| More than a hundred
years ago |
Det er over hundrede
Aar siden! |
| there stood, near a
forest, a manor house that had a moat around it, which made
it look almost like a castle. In the moat reeds and bulrushes
grew. To enter the farm you had to cross a bridge, and there,
beside it, was an old willow tree that spread its branches out
over the water. |
Der laae bag Skoven
ved den store Indsø en gammel Herregaard, og rundtom den var
der dybe Grave, hvori voxte Duunhammere, Siv og Rør. Tæt ved
Broen til Indkjørsels-Porten stod et gammelt Piletræ, der hældede
sig ud over Rørene. |
| From the road not far
away came the sound of hunting horns and the trampling of horses'
hoofs. The girl who was tending the geese tried to hurry them
over the bridge before the hunters came. But they were galloping
so fast that she had to jump onto one of the big rocks next
to the bridge in order not to be run down herself. She was no
more than a child; finely built, with a blessedly sweet expression
on her face, and two unusually clear eyes; but this the master
of the manor house did not notice. As he galloped over the bridge,
with the shaft of his riding whip he poked the girl's chest
so that she lost her balance. |
Omme fra Huulveien lød
Horn og Hestetrampen, og derfor skyndte den lille Gaasepige
sig med at faae Gjæssene tilside fra Broen, før Jagt-Selskabet
kom galopperende; det kom i saadan en Fart, at hun gesvindt
maatte springe op paa en af de høie Stene ved Broen, for ikke
at blive redet overende. Halv Barn var hun endnu, fiin og spinkel,
men med et velsignet Udtryk i sit Ansigt og to rare klare Øine;
men det saae Herremanden ikke paa; i den flyvende Fart han kom,
vendte han Pidsken i sin Haand, og af raa Lystighed stødte han
hende med Skaftet lige for Brystet, saa hun gik bag over. |
| "Everything in its right
place!" he shouted. "Down in the mud you go!" And he laughed,
for he thought that a wonderful joke; and so did his companions.
They all laughed and shouted, and the hunting dogs barked. Just
as it says in the nursery rhyme: |
"Alt paa sin rette Plads!"
raabte han, "i Skarnet med Dig!" og saa loe han, det skulde
nu være saa moersomt, og de Andre loe med; hele Selskabet gjorde
Skriig og Skraal og Jagthundene gjøede, det var rigtignok: |
"The rich bird came blustering . . ."
|
"Rige Fugl kommer susende!"
|
| But only God knows how
rich he really was. |
- Gud veed hvor riig
han var endda. |
| The poor girl had caught
hold of one of the willow branches as she fell, and it saved
her from landing in the mud. As soon as the hunting party and
their dogs were out of sight she tried to pull herself up by
the branch. But it broke off and she would have fallen into
the moat had not a strong hand grabbed her and held her up.
A peddler who had been watching the scene had come to her rescue. |
Den stakkels Gaasepige
greb for sig, i det hun faldt, og fik fat i en af de nedhængende
Pilegrene; ved den holdt hun sig oppe over Dyndet, og saasnart
Herskab og Hunde vare vel inde af Porten, arbeidede hun paa
at komme op, men Grenen knækkede af ved Kronen, og Gaasepigen
faldt tungt tilbage i Rørene, da i det samme en kraftig Haand
ovenfra greb hende. Det var en vandrende Hosekræmmer, som et
Stykke borte havde seet til og skyndte sig nu med at komme hende
til Hjælp. |
| "Everything in its right
place," he said jokingly, repeating her master's words, and
pulled her up on the bank. Then he took the branch and held
it up to the limb from which it had broken off. "Not everything
can be put back in its right place," he said, smiling. He stuck
the branch into the soft earth. "Grow if you can. And may there
be cut from you a whistle that can play a tune your master will
have to dance to." What he meant was that he hoped that haughty
master and his friends would one day get a good whipping. The
peddler went up to the manor house; he did not go into the great
hall but into the servants' quarters. There he showed his wares:
good woolen stockings and other knitted goods. While the servants
bargained, they could hear above them their masters shouting,
screaming, and singing: that was what they were best at. Laughter
and the barking of dogs mixed with the sound of glasses breaking.
It was a great party! There were wine and old beer in glasses
and tankards. Their dogs ate from the table. One of the guests
kissed his favorite dog; but first he wiped its snout with its
own long, curly ears. The peddler was called up to the hall
with his wares; they wanted to make fun of him. Wine had gone
to their heads and pushed their brains out. They filled one
of the peddler's stockings with beer and ordered him to drink--but
he had to be quick about it. Oh yes, it was really very, very
funny. Later that night they played cards: horses, cows, and
even farms changed hands. |
"Alt paa sin rette Plads!"
sagde han i Spøg efter Herremanden og trak hende op paa det
Tørre; den afbrækkede Green stillede han hen mod Stedet, hvor
den var knækket af, men "paa sin rette Plads," det gaaer ikke
altid! og saa stak han Grenen ned i den bløde Jord, "groe om
du kan og skjær dem en god Fløite deroppe paa Gaarden!" han
undte Herremanden og hans en dygtig Spidsrods-Marsch; og saa
gik han ind paa Herregaarden, men ikke op i Høisalen, dertil
var han for ringe! ind til Folkene i Borgstuen kom han, og de
saae paa hans Varer og kjøbslog; men oppe fra Gildesbordet lød
Skraal og Vræl, der skulde være Sang, de kunde den ikke bedre.
Der lød Latter og Hundehyl, der var stor Fraadsen og Sviren;
Viin og gammelt Øl skummede i Glas og Kruus, og Liv-Hundene
aad med; eet og andet Bæst af dem blev af Junkerne kysset, efterat
det først med den lange Ørelap var tørret om Snuden. Hosekræmmeren
blev kaldt derop med sine Varer, men kun for at de kunde have
deres Spads med ham. Vinen var gaaet ind og Forstanden ud. De
hældte Øl i en Strømpe til ham, at han kunde drikke med, men
gesvindt! det var nu saa overordentligt snildt og til Griin.
Hele Drift Qvæg, Bønder og Bøndergaarde bleve satte paa eet
Kort og tabte. |
| "Everthing in its right
place," said the peddler as soon as he was well away from "Sodom
and Gomorrah," as he called the manor house. "And my right place
is the open road. Up there in the hall, I certainly felt out
of place." The girl who tended the geese waved to him as he
walked away. |
"Alt paa sin rette Plads!"
sagde Hosekræmmeren, da han igjen var vel udenfor Sodoma og
Gomorra, som han kaldte det. "Den aabne Landevei, det er min
rette Plads, der oppe var jeg slet ikke i mit Es." Og den lille
Gaasepige nikkede til ham fra Markledet. |
| Days went by and weeks
went by. The broken willow branch, which the peddler had stuck
down into the bank of the moat, did not die; fresh shoots appeared
and the girl knew that it had taken root. It pleased her, for
she felt that now she had a tree all her own. |
Og der gik Dage og der
gik Uger, og det viste sig, at den afbrækkede Pilegreen, som
Hosekræmmeren havde stukket ned ved Vandgraven, holdt sig stadig
frisk og grøn, ja at den skjød endogsaa nye Skud; den lille
Gaasepige saae, at den maatte have fæstet Rod, og hun glædede
sig saa inderligt derover, det var hendes Træ, syntes hun. |
| Yes, the willow branch
was prospering, but that was the only thing that thrived on
the estate. Drink and gambling are two rollers that are not
easy to balance on. |
Ja, med det gik det
fremad, men med alt andet paa Gaarden gik det svært tilbage
ved Sviir og ved Spil: det er to Triller, som ikke ere gode
at staae paa. |
| Six years passed, and
the master of the manor had to leave his fine estate; he was
a poor man. The new owner had once been a peddler. Honesty and
thrift had brought him far. He was the same man who had been
made to drink beer from a stocking; now he was the master of
the house. From that time on, card playing was never allowed.
"When the Devil saw the Bible he sneered. Then he invited a
deck of cards and called them his Bible, but they are not good
reading," he declared. |
Der var ikke gaaet sex
Aar, saa vandrede Herremanden med Pose og Stav, som fattig Mand,
fra Gaarden og den blev kjøbt af en riig Hosekræmmer, og det
var just ham, som havde været til Spot og Griin og var budt
Øl i en Strømpe; men Ærlighed og Driftighed, de give god Medbør,
og nu var Hosekræmmeren Herre paa Gaarden; men fra den Stund
kom der aldrig Kortenspil der; "det er en slem Læsning," sagde
han, "den kommer derfra, at da Fanden første Gang saae Bibelen,
vilde han vrænge en efter, der skulde være ligesaadan, og saa
opfandt han Kortenspillet!" |
| The new owner took a
wife and whom do you think it was? The girl who had tended the
geese and had always been good-natured, kind, and gentle. In
her new clothes she looked as beautiful as any young lady born
to wealth and position. How did all this come about? Well, that
is too long a story to tell in times as busy as ours, but it
did happen; besides, the more important part of the story comes
later. |
Den nye Herremand tog
sig en Frue, og hvem var hun, det var den lille Gaasepige, som
altid havde været skikkelig, from og god; og i de nye Klæder
saae hun ud saa fiin og kjøn, som var hun født en fornem Jomfru.
Hvorledes gik det til? Ja, det er for lang en Historie i vor
travle Tid, men det gik til, og det Vigtigste kommer bag efter.
|
| Everything on the old
manor prospered; the master ran the farm and his wife the house.
It was truly a blessed time. Wealth brought more wealth. The
old house was painted and restored, inside and out. The moat
was cleaned and an orchard planted. The floors in the hall were
scoured until they were white, and there during the long winter
evenings the mistress sat with her maids spinning. Every Sunday
evening the master, who held the title of privy councilor, read
aloud from the Bible. They grew old and their children--and
they had quite a few of them--grew up. They were all given a
good education; although, as is true in most families, they
were not equally intelligent. |
Velsignet og godt var
der paa den gamle Gaard, Moder stod selv for det Indvendige
og Fader for det Udvendige; det var ligesom Velsignelsen vældede
frem, og hvor Velstand er, der kommer Velstand til Huse. Den
gamle Gaard blev pudset og malet, Gravene rensede og Frugttræer
plantede; venligt og godt saae der ud og Stuegulvet var blankt
som et Spækkebræt. I den store Sal sad om Vinteraftnerne Madamen
med alle sine Piger og spandt Uldent og Linnet; og hver Søndagaften
læstes der høit af Bibelen, og det af Justitsraaden selv, for
han blev Justitsraad, Hosekræmmeren, men det var først paa hans
meget gamle Dage. Børnene voxte til, - der kom Børn, - og alle
bleve de vel oplærte, men de havde jo ikke lige gode Hoveder,
saadan som det er i enhver Familie. |
| The willow branch had
become a tall lovely tree, which had never been shaped as such
trees usually are in Denmark. "It is our family tree, remember
to honor and protect it," said the old people to all their children,
also the ones who were not so intelligent. |
Men Pilegrenen udenfor
var blevet til et heelt prægtigt Træ, der stod frit og ubeskaaret,
"det er vort Stamtræ!" sagde de gamle Folk, og det Træ skulde
holdes i Agt og Ære! sagde de til Børnene, ogsaa til dem som
ikke havde gode Hoveder. |
| A hundred years went
by. |
Og nu var der gaaet
hundrede Aar. |
| Now we are in our times;
the moat has become a swamp and the old manor house is no more.
Some stonework reveals where once the old bridge was, and here
a wonderful old willow tree still stands. The old "family tree"
is a fine example of how beautiful a willow tree can be if it
is allowed to grow freely, without being pruned. True, a storm
has twisted the tree; and there's also a cleft in the trunk,
from the root all the way up. In all its cracks, crevices, and
the cleft, the wind has deposited dirt and soil; and flowers
and grass now grow there. At the top, where the boughs go each
its own way, there's a hanging garden of wild flowers and raspberry
bushes. Even a little rowan tree has taken root and stands,
straight and slender, up against the old willow tree. When the
wind blows the green algae down to the other end of the swamp,
then the tree mirrors itself in the dark waters. Across the
fields there's a little path that leads past it. |
Det var i vor Tid; Søen
var blevet til en Mose, og den gamle Herregaard var ligesom
visket ud, der stod en aflang Pyt Vand, med lidt Steensætning
til Siden, det var Resten af de dybe Grave, og her stod endnu
et prægtigt gammelt Træ, der hældede sine Grene, det var Stamtræet;
det stod og viste, hvor smukt et Piletræ kan være, naar det
faaer Lov til at skjøtte sig selv. - Det var jo rigtignok revnet
midt i Stammen, lige nede fra Roden og op til Kronen, Stormen
havde dreiet det lidt, men det stod, og fra alle Revner og Sprækker
i det, hvor Vind og Veir havde lagt Muld-Jord, voxte Græs og
Blomster; især øverst, hvor de store Grene deelte sig, var der
ligesom en heel lille hængende Have, med Hindbær og Fuglegræs,
ja endogsaa et lille bitte Rønnebær havde der rodfæstet sig
og stod saa slankt og fiint midt oppe i det gamle Piletræ, der
speilede sig i det sorte Vand, naar Vinden havde drevet Andemaden
hen i et Hjørne af Vandpytten. - En lille Sti, hen over Hovmarken,
førte tæt herforbi. |
| The new farm buildings
stand on a high hill, and from there the view is beautiful.
It's a grand house with big windows that are so polished that
one can hardly see the glass. A broad flight of stairs leads
up to the front door. There are lovely roses, and the lawns
are so green that one might think that each blade of grass was
inspected morning and evening. On the walls of the lofty rooms
valuable paintings hang. Handsome chairs and sofas, upholstered
in silk and leather, are in every corner. Some of the chairs
have legs carved to resemble lion's claws, so that they look
as if they could get up and walk by themselves. On the marble
tops of the tables lie books bound in morocco, with gilt edges.
. . . Yes, a rich family must own this house: distinguished
people; and they are, for the father is a baron. |
Høit paa Banken ved
Skoven, med en deilig Udsigt, laae den nye Gaard, stor og prægtig,
med Glasruder saa klare, at man skulde troe at der slet ingen
var. Den store Trappe ved Døren saae ud, som om den havde Lysthuus
paa af Roser og storbladede Planter. Græspletten var saa reen
grøn, som om hvert Straa blev seet efter Morgen og Aften. Inde
i Salen hang kostelige Malerier, og der stod med Silke og med
Fløiel Stole og Sophaer, der næsten kunde gaae paa deres egne
Been, Borde med blanke Marmorplader, og Bøger i Safian og Guldsnit
.... jo, det var rigtignok rige Folk, som boede her, det var
fornemme Folk, her boede Baronens. |
| This family, too, felt
that "everything should be in its right place." And all the
paintings that once held honorable places in the old manor houses
were now hung along the servants' corridors. They were junk,
especially the portraits of the man in a pink robe, wearing
a wig, and the one of a woman with powdered hair, holding a
rose in her hands. Both figures were encircled by a wreath of
willow branches. There were so many holes in the canvases because
the sons of the baron had used them for targets when they were
playing with their bows and arrows. They were the portraits
of the privy councilor and his wife, from whom the family descended.
|
Det ene svarede der
til det andet. "Alt paa sin rette Plads!" sagde de ogsaa, og
derfor var alle de Skilderier, som engang havde været til Stads
og Hæder paa den gamle Gaard, nu ophængte i Gangen til Karlekammeret;
rigtigt Skrammel var det, især to gamle Portrætter, det ene
en Mand i rosenrød Kjole og med Paryk, det andet en Dame med
puddret opsat Haar og en rød Rose i Haanden, men begge omgivne
eens med en stor Krands af Pilegrene. Der var saa mange runde
Huller i de to Billeder, og det kom af at de smaa Baroner altid
gik og skjød deres Flitsbuer af paa de to gamle Folk. Det var
Justitsraaden og Justitsraadinden, dem hele Slægten stammede
ned fra. |
| "But they are not really
part of the family," declared one of the young boys. "He was
once a peddler and she a barefooted girl tending geese. The
weren't at all like our mama and papa." |
"Men de er ikke rigtig
af vor Familie!" sagde en af de smaa Baroner. "Han var en Hosekræmmer
og hun en Gaasetøs. De vare ikke som Papa og Mama!" |
| They were poor paintings
and if "Everything in its right place" is your motto, then they
belonged in the servants' quarters, even if they were the great-grandparents
of the master of the house. |
Billederne vare noget
daarligt Skrammel, og "Alt paa sin rette Plads!" sagde man,
og saa kom Oldefaer og Oldemoer paa Gangen til Karlekammeret.
|
| One day the parson's
son, who had been hired as private tutor, took the baron's sons
and their older sister for a walk. They went down toward the
swamp where the old willow tree grew. The young girl, who had
been confirmed that spring, was picking a bouquet of wild flowers.
She did it with taste and, since every flower was put in its
right place, it looked beautiful. She listened with pleasure
to the young man, who was talking about the power of nature
and drawing portraits, in words, of great men and women from
history. She had been blessed with a sweet and healthy nature.
Her soul and thoughts were noble; she had a heart that welcomed
everything that God had created. |
Præstesønnen var Huuslærer
der paa Gaarden; han gik en Dag med de smaa Baroner og deres
ældste Søster, der lige nylig var confirmeret, og de kom henover
Stien, ned mod det gamle Piletræ; og medens de gik, bandt hun
en Bouquet af Markens Grønt; "Alt paa sin rette Plads," og det
blev et Skjønheds Hele. Imidlertid hørte hun dog meget godt
efter Alt hvad der blev sagt, og det glædede hende saameget
at høre Præstesønnen fortælle om Naturens Kræfter og Historiens
store Mænd og Qvinder; hun var en sund velsignet Natur, adlet
i Sjæl og Tanke, og med et Hjerte til ret at omfatte alt Skabt
af Gud. |
| They stopped by the
old willow tree and the youngest boy demanded that their teacher
make him a willow flute. The young man broke off a branch. |
De standsede nede ved
det gamle Piletræ; den mindste af Baronerne vilde saa gjerne
have sig en Fløite skaaret, det havde han før faaet af andre
Piletræer, og Præstesønnen brød en Green af. |
| "Pease don't!" exclaimed
the young baroness, but it was too late. "It is our famous old
tree," she said, and smiled. "I love it so! They all laugh at
me for it, but I don't care. You know, there is a story about
that tree. . . ." |
"0 gjør det ikke!" sagde
den unge Baronesse; men saa var det gjort. "Det er jo vort gamle
berømmelige Træ! jeg holder saa meget af det! ja derfor leer
man mig ogsaa ud hjemme, men det er det samme! Der er et Sagn
om det Træ -!" |
| Now she told the story
that we have already heard, about the poor little girl tending
the geese and the peddler who met here, and how they became
the ancestors of a noble family. |
Og nu fortalte hun Alt
hvad vi have hørt om Træet, om den gamle Gaard, om Gaasepigen
og Hosekræmmeren, som mødtes her og bleve Stam-Forældre til
den fornemme Slægt og til den unge Baronesse. |
| "The old couple refused
a title," said the young daughter of the baron. "They had a
motto, 'Everything in its right place,' and they felt that nobility
bought by money would not bring them in their right place. It
was their son, my grandfather, who became the first baron. He
is supposed to have been very learned and was always being invited
to the royal court. He is the one my family thinks most highly
of. But I don't know . . . I think there's something so cozy
about the old couple that makes me love them. I look back on
their times with a kind of longing. I can see them: the old
man, like an old patriarch, reading from the Bible, while my
great-grandmother sits with her maids, who are sewing and spinning."
|
"De vilde ikke lade
sig adle, de gamle skikkelige Folk!" sagde hun. "De havde det
Mundheld: "Alt paa sin rette Plads!" og det syntes de at de
ikke kom, naar de for Penge lod sig ophøie. Det var deres Søn,
min Bedstefader, som blev Baron, han skal have havt stor Lærdom,
været høit anseet og afholdt af Prindser og Prindsesser, været
med ved alle deres Fester. Ham holde de andre hjemme meest af,
men, jeg veed ikke selv, der er mig noget ved det gamle Par,
som drager mit Hjerte til dem! der maa have været saa hyggeligt,
saa patriarchalsk paa den gamle Gaard, hvor Huusmoderen sad
og spandt med alle sine Piger og den gamle Herre læste høit
af Bibelen!" |
| "Yes, they must have
been wonderful people and very sensible," agreed the young tutor,
and very soon they were deep in a discussion about nobility
and the bourgeoisie. And if one had not known better, one would
have believed that parson's son did not belong to the middle
class, so warmly did he speak of the aristocracy. |
"Det har været prægtige
Folk, fornuftige Folk!" sagde Præstesønnen; og saa vare de lige
inde i Tale om Adel og Borgerlig, og det var næsten, som om
Præstesønnen ikke hørte til Borgerskabet, saaledes talte han
om det at være af Adel. |
| "It is good fortune
to belong to a family that has distinguished itself," he began,
"for that is a spur that drives one forward to further excellence.
It is a blessing to have a name that opens all doors to one.
Nobility ennobles. It is a golden coin stamped with its value.
"I know it is the fashion of the day--and many a poet dances
to that tune--to say that everything aristocratic is stupid
and bad. They claim that only among the poor--and the lower
you descend the better--does true gold glitter. But that is
not my opinion; I think it is wrong, absolutely false reasoning.
Among the highest classes one can often observe the most elevated
traits. My mother can tell of many examples; here is one, though
I know many more. Once when my mother was visiting one of the
most distinguished homes in Copenhagen--I believe my grandmother
had been the nurse to the noble mistress--she was standing in
the hall conversing with the old aristocratic gentleman who
was the master of the house, when he spied through the window
an old beggar woman who had come for her weekly alms. He noticed
how difficult it was for her to walk. 'Poor old thing,' he said,
and ran down the stairs himself to give her the few shillings.
His Excellency is over seventy. Oh, it was a deed of no importance
but, like the widow's mite, it came from the heart. It is toward
things like that our poets should point, for they atone and
redeem. But where nobility has gone to a man's head and he behaves
like an Arabian horse that rears and kicks, just because his
blood is pure and he has a pedigree, there nobility has degenerated.
When noblemen sniff the air in a room because a plain citizen
has been there and say, 'It smells of the street,' why then
Thespis should exhibit them to the just ridicule of satire." |
"Det er lykkeligt at
høre til en Slægt, som har udmærket sig! saaledes at have ligesom
en Blodets Spore i sig til at gaae frem i det Dygtige. Deiligt
er det at eie et Slægt-Navn, der er Adgangskort til de første
Familier. Adel betyder ædel, det er Guldmynten, der har faaet
i Stempel, hvad den selv er i Værd. -Det er Tidens Tone, og
mange Poeter slaae naturligviis ind i den, at Alt hvad adeligt
er skal være daarligt og dumt, men hos den Fattige, jo lavere
man stiger ned, desmere glindser det. Men det er ikke min Mening,
thi det er aldeles galt, aldeles falskt. I de høiere Stænder
findes mange gribende skjønne Træk; min Moder har fortalt mig
et, og jeg kunde give flere. Hun var i Besøg i et fornemt Huus
i Byen, min Moermo'er, troer jeg, havde opammet den naadige
Frue. Min Moder stod i Stuen med den gamle høiadelige Herre;
da saae han, at der kom nede i Gaarden en gammel Kone paa Krykker;
hver Søndag kom denne og fik et Par Skilling. "Der er den gamle
Stakkel, sagde Herren, hun har saa svært ved at gaae" -og før
min Moder forstod det, var han ude af Døren og nede af Trapperne,
han den halvfjersindstyveaarige gamle Excellense, var selv gaaet
ned til den fattige Kone for at spare hende fra at gaae den
besværlige Vei op efter den Skillings Hjælp, hun kom efter.
Det er jo kun et ringe Træk, men som "Enkens Skjærv" har den
Klang fra Hjertebunden, Klang fra Menneskenaturen; og derhen
skal Digteren pege, i vor Tid just skal han synge derom, det
gjør godt, mildner og forsoner! Men hvor et Stykke Menneske,
fordi han er af Blod og har Stamtavle, som de arabiske Heste,
staaer paa Bagbenene og vrinsker i Gaden, og i Stuen siger:
"her har været Folk fra Gaden!" naar en Borgerlig har været
derinde, der er Adelen gaaet i Forraadnelse, blevet til Maske
af den Slags, som Tespis gjorde sig dem, og man morer sig over
Personen og giver den Satiren i Vold." |
| That was the parson's
son's speech; it was a bit long but in the meantime the whistle
had been finished. |
Det var Præstesønnens
Tale, den var noget lang, men saa var Fløiten skaaret. |
| There was a big party
at the manor house. People had come from the neighborhood and
from Copenhagen. Some ladies were dressed with taste and others
without. The big hall was filled with people. The local ministers
stood humbly in a little group by themselves; they looked as
though they were attending a funeral but they weren't, they
were being entertained! Or they were going to be, for it hadn't
really started yet. |
Der var stort Selskab
paa Gaarden, mange Gjæster fra Omegnen og Hovedstaden. Damer
klædte med Smag og uden Smag. Den store Sal ganske opfyldt af
Mennesker. Omegnens Præster stode ærbødigt i Klump i et Hjørne,
det saae ud, som om der var Begravelse, men der var Fornøielse,
men den var endnu ikke sat igang. |
| Since there was going
to be a concert, the little son of the baron had taken his willow
flute along, but he couldn't get a tone out of it, and neither
had his papa been able to when he tried, so the willow flute
was declared a failure. |
Stor Concert skulde
der være, og derfor havde den lille Baron sin Pilefløite ind
med, men han kunde ikke faae Veir i den, det kunde ikke heller
Papa, og derfor duede den ikke. |
| The music and the singing
were of the kind that give greater pleasure to the performers
than to the audience. But on the whole it was enjoyable. |
Der var Musik og Sang,
af den Slags, der er meest moersom for dem, som udøver den;
forresten nydeligt. |
| "But you are a virtuoso,
I hear," exclaimed a young cavalier who was his parents' darling.
"You not only can play the flute, you carve them yourself. You
are the genius who commands--the one who is seated on the right
side--God preserve us! But I follow the fashion, one has to.
Please, will you not charm us all by performing on this little
instrument?" With these words he handed the little willow flute
to the young tutor, while announcing loudly that the young man
now would play a little piece for solo flute. |
"De er ogsaa Virtuos!"
sagde en Cavaleer, der var sine Forældres Barn; "De blæser Fløite,
De skjærer den selv. Det er Geniet, der behersker - sidder paa
høire Side, - Gud bevar'os! jeg følger ganske med Tiden, det
maa man. Ikkesandt, De vil henrykke os Alle med det lille Instrument!"
og saa rakte han ham den lille Fløite, der var skaaret af Piletræet
nede ved Vandpytten, og høit og lydeligt forkyndte han, at Hunslæreren
vilde skjænke dem en Solo paa Fløite. |
| That he was to be made
the butt of a joke was easy to see, and the young tutor refused
to play. But now the rest of the company entreated him and finally
he put the little willow flute to his mouth and blew. |
Der skulde gjøres Nar
af ham, det var let at forstaae, og Huuslæreren vilde saa ikke
blæse, skjøndt han nok kunde, men de trængte paa, de nødte ham,
og saa tog han Fløiten og satte den for Munden. |
| It was a strange flute!
The tone that came from it sounded like the whistle of a steam
engine, but it was even louder and could be heard all throughout
the farm, in the forest, and for miles around. At the same time
a storm broke and the wind roared: "Everything in its place!"
Papa, the baron, was blown right down into the little cottage
where the man who tended the cows lived, and that fellow was
carried right up into--no, not into the grand hall of the manor
house, that was not "his place"; he flew up among the most important
of the servants: the ones who wore silk stockings. They were
dumfounded at seeing a person of such low quality daring to
sit down among them. |
Det var en underlig
Fløite! der lød en Tone, saa udholdende, som den klinger fra
Damp-Locomotivet, ja meget stærkere; den lød over hele Gaarden,
Haven og Skoven, milevidt ud i Landet, og med Lyden kom der
en Stormvind, som bruste: "Alt paa sin rette Plads!" - og saa
fløi Papa ligesom baaret af Vinden, ud af Gaarden, og lige lukt
ind i Røgterhuset, og Røgteren fløi op - ikke i Storstuen, der
kunde han ikke komme, nei op i Tjenerkammeret, mellem det fine
Tjenerskab, der gik i Silkestrømper, og de stolte Karle bleve
som gigtslaaede ved, at saadan en ringe Person turde sætte sig
til Bords mellem dem. |
| In the grand hall the
young baroness flew up to the head of the table, because that
was her place, and the young tutor got a seat right beside her.
They looked like a bride and groom. An old count, who belonged
to one of the oldest families in the country, remained seated
where he was, for the whistle was just--and that it is important
to be. The witty young cavalier who was the cause of it all,
the one who was his parents' darling, flew headfirst right down
into the henhouse and he was not the only one who ended up there. |
Men i Høisalen fløi
den unge Baronesse op ved den øverste Bordende, hvor hun var
værdig at sidde, men Præstesønnen fik Sæde ved Siden af, og
der sad de begge to, som om de var et Brudepar. En gammel Greve
af Landets ældste Slægt blev urokket paa sin Hæders-Plads; for
Fløiten var retfærdig, og det skal man være. Den vittige Cavaleer,
der var Skyld i Fløitespillet, han der var sine Forældres Barn,
fløi paa Hovedet ind imellem Hønsene, men ikke alene. |
| The whistle, as I have
said, could be heard for miles and it caused strange things
to happen. A wealthy merchant who always drove with four horses
in front of his carriage was blown right out of it, together
with his family, and none of them was even allowed to stand
on the back of the carriage as a footman. Two rich peasants
who had grown too big for their breeches were blown into a muddy
ditch. That willow flute certainly was dangerous; luckily it
cracked this first time that it was played upon. Back into the
young man's pocket it went, "everything in its right place." |
En heel Miil ud i Landet
lød Fløiten, og der hørtes store Begivenheder. En riig Grosserer-Familie,
der kjørte med fire, blæste aldeles ud af Vognen, og fik ikke
engang Plads bag paa; to rige Bønder, der i vor Tid vare voxne
over deres egen Kornmark, blæste ned i Muddergrøften; det var
en farlig Fløite; lykkeligviis sprak den ved den første Lyd,
og det var godt, saa kom den i Lommen igjen: "Alt paa sin rette
Plads!" |
| The next morning nobody
talked about what had happened and everything was back in its
old order, except for the portraits of the peddler and his wife:
they had blown up on the wall in the grand hall. An art expert
who saw them declared that they had been painted by a master;
they were repaired and given the very best place on the wall
to hang. After all, the baron had not known they were valuable,
how could he have? "Everything in its right place," and eventually
everything is put in its right place. Eternity is long, a lot
longer than this story. |
Dagen efter talte man
ikke om den Begivenhed, derfor har man den Talemaade "at stikke
Piben ind!" Alt var ogsaa i sin gamle Orden igjen, kun at de
to gamle Billeder, Hosekræmmeren og Gaasepigen, hang oppe i
Høisalen, der vare de blæste op paa Væggen; og da en af de rigtige
Kunstkjendere sagde, at de vare malede af en Mesterhaand, saa
bleve de hængende og istandsatte, man vidste jo ikke før at
de duede, og hvor skulde man vide det. Nu hang de paa Hæders-Plads.
"Alt paa sin rette Plads!" og der kommer det! Evigheden er lang,
længere end denne Historie! |
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