THERE WAS ONCE a woodpecker who built her nest in an oak tree, laid three eggs, and hatched three young. A fox took to visiting their tree; she rapped the mossy oak with her long tail and said: “Woodpecker, climb down the oak! I need oak wood for my tools.” “Eh, little fox,” answered the woodpecker, “you wouldn’t let me hatch even one little child!” “Eh, woodpecker, throw him down, I will teach him the blacksmith’s trade.” The woodpecker threw down one young one, and the fox ran from bush to bush, from tree to tree, and ate up the young woodpecker.
Again she went to the woodpecker and rapped the mossy oak with her long tail and said: “Woodpecker, climb down the oak, I need oak wood for my tools!” “Eh, little fox,” answered the woodpecker, “you wouldn’t let me hatch even one little child!” “Eh, woodpecker, throw him down, I will teach him the cobbler’s trade.” The woodpecker threw down another young one, and the fox ran from bush to bush, from tree to tree, and ate up the young woodpecker.
Again she went to the woodpecker and rapped the mossy oak with her long tail and said: “Woodpecker, climb down the oak. I need oak wood for my tools!” “Eh, little fox,” answered the woodpecker, “you wouldn’t let me hatch even one little child!” “Eh, woodpecker, throw him down, I will teach him the tailor’s trade.” The woodpecker threw down the last young one, and the fox ran from bush to bush, from tree to tree, and ate up the last young woodpecker.
THE SNOTTY GOAT
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM, in a certain land, there lived a merchant who had three daughters. He built himself a new house and sent his eldest daughter to spend the night there. In the morning he asked her what she had seen in her dream. She had dreamed that she would marry a merchant’s son. On the second night the merchant sent his second daughter, and she dreamed that she would marry a nobleman. The third night it was the youngest daughter’s turn, and she—poor little thing—dreamed that she would marry a goat.
Her father was frightened and forbade his youngest daughter to go out even on the porch. But one day she disobeyed and did go out, and a goat seized her on his tall horns and carried her away beyond the steep mountains. He brought her to his house and put her to sleep on the shelf above the stove; snot ran down his nose, slobber ran down from his mouth, and the unfortunate girl never stopped wiping him with a handkerchief, for she was not a bit squeamish. The goat was pleased—he combed his beard in his pleasure.
Next morning our beauty arose and saw that the yard was inclosed with a picket fence, and that there was a maiden’s head on every picket; only one picket was empty. The poor girl rejoiced at having escaped death. Then the servants began to hurry her, saying: “Madam, this is no time to sleep—this is the time to bestir yourself, sweep the rooms, and carry the garbage out into the street.”
She went to the porch and saw geese flying. “Ah, geese, my gray geese, do you not come from my land, do you not bring me news of my own little father?” And the geese answered her: “We do come from your land, and we have brought you news: there is a betrothal in your house, your elder sister is being married to a merchant’s son.” The goat on his shelf heard everything and said to his servants: “Hey you, my faithful servants, bring out the splendid garments, harness the black steeds; let them jump thrice and go where I desire to be.”
The poor girl dressed herself richly and got into the carriage; the steeds brought her to her father’s house in a trice. The guests were being welcomed on the porch and in the house a magnificent feast was set out. Meanwhile the goat turned into a handsome youth and walked into the yard playing his gusla. One could hardly avoid inviting a gusla player to sit down at one’s table. He came in and began to sing: “Wife of the goat, wife of the snot-nose! Wife of the goat, wife of the snot-nose!” The unhappy girl slapped him on one cheek, slapped him on the other, jumped into her carriage, and was gone.
She returned home and found the goat lying on the shelf. Snot ran down his nose, slobber ran down from his mouth. The poor girl wiped him with a handkerchief without ceasing; she was not a bit squeamish. Next morning the servants roused her: “Madam, this is no time to sleep—this is the time to rise, sweep the rooms, and carry the garbage out into the street.” She rose, set the rooms in order, and went to the porch; and she saw geese flying. “Ah, geese, my gray geese, do you not come from my land, do you not bring me news of my own little father?” And the geese answered her: “We do come from your land, and we have brought you news: there is a betrothal in your house, your second sister is being married to a wealthy nobleman.” Again the poor girl drove to her father’s house; on the porch the guests were being welcomed, in the house a magnificent feast was set out. Meanwhile the goat turned into a handsome youth and walked into the yard playing his gusla. He came in and began to sing: “Wife of the goat, wife of the snot-nose! Wife of the goat, wife of the snot-nose!” The unhappy girl slapped him on one cheek, slapped him on the other, jumped into her carriage, and was gone.
She returned home and found the goat lying on the shelf. Snot ran down his nose, slobber ran down from his mouth. Another night passed; in the morning the poor girl rose and went to the porch; again geese were flying. “Ah, geese, my gray geese, do you not come from my land, do you not bring me news of my own little father?” And the geese answered her: “We do come from your land, and we have brought you news: your father is giving a dinner.” She drove to her father’s house; the guests were being welcomed on the porch and in the house a magnificent feast was set out. In the yard the gusla player was walking about and strumming on his gusla. He was asked to come in and again began to sing: “Wife of the goat, wife of the snot-nose!”
The poor girl slapped him on one cheek, slapped him on the other, and drove home in a trice. She looked on the shelf and found only a goatskin: the gusla player had not yet had time to turn into a goat. She flung the goatskin into the stove—and the merchant’s youngest daughter found herself married not to a goat but to a handsome youth, and they began to live happily and prosperously.
RIGHT AND WRONG
ONCE THERE WERE two peasants, both of them very poor. One lived by means of all kinds of lies and deceit, he swindled and stole. But the other followed the path of truth and honest labor. These two peasants had a dispute over the manner of living that each had chosen. One said: “It is better to live by wrong.” And the other said: “You cannot live by wrong all your life, it is better to live by right.” They quarreled and quarreled, but neither could convince the other. They went out to the road and agreed to ask the first three people whom they should meet to settle their dispute. So they walked and walked and finally saw a serf plowing a field. They approached him and said: “God speed you, friend! Please settle our quarrel: how is it better to live in the world—by right or by wrong?” “Brothers, you cannot live long by right; it is easier to live by wrong. Take my case, for instance. Our masters constantly take our days away, and we have no time to work for ourselves; but if you pretend that you cannot come because you are ill, you can manage to go get some wood for yourself, if not during the day—since it is forbidden—at least by night.” “Do you hear? I am right!” said the wicked peasant to the righteous one.
Again they walked along the road, waiting to see what the next person whom they should meet would say. They walked and walked, and at last saw a merchant in a carriage driving a pair of horses. They approached him and said: “Please stop a moment. If Your Grace does not take it amiss, we should like to ask you something. Settle our quarrel: how is it better to live in the world—by right or by wrong?” “No, my boys, it is hard to live by right, it is easier to live by wrong. We are cheated, and we must cheat others too.” “Do you hear? I am right!” said the wicked peasant again to the righteous one.
So they walked farther along the road, waiting to see what the third person would tell them. They walked and walked till they saw a clerk driving toward them. They approached him and said: “Stop a moment, settle our quarrel: how is it better to live in the world, by right or by wrong?” “What a question to as
k! By wrong, of course! What right is there nowadays? For doing right you are sent to Siberia, accused of scheming.” “Do you hear?” said the wicked peasant to the righteous one. “Everyone says it is better to live by wrong.” “No, one must live in God’s way, as God has commanded us; come what may, I will not live by wrong,” the righteous man answered the other.
Again they walked on the road together. They walked and walked. The wicked man managed to get along everywhere; he got all the food he needed, he even got cakes; but the righteous man was fed only when he worked for his keep. And the wicked man continually made fun of him. Once the righteous man begged the wicked one for a piece of bread: “Please give me a piece of bread.” “And what will you give me in return?” asked the wicked one. “Take whatever you wish, whatever I have,” said the righteous man. “Shall I gouge out one of your eyes?” “Go ahead, gouge it out,” said the righteous man. And so the wicked man gouged out an eye of the righteous one and gave him a bit of bread. The righteous man did not protest; he took the bread, ate it, and again they walked along the road.
They walked and walked, and again the righteous man began to beg the wicked one for a piece of bread. Again the wicked one began to make fun of him: “Let me gouge out your other eye, then I’ll give you a piece.” “Ah, brother, have pity on me! If you do that, I shall be blind,” the righteous man implored him. “No, it’s because you are righteous and I live by wrong,” the wicked man told him. There was nothing to be done, so the righteous man said to the wicked one: “Well, gouge out my other eye, if you do not fear to commit such a sin.” The wicked one gouged out his other eye, gave him a little bread, and left him on the road, saying: “You cannot expect me to guide you!”
What should he do now? The blind man ate his little piece of bread and went on slowly, groping with his stick. He walked till he got off the road and did not know where to go. Then he prayed to God: “Lord, do not forsake thy sinful servant!” He prayed and prayed. Then he heard a voice saying: “Go to the right. On the right you will find a wood. When you come to the wood, grope for the path. When you find the path, walk along it. Somewhere along the path you will come to a spring. When you come to the spring, wash yourself with the water from it, drink it, and wet your eyes with it; then you will recover your sight. Then go upstream along the spring, and you will see a big oak. When you find the oak, go to it and climb up into it. There await the night; and when night comes, listen to what the evil spirits say under this oak—for there they gather together to discuss their affairs.”
He somehow managed to reach the wood. When he reached the wood, he stumbled and plodded through it, and somehow managed to find the path; he walked along this path, till he reached the spring. He washed himself with water from the spring, drank some water, and wetted his eyes; and he saw God’s world, for he had recovered his sight. And when he recovered his sight he walked upstream along the spring; he walked and walked and at last saw a big oak, under which the ground was trampled flat. He climbed up into this oak, and awaited the night. Then devils came from all directions and assembled under the oak. They came and came, and each began to tell where he had been. One of them said: “I was with such and such a princess; I have been tormenting her for ten years. They have tried to drive me out of her in every possible way, but in vain; only he can drive me out who goes to such and such a wealthy merchant and gets from him the image of the Smolensk Mother of God that is nailed to his gate.”
Next morning, when all the devils had dispersed, our righteous man climbed down from the oak. He went to search for the merchant the devil had named. He searched and searched for him, till at last he found him. Then he asked the merchant whether he could work for him: “I will work for you a whole year, and all I want for wages is the image of the Mother of God on your gate.” The merchant consented and hired him as a laborer.
And so he worked for the merchant with all his strength for a whole year round. Having thus worked, he asked for the image. However, the merchant said: “Well, brother, I am satisfied with your work, but I do not wish to lose that image; take money instead.” “No, I do not need money; give me the image as we agreed.” “No, I will not give you the image. Work for me another year, then I will give it to you.”
So it came to pass that our righteous peasant worked for another year; he did not rest by night or day, he worked all the time, so diligent was he. Having thus worked, he again asked for the image of the Mother of God on the gate. The merchant again was loath to give him the image and release him, and said: “No, I would rather reward you with money—unless you want to work for another year, then I will give you the image.”
There was nothing the peasant could do, so he began to work for a third year. He worked even harder than before; everyone marveled at him, he was such a hard worker. Having thus worked a third year, he asked for the image. The merchant now had no choice but to take the image from the gate and give it to him. “Well, take the image,” he said, “and God speed you.” He gave him food and drink and rewarded him with a small sum of money.
And so it came to pass that he took the image of the Smolensk Mother of God and hung it on himself; then he went to the king of that country, to cure the princess who was tormented by a devil. He walked and walked till he came to the palace. He said to the king: “I can cure your princess.” And so he was admitted to the king’s private chambers and shown the suffering princess. He asked for water and water was given him. He made the sign of the cross and bowed three times to the ground, and prayed to God; having prayed, he removed the image of the Mother of God from his body, and with a prayer on his lips immersed it in the water three times, and then put it on the princess; having put it on her he told her to wash in the same water. And when she put the image on her and washed in that water, suddenly her disease, that is, the evil spirit, flew out of her; and when he flew out, she was as whole as before. Seeing this, all the company rejoiced mightily and did not know how to reward the righteous peasant: they offered him land, a hereditary estate, and a large pension. But he would not accept anything. Then the princess said to the king: “I want to marry this man.” “Very well,” said the king. And so they wedded, and our peasant began to wear royal garments, live in royal apartments, and eat and drink just like the rest of the king’s family. He lived like this for a long while and became accustomed to their manners and way of life.
And having become accustomed to them, he said: “Let me go to my native village; there I have my old mother, who is very poor.” “Very well,” said the princess, that is to say, his wife, “let us go together.” So he and the princess went together. Their horses, clothes, trappings, carriage, everything, were royal. They drove and drove and finally approached the peasant’s native village. On the road they happened to meet the wicked man who had quarreled with him as to whether it is better to live by wrong or by right. As the carriage approached this fellow, the righteous man said, “Good day, brother,” and called him by his name. The man was amazed that the magnificent nobleman in the carriage, whom he had never seen, should know him.
“Do you recall,” the stranger said, “that we once had a dispute as to whether it is better to live by wrong or by right, and you gouged out my eyes? I am that same man!” The other was afraid and did not know what to do. But the righteous man said to him: “No, do not be afraid, I am not angry at you, I wish you the same good fortune. Go to such and such a wood”—and he proceeded to instruct him just as he himself had been instructed by God. “In that wood you will see a path. Go along that path. You will reach a spring; drink water from it, and wash; and after you have washed, go upstream along the spring, and you will see a big oak. Climb up on it, and sit there all night. Under it evil spirits gather. Listen and you will hear your fate.”
The wicked man followed these instructions to the letter. He found the wood and the path. He went along the path and came to the spring, drank of it, and washed. Having washed, he went upstream and saw the big oak and the ground all trampled flat under it.
He climbed up into the oak and awaited the night, and then he heard evil spirits coming from all directions to gather there. When they had gathered they heard him breathing in the oak, and, having heard him, they tore him to shreds. And so this affair was concluded: the righteous man became the king’s son-in-law and the iniquitous one was put to death by the devils.
THE POTTER
ONCE A POTTER was driving along the road with his pots and fell asleep as he went. Tsar Ivan the Terrible overtook him. “There are people on the road who want to pass,” the tsar said. The potter looked behind him. “Thank you humbly,” he said. “So you’ve been slumbering?” “I’ve been slumbering, great king! Fear not him who sings songs, but him who takes a nap!” “You’re a bold one, potter! I love such as you. Coachman, drive more slowly! And you, potter, tell me, how long have you been engaged in this trade?” “From my youth, and now I am middle-aged.” “Do you support your children?” “I do, Your Majesty, and yet I do not plow, I do not reap, I do not mow, and the cold does not freeze me.” “True, potter, and yet the world is not without evil.” “Yes, Your Majesty, there are three evils in the world.” “And what are these three evils, my little potter?” “The first evil is a bad neighbor; the second evil is a bad wife; and the third evil is a bad mind.” “And now tell me, which of these evils is the worst?” “From a bad neighbor I can go away; from a bad wife I can also go away if she agrees to stay with the children; but from one’s own bad mind one cannot go away, it is always with one.” “Yes, that is true, potter, you are a smart fellow. Listen: you stick to me, and I’ll stick to you. Geese will come from Russia: pluck their feathers, and leave them in the proper condition!” “I will leave them in the proper condition, and I will pluck them clean.” “Well, potter, stop for a while, I want to see your pottery.”
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 19