The Parson's Widow (1920) - full transcript

A young man is elected by a small village to be its parson. As part of his duties, he is required to marry the widow of the parson before him. This poses two problems--first, the widow is old enough to be his grandmother, and second, he is already engaged to another woman.

THE PARSON'S WIDOW

Now, as a thousand years ago,

the waterfall sings by the old

Norwegian village.

If we listen closely, it tells a

lot about the days gone by.

Hear, O hear my voice proclaim.

Come all ye from far and near.

I summon you to elect a parson.

For we have no good shepherd here.

These two had wandered

over the mountain from a

neighboring parish...

Sofren had struggled through

long student days and now he

was applying for the vacant post.

Mari had waited faithfully

during all the hard years.

Mari reminds Sofren that

her father will not allow

them to marry until Sofren

is truly a parson.

Sofren's two rivals to the post

had faith in their handsome

clothes and the fine learning

that was crammed into them

in Copenhagen.

Each of the three candidates

wished heartily for the Devil

himself to take away the others.

"In the beginning, Man, unlike

others creatures, was made in

the image of God."

"But we must consider why

it was that God made Man

so perfect and magnificent..."

"I am going to speak to you

about Balaam's ass and God's

strange power --- by which

He was able to open the jaws

of a dumb animal so that it

might speak like a man!"

"Now, two learned applicants

have appeared here before me."

"One of them took us to Eden.

And that is as far back as

we can go."

"Let him stay there!"

"The other one chose the text:

Am I Not An Ass? But what

has an ass to do on the pulpit?"

"My friends, I will not take you

to Eden --- you are too clever.

But I will take you to the bowels

of the Earth, deep in the roaring

jaws of Hell!"

"And so, my friends, beware that

you are not swallowed up by

the roaring jaws of Hell!"

The congregation had appointed

five wise and trusted men to pass

verdicts on the applicants.

When the two theologians from

Copenhagen saw they could not

reach their goal by words alone,

they joined forces to invite

everyone to a feast that evening.

Out of common decency,

they were obliged to invite

Sofren too.

At last, the verdict was Sofren.

"According to the law of our

parish, the late parson's widow,

Dame Margarete, claims

the right to demand that his

successor marry her."

"Since Dame Margarete insists

on her right, we have asked

her to come here tonight so

the candidate may have a

look at her."

"Night has fallen already.

Will you do me the honor

to accompany me to the

parsonage?"

Sofren had heard that Dame

Margarete might be a witch.

But he did not feel it would

do him any harm just to enter

the house.

"My lot is not an easy one.

This the fourth time I must

be handed over like a piece

of furniture to whomever

claims me..."

"But I am attached to this

place, to every chair and

candlestick..."

"...and if you part with what has

become so important to your

life, your innermost heart gets

torn open. And you die..."

"You are not engaged to any

young maiden, are you?"

"I hope that you will accept

my hospitality. It is dark

and long way to the Inn."

The next morning,

Sofren woke up late.

Never in his life had he been

so well dressed! He wore a

black coat and breeches that

had been put beside his bed.

"I had the most wonderful sleep

last night. I felt I was resting

in Abraham's bosom."

"Indeed... there I have

never slept."

In front of him lay a gleaming

white herring. He was drawn

to it as if by a magic power.

Dame Margarete's two old

servants had been with her

as long as anyone could

remember.

After Sofren had eaten the

fat herring and emptied the

bottle of schnapps, he felt

very strange.

As if in a fog, he saw Dame

Margarete, not old and ugly,

but as a young smiling girl.

"Dame Margarete, I love

you! Let me stay here

with you always."

"Isn't it so, Master Sofren,

that you offered me your

heart and hand and asked

me to be your wife?"

"Of course you will have your

freedom. You have your room

and I have mine. I only wish to

stay and manage everything

as before."

"Sofren, how could you!"

"How did the widow

bewitch you?"

"With a herring she gave me."

"It made me so dizzy

that I proposed to her."

"I cannot get you if I do not get

the post, and I will not get that

unless I wed the old woman."

"But after she dies, I inherit

everything. Then we can marry."

"Can Dame Margarete really

not see who it is?

"Why, it is my sister Mari."

"She is so unhappy at having to

leave me! I beg you to let Mari

live at the parsonage in return

for help around the house."

"Do you think the old woman

will be done for soon?"

A few weeks later, a neighboring

parson joined the two in wedlock.

Even though both bride

and bridegroom preferred

a quiet ceremony, it was

the custom in the area to

hold a big celebration.

"We will now drink to the

health of the bridal couple

and wish them a long and

happy life."

The day after the wedding.

Sofren made up for it.

"In the future. I suggest you

and your companions be less

high and mighty. For I am

master of this house."

"Master Sofren is too big for his

boots. Give him a drubbing!"

"I suggest you concentrate

on prayers and sermons.

Do not play master here.

I am master of this house!"

Time passed by... Dame

Margarete had not yet died

and Sofren had not been

able to see Mari alone.

It was not the only time

that Sofren was unlucky.

"Oh! The Parson cast amorous

glances at me!"

"Let the fine fellow go!"

"I will have you know

I am a decent girl!"

Sofren was at his wit's

end. Finally he stooped

to courting at night just

as peasant lads did.

"I had a sudden stomachache

and was just going to ask my

sister for some drops."

"If you need drops, you had

better come to me!"

Sofren would not give up. A night

or two later he tried again.

"My little popsy!"

"Shame, that you cannot

leave us girls alone!"

One evening they sat together

all three, working.

"Do you know what country

folk say about you, Dame

Margarete? That you got

your former husband through

black magic!"

I also wonder a good deal

about that herring you gave

me --- was it real?

"No, it had a spell cast upon it!"

"And they say you have

a potion which can prolong

one's life."

"It must be the truth... just look

at me. I will live for at least

another hundred years!"

A few nights later the

full moon came shining

into Dame Margarete's

chamber.

"Never have I seen the like.

The Devil himself walking

in the pastor's slippers!"

A couple of hours went by

but Dame Margarete held out

bravely.

"So that is how the Devil looks!"

Sofren did one stupid trick

after another. However,

one day something happened

of the greatest importance to

everybody.

"Shouldn't you prepare your

Sunday sermon instead of

idling here?"

Sofren hoped Dame Margarete

would stay up in the loft and

mayby in the meantime he could

meet Mari.

But Mari was where Sofren

least expected.

"Be careful, Dame Margarete!

The ladder is gone!"

"The thigh-bone is broken and

she suffered a concussion. But

she will recover."

Several weeks passed before

Sofren was allowed to enter

the sickroom.

During this time, Sofren truly

grew fond of Dame Margarete,

who nursed little Mari day and

night as tenderly as a mother.

"I am reminded of my youth..."

"My first husband and I were

engaged for many years

when he applied for the post

here and learned he could

have it only if he wedded

the parson's widow."

"We knew that the widow was

weak and could scarcely live

long. It was a sore temptation

to us..."

"Yes, God forgive us. We built

our happiness on the hope of

another's death."

"Five years we had to wait. But

these rooms hold memories of

thirty happy years, and in the

churchyard is a grave that is

never out of my thoughts."

"Forgive us, Dame Margarete!"

"Mari and I are not sister and

brother --- she is my fiancee.

We have also waited for your

death, Dame Margarete!"

"Poor children!

Poor children!"

Not long afterwards, Mari was

on her feet again --- thanks to

Dame Margarete's tender care.

But Dame Margarete now spent

half the day in the churchyard

by her first husband's grave.

One morning at breakfast, Dame

Margarete was missing.

Do not forget, when my mortal

remains are taken away, to put

a horseshoe over the door and to

strew linseed after me so that I

shall not haunt you.

A week later the funeral

took place.

"I render thanks for all the good

I have known in my days."

My voice I raise by tones of bells

In praise of the Lord of Lords.

To call God's folk to church

And now to sound a burial hymn.

Following her own wish, Dame

Margarete was buried with her

first husband.

"We owe her a great debt, Mari.

She taght you to keep a good

home, and she taught me to be

a honorable man."