There were once upon a time a peasant and his
wife who lived in Jutland, but they had no children. They often lamented that
fact and were also sad to think that they had no relatives to whom to leave
their farm and other possessions. So the years went by and they became richer
and richer, but there was no one to inherit their wealth.
One year the farmer bought a fine calf which
he called Peter, and it was really the finest animal that he had ever seen,
and so clever that it seemed to understand nearly everything that one said
to it. It was also very amusing and affectionate, so that the man and his
wife soon became as fond of it as if it were their own child.
One day the farmer said to his wife, "Perhaps
the sexton of our church could teach Peter to talk then we could not do better
than to adopt him as our child, and he could then inherit all our property."
"Who can tell?" said the wife, "Our sexton is
a learned man and perhaps he might be able to teach Peter to talk, for Peter
is really very clever. Suppose you ask the sexton."
So the farmer went over to the sexton and asked
him whether he did not believe that he could teach his calf to talk, because
he wanted to make the animal his heir. The crafty sexton looked around to
see that no one was near, and then said that he thought he could do so. "Only
you must not tell anybody," he said, "for it must be a great secret, and the
minister in particular must not know anything about it, or I might get into
serious trouble as such things are strictly forbidden. Moreover it will cost
a pretty penny as we shall need rare and expensive books." The farmer said
that he did not mind, and handing the sexton a hundred dollars to buy books
with, promised not to say a word about the arrangement to anyone.
That evening the man brought his calf to the
sexton who promised to do his best. In about a week the farmer returned to
see how his calf was getting on, but the sexton said that he did not dare
let him see the animal, else Peter might become homesick and forget all that
he had already learned. Otherwise he was making good progress, but the farmer
must pay another hundred dollars, as Peter needed more books. The peasant
happened to have the money with him, so he gave it to the sexton and went
home filled with hope and pleasant anticipations.
At the end of another week the man again went
to make inquiry about Peter, and was told by the sexton that he was doing
fairly well. "Can he say anything?" asked the farmer.
"Yes, he can say 'ma,'" answered the sexton.
"The poor animal is surely ill," said the peasant,
"and he probably wants mead. I will go straight home and bring him a jug of
it." So he fetched a jug of good, old mead and gave it to the sexton for Peter.
The sexton, however, kept the mead and gave the calf some milk instead.
A week later the farmer came again to find out
what Peter could say now. "He still refuses to say anything but 'ma,'" said
the sexton.
"Oh! he is a cunning rogue;" said the peasant,
"so he wants more mead, does he? Well, I'll get him some more, as he likes
it so much. But what progress has he made?"
"He is doing so well," answered the sexton, "that
he needs another hundred dollars' worth of books, for he cannot learn anything
more from those that he has now."
"Well then, if he needs them he shall have them."
So that same day the farmer brought another hundred dollars and a jug of good,
old mead for Peter.
Now the peasant allowed a few weeks to elapse
without calling on Peter, for he began to be afraid that each visit would
cost him a hundred dollars. In the meantime the calf had become as fat as
he would ever be, so the sexton killed him and sold the meat carefully at
a distance from the village. Having done that he put on his black clothes
and went to call on the farmer and his wife. As soon as he had bid them good
day he asked them whether Peter had reached home safe and sound.
"Why no," said the farmer, "he has not run away,
has he?"
"I hope," said the sexton, "that after all the
trouble I have taken he has not been so tricky as to run away and to abuse
my confidence so shamefully. For I have spent at least a hundred dollars of
my own money to pay for books for him. Now Peter could say whatever he wanted,
and he was telling me only yesterday that he was longing to see his dear parents.
As I wanted to give him that pleasure, but feared that he would not be able
to find his way home alone, I dressed myself and started out with him. We
were hardly in the street when I suddenly remembered that I had left my stick
at home, so I ran back to get it. When I came out of the house again, I found
that Peter had run on alone. I thought, of course, that he had gone back to
your house. If he is not there, I certainly do not know where he can be."
Then the people began to weep and lament that
Peter was lost, now especially when they might have had such pleasure with
him, and after paying out so much money for his education. And the worst of
it was that they were again without an heir. The sexton tried to comfort them
and was also very sorry that Peter had deceived them so. But perhaps he had
only lost his way, and the sexton promised that he would ask publicly in church
next Sunday whether somebody had not seen the calf. Then he bade the farmer
and his wife good-bye and went home and had some good roast veal for dinner.
One day the sexton read in the paper that a new
merchant, named Peter Ox, had settled in the neighboring town. He put the
paper into his pocket and went straight to the farmer and read this item of
news to him. "One might almost believe," he said, "that this is your calf."
"Why yes," said the farmer, "who else should
it be?" Then his wife added, "Yes father, go at once to see him, for I feel
sure that it can be no other than our dear Peter. But take along plenty of
money for he probably needs it now that he has become a merchant."
On the following morning the farmer put a bag
of money on his shoulder, took with him some provisions, and started to walk
to the town where the merchant lived. Early next morning he arrived there
and went straight to the merchant's house. The servants told the man that
the merchant had not gotten up yet. "That does not make any difference for
I am his father; just take me up to his room."
So they took the peasant up to the bedroom where
the merchant lay sound asleep. And as soon as the farmer saw him, he recognized
Peter. There were the same thick neck and broad forehead and the same red
hair, but otherwise he looked just like a human being. Then the man went to
him and bade him good morning and said, "Well, Peter, you caused your mother
and me great sorrow when you ran away as soon as you had learned something.
But get up now and let me have a look at you and talk with you."
The merchant, of course, believed that he had
a crazy man to deal with, so he thought it best to be careful. "Yes I will
get up," he said, and jumped out of bed into his clothes as quickly as possible.
"Ah!" said the peasant, "now I see what a wise
man our sexton was; he has brought it to pass that you are like any other
man. If I were not absolutely certain of it, I should never dream that you
were the calf of our red cow. Will you come home with me?" The merchant said
that he could not as he had to attend to his business. "But you could take
over my farm and I would retire. Nevertheless if you prefer to stay in business,
I am willing. Do you need any money?"
"Well," said the merchant, "a man can always
find use for money in his business."
"I thought so," said the farmer, "and besides
you had nothing to start with, so I have brought you some money." And with
that he poured out on the table the bright dollars that covered it entirely.
When the merchant saw what kind of a man his
new found acquaintance was, he chatted with him in a very friendly manner
and begged him to remain with him for a few days.
"Yes indeed," said the farmer, "but you must
be sure to call me father from now on."
"But I have neither father nor mother living,"
answered Peter Ox.
"That I know perfectly well," the peasant replied,
"for I sold your real father in Copenhagen last Michaelmas, and your mother
died while calving. But my wife and I have adopted you as our child and you
will be our heir, so you must call me father."
The merchant gladly agreed to that and kept the
bag of money; and before leaving town the farmer made his will and bequeathed
all his possessions to Peter after his death. Then the man went home and told
his wife the whole story, and she was delighted to learn that the merchant
Peter Ox was really their own calf.
"Now you must go straight over to the sexton
and tell him what has happened;" she said, "and be sure to refund to him the
hundred dollars that he paid out of his own pocket for Peter, for he has earned
all that we have paid him, because of the joy that he has caused us in giving
us such a son and heir."
Her husband was of the same opinion and went
to call on the sexton, whom he thanked many times for his kindness and to
whom he also gave two hundred dollars.
Then the farmer sold his farm, and he and his
wife moved into the town where the merchant was, and lived with him happily
until their death.
Source: Sven Grundtvig, Danish Fairy Tales, translated by J. Grant Cramer (Boston: Four Seas Company, 1919), pp. 9-14.