Once a potter was journeying on his road with his goods and dozed off.
The Tsar Iván Vasílyevich came driving by in his carriage and said,
“Peace be to you!”
The potter looked up and said, “I thank you very much and wish you the
same.”
“Have you been asleep?”
“Yes, my lord. Do not fear a man who sings songs; but fear a man who
slumbers!”
“You are a bold fellow, potter: I have seen very few such, and I like
them. Coachman, slower! Potter, tell me, have you been long at your
trade?”
“Ever since my youth, and I am now middle-aged.”
“Can you keep your children with it?”
“Yes, I do not sow, nor plough, nor mow, nor reap, and no frosts can do
me any harm.”
“Right, potter; but there are still misfortunes left in the world.”
“Yes, I know three of them.”
“What are the three?”
“The first is an evil neighbour, the second an evil wife, and the third
a weak understanding.”
“Yet now, tell me which is the worst of these evils?”
“The evil neighbour can be escaped; so can the evil wife if one has
children enough, but the weak intellect can never be got rid of.”
“Yes, that is true, potter; you are a sensible fellow. Listen! You suit
me and I suit you. When there are geese flying over Russia, will you
pluck a feather out of them or let them fly by in peace?”
“If it suit me, I should let them fly by as they should; otherwise I
should pluck them bald.”
“Potter, hold in your horse a little while I look at your stock.”
The potter stopped and displayed his goods.
“Can you make any such for me?”
“How many?”
“Ten cartloads.”
“How long will you require?”
“One month.”
“In a fortnight I can bring them into the town. I suit you and you suit
me.”
“Thank you, potter.”
“Will you be in the city when I bring the goods?”
“Yes, I shall be there as the merchant’s guest.”
So the Tsar drove into the city and ordered that at all his feasts the
plates should be neither of silver nor of pewter, nor of copper nor of
wood, but only of clay. The potter carried out the Tsar’s orders and
brought his goods into the city. A _boyár_ rode up to the potter and
said to him: “God be with you, potter.”
“Thank you, your honour.”
“Sell me all your goods.”
“I cannot; they are already sold.”
“What does that matter? Take my money for it; you will be doing no
wrong, as long as you have received no orders for the work. What do you
want?”
“I want every plate filled with money.”
“Listen, potter—that is too much.”
“Very well, then: one filled with money and two empty. Do you agree?”
So they agreed at that: “You suit me and I suit you.”
They filled up the plates and again emptied them, and they went on
filling plates until there was not any money left: but there were ever
so many plates over. The _boyár_ saw he was getting the worst of the
bargain and sent for more money from the house. So they piled the plates
higher still, but all the money vanished, and still all the goods had
not been used up.
“What is to be done, potter? Why are you so greedy?”
“There is nothing to be done.”
“I have a very high esteem for you, potter, but do you know what?”
“Do you carry me in to the courtyard, and I will give you the goods and
the money back as well.”
So the _boyár_ hesitated: he was very sorry to lose his money and for
himself, but he could not help himself, and so they agreed. They
unharnessed the horse, and the peasant sat in the carriage and the
_boyár_ walked on. The potter sang a song, and the _boyár_ drew it
along, drew it along. “How far must I take you in front of that
courtyard?”
The potter went on singing joyously and said, “In front of the house, at
the very top of the carriage.”
When he reached the palace he stood up erect and sang, joyously.
The Tsar heard him singing and ran to the flight of steps, and
recognised the potter. “Ha! welcome, potter!”
“Thank you, your honour.”
“What are you travelling with?”
“With folly.”
“Now, you fine potter, you have known how to sell your goods; _boyár_,
take off your gay costume and your boots; and you, potter, take off your
_kaftán_ and your bast shoes. Put the peasant’s smock on, _boyár_, and
you, potter, put on the _boyár’s_ robes. You have sold your goods very
finely, potter; you have done very little, and you have won much. But as
for you, _boyár_, you were not able to keep your rank. Now, potter, were
there any geese flying over Russia? Did you pluck a feather out of them,
or did you leave them in peace?”
“No, I plucked them bald.”