Fully imbued with the tale and its marvels, she said to well-known Dore: “Ah, my queen! Just watch out for Frau Mouserink and her family.”
Fritz, however, had drawn his sword: “Yes! Just let them come! I’ll teach them a thing or two!” But everybody under and on the hearth remained calm.
Now when Drosselmeier tied the bacon to a fine thread and gently, gently placed the trap next to the glass cabinet, Fritz exclaimed: “Be careful, clockmaker, don’t let Mouse King play any tricks on you!”
Oh, how miserable Marie was the following night! Her arm was ice-cold, she moved to and fro, her cheeks were raw and wretched, and the squealing and squeaking filled her ears. The repugnant Mouse King sat on her shoulder, and he driveled, bloodred, out of the seven gaping maws. And with munching and crunching teeth, he hissed into Marie’s ear, hissed with terror and horror!
“Hiss out, hiss out, don’t enter the house, don’t join the feast—that went to the trap! Hiss out, hiss out, hand over, hand over, all your picture books, plus the dress, plus no rest! Just for you to know, poor Nutcracker will miss all night, he’ll bite out of sight! Hee, hee, dee, dee, squeal, squeak!”
Marie was filled with sadness and sorrow. The next morning, she looked quite pale and bewildered when her mother said: “The wicked mouse still hasn’t been caught!” Believing that Marie was mourning her sweets and was also scared of the mouse, the mother added: “But just keep calm, dear child, we’ll soon drive away the nasty mouse. If the traps don’t work, then Fritz will bring his gray cat.”
No sooner was Marie alone in the living room than she went over to the glass cabinet and sobbed to Nutcracker: “Ah, my dear, good Herr Drosselmeier! What can I, a poor, unhappy girl, do for you? I can also give away all my picture books and even my lovely new dress that was given to me by Holy Christ. I can hand over that horrid Mouse King for him to chew me up. But no matter how much I give him, Mouse King will keep asking for more and more until I’ve got nothing left and he ultimately chews me up instead of you. Oh, I, poor child, just what should I do? Just what should I do?”
While grieving and bereaving, little Marie noticed that a large bloodstain was left over from that night, from Nutcracker. Ever since Marie learned that her Nutcracker was actually young Drosselmeier’s nephew, she stopped carrying him on her arm, stopped hugging and kissing the boy. Indeed, she barely touched him because of a certain timidity.
But now, she removed him very cautiously from the shelf and she started rubbing away the bloodstain with her handkerchief. Suddenly, however, she felt that Nutcracker was growing warm in her hand and beginning to stir. She swiftly returned him to his shelf. Her lips shook to and fro and she arduously whispered to Nutcracker.
“Ah, most worthy Demoiselle Stahlbaum, excellent friend, how much I owe you. No, you won’t sacrifice any picture book for me, any dress given you by Christ. Just get me a sword, a sword, and I’ll take care of the rest. May he—” Here, Nutcracker lost his power of speech, and his eyes, inspired to express the inmost melancholy, became frozen and lifeless again. Marie experienced no horror. Rather, she hopped for joy since she knew of a method for saving Nutcracker without further painful sacrifices. But where would they get a sword for the boy?
Marie decided to ask Fritz for advice. So in the evening, when their parents had gone out, the two children sat alone in the living room, by the glass cabinet. And here she told her brother everything that had happened to her with Nutcracker and with Mouse King, and why it was necessary to save Nutcracker. Fritz grew more pensive over nothing so much as—according to Marie’s report—his Hussars had conducted themselves so poorly in the battle. He again asked very earnestly if that was true, and when Marie assured him that it was indeed true, Fritz hurried over to the glass cabinet. There he gave a grandiloquent speech. Then, to punish their selfishness and cowardice, he cut off the ensigns from their caps one by one. Furthermore, he forbade them from blaring the Hussar March for a whole year.
After pronouncing his sentence, Fritz turned back to Marie, saying: “As for a sword, I can help Nutcracker. Yesterday I pensioned off an old colonel of the Cuirassiers. He won’t be needing his sharp and lovely saber any longer.”
The colonel consumed the pension allotted to him by Fritz, who kept him in the backmost corner of the third shelf in the cabinet. He was drawn up from there, the decorated silver sword taken off and hung around Nutcracker.
The following night, Marie was still so horrified that she couldn’t fall asleep. Around midnight, it sounded as if a bizarre racket, a roaring and jangling came from the living room. All at once, there was a squeal! “Mouse King! Mouse King!” cried Marie, and, horrified, she jumped out of bed. Everyone remained still. But soon there was a soft, soft tapping on the door, and a very fine voice was heard:
“Most esteemed Demoiselle Stahlbaum! You don’t have to worry about opening up—I’ve got good, cheerful news!” Marie recognized the voice of young Drosselmeier. She tossed her little coat on and flung open the door. Little Nutcracker was standing outside, with his bloody sword in his right hand and a wax candle in his left hand. Upon spotting Marie, he knelt down on one knee and said:
“You, oh lady, you alone have steeled me with chivalrous courage and have strengthened my arm in order to fight the boisterous man who has dared to scorn you. The treacherous Mouse King has been defeated and he is now rolling in his own blood! Oh, lady! Do not refuse to accept the signs of victory from the hand of your knight, who is devoted to you even unto death.” With these words, little Nutcracker very skillfully tripped off the seven golden crowns of Mouse King, which he had slipped over his left arm. He handed the seven crowns to Marie, who joyfully received them.
Nutcracker stood up and continued speaking:
“Ah, my dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum! Having overpowered my enemy, I ask you: What could I do to show you splendid things—if you felt enough affection for me to take just a few steps! Oh, do it, do it—my dearest demoiselle.”
The Kingdom of Dolls
I believe that none of you children would have hesitated for even an instant to obey honest and kindhearted Nutcracker, who could never have had anything nasty in mind. As for Marie, she was all the more obedient since she knew how greatly she could rely on Nutcracker’s gratitude. Indeed, she was convinced that he would keep his word and show her many splendid things.
She therefore said: “I’ll go with you, Herr Drosselmeier. But it mustn’t be far or last a long time. You see, I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
“That,” replied Nutcracker, “is why I’m taking the nearest path, although it’s somewhat difficult.”
He took the lead, followed by Marie, until he stopped by the huge, old wardrobe in the hallway. Marie was astonished to see that the doors of this closet, normally shut, were now wide open, so that she clearly made out her father’s traveling fox fur, which hung in front. Nutcracker very deftly climbed up the ridges and adornments so that he could get hold of the enormous tassel, which, fastened by a thick cord, hung on the back of that fur. When Nutcracker pulled hard on the tassel, a very delicate cedar stairway quickly dropped through the fur sleeve.
“Please go up, dearest demoiselle,” cried Nutcracker.
Marie did so, but scarcely had she gone up through the sleeve, scarcely had she peered out of the collar, than a blinding light shone toward her. All at once, she found herself on a marvelously fragrant meadow, from which millions of sparks arose like blinking gems.
“We’re on the Rock Candy Meadow,” said Nutcracker. “But soon we’ll pass through that gate.”
Now, looking up, Marie first noticed the lovely gate just a few steps forward on the meadow. The gate seemed to be made of white, brown, and raisin-colored sprinkled marble. But when Marie drew closer, she saw that the entire mass consisted of baked raisins and sugared almonds. That was why, as Nutcracker assured her, the gate they were passing through was called the Almond and Raisin Gate. Common folk very indecorously nicknamed it the Snack Gate.
“Ah, how beautiful it all is!” cried Marie, blissful and enraptured.
“We’re in Christmas Forest, my dear demoiselle,” said Nutcracker.
“Ah,” Marie continued. “If only I could spend a little time here—oh, it’s far too beautiful!”
Nutcracker clapped his little hands, and along came a few small shepherds and shepherdesses, hunters and huntswomen, who were so white and tender that you could have believed them to be pure sugar, that Marie had not yet noticed, even though they had been strolling in the woods. They brought over a favorite gold armchair, placed a white cushion of licorice upon it, and very courteously invited Marie to settle down. No sooner had she done so than shepherds and shepherdesses came and danced a very pretty ballet, whereby the hunters blew their instruments quite decently. But then they all vanished in the bushes.
“Forgive me,” said Nutcracker, “forgive me, dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum, for doing such a miserable dance. You see, the dancers all came from our marionette ballet, which is controlled by wires, and which can only do the same things over and over again. There are also good reasons why the hunters were so drowsy and feeble in their blowing. The sugar basket does hang at nose level on the Christmas tree, but it’s still too high. Well, why don’t we stroll a bit more?”
“Ah, everything was very lovely, and I really liked it!” said Marie, standing up and following Nutcracker. They walked along a murmuring, sweetly whispering brook, which seemed to be filling the forest with all of its marvelous scents.
“This is Orange Brook,” said Nutcracker when asked. “It has a lovely fragrance, but it doesn’t equal in size or in beauty the Lemonade River, which likewise empties into Lake Almond Milk.”
And indeed, Marie soon heard a louder plashing and splashing and she spotted the broad Lemonade River. In proud, cream-colored waves, it rippled away amid green-glowing, garnet-shining shrubs. An exceeding freshness, cooling her breast and her heart, surged up from the stunning water. Not too far from there, the water of a dark yellow creek was being arduously dragged away, spreading utterly sweet perfumes. On the shore, all kinds of very lovely little children sat angling small, thick fish and consuming them right away. Upon coming closer, Marie noticed that these fish looked like hazelnuts.
In the distance, a very pretty hamlet lay on the creek: houses, church, parsonage, barns—they were all dark brown, but decorated with gold roofs. Furthermore, countless walls were painted so colorfully as if lemon peels and almond kernels were pasted on them.
“That’s Gingerbreadhome,” said Nutcracker. “It lies on Honey River and it’s inhabited by very lovely people. But they’re mostly grouchy because they suffer terribly from toothaches. That’s why we’re not going inside.”
At that moment, Marie noticed a pretty little townlet consisting of colorful, transparent cottages. Nutcracker headed straight in that direction, and now Marie heard a wild, joyful uproar. She also saw a thousand sweet little people examining and starting to unpack many crammed wagons standing in the marketplace. But what they produced was gaudy, colored paper and bars of chocolate.
“We’re in Bonbonville,” said Nutcracker. “A shipment has just arrived from Paper Land and from Chocolate King. A short while ago, the poor Bonbonvillers were harshly threatened by Mosquito Admiral’s navy. That’s why they’ve covered their homes with the gifts of Paper Land and why they’re constructing proficient works sent them by Chocolate King. However, dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum, we don’t plan to visit every last townlet and hamlet of this land. To the capital! To the capital!” Nutcracker rushed forward and Marie, filled with curiosity, brought up the rear.
It wasn’t long before the fragrance of roses wafted up, and everything was surrounded by a gentle, floating shimmer of roses. Marie perceived that this was the image in a rosy red shining creek, which flowed in tiny pink and silver waves, gushing and rushing as if in wondrously beautiful notes and melodies. On this graceful water, which broadened out more and more like a huge lake, marvelous silver white swans with golden neckbands were swimming and vying with one another in singing the loveliest songs. Tiny diamond fish emerged and submerged, as if dancing a merry dance on the floods of roses.
“Ah!” cried Marie enthusiastically. “Ah! This is the lake that Godfather Drosselmeier wanted to make for me, truly, and I myself am the girl who will caress the dear little swans.”
Nutcracker smirked more scornfully than Marie had ever noticed on him. Then he said: “That’s something that Uncle will never be able to do. You will manage to do so yourself, dear Demoiselle Stahlbaum. But let’s not ponder it too deeply. Instead, let’s cross the Lake of Roses and head for the capital.”
The Capital
Nutcracker clapped his tiny hands again, and the Lake of Roses started rushing more and more strongly, the waves splashing higher and higher. Marie noticed a shell-shaped vehicle coming from far away and drawn by two dolphins covered with golden scales. The vehicle was formed by gaudy, sunny, and sparkling jewels. Twelve darling little Moors, wearing caps and loincloths woven out of shiny hummingbird feathers, sprang ashore. They carried first Marie, then Nutcracker, gently gliding over the waves to the vehicle, which then sailed across the lake. Oh, how lovely it was to see Marie in the rolling vehicle, surrounded by the fragrance of roses, flowing around the waves of roses. The two golden dolphins raised their nostrils and spurted crystal rays high in the air; and where the arcs fell flickering and twinkling, it sounded like the crooning of two fine and graceful voices.
“Who swims in the rosy lake? For goodness’ sake! Midges, no bridges! Bmm, bmm, fish! What a dish! Hmm, hmm, swans, where are ponds? Swa, swa, goldbird! Trara—streams, reams, teams, beams! Angels, angels! Sing in wings!”
However, the twelve little Moors, who had sprung in back of the chariot, seemed to take the singing of the streams of water amiss. For they shook their parasols so hard that the date leaves they were made of got creased and crumpled! They also stamped their feet to a bizarre beat! “Clap and clip and clip and clap, to and fro! Moors dance a round, make a sound! Stir, fish, stir, swans. Drone, chariot, drone. Clap and clip and clip and clap, to and fro!”
“Moors are such merry people,” said Nutcracker, somewhat embarrassed. “Goodness, you’ll make the entire lake rebellious!”
And indeed, a confusing uproar of wonderful voices exploded. They seemed to swim in the lake and in the air. But Marie ignored them all. Instead, she peered at the waves of fragrant roses, and each wave smiled back at her smiling girlish face—a graceful and a gracious face.
“Ah,” cried Marie, joyfully clapping her little hands together. “Ah! Just look, dear Herr Drosselmeier! Princess Pirlipat is down there, smiling at me so wondrously and graciously. Oh, do look, Herr Drosselmeier!”
But Nutcracker sighed almost lamentably and said: “Oh, dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum, that’s not Princess Pirlipat—that’s you and always you yourself. That’s always your own gracious face smiling so dearly out of every billow of roses.”
Marie threw back her head, shut her eyes tight, and was very ashamed. That same instant, she was lifted from the chariot by the twelve Moors and carried ashore.
She now found herself in a small grove that was almost lovelier than Christmas Forest—since everything in it shone and sparkled. But especially, one could admire the strange fruit that hung from all the trees—fruit that was not only strangely colored but also marvelously fragrant.
“We’re in Jellygrove,” said Nutcracker, “and there’s the capital.”
What did Marie catch sight of now? How, you children, will I even start to describe the beauty and splendor of the city that spread out over a rich, flowery pasture before Marie’s very eyes? Not only were the walls and towers resplendent in the most fantastic colors but, in regard to the forms of the houses, there was nothing similar anywhere in the world. For, instead of roofs, the houses had delicately pleated wreaths, and the towers were topped with the finest and most colorful foliage that could be seen.
When they passed through the gates, which looked as if they were built out of macaroons and frosted fruit, silver soldiers presented their rifles, and a manikin in a brocaded robe threw his arms around Nutcracker and said: “Welcome, dearest Prince, welcome to Jamburg!”
Marie was astonished that young Drosselmeier was addressed as Prince by a noble gentleman. But now she heard so many very fine voices bursting through one another, exulting and laughing for joy, playing and singing, that she couldn’t think of anything else. Instead, she asked little Nutcracker just what it all meant.
“Oh, dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum,” replied Nutcracker, “it’s nothing unusual. Jamburg is a merry, populous city, every day is like this. But let’s keep going, please.”
No sooner had they walked a few paces than they reached the great marketplace, which offered the most thrilling view. The surrounding houses were shuttered by sweets, gallery was piled on gallery; and at the middle there stood a high, frosted layer cake as the obelisk. All about it, four very artful fountains spewed orgeat, lemonade, and other superb sweet drinks aloft. And the basin filled up with cream, which could have been spooned out right away.
Nutcracker and Mouse King and The Tale of the Nutcracker Page 9
