do as I bid you,” returned Ellen Leah, “you’ll know.” Mrs. Sullivan was silent in expectation, and Ellen continued. “Put down the big pot, full of water, on the fire, and make it boil like mad; then get a dozen new-laid eggs, break them, and keep the shells, but throw away the rest; when that is done, put the shells in the pot of boiling water, and you will soon know whether it is your own boy or a fairy. If you find that it is a fairy in the cradle, take the red-hot poker and cram it down his ugly throat, and you will not have much trouble with him after that, I promise you.”
Home went Mrs. Sullivan, and did as Ellen Leah desired. She put the pot on the fire, and plenty of turf under it and set the water boiling at suc
h a rate, that if ever water was red-hot, it surely was.
The child was lying, for a wonder, quite easy and quiet in the cradle, every now and then cocking his eye, that would twinkle as keen as a star in a frosty night, over at the great fire, and the big pot upon it; and he looked on with great attention at Mrs. Sullivan breaking the eggs and putting down the eggshells to boil. At last he asked, with the voice of a very old man, “What are you doing, Mammy?”
Mrs. Sullivan’s heart, as she said herself, was up in her mouth ready to choke her, at hearing the child speak. But she contrived to put the poker in the fire, and to answer, without making any wonder at the words, “I’m brewing, a vick [my son].”
“And what are you brewing, Mammy?” said the little imp, whose supernatural gift of speech now proved beyond question that he was a fairy substitute.
“I wish the poker was red,” thought Mrs. Sullivan; but it was a large one, and took a long time heating; so she determined to keep him in talk until the poker was in a proper state to thrust down his throat, and therefore repeated the question.
“Is it what I’m brewing, a vick,” said she, “you want to know?”
“Yes, Mammy: what are you brewing?” returned the fairy.
“Eggshells, a vick,” said Mrs. Sullivan.
“Oh!” shrieked the imp, starting up in the cradle and clapping his hands together, “I’m fifteen hundred years in the world, and I never saw a brewery of eggshells before!” The poker was by this time quite red, and Mrs. Sullivan, seizing it, ran furiously towards the cradle; but somehow or other her foot slipped, and she fell flat on the floor, and the poker flew out of her hand to the other end of the house. However, she got up without much loss of time and went to the cradle, intending to pitch the wicked thing that was in it into the pot of boiling water, when there she saw her own child in a sweet sleep, one of his soft round arms rested upon the pillow—his features were as placid as if their repose had never been disturbed, save the rosy mouth, which moved with a gentle and regular breathing.