Trumpets and kettledrums mingled in the loud rejoicings of the populace. The king and all his court danced about on one leg, as they had done at Pirlipat’s birth, and the queen had to be treated with Eau de Cologne, having fallen into a fainting fit from joy and delight. All this tremendous tumult interfered not a little with young Drosselmeier’s self-possession, for he still had to make his seven backward steps. But he collected himself as best he could, and was just stretching out his right foot to make his seventh step, when up came Dame Mouserink through the floor, making a horrible weaking and squeaking, so that Drosselmeier, as he was putting his foot down, trod upon her and stumbled so that he almost fell. Oh misery!—all in an instant he was transmogrified, just as the princess had been before: his body all shrivelled up, and could scarcely support the great shapeless head with enormous projecting eyes and the wide gaping mouth. In the place where his pigtail used to be a scanty wooden cloak hung down, controlling the movements of his nether jaw.
The clockmaker and the astronomer were wild with terror and consternation, but they saw that Dame Mouserink was wallowing in her gore on the floor. Her wickedness had not escaped punishment, for young Drosselmeier had squashed her so in the throat with the sharp point of his shoe that she was mortally hurt.
But as Dame Mouserink lay in her death agony she squeaked and cheeped lamentably and cried:
“Oh, Crackatook, thou nut so hard!—Oh, fate, which none may disregard!—Hee hee, pee pee, woe’s me, I cry!—since I through that hard nut must die.—But, brave young Nutcracker, I see—you soon must follow after me.—My sweet young son, with sevenfold crown—will soon bring Master Cracker down.—His mother’s death he will repay—so, Nutcracker, beware that day!—Oh, life most sweet, I feebly cry—I leave you now, for I must die. Queak!”
With this cry died Dame Mouserink, and her body was carried out by the Court Stovelighter. Meantime nobody had been troubling himself about young Drosselmeier. But the princess reminded the king of his promise, and he at once directed that the young hero should be conducted to his presence. But when the poor wretch came forward in his transmogrified condition the princess put both her hands to her face, and cried:
“Oh please take away that horrid Nutcracker!”
The Lord Chamberlain seized him immediately by his little shoulders, and shied him out at the door. The king, furious at the idea of a nutcracker being brought before him as a son-in-law, laid all the blame upon the clockmaker and the astronomer, and ordered them both to be banished for ever.
The horoscope which the astronomer had drawn in Nuremberg had said nothing about this; but that didn’t hinder him from taking some fresh observations. And the stars told him that young Drosselmeier would conduct himself so admirably in his new condition that he would still be a prince and a king, in spite of his transmogrification; but also that his deformity would only disappear after the son of Dame Mouserink, the seven-headed king of the mice (whom she had borne after the death of her original seven sons) should perish by his hand, and a lady should fall in love with him notwithstanding his deformity.
That is the story of the hard nut, children, and now you know why people so often use the expression “that was a hard nut to crack,” and why Nutcrackers are so ugly.
Thus did Godpapa Drosselmeier finish his tale. Marie thought the Princess Pirlipat was a nasty ungrateful thing. Fritz, on the other hand, was of the opinion that if Nutcracker had been a proper sort of fellow he would soon have settled the Mouse-King’s hash, and got his good looks back again.
UNCLE AND NEPHEW
Should any of my respected readers or listeners ever have happened to be cut by glass they will know what an exceedingly nasty thing it is, and how long it takes to heal. Marie was obliged to stay in bed a whole week because she felt so terribly giddy whenever she tried to stand up; but at last she was quite well again, and able to jump about as of old. Things in the glass cupboard looked very fine indeed —everything new and shiny, trees and flowers and houses—toys of every kind. Above all, Marie found her dear Nutcracker again, smiling at her in the second shelf, with his teeth all sound and right.
As she looked at this pet of hers with much fondness, it suddenly struck her that all Godpapa Drosselmeier’s story had been about Nutcracker, and his family feud with Dame Mouserink and her people. And now she knew that her Nutcracker was none other than young Mr. Drosselmeier, of Nuremberg, Godpapa Drosselmeier’s delightful nephew, unfortunately under the spells of Dame Mouserink. For while the story was being told, Marie couldn’t doubt for a moment that the clever clockmaker at Pirlipat’s father’s court was Godpapa Drosselmeier himself.
“But why didn’t your uncle help you? Why didn’t he help you?” Marie cried, sorrowfully, as she felt more and more clearly every moment that in the battle which she had witnessed the question in dispute had been no less a matter than Nutcracker’s crown and kingdom. Weren’t all the other toys his subjects? And wasn’t it clear that the astronomer’s prophecy that he was to be rightful King of Toyland had come true?
While the clever Marie was weighing all these things in her mind, she kept expecting that Nutcracker and his vassals would give some indications of being alive, and make some movements as she looked at them. This, however, was by no means the case. Everything in the cupboard kept quite motionless and still. Marie thought this was the effect of Dame Mouserink’s enchantments, and those of her seven-headed son, which still were keeping up their power.
“But,” she said, “though you’re not able to move, or to say the least little word to me, dear Mr. Drosselmeier, I know you understand me and see how very well I wish you. Always reckon on my assistance when you require it. At all events , I will ask your uncle to aid you with all his great skill and talents, whenever there may be an opportunity.”
Nutcracker still kept quiet and motionless. But Marie fancied that a gentle sigh came breathing through the glass cupboard, which made its panes ring in a wonderful, though all but imperceptible, manner—while something like a little bell-toned voice seemed to sing:
“Marie fine, angel mine! I will be thine, if thou wilt be mine!”
Although a sort of cold shiver ran through her at this, still it caused her the keenest pleasure.
Twilight came on. Marie’s father came in with Godpapa Drosselmeier, and presently Louise set out the tea-table, and the family took their places round it, talking in the pleasantest and merriest manner about all sorts of things. Marie had taken her little stool, and sat down at her godpapa’s feet in silence. When everybody happened to cease talking at the same time, Marie looked her godpapa full in the face with her great blue eyes, and said:
“I know now, godpapa, that my Nutcracker is your nephew, young Mr. Drosselmeier from Nuremberg. The prophecy has come true: he is a king and a prince just as your friend the astronomer said he would be. But you know as well as I do that he is at war with Dame Mouserink’s son—that horrid king of the mice. Why don’t you help him?”
Marie told the whole story of the battle, as she had witnessed it, and was frequently interrupted by the loud laughter of her mother and sister; but Fritz and Drosselmeier listened quite gravely.
“Where in the name of goodness has the child got her head filled with all that nonsense?” cried her father.
“She has such a lively imagination, you see,” said her mother; “she dreamt it all when she was feverish with her arm.”
“It is all nonsense,” cried Fritz, “and it isn’t true! My red hussars are not such cowards as all that. If they were, do you suppose I should command them ? ”
But godpapa smiled strangely, and took little Marie on his knee, speaking more gently to her than ever he had been known to do before.
“More is given to you, Marie dear,” he said, “than to me, or the others. You are a born princess, like Pirlipat, and reign in a bright beautiful country. But you still have much to suffer, if you mean to befriend poor transformed Nutcracker; for the king of the mice lies in wait for him at every turn. Bu
t I cannot help him; you, and you alone, can do that. So be faithful and true.”
Neither Marie nor any of the others knew what Godpapa Drosselmeier meant by these words. But they struck Dr. Stahlbaum—Marie’s father—as being so strange that he felt Drosselmeier’s pulse, and said:
“There seems a good deal of congestion about the head, my dear sir. I’ll write you a little prescription.”
But Marie’s mother shook her head meditatively, and said:
“I have a strong idea what Mr. Drosselmeier means, though I can’t exactly put it in words.”
VICTORY
It was not very long before Marie was awakened one bright moonlight night by a curious noise which came from one of the corners of her room. There was a sound as of small stones being thrown, and rolled here and there; and intermittently there came a horrid cheeping and squeaking.
“Oh, dear me! here come these abominable mice again!” cried Marie in terror, and she wanted to awaken her mother. But the noise suddenly ceased; and she could not move a muscle—for she saw the king of the mice working himself out through a hole in the wall. At last he came into the room, ran about in it, and got onto the little table at the head of her bed with a great jump.
“Hee-hehee!” he cried; “give me your candy! out with your cakes, marzipan and sugar-stick, gingerbread cakes! Don’t pause to argue! If yield them you won’t, I’ll chew up Nutcracker! See if I don’t!”
As he cried out these terrible words, he gnashed and chattered his teeth most frightfully, and then made off again through the hole in the wall. This frightened Marie so that she was quite pale in the morning, and so upset that she scarcely could utter a word. A hundred times she felt impelled to tell her mother or her sister, or at all events her brother, what had happened. But she thought, “Of course none of them would believe me. They would only laugh at me.”
But she saw well enough that to succour Nutcracker she would have to sacrifice all her sweet things; so she laid out all she had of them at the bottom of the cupboard next evening.
“I can’t make out how the mice have got into the sitting-room,” said her mother. “This is something quite new. There never were any there before. See, Marie, they’ve eaten up all your candy.”
And so it was: the epicure Mouse-King hadn’t found the marzipan altogether to his taste, but had gnawed all round the edges of it, so that what he had left of it had to be thrown into the ash-pit. Marie did not mind about her candy, being delighted to think that she had saved Nutcracker by means of it. But what were her feelings when next night there again came a squeaking close by her ear. Alas! The king of the mice was there again, with his eyes glaring worse than the night before.
“Give me your sugar toys,” he cried; “give them you must, or else I’ll chew Nutcracker up into dust!”
Then he was gone again.
Marie was very sorry. She had as beautiful a collection of sugar-toys as ever a little girl could boast of. Not only had she a charming little shepherd, with his shepherdess, looking after a flock of milk-white sheep, with a nice dog jumping about them, but two postmen with letters in their hands, and four couples of prettily dressed young gentlemen and most beautifully dressed young ladies, swinging in a Russian swing. Then there were two or three dancers, and behind them Farmer Feldkuemmel and the Maid of Orleans. Marie didn’t much care about them; but back in the corner there was a little baby with red cheeks, and this was Marie’s darling. The tears came to her eyes.
“Ah!” she cried, turning to Nutcracker, “I really will do all I can to help you. But it’s very hard.”
Nutcracker looked at her so piteously that she determined to sacrifice everything—for she remembered the Mouse-King with all his seven mouths wide open to swallow the poor young fellow; so that night she set down all her sugar figures in front of the cupboard, as she had the candy the night before. She kissed the shepherd, the shepherdess, and the lambs; and at last she brought her best beloved of all, the little red-cheeked baby from its corner, but did put it a little further back than the rest. Farmer Feldkuemmel and the Maid of Orleans had to stand in the front rank.
“This is really getting too bad,” said Marie’s mother the next morning; “some nasty mouse or other must have made a hole in the glass cupboard, for poor Marie’s sugar figures are all eaten and gnawed.” Marie really could not restrain her tears. But she was soon able to smile again; for she thought, “What does it matter? Nutcracker is safe.”
In the evening Marie’s mother was telling her father and Godpapa Drosselmeier about the mischief which some mouse was doing in the children’s cupboard, and her father said:
“It’s a regular nuisance! What a pity that we can’t get rid of it. It’s destroying all the poor child’s things.”
Fritz intervened, and remarked, “The baker downstairs has a fine grey Councillor-of-Legation; I’ll go and get hold of him, and he’ll soon put a stop to it, and bite the mouse’s head off, even if it’s Dame Mouserink herself, or her son, the king of the mice.”
“Oh, yes!” said his mother, laughing, “and jump up on to the chairs and tables, knock down the cups and glasses, and do ever so much mischief besides.”
“No, no!” answered Fritz; “the baker’s Councillor-of-Legation’s a very clever fellow. I wish I could walk about on the edge of the roof, as he does.”
“Don’t let us have a nasty cat in the house in the night-time,” said Louise, who hated cats.
“Fritz is quite right though,” said their mother; “unless we set a trap. Haven’t we got such a thing in the house?”
“Godpapa Drosselmeier’s the man to get us one,” said Fritz; “it was he who invented them, you know.” Everybody laughed. And when their mother said they did not possess such a thing, Drosselmeier said he had plenty; and he actually sent a very fine one round that day. When the cook was browning the fat, Marie—with her head full of the marvels of her godpapa’s tale—called out to her:
“Ah, take care, Queen! Remember Dame Mouserink and her people.” But Fritz drew his sword, and cried, “Let them come if they dare! I’ll give an account of them.” But everything about the hearth remained quiet and undisturbed. As Drosselmeier was fixing the browned fat on a fine thread, and setting the trap gently down in the glass cupboard, Fritz cried:
“Now, Godpapa Clockmaker, mind that the Mouse-King doesn’t play you some trick!”
Ah, how did it fare with Marie that night? Something as cold as ice went tripping about on her arm, and something rough and nasty laid itself on her cheek, and cheeped and squeaked in her ear. The horrible Mouse-King came and sat on her shoulder, foamed a blood-red foam out of all his seven mouths, and chattering and grinding his teeth, he hissed into Marie’s ear:
“Hiss, hiss!—keep away—don’t go in there—beware of that house—don’t you be caught—deatll to the mouse—hand out your picture books—none of your scornful looks!—Give me your dresses —also your laces—or, if you don’t, leave you I won’t—Nutcracker I’ll bite—drag him out of your sight—his last hour is near—so tremble for fear!—Fee, fa, fo, mm—his last hour is come!—Hee hee, pee pee—squeak—squeak!”
Marie was overwhelmed with anguish and sorrow, and was looking quite pale and upset when her mother said to her next morning:
“This horrid mouse hasn’t been caught. But never mind, dear, we’ll catch the nasty thing yet, never fear. If the traps won’t work, Fritz shall fetch the grey Councillor-of-Legation.”
As soon as Marie was alone, she went up to the glass cupboard, and said to Nutcracker, in a voice broken by sobs:
“Ah, my dear, good Mr. Drosselmeier, what can I do for you, poor unfortunate girl that I am! Even if I give that horrid king of the mice all my picture books, and my new dress which the Christ Child gave me at Christmas as well, he’s sure to go on asking for more. Soon I shan’t have anything more left, and he’ll want to eat me! Oh, poor thing that I am! What shall I do? What shall I do ? ”
As she was thus crying and lamenting, she n
oticed that a great spot of blood had been left, since the eventful night of the battle, upon Nutcracker’s neck. Since she had known that he was really young Mr. Drosselmeier, her godpapa’s nephew, she had given up carrying him in her arms, and petting and kissing him; indeed, she felt a delicacy about touching him at all. But now she took him carefully out of his shelf, and began to wipe off this blood spot with her handkerchief. What were her feelings when she found that Nutcracker was growing warmer and warmer in her hand, and beginning to move! She put him back into the cupboard as fast as she could. His mouth began to wobble backwards and forwards, and he began to whisper, with much difficulty:
“Ah, dearest Miss Stahlbaum—most precious of friends! How deeply I am indebted to you for everything—for everything! But don’t, don’t sacrifice any of your picture books or pretty dresses for me. Get me a sword—a sword is what I want. If you get me that, I’ll manage the rest—though—he may—”
There Nutcracker’s speech died away, and his eyes, which had been expressing the most sympathetic grief, grew staring and lifeless again.
Marie felt no fear; she jumped for joy, rather, now that she knew how to help Nutcracker without further painful sacrifices. But where on earth was she to get hold of a sword for him? She resolved to take counsel with Fritz; and that evening when their father and mother had gone out, and they two were sitting beside the glass cupboard, she told him what had passed between her and Nutcracker with the king of the mice, and what it was that was required to rescue Nutcracker.
The thing which chiefly exercised Fritz’s mind was Marie’s statement as to the unexemplary conduct of his red hussars in the great battle. He asked her once more, most seriously, to assure him that it really was the truth; and when she had repeated her statement on her word of honour, he advanced to the cupboard and made his hussars a most affecting address. As a punishment for their behaviour, he solemnly took their plumes one by one out of their busbies, and prohibited them from sounding the march of the hussars of the guard for the space of a twelvemonth. When he had performed this duty, he turned to Marie and said:
The Best Tales of Hoffmann Page 26