Pomeben obisk

admirala Nelsona in lady Hamilton leta 1800,
                         ob vrnitvi iz Eisenstadta,
                         od Haydnove maše št. 11 v d-molu (»Nelsonova«)

Spominjam se snežnega večera, ko so se pred
edino razsvetljeno stavbo v mestu, prenočiščem
z narisano pošastjo, ki se je imenovala Elefant,
a je po splošnem mnenju predstavljala Leviatana,
ustavile čudovite sani z grbom in je z njih izskočila
majhna zasnežena opica s turbanom in prižgano
baklo. Odprla je rdeča in pozlačena vratca, skozi
katera se je čez hip prikazala svilena noga v pojočih
čeveljcih pod hermelinsko obrobo temnega plašča.

Mnogi pomnijo, kako je na drugi strani njen lord
v opremljenem admiralskem klobuku, v tesno oprijetih
hlačah s škrlatno črto in črnimi lakastimi škornji
izstopil v cel sneg, prehitel nožico, tik preden se je ta
dotaknila stopnice, in ravno v trenutku, ko nam je
pomahala, v zaraku ujel tanko, orokavičeno roko,
jo za hip podržal in si jo nato pritisnil na srebrne prsi,
tako da se je med vratci prikazala sinja kučma
z biserom in obeljenim pavjim peresom, v kateri je
bilo mogoče opaziti glavo z rubinastimi ustnicami,
z zobmi iz alabastra in labodjim vratom.

Lord, ki je s petama in s komaj opaznim gibom
glave pozdravil posle in drugo osebje, ki se je vsulo
iz hotela (med njimi tudi nekatere v predpasnikih),
je še vedno čvrsto držal njeno roko v višini epolet,
medtem ko si je ona z drugo visoko pridvignila plašč,
da bi pogumno zakoračila v sneg. Toda konjarji
so poprijeli pri vpregi, po snegu so hiteli pogrinjat
iz glasbenega salona sposojene karminaste
perzijske preproge, pometat prag in stopnišče.

Odprla so se številna okna, dekle so pričele
stepat kovtre in celi grozdi radovednih gostov
so viseli z njih tako nizko, da jih je nekaj popadalo
na cesto. Ker je bilo snega na pretek, se nikomur
ni nič zgodilo. Zgodilo pa se je nekaj drugega.
Velikanski kit glavač (Physeter catodon)
ki se je na svoji poti v Veliko Sargaško morje
ustavil pred Tirom, je tik pred obalo izpljunil
na prod mene, mojega očeta in preroka Jono,
s katerima sem že od zgodnje jeseni v obokanih
kleteh te pošasti pripravljal trske za zimo.

Oboroženo z njimi, a za to priložnost pomočenimi
v katran in veselo prižganimi, se je hotelsko osebje
postavilo v špalir in na čelu z nenavadnim lakajem
pospremilo par do plesne dvorane v nadstropju, kjer so
jima uredili začasno sprejemnico. Rdečo snežno kočijo
sem kasneje pogosto hodil občudovat v mestni muzej,
kjer jo, po potresu spremenjeno v nekakšno votlo,
kot izžrt pergament prhko bučo, hranijo še danes,
medtem ko si je bilo kita mogoče ogledati v parku
pred univerzo šele sto oseminpetdeset let po dogodku.
Njun prihod so v gotici zabeležili v številnih cesarskih
časopisih, vendar v nobenem, ki bi ga znal brati.

© Marjan Strojan
Extrait de: Parniki v dežju
Ljubljana: Cankarjeva založba, 1999
Production audio: Študentska založba

An Important Visit

By Admiral Nelson and Lady Hamilton,
                        on their return from Haydn’s Mass
                        No. 11 in D minor at Eisenstadt in the year 1800.

I remember a snowy evening, when a wonderful sledge-coach
bearing a coat of arms stopped in front of the only illuminated
building in town – a hostelry displaying on its signboard
a painted monster called the Elephant, though in the general
opinion it was thought to represent Leviathan – and a monkey,
all covered in snow with a turban and a lighted torch,
hopped down from the seat. It opened the red and gilded door
of the carriage, through which emerged a silken foot
in singing shoes under the ermine lining of a dark coat.

Many recall how on the other side her Lord, in his plumed
admiral’s hat, with scarlet piping down the side of his
tight trousers and in black lacquered boots, stepped out
into virgin snow, overtaking her just as one of her small feet
was about to touch the step, and caught her tiny gloved hand
in the air as she waved to us, pressing it to his silver breast
so that in the carriage door appeared a blue fur hat with
a pearl and a white peacock feather under which one could see
a face with ruby lips, teeth of alabaster and a swan neck.

His Lordship, who by an almost indiscernible nod of his head
and by lightly clicking his heels saluted the servants and other
staff pouring out of the hotel (some of them still in their aprons),
was still firmly holding her hand level with his epaulette as
she with the other hand lifted her coat to brave the snow.  
But already the grooms were at hand to help with the horses
and gear, hurriedly laying down crimson Persian rugs borrowed
from the music salon, sweeping the doorstep and staircase.

Numerous windows were opening with maids beating dust
out of bed-quilts and with whole clusters of curious guests
hanging out of them, some of them toppling over into the street
below.  Since there was snow in abundance nothing much
happened and no one got hurt.  What did happen, however,
was something else.  A large sperm-whale (Physeter catodon),
making a stop at Tyre on its way to the Sargasso Sea, spewed
out onto the pebbled beach myself, my father and the prophet
Jonah, with whom I had been since early autumn splitting
logs in the vaults of the monster to make ready for winter.

Furnished with these, dipped in tar and happily lit up for
the occasion, the hotel personnel were lining the floors
for them and then, headed by his extraordinary flunkey,
escorted them upstairs to the dance hall, where a temporary
reception room was prepared for the pair. Later, I often went
to admire the red snow-coach in the Town Museum where,
changed after the earthquake into a kind of hollow mouldering
pumpkin as brittle as parchment, it is preserved to this day;
while as for the whale, it could be seen only when it was
exhibited in the University Park one hundred and fifty eight
years after the event. Their arrival was noted in gothic letters
in various imperial newspapers, but in none that I could read.

translated by Alasdair MacKinnon