Beer and Bread

Beer and Bread

In a certain kingdom, in a certain State, there once lived a rich

peasant, and he had much money and bread; he used to lend money on

interest to the poor husbandmen of his village. And, if he gave corn,

then it had to be returned in full in the summer; and in addition to

that, for every three pecks the debtor had to work two days on the

lord’s field.

And one day it happened that there was a festival in the Church, and the

peasants began brewing beer for the feast. But in this village there was

a peasant who was so poor that there was no poorer to be found. And

there he sat in the evening with his wife on the eve of the festival in

his little hut. He was thinking: “What shall I do? All the good folk are

now gadding about making merry, and we have not a crust of bread in our

house. I might have gone to the rich man and asked him for a loan; but

he would not trust me. Now what shall I do, I am so woebegone!” And he

thought and thought, and he left the bench and stood in front of the

icon, and sighed a heavy sigh. “Lord,” he said, “have forgiveness on my

sins, for I cannot buy any oil with which to fill the lamp in front of

Thy icon for Thy feast.”

And after a little while, an old man came into the hut.

“Hail, master,” he said. “Hail, old man! Can I stay the night here?”

“If you will. Stay the night if you like. But, Gossip, I have not a

crust of bread in my house, and I cannot feed you.”

“Never mind, master, I have three crusts of bread, and meat: give me a

ladle of water. I will take a taste of the loaf and a sup of the water,

and we shall be satisfied.”

So the old man sat down on the bench, and spoke.

“Why are you so sad, master? What has made you melancholy?”

“Old man,” the master answered, “why should I not be heavy?—it is God’s

gift. We were so looking forward to the feast. All the good folk are

making merry and rejoicing, but we are clean swept out. All around me

and within there is emptiness.”

“Well, be of good cheer,” said the old man; “go to the rich peasant and

ask whatever you require of him as a debt.”

“No, I cannot go, for he will not give it.”

“Go,” the old man insisted. “Fear nothing. Ask him for three pecks of

malt, and we will brew the beer together.”

“But it is so late. How shall we brew beer?—the feast is to be

to-morrow.”

“Do what I say. Go to the rich peasant and ask for the three pecks of

malt. He will give it you at once. No, he cannot refuse it. And

to-morrow you shall have beer so good at the feast—better than any you

shall find throughout the village.”

What could the poor man say? He got up, took his sack under his arm, and

went up to the rich peasant.

He went into the rich man’s izbá,[52] bowed down, besought him by his

name and his father’s name, and asked him for the loan of three pecks of

malt, as he wanted to brew beer for the festival.

“Why did you not think of it sooner?” the rich man replied. “How can you

do it now, for this is the eve of the festival?”

“Never mind, Gossip,” the poor man replied; “if you will be so good, I

and my wife will still brew something together, and can drink together

and celebrate the festival.”

The rich man gave him three pecks of malt and poured them into his sack.

The poor man lifted the sack on to his shoulders and went home and

recounted how things had gone.

“Now, master,” his old guest said, “you shall have a feast. Is there a

well at your door?”

“There is,” said the peasant.

“Well, we will go to your well and brew the beer. Bring your sack and

follow me.”

So they went out to the courtyard up to the well.

“Pour it all in there,” the old man said.

“Why should we hurl all this good stuff into the well?” the master

replied, “for there are only three pecks, and it will all be thrown away

for nothing.”

“It is the best thing you can do.”

“We shall not do any good—we shall only sully the water.”

“Listen to me, and do what I say: there is nothing to fear.”

So what could he do? He simply had to pour all his malt into the well.

“Now,” the old man said, “formerly there was water in the well, and

to-morrow it will be beer. Now, master, we will go into the izbá[53]

and lie down to sleep, for the morning is wiser than the evening, and

to-morrow you will have such good beer for dinner that one glass will

make you drunk.”

So they waited until the morning, and then when dinner-time came round

the old man said: “Well, master, get as many tubs as you can, and stand

them round the well and fill them all full of beer, and then call every

one in to drink, and you shall have a really riotous feast.”

And the peasant went and called all his neighbours and asked for tubs.

“What do you want all these tubs and pails for?” they asked him.

“Oh, I really want them at once, as I have not vessels enough to hold my

beer.”

And the neighbours whispered: “What on earth does he mean? Is the good

fellow gone mad? There is not a crust of bread in his house, and he is

still chattering about beer.”

Well, somehow or other, he got twenty pails and tubs together, put them

all round the well, and began to haul them up. And the beer turned out

so fine, finer than ever anybody could think or guess, or any tale could

tell. And he filled all the tubs to the very brim, and the well was as

full as ever. And he began to cry out aloud and to call guests to his

door.

“Come to me, good Christians, and drink strong beer here, such beer as

you never saw in your life!”

And the people looked round. “What on earth was he up to? Surely you

take water out of a well, and he calls it beer? Anyhow, let’s go and

see, whatever knavery it may be.” So they all rushed up to the tubs, and

they began to ladle it out and to look at it. Evidently, after all, it

must be beer. And they said: “Such beer we have never drunk before!” His

courtyard was full of the village folk. And the master was not at a loss

to ladle beer out of the well for himself, and treated all of his guests

right royally.

When the rich peasant heard of this, he came to the poor man’s

courtyard, tasted the beer, and began to ask the poor man: “Please to

tell me how ever you managed to make such magnificent beer?”

“Oh, there was not any cleverness about it,” the poor man answered. “It

is the simplest thing in the world. When I took your three pecks from

you I simply went and threw them into the well. Formerly it was water,

and in a single night it all became beer.”

“Well,” the rich man thought, “I will go home and I will do the same.”

So he went home, and he ordered all of his servants to take all of the

best malt out of his granaries, and throw it into the well. And his

husbandmen threw ten sacks of malt into the well.

“Now,” the rich man said, and rubbed his hands, “I shall have finer beer

than the poor man.”

So the next time he went out to his courtyard and up to the well,

sampled it, and looked. It was water before, and it was still water;

only it was rather dirtier. “I don’t quite understand this: I put too

little malt into it, so I will add some more,” the rich man thought, and

he ordered his workmen to put five more sacks into the well. They were

all thrown in, and it was all no good: he had simply wasted all of his

malt.

And when the feast had passed by the water in the poor peasant’s well

was as pure as ever, just as if nothing had happened.

Once again the old man came to the poor peasant and said: “Listen,

master, have you sown your corn this year?”

“No, grandfather, I have not sown a single grain.”

“Well, now go to the rich man and ask him for three pecks of every kind

of corn. We will eat with you in the fields, and we will then sow the

corn.”

“How shall we sow it now?” the poor man answered. “It is now the very

midst of winter and the frost is crackling.”

“Never mind about that. Go and do as I say. I brewed you beer, and I

will sow you corn.”

So the poor man went once more to the rich peasant and asked him as a

debt for three pecks of every kind of corn. When he came back he told

his aged guest:

“Here it all is, grandfather.”

So they went outside to the fields, scattered it according to its nature

on the peasant’s lots; and lo and behold! they went and threw all the

grains on the white snow—every single grain.

The old man said to the peasant: “Go home and wait until the summer; you

will have bread enough.”

So the poor man went to his hut and became the laughing-stock of the

village for sowing his corn in the winter. “Look at him! What a fool he

is! He has forgotten when he ought to sow: he didn’t think of sowing in

the autumn.” He never minded, but waited for the spring, and the warm

days came, and the snow melted, and the grain sprouts appeared.

“Come now,” the poor man said, “I will go and see what my stretch of

land looks like.” So he went to his stretch of land and saw such

splendid blades of corn, at which any soul might rejoice. And on all the

acres of the others it was not half as fine. “Glory be to God!” the

peasant cried; “I am now looking up!”

Soon the time of harvest came by, and all good folk began to gather

their corn, and the old man also went and busied himself, and called his

wife to help him. And he could not get through, but had to summon for

the harvesting all the husbandmen, and to give half of his corn away;

and all the peasants were astonished at the poor man, for he had not

sown his land, but had scattered the seeds in the winter and his corn

had been splendid. The poor peasant had put his affairs straight and had

managed to live without any trouble; and whatever he required for his

household, he went into the town, sold quarters and quarters of corn,

and bought whatever he required, and repaid the rich peasant his debt in

full.

Then the rich peasant began to think: “Heigh-ho! I shall also begin

sowing in the winter; possibly I shall have corn as fine.” So he waited

to the very day on which the poor peasant in the previous year had sown

his corn, went and took from his bins quarters of different sorts of

corn, went out into the fields and scattered it all on the snow. He

covered the fields entirely, but a storm arose at night, and mighty

winds blew, and wafted all the corn from his land away on to the other

fields.

Then there came a fine spring, and the rich man went to his fields and

saw them bare, and saw that his own land was naked and waste; there was

not a single blade that appeared, and on all the other strips where

there had been no ploughing and no sowing, you never saw such a fine

green crop! Then the rich man began to think: “Lord, I have spent much

on corn, and it has all been in vain, and my debtors have all neither

ploughed nor sown, and their corn grows of itself. Needs I must be a

great sinner!”