But lovelier than anyone else were the little people. Thousands of them crowded through, head by head, exulting and laughing and joking and singing. In short: they raised the merry uproar that Marie had already heard far away. There were elegant ladies and gentlemen, Greeks and Armenians, Jews and Tyroleans, officers and soldiers and preachers and shepherds and buffoons—in short: every kind of person to be found in the entire world.
In one corner the tumult increased, the crowd streamed apart. Then the Grand Mogul was carried across on a palanquin, escorted by ninety-three grandees and seven hundred slaves. But what happened was that in the other corner, the fish guild, some five hundred heads strong, was holding its parade. And it was also dreadful that the Turkish Grandee had the idea of riding across the marketplace with three thousand Janissaries followed by the huge pageant of the opera The Interrupted Sacrificial Feast—just as the crowd charged toward the layer cake, singing and beating their drums: “Up! Thank the powerful sun!” What pushing and shoving and driving and squealing! Soon there was also a lot of yammering! For a fisherman had lopped off a Brahman’s head in the mob, and the Grand Mogul was nearly run over by a buffoon.
The racket grew wilder and wilder, and the participants were already starting to lunge into one another and beat one another, when the man in the brocade robe climbed up the layer cake. This was the man who had greeted Nutcracker as Prince. Now, after a very dazzling bell was pealed three times, he cried aloud three times: “Confectioner! Confectioner! Confetioner!”
The tumult promptly faded, and each man tried to help himself as best he could. After the entanglements were untangled, the filthy Grand Mogul was cleaned and brushed, and the Brahman’s head was put back on again. And now the merry clamor resumed.
“What’s all this about the Confectioner, my good Herr Drosselmeier?” asked Marie.
“My dearest Demoiselle Stahlbaum,” replied Nutcracker. “‘Confectioner’ is our name for an unknown but very ghastly power that we believe can do whatever we like to a human being. It is the doom hanging over this small, cheerful nation. And this little nation is so frightened that the mere mention of its name can silence the loudest tumult, as was just proved by the mayor. Each man then stops thinking about earthly matters, about pokes in the ribs and bumps on the head. Instead, he draws into himself and says: ‘What is man and what can become of him?’”
Marie couldn’t help crying out in loud admiration, nay, supreme amazement. She was suddenly standing in front of a rose red brightly shimmering castle with a hundred airy turrets. But now and again, rich bouquets of violets, narcissi, tulips, and gillyflowers were scattered on the walls; and the dark, burning colors simply dazzled as they heightened the rosy tint against the white ground. The vast dome of the central building as well as the pyramid-shaped roofs of the turrets were strewn with a thousand gold and silver twinkling stars. “Now we’re outside the Marzipan Castle,” said Nutcracker.
Marie was totally absorbed in viewing the enchanted palace, but it did not escape her that the roof of one huge tower was completely missing. Small manikins, perching on a scaffold of cinnamon sticks, appeared intent on restoring the rooftop. Before managing to ask Nutcracker about it, he continued:
“A short while ago, this beautiful castle was threatened with destruction if not total devastation. Sweet-Tooth the Giant came along, quickly bit off that roof, and was already gnawing on the huge dome. However, the Jamburgers brought him an entire city district plus a considerable section and a confect grove as a tribute, which he fed on and then went his way.”
At that same moment, a very gentle and pleasant music could be heard, the gates of the castle opened up, and twelve little pageboys came out, holding clove stems like torches in their little hands. A page’s head consisted of a pearl, his body of rubies and emeralds, and they walked about on little feet beautifully worked in pure gold. They were followed by four ladies almost as big as Marie’s Clärchen, but so elegantly shining and splendid that Marie could not mistake the born princesses in them for even an instant. She embraced Nutcracker tenderly and exclaimed with mournful joy:
“Oh, my prince! My dearest prince! Oh, my brother!”
Nutcracker seemed deeply moved. He wiped the dense tears from his eyes, took hold of Marie’s hand, and spoke grandiloquently:
“This is Demoiselle Stahlbaum, the daughter of a very highly appreciated medical counselor and the savior of my life. If she hadn’t hurled the slipper at the right time, if she hadn’t gotten me the sword of the retired lieutenant, then I’d be lying in the grave, all chewed up by that accursed Mouse King!
“Oh! That Demoiselle Stahlbaum! Does she equal Pirlipat in beauty, kindness, and virtue, even though she is a born princess? No, I tell you, no!”
And all the ladies cried: “No!” And they hugged Marie and they sobbed: “Oh, you savior of the beloved princely brother—excellent Demoiselle Stahlbaum!”
Now the ladies escorted Marie and Nutcracker into the interior of the castle, a vast space whose walls consisted of colorfully sparkling crystals. But what Marie liked best of all were the darling little chairs, tables, dressers, secretaries, which stood around. They were made of cedar and brazilwood with golden blossoms scattered upon them. The princesses urged Marie and Nutcracker to have a seat, and they themselves would prepare a meal! They pulled out a lot of little pots and bowls made of the finest Japanese porcelain—and knives and spoons and forks and grates and casseroles, and other kitchen appliances of gold and silver. Then they brought the loveliest fruits and sweets, such as Marie had never seen before, and then they tenderly squeezed the fruits with their tiny white hands, pounded the spices, and grated the sugar almonds. In short, they knew their way around a kitchen. And the princesses could see that they were preparing a delicious meal.
While vividly feeling that they likewise understood such things, Marie secretly desired that she could be actively present at the activities of the princesses. As if she had read his mind, Nutcracker’s most beautiful sister handed Marie a small gold mortar, saying: “Oh, sweet friend, dearest savior of my brother, grind me a wee bit from this rock candy!” Marie pounded away so cheerfully that the mortar resounded, graceful and charming, like a lovely tune.
Nutcracker started telling his tale—indeed, sprawling and rambling. He told about the gruesome battle between his army and Mouse King’s army, about his losing due to the cowardice of his troops. Nutcracker also told about how the repulsive Mouse King wanted to chew him to bits; and Marie therefore had to sacrifice a few of the subjects in her service.
During this narrative, Marie felt as if her words, nay, her pestle strokes were moving farther away, growing hazier and hazier. Soon, rising like flimsy clouds of mist, Marie watched the silvery gauzes, in which the princesses, the pageboys, and Nutcracker swam. They could hear a bizarre singing and whirring and whizzing, which vanished in the distance. And now Marie wanted to ascend as if surging on billows, higher and higher, higher and higher, higher and higher.
Conclusion
“Prr! Puff!” resounded. Marie plunged down from an immeasurable height. Now that was a jolt! She opened her eyes and found herself lying in her little bed. It was broad daylight, and her mother stood in front of her, saying: “How can anyone sleep so long? Breakfast has been ready for quite a while.”
Highly esteemed audience! You do notice that Marie, utterly dazed by all the wonders she had seen, had finally dozed off in the vast hall of Marzipan Castle. Next, she had been carried home and put to bed by the Moors or the pages or even the princesses themselves.
“Oh, Mother, dear Mother! Where did the young Herr Drosselmeier take me to last night, and what gorgeous things did I see?!” Now Marie told me everything almost as precisely as I just did. And [Mother] gaped at her in amazement.
When Marie was finished, Mother said: “You’ve had a very long and very lovely dream, dear Marie. But now you’ve simply got to dismiss all such thoughts from your mind.”
However, Marie obstinately insist
ed that she hadn’t been dreaming, that she had really seen all those things. Mother then led her to the glass cabinet, took out Nutcracker from his usual place on the third shelf, and said: “You silly girl! How can you truly believe that this wooden Nuremberg doll can have life and motion?”
“But Mother dear!” Marie broke in. “I do know that little Nutcracker is young Herr Drosselmeier’s nephew from Nuremberg!”
Both parents burst into noisy laughter.
“Ah,” Marie went on almost tearfully. “Now you’re actually making fun of my Nutcracker, Father dear, even though he spoke so highly of you. For when we arrived at Marzipan Castle, and Nutcracker introduced me to his sisters, the princesses, he said that you were a very respectable medical counselor!”
This time, the laughter, which now emerged from Luise and even Fritz, was all the more vociferous. So Marie ran into the next room, quickly reached into her small casket, produced the seven crowns of Mouse King, and handed them to her mother, saying: “Just look, Mother dear! These are Mouse King’s seven crowns, which young Herr Drosselmeier gave me last night as a sign of his victory!”
The astonished mother viewed the tiny crowns. They were worked so cleanly from a totally unfamiliar, but intensely sparkling metal that they couldn’t have been wrought by human hands. Nor could the medical counselor see his fill of the little crowns. And both Father and Mother deeply urged Marie to reveal where she had obtained the crowns. But she could only stick to what she had said.
When her father started treating her severely, even scolding her and calling her a little liar, Marie burst into tears and lamented: “Ah, poor child that I am, poor child! What should I say now?”
At that moment, the door flew open. The Supreme Court counselor came in and exclaimed: “What’s this? What’s this? My dear little child weeping and sobbing? What’s this? What’s this?”
The medical counselor informed him about everything that had happened, and he showed him the little crowns. But no sooner had he seen the crowns than he laughed and said: “Empty twaddle! Empty twaddle! Why those are the little crowns I wore on my watch chain years ago! I gave them to little Marie on her second birthday! Have you all forgotten?”
Neither the medical counselor nor his wife could remember. But when Marie saw that the faces of her parents had grown friendly again, she sprang upon Godfather Drosselmeier and exclaimed: “Ah! You know everything, Godfather! Just tell them that my Nutcracker is your nephew, the young Herr Drosselmeier from Nuremberg, and that he gave me the crowns.”
But the Supreme Court counselor scowled and muttered: “Silly, mindless twaddle.”
Thereupon, the medical counselor took little Marie before him and spoke very earnestly: “Listen, Marie. Forget about your antics and your fantasies! If you ever repeat that the deformed and simpleminded Nutcracker is the nephew of Herr Supreme Court Counselor, I’ll hurl all your dolls out the window—not only Nutcracker but all your others, including Mamsell Clarchen!”
Now poor Marie could no longer talk about what her mind was filled with. For you can certainly imagine that Marie’s lovely and splendid experiences were unforgettable. Even my highly esteemed reader or listener Fritz—even her comrade Fritz Stahlbaum turned his back on his sister when she tried to tell him about the miraculous realms where she was so happy. At times, supposedly, he had even muttered between his teeth: “Silly goose!”
Still, I can’t believe he really said that, given his tried and tested disposition. This much, however, is certain: Since Fritz no longer believed what Marie told him, he virtually apologized to his Hussars in public review; apologized for the injustice he had made them suffer. Instead of the lost ensigns, far higher and lovelier bushes of goose quills decorated them and again permitted them to blast the Hussar March. Well, we know best about the courage of the Hussars, when they got spots from their ugly dumplings on their red jerkins!
Though Marie was not allowed to talk about her adventures, the images of that wondrous fairyland hovered around her in sweetly rushing billows and gracious, charming sounds. She looked at everything once more, focusing sharply. And so, in lieu of playing as usual, she sat there, quiet and rigid and deeply self-absorbed. That is why everyone scolded her for being a little “dreamer.”
Now one day, the Supreme Court counselor was repairing a clock in the medical counselor’s home. Marie was sitting by the glass cabinet, deep in her dreams, and peering at Nutcracker. All at once, she blurted out: “Ah! Dear Herr Drosselmeier! If you were truly alive, I wouldn’t treat you like Princess Pirlipat, scorning you because, for my sake, you stopped being a handsome young man!”
At that moment, the Supreme Court counselor yelled: “Hey! Hey! Empty twaddle!” At that instant, there was such a whack and boom that Marie fainted and sank from her chair.
When she awoke, her mother was busily attending to her and she said: “How can you fall from the chair—such a big girl! The nephew of the Supreme Court counselor has just arrived from Nuremberg. Be a good girl!”
Marie looked up. The Supreme Court counselor had put his glass periwig back on, slipped into his yellow jacket, and smiled in great satisfaction. His hand clutched a small, but very well-built young man, while his little face had a peaches-and-cream complexion. He wore a splendid red coat with a gilt lining, white silk shoes and stockings, and a darling bouquet in his jabot. He was also nicely groomed and powdered, and a wonderful queue hung down his back. The little sword on his side glittered as if thoroughly encrusted with jewels, and the cap he held under his arm seemed woven out of silk flocks.
The young man’s pleasant habits were demonstrated immediately by the many gorgeous toys he had brought for Marie. He also offered her the most delectable marzipan and the same figurines that Mouse King had chewed up, whereby the young man had also gotten Fritz a magnificent saber.
During the meal, the well-behaved young man cracked nuts for the entire company. Not even the hardest shells could resist him. With his right hand, he inserted the nuts into his mouth; and with his left hand, he pulled his queue—crack! The nut fell into pieces!
Marie had turned bright red upon seeing the well-behaved young man. And she turned even redder after the meal, when young Drosselmeier invited her to join him at the glass cabinet in the living room.
“Play nicely with one another, children,” the Supreme Court counselor exclaimed. “I don’t mind playing now that all my clocks run correctly.”
But no sooner was young Drosselmeier alone with Marie than he knelt down on one knee and said:
“Oh, my highly esteemed Demoiselle Stahlbaum! See at your feet your happy Drosselmeier, whose life you saved on this very spot! You were kind enough to state that if I grew ugly for your sake, you would not scorn me like that wretched Princess Pirlipat. I promptly stopped being a despicable Nutcracker and I regained my earlier, not unpleasant looks. Oh, highly esteemed Demoiselle! Delight me with your worthy hand. Share crown and kingdom with me, rule from Marzipan Castle with me, for I am now king there.”
Marie lifted up the youth and said quietly:
“Dear Herr Drosselmeier! You are a kind and gentle person! And since you also rule a graceful land with very cheerful and attractive people, I will accept you as my fiancé!” Marie hereby became Drosselmeier’s fiancée.
A year later, we are told, he called for her in a golden carriage drawn by silver horses. Twenty-two thousand of the most brilliant figurines danced amid their adornments of pearls and diamonds.
Marie supposedly is still queen of a land where you can see sparkling Christmas Forests everywhere as well as translucent Marzipan Castles—in short, the most splendid and most wondrous things, if you only have the right eyes to see them with.
And that was the tale of Nutcracker and Mouse King.
The Tale of the Nutcracker
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
Preface
Which explains how the author was obliged to tell the tale of Nutcracker of Nuremberg.
There was a large party for childre
n at the home of my friend, Count M——, and I, for my part, had contributed to the noisy and joyful festivities by bringing my daughter. Within half an hour, I had paternally taken part in four or five successive matches of blindman’s buff, hot cockles, and dressing up in fancy garb. My head was a bit shattered by the racket produced by some twenty charming demons eight to ten years old and vying with one another in making the most noise. I therefore slipped away from the salon and went looking for a certain boudoir I was acquainted with. This place was quite soundproof and withdrawn, and I counted on very gently picking up the thread of my interrupted thoughts.
I had worked my retreat so skillfully that, luckily, I abandoned not only the eyes of the young guests—which was not very difficult, given their intense focus on their games. However, I had also discarded their parents, which was quite a different matter altogether.
I had reached the boudoir I was seeking, and I had stepped inside, whereupon I noticed that it had been transformed temporarily into a refectory, piled high with gigantic buffets laden with pastries and refreshments.
Now these gastronomic preparations were a further guarantee that I would not be disturbed before supper, since the above-mentioned boudoir was reserved for snacks.
I spotted an enormous Voltaire chair, with a high padded back, a low seat, and round arms—veritable Louis XV. It was a lazybones, as they say in Italy, that land of true lazybones, and I adjusted voluptuously, delighted as I was by the thought of spending a whole hour all alone with my thoughts. Indeed, my thoughts were so very precious in the midst of this whirlwind, into which we public vassals are incessantly drawn.
Nutcracker and Mouse King and The Tale of the Nutcracker Page 10
