The Coat of Clay

There once lived a wise woman in the parts of Lindsey. Some said she was a witch, but they said it in whispers, fearing she might overhear and do them harm. Yet no one could be sure, for she had never hurt anyone, which a true witch would surely have done. She could tell you what ailed you and how to heal it with herbs. She mixed rare possets that drove pain away in an instant. She could advise you when your cows fell ill or when you found yourself in trouble. She could even tell the village maids whether their sweethearts would stay faithful.

But she grew cross if anyone questioned her too much or for too long, and she had a deep dislike of fools. Many came to her asking foolish things, as was their nature, and to them she never gave counsel—at least, not of a kind that did them much good.

One day, as she sat at her door peeling potatoes, over the stile and up the path came a tall lad with a long nose, goggle eyes, and his hands in his pockets.

"That's a fool, if ever I saw one, and a fool's luck written plain on his face," the wise woman said to herself with a nod, and she threw a potato skin over her left shoulder to ward off bad luck.

"Good day, missis," said the fool. "I've come to see you."

"So you have," said the wise woman. "I see that. How are all your folk this year?"

"Oh, tolerably well," he answered. "But they say I'm a fool."

"Ay, so you are," she nodded, and tossed away a bad potato. "I see that too. But what do you want with me? I don't keep brains for sale."

"Well, you see, my mother says I'll never be any wiser all my born days. But folks tell us you can do anything. Can't you teach me a little, so they'll think me a clever fellow at home?"

"Hout-tout!" said the wise woman. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. No, I can't teach you anything, lad. But I'll tell you this: you'll be a fool all your days until you get a coat of clay, and then you'll know more than I do."

"Hi, missis, what kind of coat is that?" said he.

"That's none of my business," she answered. "You've got to find that out yourself."

And she gathered her potatoes and went into her house.

The fool took off his cap and scratched his head. "It's a strange kind of coat to look for, surely. I never heard of a coat of clay. But then, I am a fool, that's true."

So he walked on until he came to a drain nearby, with just a little water and a foot of mud in it.

"Here's mud," said the fool, much pleased, and he climbed in and rolled about in it, spluttering. "Hi, yi!" said he, for his mouth was full, "I've got a coat of clay now, to be sure. I'll go home and tell my mother I'm a wise man and not a fool any longer." And he went on home.

Presently he came to a cottage where a lass stood at the door.

"Morning, fool," said she. "Have you been ducked in the horse-pond?"

"Fool yourself," said he. "The wise woman says I'll know more than she when I get a coat of clay, and here it is. Shall I marry thee, lass?"

"Ay," said she, for she thought she'd like a fool for a husband, "when shall it be?"

"I'll come and fetch thee when I've told my mother," said the fool, and he gave her his lucky penny and went on.

When he got home, his mother was on the doorstep.

"Mother, I've got a coat of clay," said he.

"Coat of muck," said she. "And what of that?"

"The wise woman said I'd know more than her when I got a coat of clay," said he, "so I got down in the drain and got one, and I'm not a fool any longer."

"Very good," said his mother. "Now you can get a wife."

"Ay," said he, "I'm going to marry so-and-so."

"What!" said his mother. "That lass? No, you won't! She's nothing but a brat, with never a cow or a cabbage to her name."

"But I gave her my lucky penny," said the fool.

"Then you're a bigger fool than ever, for all your coat of clay!" said his mother, and banged the door in his face.

"Dang it!" said the fool, and scratched his head. "That's not the right sort of clay, surely."

So back he went to the highroad and sat down on the bank of the river close by, looking at the water, which was cool and clear.

By and by he fell asleep, and before he knew what he was about—plump—he rolled off into the river with a splash, and scrambled out, dripping like a drowned rat.

"Dear, dear," said he, "I'd better go and get dry in the sun." So up he went to the highroad, and lay down in the dust, rolling about so that the sun should reach him all over.

Presently, when he sat up and looked down at himself, he found that the dust had caked into a kind of skin over his wet clothes until you could not see an inch of them, so well were they covered. "Hi, yi!" said he, "Here's a coat of clay ready made, and a fine one at that. See now, I'm a clever fellow this time, surely, for I've found what I wanted without looking for it! Wow, but it's a fine feeling to be so smart!"

And he sat and scratched his head, thinking about his own cleverness.

But all of a sudden, around the corner came the squire on horseback, at full gallop, as if the bogles were after him. The fool had to jump, even though the squire pulled his horse back on its haunches.

"What the dickens," said the squire, "do you mean by lying in the middle of the road like that?"

"Well, master," said the fool, "I fell into the water and got wet, so I lay down in the road to get dry. And I lay down a fool and got up a wise man."

"How's that?" said the squire.

So the fool told him about the wise woman and the coat of clay.

"Ah, ah!" laughed the squire. "Whoever heard of a wise man lying in the middle of the highroad to be ridden over? Lad, take my word for it, you are a bigger fool than ever." And he rode on laughing.

"Dang it!" said the fool, as he scratched his head. "I've not got the right sort of coat yet, then." And he choked and spluttered in the dust that the squire's horse had raised.

So on he went in a melancholy mood until he came to an inn, and the landlord was at his door smoking.

"Well, fool," said he, "you're fine and dirty."

"Ay," said the fool, "I'm dirty outside and dusty in, but it's not the right thing yet."

And he told the landlord all about the wise woman and the coat of clay.

"Hout-tout!" said the landlord, with a wink. "I know what's wrong. You've got a skin of dirt outside and all dry dust inside. You must moisten it, lad, with a good drink, and then you'll have a real all-over coat of clay."

"Hi," said the fool, "that's a good word."

So down he sat and began to drink. But it was wonderful how much liquor it took to moisten so much dust, and each time he got to the bottom of the pot he found he was still dry. At last he began to feel very merry and pleased with himself.

"Hi, yi!" said he. "I've got a real coat of clay now, outside and in. What a difference it makes, to be sure. I feel another man now—so smart."

And he told the landlord he was certainly a wise man now, though he couldn't speak over-distinctly after drinking so much. So up he got, and thought he would go home and tell his mother she no longer had a fool for a son.

But just as he was trying to get through the inn door, which would scarcely keep still long enough for him to find it, up came the landlord and caught him by the sleeve.

"See here, master," said he, "you haven't paid for your score. Where's your money?"

"Haven't any!" said the fool, and pulled out his pockets to show they were empty.

"What!" said the landlord, and swore. "You've drunk all my liquor and have nothing to pay for it with!"

"Hi!" said the fool. "You told me to drink so as to get a coat of clay. But as I'm a wise man now, I don't mind helping you along in the world a bit, for though I'm a smart fellow, I'm not too proud to my friends."

"Wise man! Smart fellow!" said the landlord. "And help me along, will you? Dang it! You're the biggest fool I ever saw, and it's I'll help you first—out of this!"

And he kicked him out of the door into the road and swore at him.

"Hum," said the fool, as he lay in the dust, "I'm not so wise as I thought. I guess I'll go back to the wise woman and tell her there's a screw loose somewhere."

So up he got and went along to her house, and found her sitting at the door.

"So you've come back," said she, with a nod. "What do you want with me now?"

So he sat down and told her how he'd tried to get a coat of clay, and he wasn't any wiser for all of it.

"No," said the wise woman, "you're a bigger fool than ever, my lad."

"So they all say," sighed the fool. "But where can I get the right sort of coat of clay, then, missis?"

"When you're done with this world, and your folk put you in the ground," said the wise woman. "That's the only coat of clay that will make such as you wise, lad. Born a fool, die a fool, and be a fool your life long—and that's the truth!"

And she went into the house and shut the door.

"Dang it," said the fool. "I must tell my mother she was right after all, and that she'll never have a wise man for a son!"

And he went off home.