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JOHNNY NUT AND THE GOLDEN GOOSE
Done Into English
By Andrew Lang
From The French Of Charles Deulin
Illustrated By A. M. Lynen
London
Longmans, Green, And Co.
1887
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PREFACE
This Tale is rendered, a little freely, from _Trente-six Rencontres de
Jean du Gogué_, in _Contes d’un Buveur de Bière_, par Charles Deulin.
(Sixième Edition. Paris: Dentu. 1873.)
The late M. Deulin told with much humour, and probably with but
little alteration from oral tradition, the popular tales of his native
province. The narrative here translated has points in common with a
Tongan legend, with several ancient French _fabliaux_, with a Zulu story
in Bishop Callaway’s collection, and with Grimm’s _Golden Goose_.
TO MISTRESS DOROTHEA THORPE
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IKE the Sultan in the _Arabian Nights_--and, sure, you are no less
despotic--you have sometimes commanded me to ‘tell you a story.’It has
been my privilege to obey; but, alas! when my toil was ended, with
a stretch of absolute authority you have bidden me ‘tell you
another.’Truly, Madam, the _Ocean of the Streams of Story_, whereof
the Hindoos speak, will speedily be drained dry by your Slave, who now
presents you with this little Tale, which he has conveyed from French
Flanders. If it amuses your leisure as much to read, as it has diverted
mine to translate it, I shall have that enjoyment which attends
successful enterprise, and I remain,
Madam,
Yours very humbly to command
A. Z.
MADAM,
GOLDEN GOOSE
CHAPTER I.
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LONG TIME AGO there lived in French Flanders, at a village called Saint
Saulve, Valenciennes way, a little cow-boy named Johnny Nut He had no
father and no mother, and they called him Johnny Nut because he was
found one fine morning under a walnut-tree. Silly Billy was another
name he had, for he was just as great an innocent as a calf before it is
weaned.
Now, never in his living days had Johnny Nut dined on anything better
than potatoes, and the one thing he wanted in the world was to taste
roast goose.
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Now, about a dozen miles off, Condé way, there is a village where the
geese are so grand that all the world talks of nothing but the Hergnies
geese.
‘When I grow up,’ said Johnny, ‘I’ll go to Hergnies and eat goose.’
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So, at long and at last, one autumn evening he left the cows in the
lurch, and off he went, without beat of drum.
Now, whether he came back as poor as he started, and what a great love
of roast goose brought Silly Billy to, that’s what we are going to tell
you!
So Johnny Nut followed his nose, and asked his way, and at nightfall he
reached the village of Escau-bridge.
‘You can’t show me the way to Hergnies, mother?’ cried Johnny to the
farmer’s wife, who was just sitting down to supper.
‘That I can, my son, but you are out late.
‘Are you in such a hurry?’
‘Oh, mother, who is in a hurry if not me? These ten years I’ve been
dying to taste roast goose, so don’t you see there’s no time to waste.’
The farmer’s wife stared at him with all her eyes.
‘What do they call you?’ says she.
‘Silly Billy,’ says he.
‘Oh, _don’t I see_.
‘Yes, I see,’ said the woman, laughing to his very
face. ‘Listen, my lad! You are big, and strong, and you seem honest. Now
Jim, our man, is off on the King’s wars. Will you take his place?’
‘Will you let me taste roast goose?’
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‘On Sunday, as sure as sure, you shall have your fill of goose; I have
to send some one to Hergnies, to my cousin’s, to-morrow. You shall
start, at peep of day, and bring me a good fat goose. We’ll dine off him
when we come back from the fair at the next town. Does that suit you, my
son?’
‘Mother, it’s just the thing for me.’
‘Then come to supper.’
And to supper went Johnny Nut, with such an appetite that he scarcely
had time to say grace.