Grimm's Household Tales

Once upon a time there lived a peasant and his wife, and the parson of the village had taken a fancy to the wife and had wished for a long while to spend a whole day happily with her. The peasant woman, too, was quite willing. One day, therefore, he said to the woman, “Listen, my dear friend, I have now thought of a way by which we can for once spend a whole day happily together. I’ll tell you what: on Wednesday you must take to your bed and tell your husband you are ill. If you only complain and act ill properly, and go on doing so until Sunday, when I have to preach, I will then say in my sermon that if anyone has at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick brother, or whoever else it may be, and makes a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where you can get a peck of laurel leaves for a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick mother, the sick sister, or whoever else it may be, will be restored to health immediately.”

“I will manage it,” the woman said promptly. Now, therefore, on Wednesday the peasant woman took to her bed and complained and lamented as agreed, and her husband did everything for her that he could think of, but nothing did her any good. When Sunday came, the woman said, “I feel as ill as if I were going to die at once, but there is one thing I should like to do before my end: I should like to hear the parson’s sermon that he is going to preach today.” At that the peasant said, “Ah, my child, do not do it. You might make yourself worse if you were to get up. Look, I will go to the sermon, and I will pay very close attention to it, and I will tell you everything the parson says.”

“Well,” said the woman, “go, then, and pay great attention, and repeat to me all that you hear.” So the peasant went to the sermon, and the parson began to preach and said that if anyone had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, a sick brother, or anyone else, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or whoever else it might be, would be restored to health instantly. Anyone who wished to undertake the journey was to go to him after the service was over, and he would give that person the sack for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer.

Then no one was more delighted than the peasant. After the service was over, he went at once to the parson, who gave him the bag for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer. After that he went home, and even at the house door he cried, “Hurrah! Dear wife, it is now almost the same as if you were well! The parson preached today that if anyone had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, a sick brother, or whoever it might be, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or whoever else it was, would be cured immediately. And now I have already gotten the bag and the kreuzer from the parson, and I will begin my journey at once, so that you may get well faster.” And with that he went away. He was hardly gone, however, before the woman got up, and the parson was there at once.

But now we will leave these two for a while and follow the peasant, who walked on quickly without stopping, in order to get to the Göckerli hill sooner, and on his way he met his friend. His friend was an egg merchant and was just coming from the market, where he had sold his eggs. “May you be blessed,” said the egg merchant, “where are you going so fast?”

“To all eternity, my friend,” said the peasant, “my wife is ill, and I have been to hear the parson’s sermon today, and he preached that if anyone had in his house a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, a sick brother, or anyone else, and made a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick mother, the sick sister, brother, or whoever else it was, would be cured immediately. And so I have gotten the bag for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer from the parson, and now I am beginning my pilgrimage.” “But listen, friend,” said the egg merchant to the peasant, “are you really stupid enough to believe such a thing as that? Don’t you know what it means? The parson wants to spend a whole day alone with your wife in peace, so he has given you this job to do in order to get you out of the way.”

“My word!” said the peasant. “How I would like to know whether that is true!”

“Come, then,” said the egg merchant, “I’ll tell you what to do. Get into my egg basket, and I will carry you home, and then you will see for yourself.” So that was settled, and the egg merchant put the peasant into his egg basket and carried him home.

When they got to the house, hurrah! How merrily everything was going there! The woman had already had nearly everything that was in the farmyard killed, and had made pancakes, and the parson was there and had brought his fiddle with him. The egg merchant knocked at the door, and the woman asked who was there. “It is I, my friend,” said the egg merchant. “Give me shelter tonight. I have not sold my eggs at the market, so now I have to carry them home again, and they are so heavy that I will never be able to do it, for it is already dark.”

“Indeed, my friend,” said the woman, “you come at a very inconvenient time for me, but since you are here, it can’t be helped. Come in, and take a seat there on the bench by the stove.” Then she placed the egg merchant and the basket that he carried on his back on the bench by the stove. The parson and the woman, however, were as merry as could be. At length the parson said, “Listen, my dear friend, you can sing beautifully. Sing something for me.” “Oh,” said the woman, “I cannot sing now. In my young days I could indeed sing well enough, but that’s all over now.”

“Come,” said the parson once more, “do sing some little song.”

At that the woman began to sing:

“I’ve sent my husband away from me / To the Göckerli hill in Italy.”

Then the parson sang:

“I wish it were a year before he came back; / I’d never ask him for the laurel-leaf sack.” Hallelujah.

Then the egg merchant, who was in the background, began to sing (but I ought to tell you that the peasant was called Hildebrand), so the egg merchant sang:

“What are you doing, my Hildebrand dear, / There on the bench by the stove so near?” Hallelujah.

And then the peasant sang from his basket:

“I shall hate all singing from this day, / And here in this basket I will no longer stay.” Hallelujah.

And he got out of the basket and cudgeled the parson out of the house.