University of Virginia Library

KASHUBIAN STORY.

THE Kashubians inhabit a small district in the Northeast
of Pomerania, `the province upon the sea,'
from po, upon, and more, the sea. The limits of the district
may be roughly marked by the towns of Leba, Lauenburg
and Bütow or Bytom.

The story contains many of the circumstances of the
German story of `The Table, the Ass and the Stick' in
Grimm's collection. The Kashubian tales again would
naturally be pressed into the service of the surrounding
Germans. Bitter complaints have been made by Slavonic
literati, that their Folklore tales have been appropriated
by the Germans. Of course there is a vast amount of
common ground in Folklore, and incidents belonging to
one tale will sometimes start up at a distance in another
apparently entirely unconnected with it. But I believe
that there is considerable ground for the complaint.

XVI.—CUDGEL, BESTIR YOURSELF!

A COBBLER was busying himself on Saturday with mending
old shoes, that he might be able to go to church
on Sunday. He worked till late in the evening, and,
having finished his work, early in the morning dressed

himself, and took his book to service. In church he heard
this doctrine, that if any one dedicates his property to the
church, God will recompense him a hundredfold in another
form. And as he was poor, he therefore determined to
sell his cottage and goods and take the whole price to the
priest at the church. He went home and told his wife of
his intentions; and in a few days the money was in the
hands of the parson.[6] But day passed after day, and
nothing was to be seen of a recompense. At last, when
hunger sorely tried the cobbler, he dressed himself like an
old beggar and went to seek for the Lord God. After
wandering a couple of days he met with an old shepherd,
who was pasturing a large flock of lambs. And as he was
very hungry, he made up his mind to go up to the old
shepherd, and ask him to give him a little to eat out of his
dinner-basket.[7] During the meal he related all that he
had done, and how it was then going with him. The old
shepherd compassionated the poor cobbler, and gave him a
lamb, which scattered ducats at every call: `Lamb, shake
yourself!' but gave it him under the condition, that in one
village, through which he was obliged to pass, he was not to
enter the house of his old gossip. He laid the lamb on his
shoulder with great joy, thanked the old man for it, and
started with speed on his way home to rejoice his wife and
children. When he got behind the hill, he began to distrust
the words of the old shepherd, for he could not get it into
his head that an ordinary lamb would scatter ducats.
Wishing, therefore, to assure himself of their truth, he placed
the lamb on the ground and uttered the old man's words:
`Lamb, shake yourself!' and when at the selfsame
moment he espied ducats round the lamb's feet, he considered
himself the most fortunate man in the whole world.
Without delay he put the lamb on his back, and went on
towards home. But when he went past his gossip's tavern,
she besought him to pay her a visit, for they had not seen
each other for a very long time. The cobbler at first
hesitated a little, but wishing to show that he had ducats
in his pocket, and that he had met with such good fortune,
he went into the tavern; and, after first giving into her
charge his present from the old man, with these words,
`But don't say to him, "Lamb, shake yourself!" ' went to
the table and drank off a noggin of brandy. But his
gossip, a knavish old woman, bethought herself at once
that there must be some secret lying in these words. She,
therefore, took the lamb into another room, and when she
was there by herself, said to the lamb: `Lamb, shake
yourself!' when she saw that he scattered ducats she
began to consider how to cheat her gossip. After a short
time she determined to make the cobbler drunk, to detain
him all night at her house, and next day, early, to give him
instead of his lamb another like it out of her own flock;
which was effected according to her intention. Well,
early in the morning the cobbler took the lamb on his
shoulder and now hastened straight to his wife and children,
and tossed them, as they wept, a couple of ducats, that his
wife might get a good meal ready. His wife could not
wonder enough whence her little husband had got so much
money, but she did not venture to question him. After the
meal the cobbler put the lamb on the table, called his
children, that they might enjoy with him the rolling ducats,
and shouted: `Lamb, shake yourself!' But the lamb stood
as if he were made of wood, and never even moved his head.
The children, who had eaten their fill, began to laugh, and
the wife thought that her husband was not quite right in
his head. The cobbler, angry that his wish had not come
to pass, repeated once more the old man's words, but this
time, too, without effect, therefore he pushed the lamb off
the table. So long as the ducats held out, there was content
in the home; but as soon as they began to run short in
the cottage, his wife began to reproach her husband for
doing no work, and not troubling himself about a livelihood.
So nothing again remained for the cobbler but, stick in
hand, to go to look for the old man. He knew very well
what a bad welcome he would receive from him, but what
was to be done? However, the old man had compassion
on the poor family, and this time gave him a tablecloth,
which at every summons: `Tablecloth, spread yourself!'
spread itself of its own accord, and on it stood most
excellent food and drink; but under the condition that he
didn't go into his gossip's house. The cobbler, well content
with the present, thanked the old man and moved towards
home. In a short time he was behind the hill, sat down
upon the ground, and, not from curiosity but from hunger,
gave the word of command to the tablecloth to spread
itself, for his inside was croaking. When, after eating his
fill, he went past the tavern, his old gossip was waiting for
him in front of the door; she begged him in the kindest
terms not to pass her tavern, adding the proverb: `Whoever
passes a tavern sprains his foot.' The cobbler wavered
long, but at last went in and entrusted her with the tablecloth
with these words: `Dear gossip, don't say, "Tablecloth,
spread yourself!" The crafty woman gave him brandy
in welcome, not for money; therefore, her gossip tossed off
noggin after noggin, till there came a dizziness in his head.
Then his gossip did the same with the tablecloth as with
the lamb. The cobbler came to his wife and children,
placed the tablecloth on the table and cried: `Tablecloth,
spread yourself!' But the tablecloth didn't stir, and the
cobbler began to despair and to revile the old woman, his
gossip. He returned again to the old man, begged pardon
of him on his knees for not fulfilling the condition that
time also, and prayed him, nevertheless, to have compassion
on him and to be his preserver once more. The old man
for a long time refused, but at last gave him a cudgel with
a silver mounting set with precious stones, and ordered him
this time to visit his gossip, and take note of these words:
`Cudgel, bestir yourself!' The cobbler, seized with new joy,
thanked the old man a hundred times, and made the more
haste towards his wife and children. Still, when behind the
hill, he was curious to know what the cudgel meant, and wishing
to satisfy himself, said: `Cudgel, bestir yourself!' In
a moment there stood before him a couple of stout fellows,
who began to thrash him mercilessly. The cobbler, seized
by cruel terror, did not know how to order them to cease
beating him; at last, when already well beaten, he cried out:
`Cudgel, leave off!' Instantly the fellows disappeared and
the cudgel stood before him. `You're good, you're good!'
said the cobbler, getting up from the ground, `you'll help
me to those former gifts.' When he arrived at the village,
where his gossip lived, he stepped into her house and made
himself at home as with an old acquaintance. She was
very glad to see him, for she thought she would again make
a good profit, entertained him well, and afterwards began to
inquire whether he hadn't something for her to take charge of.
Then the cobbler gave up to her his cudgel with the request
not to say: `Cudgel, bestir yourself!' The old woman
laughed in her sleeve at the simpleton, thinking to herself,
`He wouldn't tell me without cause what I'm not to say!'
She went at once with the cudgel into the other room, and
scarcely had she crossed the threshold, when she cried out
impatiently: `Cudgel, bestir yourself!' Immediately the two
fellows with cudgels began to beat her, and she lost all
self-possession. At her piercing shrieks the host darted
up to help her, when, hey ho! he got it too. The cobbler
all the time kept calling out: `Go it, cudgel! go it ! till they
give me back my lamb and my tablecloth!' Then nothing
remained to his gossip but to give up his property to him.
She ordered the lamb and tablecloth to be brought. As
soon as the cobbler had satisfied himself that this was
really done, he shouted `Cudgel, leave off!' and went with
the three gifts as quick as he could to his wife and children.
Then there was great joy, for they had money and victuals
in abundance; and did not withal forget God and other
people, but assisted every poor person.