-... I Hear the Bells...-
Jul. 7th, 2009 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regndoftAah. It rained today. Happy times. <3 And mum doesn't work tomorrow, so we'll probably do something together, the entire family, and get some business done...
Anyway, I translated another one.
This story is a bit special because it's a tale only known in Swedish tradition, and not a variation of other stories or connected to a greater web of stories from Europe. People who know enough about the storytelling tradition know that that's very unusual.
The title is "Prästen och Klockaren"; I've translated "klockare" to precentor, which I'm not sure is totally accurate, but the closest I could get. A klockare was the person in church who rang and took care of the church bells, and a number of other services in the church; like the priest's handyman. I'm not sure is precentor is a modern term or not.
The Priest and the Precentor
Once upon a time there was a priest who was so stingy he wouldn’t even give a meal to a beggar. And never did he offer his house for one night to a poor wretch. But preach, that he could, and when he stood in the pulpit and bawled and went on, sobs and cries could be heard from every corner of the church. So the people in the parish had nothing to complain about that, but since he was so niggardly and grudging, they still weren’t satisfied, and everybody thought it was shameful that a person like that should preach the word of God.
Now Christmas was around the corner, and then beggars and other poor people used to walk around the villages and ask for some food or lodging for the night. But to avoid having to give anything away the priest used to dress himself up as a beggar himself and sit in the kitchen every evening. If someone then came and asked for shelter, his wife had to reply that they already had a beggar in the house and directed him to the precentor who lived in the house next doors. This wasn’t appreciated by the precentor, for he thought that the priest had greater assets and responsibility to receive the poor than what he had himself.
The precentor was a bit dodgy and liked to joke and come up with different kinds of pranks. And now he sat pondering whether there was a cure against stinginess like against normal diseases. And one night he dressed up as a beggar, knocked on the priest’s door and asked for shelter over the night.
“Yes, gladly you would’ve got that”, the priest’s wife said, “If it wasn’t for the fact that we already have a beggar here, but try with the precentor. I’m sure there’s room there.”
“No”, the precentor said, “there the house is so full they barely have enough room for themselves. I know that because I just came from there. And surely ma’am doesn’t want me to sleep on the ground and freeze to death?”
No, she didn’t want to be so cruel, but what could she do when there was no room?
“I have an idea”, the precentor said, “Can you house one beggar over the night you can house two. And I presume this fellow doesn’t exactly get to sleep in the priest’s bed. Right?” he chuckled and slapped the priest’s shoulder so hard he almost fell off his chair.
“No, you have to be satisfied and grateful for what you have in this world”, the priest replied.
“A true word, that”, the precentor said, “And ma’am shall have to be satisfied with housing two men here tonight instead of one. Because we’re going to get along fine, you and me”.
The priest’s wife tried to object to the precentor’s suggestion, because she didn’t think he was a particularly fitting company for her husband. But the precentor didn’t give in, and in the end it was decided that both should sleep on the sofa that stood in the brewery. And the priest’s wife decided that the priest should take the sofa while the precentor had to make do with the lid. But when they both entered the chamber it was the precentor who threw himself on the sofa, and the priest who had to make do with the lid. After a while, when the priest had fallen asleep, the precentor sneaked out, and when he came back he woke up the priest and said:
“Now I’ve really done it for that stingy priest. I’ve made a hole in the attic of the wood hut, so that all his grain kept there that he’s received from the people in the parish, it runs down among the logs.”
Now the priest was wide awake.
“Ow, ow, my stomach hurts so”, he yelled and ran straight to the wood hut to save his grain.
Now you’ve got something to do for a while, the precentor thought, and I don’t want to lay here like a pig on old straw. No, in that case I’ve got it better in the priest’s warm bed.
And he hurried inside to the priest’s wife and changed his voice so she couldn’t believe it was anyone but her husband who came in.
“I’ve laid so badly”, he moaned, “Because that beggar forced me to take the lid; can I lay with you now?”
“Of course you can, my dear spouse”, the wife said, “But why do you always have to be so stingy and disobliging? It can never bring any good with it.”
“No, you’re right about that”, the precentor said and kept imitating the priest, “Now I’ve had to work and be at it all night, so from now on I’ll be better.”
“God bless you for those words”, the wife said and kissed him, and so he went to bed with her.
In the meantime the priest struggled and tore in the wood hut, and he landed on his head among the piles of logs several times before he managed to seal the hole in the ceiling. The sweat ran, unused as he was to work like that, but it didn’t do much good, because most of the grain was already among the wood. And the precentor, he was comfortable and pleased with the priest’s wife, but when he’d laid there for a while he said:
“No, now I’ve got to go to the old beggar man so he doesn’t find out where I’ve been.”
And so he walked to the chamber in the brewery and hadn’t laid there for long before the priest came in, panting after all the hard work. But as soon as the priest fell asleep the precentor sneaked out again, and when he came back he woke up the priest and said:
“Now I’ve done that cheapskate an even bigger service, because when I was outside I heard the wolves howl, and took the chance to let out all his cattle from the barn.”
The priest was on his feet quick as lightning and screamed:
“Ow, ow, my stomach, my stomach!”
And he ran out while the precentor sneaked back to the priest’s wife.
“Are you here again?” she said.
“Yes”, the precentor whined and sounded exactly like her dear husband, “now I’ve fooled that old beggar out. But my back hurts so badly after laying on that hard lid of the sofa; can’t I lay with you now?”
“Surely, my dear.”
In the meantime the priest wandered around in the dark among the hills and slopes, and he fell and hurt himself many times before he finally managed to push the cattle back into the barn. But the precentor, who had rested with the priest’s wife, now had to hurry back to the brewery and had barely closed his eyes before the priest staggered inside. He gasped and panted so you could’ve thought he’d lost his breath, but when the precentor told him he’d done the stingy priest yet another service, he immediately regained his spirits and screamed:
“What have you done now?!”
“Oh”, the precentor said and this time he lied to the priest: “I’ve been down in his basement and in the outermost barrel of beer I’ve poured two buckets of dung. That’ll be a fine Christmas beer to offer the precentor.”
“Ow, ow”, the priest whined, “It hurts, it hurts so in my stomach.”
“Yes, I can hear that”, the precentor replied, “And therefore, you can lie on the sofa now, because I’m leaving. Probably won’t be getting any breakfast in this place anyway.”
So the precentor left, and the priest rushed inside to his wife.
“Are you back again?” the wife said in surprise.
“Again?” the priest whined, who was so tired now he could barely make a sound.
“Of course, you’ve already been here twice this night”, his wife assured him.
“Twice?!” the priest groaned.
“Yes”, his wife replied.
“Haven’t you dreamt that then”, the priest begged.
“No, I don’t dream when I’m awake”, the wife said. “But now I think we’ve had enough of all these follies.”
“Yes, it’s better to give to the poor than to be subjected to such misery as tonight”, the priest sighed and fell asleep. But all of a sudden he quivered and told his wife:
“That outermost barrel of beer in the basement, give that to the precentor.”
“But surely that is way too much”, his wife protested.
“No no, it’s just enough”, the priest whispered and fell asleep again.
The next morning the priest’s wife had the barrel of beer carried to the precentor who was very grateful for such a generous gift, because he knew that there was nothing wrong with the content. But the priest and his wife, they got their hands full trying to pick up the grain scattered among logs and chips. In the end they managed to scrape together enough for the two of them. But that night, that night would the priest never forget.
He was cured from his stinginess and appeared like a different person. Never more did a beggar leave his table hungry, and no one was denied room over the night. And when the people of the parish came to give their grain to the priest in the autumn, he held such a feast that everybody agreed that they couldn’t wish for a better priest.
So it was worth a barrel of beer, to have a precentor like that.
Included the illustration this time. Adding the one for the other story as well, feel free to check if you're curious. :D
Anyway, I translated another one.
This story is a bit special because it's a tale only known in Swedish tradition, and not a variation of other stories or connected to a greater web of stories from Europe. People who know enough about the storytelling tradition know that that's very unusual.
The title is "Prästen och Klockaren"; I've translated "klockare" to precentor, which I'm not sure is totally accurate, but the closest I could get. A klockare was the person in church who rang and took care of the church bells, and a number of other services in the church; like the priest's handyman. I'm not sure is precentor is a modern term or not.
The Priest and the Precentor
Once upon a time there was a priest who was so stingy he wouldn’t even give a meal to a beggar. And never did he offer his house for one night to a poor wretch. But preach, that he could, and when he stood in the pulpit and bawled and went on, sobs and cries could be heard from every corner of the church. So the people in the parish had nothing to complain about that, but since he was so niggardly and grudging, they still weren’t satisfied, and everybody thought it was shameful that a person like that should preach the word of God.
Now Christmas was around the corner, and then beggars and other poor people used to walk around the villages and ask for some food or lodging for the night. But to avoid having to give anything away the priest used to dress himself up as a beggar himself and sit in the kitchen every evening. If someone then came and asked for shelter, his wife had to reply that they already had a beggar in the house and directed him to the precentor who lived in the house next doors. This wasn’t appreciated by the precentor, for he thought that the priest had greater assets and responsibility to receive the poor than what he had himself.
The precentor was a bit dodgy and liked to joke and come up with different kinds of pranks. And now he sat pondering whether there was a cure against stinginess like against normal diseases. And one night he dressed up as a beggar, knocked on the priest’s door and asked for shelter over the night.
“Yes, gladly you would’ve got that”, the priest’s wife said, “If it wasn’t for the fact that we already have a beggar here, but try with the precentor. I’m sure there’s room there.”
“No”, the precentor said, “there the house is so full they barely have enough room for themselves. I know that because I just came from there. And surely ma’am doesn’t want me to sleep on the ground and freeze to death?”
No, she didn’t want to be so cruel, but what could she do when there was no room?
“I have an idea”, the precentor said, “Can you house one beggar over the night you can house two. And I presume this fellow doesn’t exactly get to sleep in the priest’s bed. Right?” he chuckled and slapped the priest’s shoulder so hard he almost fell off his chair.
“No, you have to be satisfied and grateful for what you have in this world”, the priest replied.
“A true word, that”, the precentor said, “And ma’am shall have to be satisfied with housing two men here tonight instead of one. Because we’re going to get along fine, you and me”.
The priest’s wife tried to object to the precentor’s suggestion, because she didn’t think he was a particularly fitting company for her husband. But the precentor didn’t give in, and in the end it was decided that both should sleep on the sofa that stood in the brewery. And the priest’s wife decided that the priest should take the sofa while the precentor had to make do with the lid. But when they both entered the chamber it was the precentor who threw himself on the sofa, and the priest who had to make do with the lid. After a while, when the priest had fallen asleep, the precentor sneaked out, and when he came back he woke up the priest and said:
“Now I’ve really done it for that stingy priest. I’ve made a hole in the attic of the wood hut, so that all his grain kept there that he’s received from the people in the parish, it runs down among the logs.”
Now the priest was wide awake.
“Ow, ow, my stomach hurts so”, he yelled and ran straight to the wood hut to save his grain.
Now you’ve got something to do for a while, the precentor thought, and I don’t want to lay here like a pig on old straw. No, in that case I’ve got it better in the priest’s warm bed.
And he hurried inside to the priest’s wife and changed his voice so she couldn’t believe it was anyone but her husband who came in.
“I’ve laid so badly”, he moaned, “Because that beggar forced me to take the lid; can I lay with you now?”
“Of course you can, my dear spouse”, the wife said, “But why do you always have to be so stingy and disobliging? It can never bring any good with it.”
“No, you’re right about that”, the precentor said and kept imitating the priest, “Now I’ve had to work and be at it all night, so from now on I’ll be better.”
“God bless you for those words”, the wife said and kissed him, and so he went to bed with her.
In the meantime the priest struggled and tore in the wood hut, and he landed on his head among the piles of logs several times before he managed to seal the hole in the ceiling. The sweat ran, unused as he was to work like that, but it didn’t do much good, because most of the grain was already among the wood. And the precentor, he was comfortable and pleased with the priest’s wife, but when he’d laid there for a while he said:
“No, now I’ve got to go to the old beggar man so he doesn’t find out where I’ve been.”
And so he walked to the chamber in the brewery and hadn’t laid there for long before the priest came in, panting after all the hard work. But as soon as the priest fell asleep the precentor sneaked out again, and when he came back he woke up the priest and said:
“Now I’ve done that cheapskate an even bigger service, because when I was outside I heard the wolves howl, and took the chance to let out all his cattle from the barn.”
The priest was on his feet quick as lightning and screamed:
“Ow, ow, my stomach, my stomach!”
And he ran out while the precentor sneaked back to the priest’s wife.
“Are you here again?” she said.
“Yes”, the precentor whined and sounded exactly like her dear husband, “now I’ve fooled that old beggar out. But my back hurts so badly after laying on that hard lid of the sofa; can’t I lay with you now?”
“Surely, my dear.”
In the meantime the priest wandered around in the dark among the hills and slopes, and he fell and hurt himself many times before he finally managed to push the cattle back into the barn. But the precentor, who had rested with the priest’s wife, now had to hurry back to the brewery and had barely closed his eyes before the priest staggered inside. He gasped and panted so you could’ve thought he’d lost his breath, but when the precentor told him he’d done the stingy priest yet another service, he immediately regained his spirits and screamed:
“What have you done now?!”
“Oh”, the precentor said and this time he lied to the priest: “I’ve been down in his basement and in the outermost barrel of beer I’ve poured two buckets of dung. That’ll be a fine Christmas beer to offer the precentor.”
“Ow, ow”, the priest whined, “It hurts, it hurts so in my stomach.”
“Yes, I can hear that”, the precentor replied, “And therefore, you can lie on the sofa now, because I’m leaving. Probably won’t be getting any breakfast in this place anyway.”
So the precentor left, and the priest rushed inside to his wife.
“Are you back again?” the wife said in surprise.
“Again?” the priest whined, who was so tired now he could barely make a sound.
“Of course, you’ve already been here twice this night”, his wife assured him.
“Twice?!” the priest groaned.
“Yes”, his wife replied.
“Haven’t you dreamt that then”, the priest begged.
“No, I don’t dream when I’m awake”, the wife said. “But now I think we’ve had enough of all these follies.”
“Yes, it’s better to give to the poor than to be subjected to such misery as tonight”, the priest sighed and fell asleep. But all of a sudden he quivered and told his wife:
“That outermost barrel of beer in the basement, give that to the precentor.”
“But surely that is way too much”, his wife protested.
“No no, it’s just enough”, the priest whispered and fell asleep again.
The next morning the priest’s wife had the barrel of beer carried to the precentor who was very grateful for such a generous gift, because he knew that there was nothing wrong with the content. But the priest and his wife, they got their hands full trying to pick up the grain scattered among logs and chips. In the end they managed to scrape together enough for the two of them. But that night, that night would the priest never forget.
He was cured from his stinginess and appeared like a different person. Never more did a beggar leave his table hungry, and no one was denied room over the night. And when the people of the parish came to give their grain to the priest in the autumn, he held such a feast that everybody agreed that they couldn’t wish for a better priest.
So it was worth a barrel of beer, to have a precentor like that.
Included the illustration this time. Adding the one for the other story as well, feel free to check if you're curious. :D
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 10:16 pm (UTC)among other things, and I ended up telling her the one you translated before. She loved it. ^^no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 10:30 pm (UTC)|D I'm glad. I like the former one myself, it's... Gory, and funny. 8D
no subject
Date: 2009-07-10 07:35 am (UTC)