Nutcracker and Mouse King and The Tale of the Nutcracker

by E. T. A. Hoffmann

  Clärchen bent down so deep that she was able to clutch Nutcracker’s skinny arm, and she gently pulled him up. Then she quickly detached herself with her multispangled girdle and she was about to hang it around Fritz’s neck. But Fritz stepped back two paces, put his hand on his chest, and spoke very solemnly:

  “Do not, oh my lady, wish to waste your grace on me.” He faltered, took a deep breath, and then he tore the ribbon from Marie’s shoulders—he pressed the ribbon against his lips. Fritz now hung the ribbon around his waist like an officer’s sash. And then, boldly swinging his naked sword, quickly and nimbly, he sprang like a tiny bird across the ridge on the floor. You must notice, very gentle and excellent readers, that when Nutcracker had come alive, he had quite clearly felt all the love and kindness that Marie had shown him. It was only because she had become so good that Fritz did not even want to accept and wear Fräulein’s ribbon, although it shone brightly and looked very lovely. Good, loyal Nutcracker preferred getting all spruced up with Marie’s simple little ribbon.

  Now what comes next?

  When Nutcracker springs down, the squealing and squeaking likewise resume.

  Ah! The obnoxious crews of countless mice stay under the big table, and the horrible mouse with the seven heads looms over all of them!

  What is next?!

  The Battle

  “Beat to the general march, my loyal vassal, Drummer!” Nutcracker yelled. Drummer instantly rolled the drum so artistically that the panes of the glass cabinet shivered and shuddered. The interior cracked and clabbered, and Marie realized something about the covers of all the boxes in which Fritz’s army was billeted. The covers violently jumped up, and the soldiers leaped out and down in the bottom shelf, where they collected in glossy teams.

  Nutcracker scurried to and fro, speaking enthusiastic words to the troops: “No dog of a trumpeter stirs and shifts!” Nutcracker shrieked angrily. Then he quickly turned to Pantaloon, who grew somewhat pale, his nose wobbling and wobbling. Nutcracker spoke solemnly:

  “General, I am well aware of your courage and your experience. The goals here are a rapid survey and a use of the moment. I entrust you with the command of all the cavalries and artilleries. You don’t need a horse; you’ve got very long legs and you can gallop quite decently. Now carry out your vocation.”

  Pantaloon immediately squeezed his long, dry fingers against his mouth, and he crowed so piercingly that it sounded like a hundred bright trumpets blowing cheerfully away. A neighing and stamping now emerged in the cabinet, and lo and behold: Fritz’s cuirassiers and dragoons and especially the shiny new Hussars marched out and soon halted down below on the floor.

  Now regiment upon regiment defiled past Nutcracker with flying colors and fife and drum and presented itself in rank and file across the floor of the room. However, Fritz’s cannons then rolled up, clanking, and surrounded by the cannoneers, and soon the cannons went boom—boom, and Marie saw the sugar peas smash into the thick pile of mice that were covered with white powder and were very ashamed. Above all, however, they suffered great damage by a heavy battery, which had rolled up on Mama’s footstool, and boom—boom—boom and shot gingerbreads in succession and under the mice, which made them drop.

  But then the mice came nearer and nearer and they even over-ran a few cannons; which sounded—prr—prr—prr, and in the smoke and dust, Marie could scarcely see what was happening. Yet so much was certain: Every corps fought with supreme vehemence, and for a long time victory swung back and forth. The mice kept developing more and more masses; and their tiny silvery pills, which they hurled very cleverly, were now striking the interior of the glass cabinet. Clärchen and Trutchen desperately scurried about, wringing their little hands sore.

  “Should I die in the flower of my youth?! I, the loveliest of the dolls?!” cried Clärchen.

  “Have I preserved myself so well as to perish here inside my four walls?” cried Trutchen.

  They flung their arms around each other and they bawled so dreadfully that you could hear them despite the huge racket. For, gentle reader, you barely have an inkling of the uproar that now began:

  Prr—prr—pudd—pidd—taratantara—taratantara—boom—boom—boom—all tangled up!

  And Mouse King and mice squealed and shrieked, and they again heard Nutcracker’s tremendous voice issuing useful orders, and they watched Nutcracker as he marched over the battalions standing in the line of fire. Pantaloon launched a few brilliant cavalry attacks and covered himself with glory.

  But Fritz’s Hussars were pelted by the mouse artillery with ugly, smelly bullets, which left nasty stains on their red jerkins—and that is why they didn’t care to go ahead.

  Furthermore, Pantaloon ordered them to wheel to the left. And in the enthusiasm of commanding, he did likewise, and so did his dragoons and cuirassiers—that is, they all wheeled to the left and went home. In so doing, the battery perching on the footstool was endangered. And it wasn’t very long before a dense squad of very hideous mice charged so heavily that the entire footstool toppled over together with cannons and cannoneers. Nutcracker, who seemed very dazed, ordered the right wing to retreat. You know—oh my experienced listener Fritz—that a retreat is almost the same as a flight. And you already join me in mourning because of the misfortune that afflicted the army of little Marie as loved by Nutcracker!

  But avert your eyes from this disaster and view the left wing of Nutcracker’s army, where everything is still good, and much is to be expected from the general and the army. During the most heated fighting, quiet, quiet masses of mouse cavaliers had come debouching out from under the dresser and, amid noisy, gruesome squealing, they had thrown themselves on the left wing of Nutcracker’s army—but what resistance they encountered! Slowly, as the difficulties of the terrain allowed, they had to pass the ridge of the cabinet. The corps bearing the coat of arms had advanced under the leadership of two Chinese emperors, and had formed itself en carré plaine.

  These brave, splendid, and colorful troops, which consisted of many gardeners, Tyroleans, Tunguses, barbers, Harlequins, cupids, lions, tigers, apes, and long-tailed monkeys, fought with great courage, deep composure, and tough endurance. This battalion of elitists, showing Spartan boldness, would have torn victory from the foe, if a daring enemy horse captain had not recklessly plunged forward and bitten off the head of one Chinese emperor, who, in falling, would have then killed two Tunguses and a long-tailed monkey. The result was a hole through which the enemy pushed in, and soon the entire battalion was chewed up. However, the enemy had little profit from this atrocity. Just as a bloodthirsty mouse cavalierist chewed up a bold opponent straight to the middle, the mouse was given a small printed slip of paper down his throat, from which he promptly died. But did this help Nutcracker’s army, which, having begun its retreat, now drew farther and farther, losing more and more men, so that unfortunate Nutcracker was left with just a tiny squad right in front of the glass cabinet?

  “The reserves step forward! Pantaloon, Scaramouch, Drummer—where are you?” Nutcracker was hollering, hoping for fresh troops, which were to be deployed out of the glass cabinet. Indeed, a few brown men and women actually emerged with gingerbreads, golden faces, hats and helmets in advance. But they fought so clumsily that they struck none of the enemies; and soon they would have even knocked Commander Nutcracker’s cap off his head.

  The enemy chasseurs also bit off their legs, so that they toppled over, killing a few of Nutcracker’s comrades-in-arms. Nutcracker was now densely surrounded by the enemy, in the highest fear and distress. He wanted to jump across the cabinet ridge, but his legs were too short. Clärchen and Trutchen lay there unconscious—they couldn’t help. Hussars and dragoons sprang merrily past him and into the fray! He now yelled in utter despair: “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!”

  At that instant, two enemy tirailleurs grabbed him by his wooden cape and, triumphantly squealing out of seven throats, Mouse King came leaping up. Marie could no longer contain herself. “Oh,
my poor Nutcracker! My poor Nutcracker!” she sobbed, snatching her left shoe and, not quite aware of what she was doing, she flung her shoe into the thickest squad of mice—at their king! At that moment, everything seemed to fade and waft away. But Marie felt an even sharper pain in her left arm—sharper than before—and she fainted dead to the world.

  The Illness

  When Marie awoke as if from a deathly coma, she found herself in her little bed. The sun shone, twinkling and sparkling through the icy windows into the room. Right next to Marie sat a stranger, whom she soon recognized as the surgeon Dr. Wendelstern. He murmured softly: “She’s awake.”

  Now her mother came over and scrutinized her anxiously. “Ah, dear Mother,” whispered little Marie, “are all the ugly mice now gone, and is good Nutcracker saved?”

  “Don’t talk such nonsense, dear Marie!” her mother replied. “What do the mice have to do with Nutcracker? But you, you naughty child. You’ve caused us so much worry and anguish. That’s what happens when children are willful and disobey their parents. Yesterday, you played with your dolls until late at night. You grew drowsy, and perhaps you were startled by a protruding mouse, which is usually not found in this area. In any case, you shoved your arm into a pane in the glass cabinet. The cut was so deep that Dr. Wendelstern, who removed the glass fragments from the wounds, felt that if the glass had sliced an artery, you would have retained a stiff arm or even bled to death.

  “Thank goodness that when I awoke at midnight and missed you so late, I got up and stepped into the living room. You were lying unconscious on the floor right next to the glass cabinet, bleeding torrents. I was so scared that I nearly blacked out myself. There you lay, and scattered all round you were many of Fritz’s lead soldiers and other dolls, shattered coats of arms and gingerbread men. Nutcracker, however, lay on your bleeding arm, and not far from here lay your left shoe.”

  “Oh, Mama! Mama darling!” Marie broke in. “Just look! Those were the traces of the great clash between the dolls and the mice. And that’s why I was startled—when the mice wanted to capture poor Nutcracker, who was in command of the army of dolls. I hurled my shoe at the mice, but I don’t know what happened next.”

  Dr. Wendelstern winked at the mother, who spoke very gently to Marie: “Let it be, my dear child! Calm down, the mice are all gone, and Nutcracker is standing in the glass cabinet, healthy and cheery.”

  Now the medical officer came into the room and he had a long talk with Dr. Wendelstern. Next the medical officer felt Marie’s pulse. And she heard something about a wound fever.

  Marie had to stay in bed and take medicine. And she did so for several days, even though she didn’t feel sick or uneasy aside from some pains in her arm. She knew that Nutcracker had escaped the battle safe and sound, and at times she felt as if she were dreaming that he spoke to her quite lucidly though mournfully:

  “Marie, dearest lady, I already owe you a great deal. But you can do even more for me.”

  She pondered and pondered, but it was no use, she couldn’t figure out what Nutcracker meant.

  The girl couldn’t play at all because of her injured arm. And if she wanted to read or to leaf through one of the picture books, her head swam, and she was forced to stop looking.

  Time must now have been inching along very slowly, and Marie could hardly wait until twilight, when Mother would sit at her bedside and read a lot to her or tell her lovely stories. Mother had just finished the wonderful tale of Prince Fakardin, when the door opened, and Godfather Drosselmeier walked in, saying: “Now I really have to see the sick and wounded girl for myself.”

  The instant Marie spotted Godfather Drosselmeier in his yellow jacket, she so vividly recalled the night when Nutcracker lost the battle with the mice. Now she involuntarily exclaimed to her godfather:

  “Oh, Godfather Drosselmeier, you were quite ugly. I saw you perching on the clock and muffling it with your wings, to keep it from striking loudly. Otherwise the mice would have been swept away. I heard what you shouted at Mouse King! Why didn’t you help Nutcracker, why didn’t you help me, you ugly Godfather Drosselmeier? Isn’t it all your fault that I have to lie in bed, sick and injured?”

  The mother, quite terrified, asked: “What’s wrong with you, dear Marie?”

  But Drosselmeier was making very bizarre faces and he spoke in a snarling and monotonous voice:

  “Pendulum, had to hum, didn’t wish to fit, clocks, clocks, clock pendulum, had to hum, softly hum, bells boom, bells blast, limp and lame and honk and hunk, doll girl, don’t worry, scurry, ring the bell, bell is rung, bell is sung, to drive away Mouse King today, now the owl comes flying fast, pack and pick and pick and pack, chimes are jingly, clocks, hum, hum, pendulums have to hum, pick wouldn’t stick, hum and hum and purr and purr!” Marie gaped at Godfather Drosselmeier because he looked very different and far uglier than usual, and because he kept swinging his right arm as if he were a marionette. She would have been truly horrified at the godfather if the mother hadn’t been present, and if Fritz, having sneaked in, hadn’t finally interrupted the godfather by laughing very loud.

  “Oh, my, Godfather Drosselmeier! You’re much too funny again today! You’re gesticulating like my jumping jack, whom I tossed behind the stove long ago!”

  The mother remained very earnest and she said: “Dear Herr Godfather, this is quite a strange joke. What are you aiming at?”

  “Heavens!” retorted Drosselmeier, laughing. “Have you forgotten my charming clockmaker ditty? I always sing it for patients like Marie.”

  Now he settled at her bedside, saying:

  “Just don’t be angry that I didn’t hack out all of Mouse King’s fourteen eyes for you, but I couldn’t have managed. Instead, I’ll do something delightful for you.”

  Drosselmeier reached into his pocket and what he now softly, softly produced was: Nutcracker. The godfather had skillfully and solidly reinserted Nutcracker’s lost teeth and straightened out his jaw.

  Marie was utterly overjoyed, and Mother said, smiling:

  “Now do you see that Godfather Drosselmeier means you no harm with your Nutcracker?”

  “But Marie,” the godfather broke in, “you must admit that Nutcracker doesn’t actually have a great physique and that his face cannot exactly be called handsome. If you like, I can tell you how such ugliness came into his family and was handed down. Or do you happen to know the story of Princess Pirlipat, Mouserink’s witch, and the artistic clockmaker?”

  “Now listen,” Fritz unexpectedly interrupted. “Listen, Godfather Drosselmeier. You inserted the teeth correctly in Nutcracker’s mouth, and his jaw is no longer so wobbly. But why is he lacking a sword? Why didn’t you give him a sword?”

  “Oh, my,” Drosselmeier retorted quite indignantly. “Why must you be grumpy and grouchy about everything, boy? What do I care about Nutcracker’s sword? I healed his body—let him obtain a sword as he likes.”

  “You’re right,” cried Fritz. “He’s a capable guy. He’ll know where to find weapons!”

  “Well, Marie,” the godfather went on. “Do you know the tale of Princess Pirlipat?”

  “No, I don’t,” Marie replied. “Tell us, dear Godfather, tell us!”

  “I hope,” said the mother, “I hope, dear Godfather, that your story won’t be as gruesome as the stories you normally tell.”

  “By no means,” answered Drosselmeier. “Quite the contrary! What I have the honor of reciting is quite humorous.”

  “Tell us, oh, tell us, Godfather!” cried the children, and Drosselmeier began.

  The Tale of the Hard Nut

  Pirlipat’s mother was a king’s wife, hence a queen, and in the moment of her birth, Pirlipat herself was a born princess. The king was beside himself for joy over his beautiful little daughter lying in the cradle. He exulted loudly, he danced and pranced on one leg, and he kept hollering, “Hurray! Has anybody ever seen anybody more beautiful?”

  All the ministers, generals, presidents, magistrates, and staff offi
cers hopped on one leg just like the sovereign and shouted: “No! Never!”

  Indeed, there was no denying that no more beautiful child than Princess Pirlipat had been born since the dawn of time. Her little face was virtually woven out of lily-white and rosy red silk flakes, her little eyes were a vivid, sparkling azure, and her curls twisted in a full head of shiny gold threads. In addition, Pirlipat brought two rows of small pearly teeth into the world, and two hours later, when the grand chancellor tried to examine her facial lineaments more closely, she bit his finger so hard that he shrieked: “Oh, Jiminy!” Then again, others claim that he yelled, “Owww!” Opinions are sharply divided even today.

  In any case, she really did bite the chancellor’s finger, and now the delighted populace knew that intellect and intelligence dwelt inside Pirlipat’s little body, which was as beautiful as that of an angel.

  Everybody was delighted. Only the queen was very anxious and nervous—no one knew why. What especially struck people was that she had the cradle guarded very carefully. Aside from the trabants who occupied every threshold, and aside from the pairs of ladies-in-waiting, who had to sit close to the cradle, six other ladies were scattered around the room, night by night.

  However, what seemed quite foolish and unfathomable was that each of these six ladies-in-waiting had to take a tomcat in her lap and stroke him all night long, compelling him to ruminate constantly.

  It would be impossible, dear children, for you to guess why Pirlipat’s mother made all these arrangements. But I know why and I will tell you now.

  It happened that many very enchanting princes and marvelous kings had once gathered at the court of Pirlipat’s father, which is why the entire court shone gleefully, and why countless plays, balls, and tournaments were put on. To show he didn’t lack for gold and silver, the king wanted to thrust his hand properly into the royal treasury and lavish a decent amount. Having been secretly informed by the supreme royal kitchen master that the court astronomer had scheduled the slaughter of pigs, the king ordered a huge sausage feast. Then he jumped into the carriage and personally invited all the kings and princes himself—purely for a spoonful of soup, to enjoy the surprise of the magnificent delight.