| In the town of Florence, not far from the Piazza
del Granduca, there is a little street--I believe that it is
called Porta Rossa--and there across from a small market place,
where vegetables are sold, stands a fountain cast in the shape
of a pig. Clear, fresh water spouts from its snout, which shines
as brightly as bronze can, while the rest of the body is green
with age. The snout is polished daily by schoolboys and beggars
who rest their hands upon it, while leaning over to drink. It
is a lovely sight to see the beautifully made animal embraced
by a thirsty half-naked boy, who almost kisses its ancient snout
with his fresh, young mouth. |
I Byen Florents, ikke
langt fra piazza del granduca løber en lille Tværgade, jeg troer
den kaldes porta rossa; i denne, foran en Slags Bazar, hvor
der sælges Grønt, ligger et konstigt vel udarbeidet Metalsviin;
det friske, klare Vand risler ud af Munden paa Dyret, der af
Ælde er ganske sortgrønt, kun Trynen skinner, som om den var
poleret blank, og det er den ogsaa af de mange hundrede Børn
og fattige Folk, der tage fat paa den med Hænderne og sætte
deres Mund til Dyrets, for at drikke. Det er et heelt Billede,
at see det velformede Dyr blive omfavnet af en smuk, halvnøgen
Dreng, der sætter sin friske Mund til dets Tryne. |
| Anyone who visits Florence can find the fountain;
and if he can't, he need only ask the first beggar he meets,
and he will show him the way to the bronze pig. |
Enhver, som kommer til
Florents, finder nok Stedet, han behøver kun at spørge den første
Tigger, han seer, om Metalsvinet, og han vil finde det. |
| It was late on a winter evening. The tops of the
hills that surround the city were covered with snow. But it
was not dark, for the moon was out; and the moon in Italy gives
as much light as the sun does on a northern, winter day. --No,
I would even say that it gives more, for here the air is so
clear, it seems to reflect the moon's light; it is not cold
and gray as the air in the north, which like a leaden lid seems
to be pressing you down into the cold, wet earth, as if you
were already buried and lying in your coffin. |
Det var en sildig Vinteraften,
Bjergene laae med Snee, men det var Maaneskin, og Maaneskin
i Italien giver en Belysning, der er ligesaa god som en mørk
Vinterdag i Norden, ja den er bedre, thi Luften skinner, Luften
opløfter, mens i Norden det kolde, graae Bly-Tag trykker os
til Jorden, den kolde, vaade Jord, der engang skal trykke vor
Kiste. |
| In the ducal gardens, where thousands of flowers
bloom in winter, a ragged little boy had sat all day under a
large pine tree. He was the very picture of Italy: laughing,
beautiful, and suffering. He was hungry and thirsty; and though
he had held out his little hand all day, no one had dropped
anything into it. Night fell, and the watchman who came to close
the gardens drove him away. On a bridge over the Arno, the boy
stood for a long time, staring into the water and dreaming,
as he watched the reflections of the many stars, the beautiful
marble bridge called Santa Trinita, and himself, shimmering
in the river. |
Henne i Hertugens Slotshave,
under Piniens Tag, hvor tusinde Roser blomstre ved Vintertid,
havde en lille, pjaltet Dreng siddet den hele Dag, en Dreng,
der kunde være Billedet paa Italien, saa smuk, saa leende og
dog saa lidende; han var sulten og tørstig, Ingen gav ham en
Skilling, og da det blev mørkt og Haven skulde lukkes, jog Portneren
ham bort. Længe stod han dømmende paa Broen over Floden Arno
og saae paa Stjernerne, der blinkede i Vandet mellem ham og
den prægtige Marmorbro. |
| He walked back to the fountain, and, putting his
arms around the bronze pig's neck, he drank water from its shining
spout. Nearby he found some lettuce leaves and a few chestnuts,
and they were his dinner. It was cold and the streets were deserted.
He was alone. He climbed up on the pig's back and, leaning his
curly head forward so that it rested on the pig's head, he fell
asleep. |
Han tog Veien hen til
Metalsvinet, knælede halv ned, slog sine Arme om dets Hals,
satte sin lille Mund til dets skinnende Tryne og drak i store
Drag det friske Vand. Tæt ved laae nogle Salatblade og et Par
Kastanier, det blev hans Aftensmad. Der var ikke et Menneske
paa Gaden; han var ganske ene, han satte sig paa Metalsvinets
Ryg, lænede sig forover, saa hans lille, lokkede Hoved hvilte
paa Dyrets, og før han selv vidste det, sov han ind. |
| It was midnight. The metal animal beneath him
moved and said very distinctly, "Little boy, hold on tight,
for I am going to run!" And it did run; and thus began the strangest
ride that anyone has ever taken. The pig went first to the Piazza
del Granduca. The bronze horse, on which the duke was mounted,
neighed loudly when it saw them. All the colored coats of arms
of the old town hall shone brilliantly; Michelangelo's David
swung his sling. Every statue was alive. The metal figures around
Perseus were much too alive; and the Sabine women screamed that
horrible cry of fear before death, and it echoed throughout
the beautiful square. |
Det var Midnat, Metalsvinet
rørte sig, han hørte, at det sagde ganske tydeligt: "du lille
Dreng, hold Dig fast, thi nu løber jeg!" og saa løb det med
ham; det var et løierligt Ridt. - Først kom de paa piazza del
granduca; og Metalhesten, som bar Hertugens Statue, vrinskede
høit; de brogede Vaaben paa det gamle Raadhuus skinnede som
transparente Billeder, og Michel Angelos David svingede
sin Slynge; det var et selsomt Liv, som rørte sig! Metalgrupperne
med Perseus og med Sabinerindernes Rov stode kun altfor levende;
et Døds-Skrig fra dem gik over den prægtige, eensomme Plads. |
| In the arcade of the Palazzo degli Uffizi where
the nobles of Florence gathered for their masquerades, the bronze
pig stopped. |
Ved palazzo degli Uffizi,
i Buegangen, hvor Adelen samles til Carnevals-Glæde, standsede
Metalsvinet. |
| "Hold tight," the bronze pig warned, "for now
we are going up the stairs." The little boy did not answer;
half joyfully, half fearfully, he clutched the neck of the pig. |
"Hold Dig fast!" sagde
Dyret, "hold Dig fast, thi nu gaaer det op ad Trappen!" Den
Lille sagde ikke endnu et Ord, halv skjælvede han, halv var
han lyksalig. |
| They entered the long gallery. The boy knew it
well, he had been there before: the walls were covered with
paintings and here were the loveliest statues. But now the gallery
was more brilliantly lighted than during the day; and every
painting seemed more colorful, every bust and figure more beautiful.
But the most magnificent moment--and that one the boy never
would forget--was when the door to one of the smaller rooms
opened. |
De traadte ind i et
langt Gallerie, han kjendte det godt, han havde været her før;
Væggene prangede med Malerier, her stode Statuer og Buster,
alle i det skjønneste Lys, ligesom om det var Dag, men prægtigst
var det, da Døren til et af Sideværelserne gik op; ja denne
Herlighed her huskede den Lille; dog i denne Nat var Alt i sin
skjønneste Glands. |
| Here was the sculpture of a naked woman: beauty
as only nature, marble, and the greatest of all artists can
create it. She moved her lovely limbs, and the dolphins at her
feet arched their backs and leaped about. Immortality was the
message that could be read in her eyes. This sculpture is known
to the world as the Medici Venus. On either side of her stood
a marble statue, each proving that man's spirit and art can
give life, can create it from lifeless stone. One of the figures
was of a man grinding his sword; the other showed two gladiators
wrestling: for beauty's sake the weapon was sharpened and the
men fought. |
Her stod en nøgen, deilig
Qvinde, saa smuk, som kun Naturen og Marmorets største Mester
kunde forme hende; hun bevægede de smukke Lemmer, Delphiner
sprang ved hendes Fod, Udødelighed lyste ud af hendes Øie. Verden
kalder hende den medicæiske Venus. Paa hver Side af hende prangede
Marmorstatuer, deilige Mænd; den ene hvæssede Sværdet, Sliberen
kaldes han; de brydende Gladiatorer udgjorde den anden Gruppe;
Sværdet hvæssedes, Kæmperne brødes for Skjønheds-Gudinden. |
| The boy was almost blinded by the radiance of
the colors of paintings on the walls. There was Titian's Venus,
the mortal woman whom the artist had loved, stretching herself
out on her soft couch. She tossed her head, her naked breasts
heaved; her curly hair fell on her naked shoulders, and her
dark eyes revealed the passion of the blood that flowed in her
veins. Although every work of art was intensely alive, they
did not dare to leave their frames or their pedestals. Maybe
it was the golden halos of the Madonna, Jesus, and John the
Baptist that made them all stay in their places, for the holy
paintings were no longer works of art, they were the holy person
they portrayed. |
Drengen var som blendet
af al den Glands; Væggene straalede i Farver, og Alt var Liv
og Bevægelse der. Fordoblet viste sig Billedet af Venus, den
jordiske Venus, saa svulmende og ildfuld, som Titian havde seet
hende. To deilige Qvinders Billeder; de skjønne, ubeslørede
Lemmer strakte sig paa de bløde Hynder, Brystet hævede sig og
Hovedet bevægede sig, saa at de rige Lokker faldt ned om de
runde Skuldre, medens de mørke Øine udtalte glødende Tanker;
men ingen af alle Billederne vovede dog at træde heelt ud af
Rammen. Skjønheds-Gudinden selv, Gladiatorerne og Sliberen bleve
paa deres Plads, thi Glorien, som straalede fra Madonna, Jesus
og Johannes, bandt dem. De hellige Billeder vare ikke Billeder
længer, de vare de Hellige selv. |
| What beauty! What loveliness! The little boy saw
it all, for the bronze pig walked slowly through every room
of the palace. One magnificent work of art superseded the other.
But one painting appealed especially to the boy, because there
were children in it. He had seen it once before in the daylight. |
Hvilken Glands og hvilken
Skjønhed fra Sal til Sal! og den Lille saae dem Alle; Metalsvinet
gik jo Skridt for Skridt gjennem al den Pragt og Herlighed.
Det ene Skue fortrængte det andet, kun eet Billede fæstede sig
ret i Tanken, og meest ved de glade, lykkelige Børn, som vare
derpaa, den Lille havde engang i Daglys nikket til dem. |
| It was the painting of Jesus Descending into the
Underworld, and many hasten by it without a glance, not realizing
that it contains a whole world of poetry. The painter, a Florentine,
Agnolo Bronzino, had not chosen to portray the suffering of
the dead but the expectation in their faces at the sight of
Our Lord. Two of the children are embracing; one little boy
stretches his hand out toward another child, at the same time
he points to himself, as if he were saying: "I am going
to paradise." Some of the older people in the painting look
uncertain. Filled as they are with doubt and hope, they beg
humbly, while the children, in their innocence, demand. |
Mange vandre vist dette
Billede let forbi, og dog omslutter det en Skat af Poesie: det
er Christus, som stiger ned i Underverdenen, men det er ei de
Piinte, man seer om ham, nei, det er Hedningerne; Florentineren
Angiolo Bronzino har malet dette Billede; meest herligt er Udtrykket
af Børnenes Vished om, at de skulle i Himlen; to Smaa omfavne
allerede hinanden, een Lille rækker Haanden til en Anden nedenfor
og peger paa sig selv, som om han sagde: "Jeg skal i Himlen!"
alle Ældre staae uvisse, haabende, eller bøie sig ydmygt bedende
for den Herre Jesus. |
| The boy looked at that painting longer than he
did at any of the others, and the bronze pig patiently stood
still in front of it. Someone sighed. Did the sound come from
the painting or the bronze pig? The boy lifted his hands toward
the children in the painting; but just at that moment the pig
turned and ran through the galleries. |
Paa dette Billede saae
Drengen længer end paa noget andet; Metalsvinet hvilte stille
foran det; et sagte Suk blev hørt; kom det fra Billedet eller
fra Dyrets Bryst? Drengen løftede Haanden ud mod de smilende
Børn; - da jog Dyret afsted med ham, afsted gjennem den aabne
Forsal. |
| "Thank you and God bless you!" whispered the boy
as the pig went bumpity... bumpity... down the stairs with him
on his back. |
"Tak og Velsignelse,
du deilige Dyr!" sagde den lille Dreng og klappede Metalsvinet,
der bums, bums! sprang ned ad Trappen med ham. |
| "Thank yourself and God bless you!" replied the
metal animal. "I have helped you and you have helped me, for
only when an innocent child sits on my back, do I become alive
and have the strength to run as I have tonight. Yes, I can even
let the light from the lamp beneath the Blessed Virgin shine
upon me. It is only into the church that I am not allowed to
go; but with you on my back I can peep through the door. But
don't try to get down, for if you do, then I shall be dead,
as I am in the daylight, when you see me in the Via Porta Rossa." |
"Tak og Velsignelse
selv!" sagde Metalsvinet, "jeg har hjulpet Dig og Du har hjulpet
mig, thi kun med et uskyldigt Barn paa min Ryg faaer jeg Kræfter
til at løbe! ja seer Du, jeg tør endogsaa gaae ind under Straalen
af Lampen foran Madonnabilledet. Jeg kan bære Dig hen overalt,
kun ikke ind i Kirken! men udenfor den, naar Du er hos mig,
kan jeg see ind ad den aabne Dør! stig ikke ned af min Ryg,
gjør Du det, da ligger jeg død, som Du seer mig om Dagen være
det i Gaden porta rossa!" |
| "I will stay with you," the child promised; and
away they ran, through the streets of the town, till they came
to the Church of Santa Croce. |
"Jeg bliver hos Dig,
mit velsignede Dyr!" sagde den Lille, og saa gik det i susende
Flugt gjennem Florents's Gader, ud til Pladsen foran Kirken
Santa Croce. |
| The portals of the church opened by themselves.
All the candles on the great altar were lit, and the light shone
all the way out to the deserted square, where stood the bronze
pig with a boy mounted on his back. |
Den store Fløidør sprang
op, Lysene straalede fra Alteret, gjennem Kirken, ud paa den
eensomme Plads. |
| Above a tomb, along the left aisle, a thousand
stars formed a halo. A coat of arms decorated the simple monument:
on a blue background was a ladder that glowed as if it were
on fire. It was the tomb of Galileo and the coat of arms could
be the emblem of art itself, for the way of the artist is up
a ladder of fire to the sky. Every true prophet of the spirit
ascends toward heaven like Elijah! |
En selsom Lysglands
strømmede ud fra et Grav-Monument i den venstre Sidegang, tusinde
bevægelige Stjerner dannede ligesom en Glorie om det. Et Vaabenmærke
prangede paa Graven, en rød Stige i blaa Grund, den syntes at
gløde som Ild. Det var Galilæis Grav, det er et simpelt Monument,
men den røde Stige i den blaae Grund er et betydningsfuldt Vaabenmærke,
det er som det var Konstens eget, thi her gaaer altid Veien
opad paa en gloende Stige, men til Himlen. Alle Aandens Propheter
gaae til Himlen som Propheten Elias. |
| Down the right aisle, all the marble figures on
the richly decorated sarcophagi had come alive. Dante with laurel
leaves on his head, Michelangelo, Machiavelli, Alfieri: here
they were, side by side, the glory of Italy! The Church of Santa
Croce is not as large as Florence's cathedral, but it is much
more beautiful. |
I Kirkens Gang til Høire
syntes hver Billedstøtte paa de rige Sarkophager at have faaet
Liv. Her stod Michel Angelo, der Dante med Laurbærkrands om
Panden; Alfieri, Machiavelli, Side ved Side hvile her disse
Stormænd, Italiens Stolthed. Det er en prægtig Kirke, langt
skjønnere, om ikke saa stor, som Florents's Marmor-Domkirke. |
| The marble clothes of the statues seemed to move,
while the great men's heads appeared to have turned so that
they could look out into the night. From the altar came the
sweet voices of the white-clad choir boys, who swung censers,
from which the strong smell of incense pervaded the air, even
as far as the square. |
Det var som om Marmorklæderne
rørte sig, som om de store Skikkelser end mere hævede deres
Hoved og skuede i Natten, under Sang og Toner, op mod det brogede,
straalende Alter, hvor hvidklædte Drenge svingede gyldne Røgelsekar;
den stærke Duft strømmede fra Kirken ud paa den aabne Plads. |
| The boy stretched his arms toward the light of
the altar, and the bronze pig turned and ran so fast that the
child had to hold on with all his strength not to fall off.
The boy heard the wind whistling in his ears, then he heard
a loud bang as the big doors of the church closed. He lost consciousness.
He felt cold; then he opened his eyes, he was awake. |
Drengen strakte sin
Haand ud mod Lys-Glandsen, og i samme Nu foer Metalsvinet afsted;
han maatte knuge sig fast til det, Vinden susede om hans Øren,
han hørte Kirkeporten knage paa Hængslerne, idet den lukkedes,
men idetsamme syntes Bevidstheden at forlade ham, han følte
en iisnende Kulde - og slog Øinene op. |
| It was morning. He was sitting--almost falling
off--the bronze pig, which stood as immobile as ever in the
Via Porta Rossa. |
Det var Morgen, han
sad, halv gleden ned af Metalsvinet, der stod, hvor det altid
pleiede at staae, i Gaden porta rossa. |
| Fearfully, the boy thought of the woman whom he
called his mother. She had sent him out yesterday to beg, but
no one had given him any money, not so much as the tiniest copper
coin. He was hungry. Once more he embraced the bronze pig and
drank water from its snout. He kissed it and made his way home
through the dirty streets. He lived in one of the narrowest
lanes in the city; it was just broad enough for a loaded donkey
to pass. An iron-studded door stood ajar; he slipped past it
and began to climb a stone staircase that had a worn-out rope
for a banister. The walls were filthy. He came to the courtyard;
above there was a gallery all the way around the building. On
its railings, clothes that were no more than rags had been hung
out to dry. In the center of the yard there was a well, and
from it heavy wires were strung to each of the apartments, so
that water could be drawn without the inconvenience of having
to carry it from below; and the pails danced in the air, spilling
water down into the courtyard. The boy went up another, even
narrower, stone staircase. Two Russian sailors who were coming
from their night's bacchanal were rushing down the stairs, laughing,
and they almost bumped into the child. A woman who was neither
young nor old, with beautiful black hair, stood on the landing
at the top of the stairs. "How much did you get?" she asked
the boy. |
Frygt og Angest opfyldte
Drengen ved Tanken om hende, han kaldte Moder, hun, som havde
igaar sendt ham ud og sagt, at han skulde skaffe Penge, ingen
havde han; sulten og tørstig var han; endnu engang tog han Metalsvinet
om Halsen, kyssede det paa Trynen, nikkede til det og vandrede
saa afsted, til en af de snevreste Gader, kun bred nok for et
velpakket Æsel. En stor, jernbeslaaet Dør stod halv paa Klem,
her gik han op ad en muret Trappe med skidne Mure og en glat
Snor til Rækværk, og kom til et aabent Gallerie, behængt med
Pjalter; en Trappe førte herfra til Gaarden, hvor fra Brønden
store Jerntraade vare trukne til alle Husets Etager, og den
ene Vandspand svævede ved Siden af den anden, medens Tridsen
peb og Spanden dandsede i Luften, saa Vandet kladskede ned i
Gaarden. Atter gik det op ad en forfalden, muret Trappe; - to
Matroser, det var Russere, sprang lystigt ned og havde nær stødt
den stakkels Dreng omkuld. De kom fra deres natlige Lystighed.
En ikke ung, men stærkbygget Qvindeskikkelse, med et kraftigt,
sort Haar, fulgte. "Hvad har Du hjem?" sagde hun til Drengen. |
| "Don't be angry!" he begged. I didn't get anything;
nothing at all!" The boy grabbed the hem of her skirt as if
he were, in humility, about to kiss it. They stepped inside,
into the garret that was their home. Its misery I shall not
describe. Only one thing needs to be mentioned: there was an
earthenware pot filled with smoldering charcoal, and the woman
put her hands around it in order to warm them. She poked the
child with her elbow and screamed, "Where is the money? I know
you have money!" |
"Vær ikke vred!" bad
han, "jeg fik Intet, slet Intet!" og han greb i Moderens Kjole,
som om han vilde kysse paa den; de traadte ind i Kamret: det
ville vi ikke beskrive; kun saa Meget skal siges, at der stod
en Hankekrukke med Kul-Ild, marito, som den kaldes, denne tog
hun paa sin Arm, varmede Fingrene, og puffede Drengen med Albuen.
"Jo vist har Du Penge!" sagde hun. |
| The boy started to weep. She kicked out at him
with her foot, and he wailed louder. "Keep still, you sniveling
little thing, or I'll bash your head in!" She swung the earthenware
pot in the air as if she were about to carry out her threat.
Screaming, the child threw himself down on the floor. Another
woman came rushing into the room. She, too, was carrying a dish
containing burning charcoal. "Felicita, what are you doing to
the child?" she cried. |
Barnet græd, hun stødte
til ham med Foden, han jamrede høit; - "vil Du tie, eller jeg
slaaer dit skraalende Hoved itu!" sagde hun og svang Ildpotten,
som hun holdt i Haanden, Drengen dukkede ned til Jorden med
et Skrig. Da traadte Nabokonen ind ad Døren, ogsaa hun havde
sin marito paa Armen. "Felicita! Hvad gjør Du ved Barnet?" |
| "He's my child, and I can murder him if I want
to," the woman answered. "And I can kill you too, Gianina!"
And she, flung her clay pot toward the intruder; and Gianina
lifted hers in order to ward off the danger; and the two dishes
met in mid-air, breaking in pieces and spreading burning charcoal
all over the tiny room. But the child had escaped. He ran down
the stairs, across the courtyard, and out of the house. He ran
as fast as he could, and he kept on running until he could hardly
breathe. He had reached the Church of Santa Croce. He entered
the church whose portals had opened for him the night before
and he kneeled down in front of one of the tombs; it was Michelangelo's.
Still crying, he prayed. The only one, among all those who had
come to attend mass, to notice him was an elderly man. He glanced
at the child and then walked on. |
"Barnet er mit!" svarede
Felicita. "Jeg kan myrde det om jeg vil, og Dig med, Gianina!"
og hun svingede sin Ildpotte; den Anden hævede sin parerende
i Veiret, og begge Potterne foer imod hinanden, saa Skaarene,
Ilden og Asken fløi omkring i Værelset; - - men Drengen var
i samme Nu ude af Døren, over Gaarden og ude af Huset. Det arme
Barn løb, saa han tilsidst ei kunde drage Aande; han standsede
ved Kirken Santa Croce, Kirken, hvis store Dør sidste Nat havde
aabnet sig for ham, og han gik derind. Alt straalede; han knælede
ved den første Grav til Høire, det var Michel Angelos, og snart
hulkede han høit. Folk kom og gik, Messen blev læst, Ingen brød
sig om Drengen; kun en gammelagtig Borger standsede, saae paa
ham og gik saa bort ligesom de Andre. |
| The little boy felt weak from hunger. He climbed
into the niche between the monument and the wall and fell asleep.
He was awakened by someone tugging at his sleeve. It was the
man who had been in the church earlier in the day. |
Sult og Tørst plagede
den Lille, han var ganske afmægtig og syg; han krøb hen i Krogen
mellem Væggen og Marmormonumentet og faldt i Søvn. Det var henimod
Aften, da han vaagnede igjen ved at Een ruskede i ham, han foer
op, og den samme gamle Borger stod foran ham. |
| "Are you ill?" the man demanded. "Where do you
live?" He went on asking questions. The boy answered him; and
finally the man took him by the hand and led him to his home.
It was a small house in one of the side streets. The man was
a glovemaker; and his wife was sitting sewing gloves when they
entered. A little white poodle, whose curly coat was cut so
closely that its pink skin could be seen, hopped up on a table
and sprang up on the boy, barking all the while. |
"Er Du syg? Hvor hører
Du hjemme? Har Du været her den hele Dag?" var et Par af de
mange Spørgsmaal, den Gamle gjorde ham; de bleve besvarede,
og den gamle Mand tog ham med sig til et lille Huus tæt ved
i en af Sidegaderne; det var et Handskemagerværksted, de traadte
ind i; Konen sad nok saa flittig og syede, da de kom; en lille,
hvid Bologneser, klippet saa tæt, at man kunde see den rosenrøde
Hud, hoppede paa Bordet, og sprang for den lille Dreng. |
| "The two innocent souls recognize each other,"
said the woman, and patted the dog. The boy was given something
to eat and allowed to stay for the night. The next day the glovemaker,
Papa Giuseppi as he was called, would talk with his mother.
The boy was given a bed to sleep on which was no more than a
bench; but to the child who was used to sleeping on a stone
floor, it seemed royal luxury. That night he dreamed about the
bronze pig and the paintings he had seen. When Papa Giuseppi
left the house the next morning, the little boy was not happy.
He was afraid that he would be taken back to his mother, and
he cried and kissed the little dog. The glovemaker's wife smiled
and nodded to them both. |
"De uskyldige Sjæle
kjende hinanden," sagde Konen og klappede Hunden og Drengen.
Denne fik at spise og at drikke hos de gode Folk, og de sagde,
han skulde have Lov til at blive der Natten over; næste Dag
vilde Fader Giuseppe tale med hans Moder. Han fik en lille,
fattig Seng; men den var kongelig prægtig for ham, der tidt
maatte sove paa det haarde Steengulv; han sov saa godt og drømte
om de rige Billeder og om Metalsvinet. Fader Giuseppe gik ud
næste Morgen, og det arme Barn var ikke saa glad derved, thi
han vidste, at denne Gaaen ud var for at bringe ham til hans
Moder, og han græd og kyssede den lille, vevre Hund, og Konen
nikkede til dem begge To. |
| When Papa Giuseppi came home, he talked with his
wife for a long time alone. When they were finished, she patted
the child on the head and said kindly, "He is a sweet little
boy. He can be as good a glovemaker as you are. Look at his
fingers, how long and thin they are. I am sure Our Lady has
meant for him to be a glovemaker." |
Og hvad Besked bragte
Fader Giuseppe; han talte meget med sin Kone, og hun nikkede
og klappede Drengen. "Det er et deiligt Barn!" sagde hun. "Hvor
han kan blive en kjøn Handskemager, ligesom Du var! og Fingre
har han, saa fine og bøielige. Madonna har bestemt ham til at
være Handskemager!" |
| The boy stayed in their home and the glovemaker's
wife taught him how to sew. He was given plenty to eat, and
he slept comfortably in his little bed. Soon his boyish spirit
returned and he began to tease Bellissima, the little dog. This
the glovemaker's wife did not like. She was angry; she shook
her finger at him and scolded him. The child was sorry for what
he had done. Thoughtful and repentant, he sat in his tiny room,
which was also used for drying skins. There were bars on the
window to prevent thieves from entering it. That night he could
not sleep. Suddenly he heard a noise outside the window. Clappidy
. . . Clap . . . The boy felt certain that it was the bronze
pig who had come to comfort him. He jumped out of bed and ran
to the window. He saw only the empty alley. |
Og Drengen blev der
i Huset, og Konen lærte ham selv at sye; han spiste godt, han
sov godt, han blev munter og han begyndte at drille Bellissima,
det hed den lille Hund; Konen truede med Fingrene, skjændte
og var vred, og det gik Drengen til Hjerte; tankefuld sad han
i sit lille Kammer, det vendte ud til Gaden, der blev tørret
Skind derinde; tykke Jernstænger vare for Vinduerne, han kunde
ikke sove, Metalsvinet var i hans Tanke, og pludselig hørte
han udenfor: "Kladsk, kladsk!" jo, det var bestemt det! han
sprang hen til Vinduet, men der var Intet at see, det var alt
forbi. |
| "Help the signore to carry his paints," the woman
said to the boy the following morning. The signore was their
neighbor, a young painter. He was having difficulty carrying
both a large canvas and his box of paints. The boy took the
paint box, and together they went to the gallery: the same one
the boy had visited with the bronze pig. The child recognized
many of the beautiful marble statues and the paintings. There
was the lovely statue of Venus; and he saw again the pictures
of Jesus, the Holy Mother, and John the Baptist. |
"Hjelp Signore at bære
hans Farvekasse!" sagde Madamen om Morgenen til Drengen, idet
den unge Nabo, Maleren, kom selv slæbende med denne og et stort,
sammenrullet Lærred; Barnet tog Kassen, fulgte efter Maleren,
og de toge Vei til Galleriet, gik op ad den samme Trappe, han
kjendte godt fra hiin Nat, han red paa Metalsvinet; han kjendte
Statuer og Billeder, den deilige Marmor-Venus og de, som levede
i Farver; han gjensaae Guds Moder, Jesus og Johannes. |
| The painter stopped in front of the painting of
Jesus Descending into the Underworld by Bronzino, in which the
children smile so sweetly in their certainty that soon they
will be in heaven. The little boy smiled too, for this was his
heaven. |
Nu stode de stille foran
Maleriet af Bronzino, hvor Christus stiger ned i Underverdenen
og Børnene rundt om smile i sød Forvisning om Himlen; det fattige
Barn smilte ogsaa, thi han var her i sin Himmel. |
| "Now you can go home," said the painter, when
he noticed that the boy was still there, after he had finished
setting up his easel. |
"Ja gaa nu hjem!" sagde
Maleren til ham, da han allerede havde staaet saa længe, at
Denne havde reist sit Staffelie. |
| "May I not watch you paint, sir?" the boy asked
as courteously as he could. "I would so like to know how it
is done." |
"Tør jeg see Eder male?"
sagde Drengen. "Tør jeg see, hvorledes I faaer Billedet herover
paa det hvide Stykke?" |
| "I am not going to paint now, I am only going
to draw," explained the artist. In his hand he had a black crayon;
how swiftly it moved across the white surface! With his eye
he measured the figures in the painting, and soon the outline
of Christ appeared. |
"Nu maler jeg ikke!"
svarede Manden og tog sit Sortkridt frem, hurtigt bevægede Haanden
sig, Øiet maalte det store Billede, og uagtet det kun var en
tynd Streg, der kom, stod Christus dog svævende, som paa det
farvede Billede. |
| "Don't stand there gaping. Go home," ordered the
painter irritably. The boy wandered back to the house of the
glover, sat down at the table, and started to sew gloves. |
"Men saa gaa dog!" sagde
Maleren, og Drengen vandrede stille hjemad, satte sig op paa
Bordet og - lærte at sye Handsker. |
| But his mind was still on the paintings he had
seen, and he pricked his fingers and sewed badly that day. But
he did not tease Bellissima. That evening he noticed that the
street door was open and he tiptoed outside. It was a chilly
but beautiful starry night. Slowly he walked toward the Via
Porta Rossa to see the bronze pig. He bent down, kissed the
pig on its shiny snout, and then mounted its back. "Blessed
animal," he whispered in its ear, "I have longed for you. Tonight
we shall ride again." |
Men den hele Dag vare
Tankerne i Billedsalen, og derfor stak han sig i Fingrene, bar
sig keitet ad, men drillede heller ikke Bellissima. Da det blev
Aften og Gadedøren just stod aaben, listede han sig udenfor;
det var koldt men stjernelyst, saa smukt og klart; han vandrede
afsted gjennem Gaderne hvor der allerede var stille, og snart
stod han foran Metalsvinet; han bøiede sig ned over det, kyssede
dets blanke Tryne, og satte sig paa dets Ryg; "du velsignede
Dyr," sagde han, "hvor jeg har længtes efter Dig! vi maae i
Nat ride en Tour." |
| But the bronze pig was motionless, the clear ,
fresh water flowing from its mouth. Suddenly the boy felt something
tugging at his pants leg. It was BeIlissima, the naked little
dog--even in this light he could see its pink skin beneath its
short cropped hair. The dog barked, as if it were saying, "Look,
I have followed you. Why are you sitting up there?" A goblin
could not have frightened the boy more than the dog did. Bellissima
out in the street at night, without his little sheepskin coat
on! The dog was never allowed out in the winter without the
coat that had been made especially for him. It was tied at the
neck with a red ribbon, and it had little belts that were buckled
under its stomach. The little dog looked like a little lamb
when it went out walking , with its mistress, the glovemaker's
wife. How the boy feared her anger when she found out that her
darling was not at home! His wish to ride again with the bronze
pig was gone, though he kissed the metal animal as he slid off
its back. He picked up the dog who was so cold, it was shivering.
And the boy ran, with Bellissima. in his arms, as fast as he
could toward the glover's house. |
Metalsvinet laae ubevægeligt,
og det friske Væld sprudlede fra Munden. Den Lille sad som Rytter,
da trak Nogen ham i Klæderne; han saae til Siden, Bellissima,
den lille, nøgen klippede Bellissima var det. Hunden var smuttet
med ud af Huset og havde fulgt den Lille, uden at Denne mærkede
det. Bellissima bjæffede, som om den vilde sige, seer Du jeg
er med, hvorfor sætter Du Dig her? Ingen gloende Drage kunde
have forfærdet Drengen mere, end den lille Hund paa dette Sted.
Bellissima paa Gaden og det uden at være klædt paa, som den
gamle Moder kaldte det; hvad vilde der blive af. Hunden kom
aldrig ud ved Vintertid, uden at den iførtes et lille Faareskind,
der var klippet og syet til den. Skindet kunde bindes med et
rødt Baand fast om Halsen, der var Sløife og Bjælde ved, og
ligeledes bandtes det under Bugen. Hunden saae næsten ud som
et lille Kid, naar den ved Vintertid i denne Habit fik Lov at
trippe ud med Signora. Bellissima var med og ikke klædt paa;
hvad vilde der blive af. Alle Phantasier vare forsvundne, dog
kyssede Drengen Metalsvinet, tog Bellissima paa Armen, Dyret
rystede af Kulde, og derfor løb Drengen, alt hvad han kunde. |
| "Where are you, running?" shouted a policeman.
Bellissima began to bark. "Have you stolen this dog?" demanded
the policeman, taking the animal from him. |
"Hvad løber Du der med!"
raabte to Gensdarmer, han mødte, og Bellissima gjøede. "Hvor
har Du stjaalet den smukke Hund?" spurgte de og toge den fra
ham. |
| "Oh, give it back to me!" wailed the boy. |
"0 giv mig den igjen!"
jamrede Drengen. |
| "If it's really yours--and you haven't just stolen
it--then you can tell them at home that they can get it back
by coming to the police station." And the policeman told the
frightened child on which street the police station was to be
found, and walked away with Bellissima in his arms. |
"Har Du ikke stjaalet
den, da kan Du sige hjemme, at Hunden kan hentes paa Vagten,"
og de nævnte Stedet og gik med Bellissima. |
| How miserable the poor little boy was! He didn't
know whether he should go to the glovemaker's and tell what
had happened, or jump in the Arno. "She will kill me," he thought.
"But I don't mind dying for them. I will go up to heaven to
the Blessed Virgin and Jesus." Having made his decision, he
walked home to tell all and be killed. |
Det var en Nød og Jammer.
Han vidste ikke, om han skulde springe i Arno, eller gaae hjem
og tilstaae Alt. De vilde vist slaae ham ihjel, tænkte han.
"Men jeg vil gjerne slaaes ihjel; jeg vil døe, saa kommer jeg
til Jesus og Madonna!" og han gik hjem, meest for at blive slaaet
ihjel. |
| The door was locked and he could not reach the
knocker. The street was empty. He found a stone and banged on
the door with it. "Who's there?" shouted a voice from inside. |
Døren var lukket, han
kunde ikke naae Hammeren, der var Ingen paa Gaden, men en Steen
laae løs, og med den dundrede han paa; "hvem er det!" raabte
de indenfor. |
| "It's me!" screamed the little boy. "Bellissima
is gone! Open up the door and kill me!" |
"Det er mig!" sagde
han, "Bellissima er borte! luk mig op og slaae mig saa ihjel!" |
| They were shocked, especially the glovemaker's
wife. Her glance went at once to the peg where the little dog's
sheepskin coat was still hanging. |
Der blev en Forskrækkelse,
især hos Madamen, for den arme Bellissima; hun saae strax til
Væggen, hvor Hundens Drapperi skulde hænge, det lille Faareskind
hang der. |
| "Bellissima at the police station!" she screamed.
"You evil child! How could you have taken him out in such cold
weather? The poor dog will freeze to death! That little gentle
creature in the hands of such ruffians as the police!" |
"Bellissima paa Vagten!"
raabte hun ganske høit; "du onde Barn! Hvor har Du faaet ham
udi Han fryser ihjel! Det fine Dyr hos de grove Soldater!" |
| The glovemaker rushed out of the house to go to
the police station and retrieve the dog. His wife kept on screaming,
and the boy kept on crying. They made such a lot of noise that
all the people in the house were awakened and came down to see
what was happening, including the painter. The artist took the
boy on his lap; and slowly the child told him the whole story
of the bronze pig and his visit to the Galleria degli Uffizi.
The painter shook his head in wonder; it was a strange story.
He comforted the boy and tried to calm the glovemaker's wife,
but that was impossible. Not until her husband had returned
with the little dog did she stop lamenting and wailing. Though
when she had examined Bellissima and realized that he didn't
seem any the worse for having associated with the police, she
did cheer up. The painter patted the boy on the head and gave
him some drawings as a gift. |
Og Fatter maatte strax
afsted! Konen jamrede og Drengen græd; alle Folk i Huset kom
sammen, Maleren med; han tog Drengen mellem sine Knæe, spurgte
ham ud, og i Stumper og Stykker fik han den hele Historie om
Metalsvinet og om Galleriet; det var ikke godt at forstaae,
Maleren trøstede den Lille, talte godt for den Gamle, men hun
blev ikke tilfreds før Fatter kom med Bellissima, der havde
været mellem Soldater; der var en Glæde, og Maleren klappede
den stakkels Dreng, og gav ham en Haandfuld Billeder. |
| They were marvelous drawings! Some of them were
caricatures and very funny, but the picture that the boy loved
most was the one of the bronze pig. Only a few lines on a piece
of paper and there it was, and even the house behind the fountain
was there too. |
0 det var prægtige Stykker,
komiske Hoveder! men fremfor Alt, det var lyslevende Metalsvinet
selv. 0, Intet kunde være herligere! ved et Par Streger stod
det paa Papiret og selv Huset bag ved var antydet. |
| "If you can draw and paint," thought the child,
"then you can call the whole world your own." |
"Hvo der dog kunde tegne
og male! saa kunde man faae den hele Verden til sig!" |
| The next day, as soon as he had finished his work
he took a pencil stub and tried to copy the sketch of the bronze
pig on the back of one of the artist's drawings. He succeeded!
Well, he almost did--true, one of the legs was a little too
long and another was too thin; but still, the pig was there
on paper. Joyfully, the boy tried again the following day. It
was not easy to make the pencil draw lines as straight as he
wanted them to be. But the second pig was better than the first;
and the third one, anyone could have recognized. |
Næste Dag, i det første
eensomme Øieblik, greb den Lille Blyanten, og paa den hvide
Side af et af Billederne forsøgte han at gjengive Tegningen
af Metalsvinet, og det lykkedes! lidt skjevt, lidt op og ned,
eet Been tykt, et andet tyndt, men det var dog til at forstaae,
selv jublede han derover! Blyanten vilde kun ikke ret gaae saa
lige, som den skulde, mærkede han nok; men næste Dag stod der
et Metalsviin ved Siden af det andet, og det var hundrede Gange
bedre; det tredie var saa godt, at Enhver kunde kjende det. |
| Although his drawing improved, his glove sewing
did not; and when he was sent on errands it took him longer
and longer to return, for the bronze pig had taught him that
all pictures can be drawn; and Florence is one enormous picture
book, for anyone who cares to turn the pages. On the Piazza
Santa Trinita there stands a slender column with a statue of
Justice on top of it; the goddess is blindfolded and has a pair
of scales in her hands. Soon she not only stood on a column,
but also on a sheet of paper, for the boy had drawn her. The
folio of the glovemaker's little aprentice was growing; but
until now he had only drawn dead, immobile objects. One day
Bellissima was romping gaily about him. "Sit still," he said
to the dog, "and I shall make a lovely picture of you for my
collection." But Bellissima would neither sit nor stand still.
If the boy wanted to draw it, there was nothing else for him
to do but tie the animal. The child tied the dog both by the
tail and by the neck, which the animal didn't like in the least.
It barked and tried to jump; and at last the signora came. |
Men det gik daarligt
med Handskesyningen, det gik langsomt med By-Ærenderne; thi
Metalsvinet havde nu lært ham, at alle Billeder maatte kunne
overføres paa Papiret, og Staden Florents er en heel Billedbog,
naar man vil blade op i den. Der staaer paa piazza della Trinita
en slank Søile og øverst paa denne staaer Retfærdighedens Gudinde
med tilbundne Øine og Vægtskaal; snart stod hun paa Papiret,
og det var Handskemagerens lille Dreng, som havde sat hende
der. Billed-Samlingen voxte, men Alt i den var endnu døde Ting;
da hoppede en Dag Bellissima foran ham; "staa stille!" sagde
han, "saa skal Du blive deilig, og komme med i mine Billeder!"
men Bellissima vilde ikke staae stille, saa maatte han bindes;
Hoved og Hale blev bunden, den bjæffede og gjorde Spring, Snoren
maatte strammes; da kom Signora. |
| "You unchristian boy!" she cried. "Oh, the poor
animal!" And she kicked the child. "You ungrateful wretch!"
she screamed while she picked up the half-strangled little dog
and kissed it. Then she dragged the weeping child out of her
home. |
"Du ugudelige Dreng!
det arme Dyr!" var Alt, hvad hun fik sagt, og hun stødte Drengen
til Side, sparkede ham med sin Fod, viste ham ud af sit Huus;
han, der var det utaknemmeligste Skarn, det ugudeligste Barn;
og grædende kyssede hun sin lille, halvqvalte Bellissima. |
| At that very moment the painter came down the
stairs; and this is the turning point of the story. |
Maleren kom idetsamme
op ad Trappen og - - her er Vendepunktet i Historien. |
| In Florence, in 1834, there was an exhibition
at the Academy of Art. Two paintings that hung next to each
other attracted special attention. The smaller one portrayed
a little boy who was sketching a closely cropped little white
poodle; the dog had not wanted to stand still and the artist
had tethered it with strings around both his neck and his tail.
The painting was strangely alive, and there was a loveliness
about it that revealed the artist's talent. It was told that
the painter was born in Florence and had been found in the streets
by an elderly glovemaker who had taken the child in. He had
taught himself how to draw. A famous painter had discovered
the boy's ability, on the very day that the glover's wife had
thrown him out of her house for having tied up her darling poodle,
so that he could use him as a model. |
1834 var i Academia
delle arte en Udstilling i Florents; to Malerier opstillede
ved Siden af hinanden samlede en Mængde Tilskuere. Paa det mindste
Maleri var fremstillet en lille lystig Dreng, der sad og tegnede;
til Model havde han en lille hvid, tæt klippet Mops, men Dyret
vilde ikke staae stille og var derfor bundet med Seglgarn og
det baade ved Hoved og ved Hale; der var et Liv og en Sandhed
deri, som maatte tiltale Enhver. Maleren var, fortalte man,
en ung Florentiner, der skulde være funden paa Gaden som lille
Barn, opdragen af en gammel Handskemager, han havde selv lært
sig at tegne; en nu berømt Maler havde opdaget dette Talent,
da Drengen engang skulde jages bort, fordi han havde bundet
Madamens Yndling, den lille Mops, og gjort denne til Model. |
| The glovemaker's little apprentice had become
a great artist; this was proven by the other painting as well.
It was a picture of a boy, so poor that his clothes were rags,
sleeping on the back of the bronze pig in the Via Porta Rossa.
Everyone who saw the painting knew the street and the fountain.
The child's arm was resting on the pig's head. The little lamp
on the wall under the image of the Blessed Virgin cast its light
on the child's pale, beautiful face. It was a marvelous painting,
framed in gold. On the very top of the frame was a laurel wreath;
among the green leaves there was a band of black crepe, and
a long black ribbon hung down the side of the painting. |
Handskemagerdrengen
var bleven en stor Maler, det viste dette Billede, det viste
især det større ved Siden; her var kun een eneste Figur, en
pjaltet, deilig Dreng, der sad og sov paa Gaden, han heldede
sig op til Metalsvinet i Gaden porta rossa. Alle Beskuerne kjendte
Stedet. Barnets Arme hvilede paa Svinets Hoved; den Lille sov
saa trygt, Lampen ved Madonna-Billedet kastede et stærkt Lys
paa Barnets blege, herlige Ansigt. Det var et prægtigt Maleri;
en stor forgyldt Ramme omgav det, og paa Hjørnet af Rammen var
hængt en Laurhærkrands, men mellem de grønne Blade snoede sig
et sort Baand, et langt Sørgeflor hang ned derfra. |
| Only a few days before, the young painter had
died! |
Den unge Konstner var
i disse Dage - død! |
|