The Christmas Tree
My dear children, it’s not that you don’t know Susse and Giroux, those great entrepreneurs of the happiness of youth. After all, you were conducted into their splendid boutiques and you were told upon opening an infinite credit: “Come, take, pick!”
Next you halted. You were panting, your eyes were gaping, your mouth was gawking. And you had one of those moments of ecstasy that you will never have again—even on the day that you are named a member of the French Academy, or French peer, or French deputy.
And that’s what happened to Fritz and Marie when they entered the salon and saw the Christmas tree, which seemed to emerge from the large table covered by a white tablecloth. The table was fully laden not only with gold apples but also with sugar blossoms instead of natural flowers, and with pralines and sugar almonds instead of fruit. The entire scene was shining with the flames of a hundred candles hidden in the foliage, which rendered it as dazzling as those colossal illumination frames that you see on public holidays. At this point, Fritz executed several entrechats, doing honor to his dancing teacher Monsieur Pochette. Marie, however, didn’t even try to hold back two thick tears of joy, which, similar to liquid pearls, rolled down her beaming face as if down a May rose.
Things got worse when they passed from the whole to the details, and the two children saw the table piled high with all kinds of toys. Marie found a doll twice the size of Mademoiselle Rose with a snug and charming silk gown suspended from a coat peg. It hung in such a way that Marie could see it from all around the salon. And Fritz discovered something else on the table: a squadron of Hussars wearing red pelisses with gold piping and mounted on white steeds. The famous chestnut, which left a huge gap in all stables, was attached to the foot of the same table. Thus the new Alexander the Great instantly got astride the brilliant Bucephalus, which had been offered to him, bridle and saddle.
After galloping around the Christmas tree several times, Fritz declared, upon stepping down on the floor, that even though it was a very wild and stubborn creature, he was certain he could tame it, so that within a month it would be as mild as a lamb.
However, the moment he set foot on the ground, Marie baptized her new doll Mademoiselle Clarchen. This corresponds to the name Claire in French just as Roschen corresponds to Rose. Now the silvery tinkle of the bell could be heard again. The children returned to the source of that sound—that is to say, a corner of the salon.
Now they saw something they had ignored before, fascinated as they had been by the dazzling Christmas tree, which occupied the exact center of the space. You see, this corner had been cut off by a screen, from behind which you could catch a certain noise and a certain music. These sounds proved that something new and alien was taking place in this section of the home. The children realized in unison that they hadn’t yet seen the medical counselor and so they cried out in a single chorus: “Ah! Godfather Drosselmayer!”
At these words, as if awaiting only this exclamation to make its movement, the screen collapsed, revealing not only the godfather but a lot more!
In the middle of a green pasture spangled with flowers looms a magnificent castle with a quantity of glass windows on its facades and two gorgeous golden towers on its wings. That same moment, a ringing could be heard from the interior, doors and windows opened, and in the apartments lit by half-inch candles, you could see little gentlemen and little ladies strolling about in marvelous attire. The men wore magnificently embroidered coats as well as silk jackets and culottes, a sword at one side and a hat under an arm. The women were grandly attired in brocaded gowns with wide hoops, their hairdos in straight roots, their hands clutching fans, cooling their faces as if overwhelmed by the heat. In the middle salon, which looked all ablaze because of a crystal luster brimming with tapers, a throng of children was dancing to that ringing: boys in round jackets, girls in short gowns.
At that same time, a gentleman appeared at the window of an adjoining room, made some signs, and then vanished. Enveloped in a fur coat, he could quite certainly have to be a personage enjoying the right to at least the title of Serene Highness. All this happened while Godfather Drosselmayer himself, clad in his yellow frock coat, with his eye patch and his glass periwig, resembling the godfather to the point of mistaking him for someone else, kept going in and out as if inviting the strollers to visit him.
The first moment was one of joy and surprise for the two children. But after a few minutes of contemplation, Fritz, leaning on his elbows, stood up and approached the godfather impatiently:
“But Godfather Drosselmayer,” said Fritz, “Why do you keep going in and out of the same door? You must be exhausted with all your coming and going. Leave through the downstairs door and reenter by this door.” And Fritz pointed at the gates of the two towers.
“That’s impossible!” the godfather responded.
“Well,” Fritz replied, “then do me the favor of mounting the staircase, taking this gentleman’s place at the window, and telling him to go to the door in your place.”
“Impossible, my dear little Fritz!” the medical counselor repeated.
“Well, the children have danced enough. Now they have to stroll about while the strollers dance in their turn.”
“Why, that’s unreasonable, you eternal plaintiff!” cried the godfather, who was starting to get annoyed. “Since the mechanics are made, they have to work.”
“Then,” said Fritz, “I want to enter the castle.”
“Ah! Not this time,” said the judge, “you’re crazy, my dear son. You can see that it’s impossible for you to get inside. The weathercocks on the uppermost towers barely reach your shoulders.”
Fritz capitulated to this line of reasoning and held his tongue. But a moment later, seeing that these ladies and gentlemen were still ambling nonstop, that the children were still dancing, that the gentleman in fur kept showing up and disappearing at regular intervals, and that Godfather didn’t leave his entrance, Fritz said in a strongly disillusioned tone:
“Godfather Drosselmayer, if all your little figures can do nothing but what they are already doing and can only keep recommencing the same thing, then you are welcome to take them back tomorrow. I just don’t care about them. I prefer my horse, which runs to my will; my Hussars, which maneuver according to my command, which head right and left, forward and backward, and are not enclosed in any house; than all your poor little men who are obliged to work as the mechanics want them to work.”
Upon these words, Fritz turned his back on his godfather and on his castle, flew over to the table, and marshaled his squadron of Hussars in battle formation.
As for Marie, she slipped away very softly, for the regular motion of all the little dolls had struck her as highly repetitive. Only as she was a charming girl with all the instincts of the heart, she had said nothing lest she afflict her godfather. Indeed, scarcely had her brother turned his back than, with a piqued tone, her godfather said to her parents:
“Come on! Come on! Such a masterpiece is not fit for a child. I’m going to put my castle back inside its box and carry it away.”
But Mother approached him, and, to make up for Fritz’s rudeness, she was shown the large details of the godfather’s masterpiece. He explained the works so categorically, and praised the complex gears so ingeniously. And not only did he manage to follow the spirit of the medical counselor by effacing the bad impression, but he also reached into the pockets of his yellow frock coat and brought out a multitude of little men and little women with tan skins and white eyes, as well as gilt hands and feet. Otherwise these little men and little women exuded an excellent fragrance, given that they were made of cinnamon bark.
At that moment, Mademoiselle Trudchen called Marie, giving her permission to slip into that lovely little silk gown, which had so deeply entranced Marie upon her entrance that she had asked if she could be allowed to try it on. But Marie, despite her normal politeness, didn’t reply. She was too preoccupied with a new personage whom she had just disc
overed among her toys. I ask you, my dear children, to focus all your attention on him. You see, he is the hero of this very truthful story, in which Mademoiselle Trudchen, Marie, Fritz, the judge, his wife, and even Godfather Drosselmayer all play secondary roles.
The Little Man in the Wooden Cape
Marie, as we were saying, failed to answer Mademoiselle Trudchen’s invitation because the girl had, at that very moment, discovered a new toy, which she hadn’t spotted before.
Indeed, leaning mournfully against the trunk of the Christmas tree, Fritz, by making his squadrons curve and tack and twist, unmasked a charming manikin. Silent and quite suitable, the little man was waiting his turn to be seen. There would have been something to say about the figure of this manikin, whom we may have been too quick to dub “charming.” For one thing, his bust, overly extended and overly developed, was no longer perfectly harmonious with his tiny, skinny legs. For another thing, his head was so unreasonably gigantic that it stuck out from all the proportions indicated not only by Nature but also by the drawing masters, who know more about such things than Nature.
But if there was something imperfect about this manikin, his deficiency was redeemed by his outstanding wardrobe, which revealed him to be a man of both taste and culture. He wore a purple velvet polonaise with a quantity of golden frogs, loops, and buttons, plus matching knee breeches and the most attractive little boots that had ever graced the feet of a student or an officer; and they fitted so snugly that they looked pasted on.
But there were two strange features about a man who seemed to have a superior insight in fashion. On the one side, he had a cramped and hideous wooden cape like a pigtail that he had attached to the bottom of his neck and that fell down in the middle of his back. On the other side, he had a wicked little highlander cap, which the manikin had straightened out on his head.
On seeing these two objects, which formed a huge disparity with the rest of the costume, Marie had reflected that Godfather Drosselmayer himself wore a small collar over his yellow frock coat. This collar, scarcely more stylish than the wooden manikin with the polonaise, sometimes covered his head with a wretched and obnoxious hat, next to which all the hats in the world could suffer no comparison. However, this did not prevent Drosselmayer from being an excellent godfather. This comparison had actually said that, even if Godfather Drosselmayer were to base his entire wardrobe on that of the little wooden manikin, he would still be very far from being as gentle and as graceful.
We appreciate that Marie hadn’t made these reflections without a thorough investigation of the manikin, whom she had liked at first blush. And the more she examined his face, the more goodness and sweetness she discerned in his features. Her light green eyes, which could be rebuked only for being a tad too prominent, expressed nothing but serenity and benevolence. The fluffy and curly white beard, blanketing his entire chin, looked especially good on Drosselmayer today, for Marie brought out her charming smile. Her lips may have been a bit too far apart, but they were red and brilliant. So after considering him with growing affection for over ten minutes, she exclaimed without daring to touch him:
“Oh! Tell me! Good Father. That dear manikin over there, leaning against the Christmas tree—whom does he belong to?”
“To no one in particular!” the judge replied. “To all of you together!”
“How can that be, Father dear? I don’t understand you.”
“He’s the universal worker,” the judge went on. “From now on, his job will be to break for you all the nuts that you eat. And he belongs to Fritz as much as to you, and to you as much as to Fritz.”
With those words, the judge cautiously shifted the manikin from the place where he was posted. Raising his cramped wooden cape, the judge got the manikin to undo his mouth by way of the easiest seesaw motion. The opening mouth exposed two rows of sharp white teeth. At her father’s bidding, Marie then stuck in a hazelnut and: Crack! Crack! The manikin crushed the nut so skillfully that the shell scattered into a thousand bits and pieces while the unbroken kernel remained in Marie’s hand. The little girl now realized that this stylish manikin was a descendant of that ancient and venerated breed of Nutcrackers whose origin, as antique as that of Nuremberg, was likewise lost in the mists of time. That same manikin continued to exercise the honorable and philanthropic profession of his ancestors, while Marie, delighted to have made this discovery, started jumping for joy.
Whereupon the judge said to her: “Well, my good little Marie, since you like the Nutcracker so much, then even though he belongs equally to Fritz and to you, you will be put especially in charge of caring for him. I therefore place him under your protection.”
With these words, the judge returned the manikin to Marie, who took him into her arms and began carrying out her task. Now this captivating child had such a good heart that she selected the smallest nuts. In this way, her protégé didn’t have to open his mouth immeasurably, which didn’t suit him and which made his physiognomy look ridiculous. Next Mademoiselle Trudchen approached him in order to enjoy, in her turn, the sight of the manikin. And for her too, Nutcracker fulfilled his assignment, performing it gracefully and cheerfully, even though Mademoiselle Trudchen was, as we know, merely a governess.
However, while continuing to train his chestnut and make his Hussars maneuver, Fritz had heard: “Crack! Crack! Crack!” After that sound was repeated twenty times, he had realized that something new was going on. He therefore raised his head and focused his enormous and interrogative eyes on the group made up of the judge, Marie, and Mademoiselle Trudchen. In his sister’s arms, he observed the manikin with the wooden cape, and so he dismounted from his steed, and without taking the time to relocate the chestnut to the stable, he hurried over to Marie and revealed his presence with a joyous burst of laughter. His mirth was inspired by the grotesque countenance made by the manikin when it was opening its huge mouth.
Fritz now demanded his share of the nuts cracked by the manikin, and his request was granted. He also demanded the right to crack them himself since he had half ownership. Only, contrary to his sister and to his surveillance, Fritz stuffed the largest and hardest nuts into Nutcracker’s mouth. Then, at the fifth or sixth nut that Fritz had inserted, they suddenly heard: “Crack!” And three little teeth tumbled out from the manikin’s gums, whereby the chin, in pieces, became feeble and shaky like the chin of an old man.
“Oh! My poor, dear Nutcracker!” exclaimed Marie, snatching the manikin from Fritz’s hands.
“What a moron!” cried Fritz. “He wants to be a Nutcracker, but he’s got a glass jaw! He’s a phony Nutcracker; he doesn’t understand his own profession! Hand him over, Marie! I’ve got to keep cracking him even if he loses the rest of his teeth and even if his chin is totally dislocated! Listen! Why are you so interested in that lazy bum anyhow?”
“No! No! No!” cried Marie, squeezing the manikin in her arms. “No! You won’t have my poor Nutcracker anymore! Look! He’s watching me so horribly, showing me his poor injured jaw! Goodness! You have a nasty heart! You beat your horses. And the other day, you had one of your soldiers shot to death!”
“I beat my horses when they get unruly!” Fritz retorted in his most swaggering tone of voice. “As for the soldier that I had shot the other day: He was a miserable vagabond. For the year he was in my service, I hadn’t managed to do anything for him. One fine morning, he deserted along with his bag and baggage. In all the countries on earth, desertion entails capital punishment! Furthermore, all these issues are matters of discipline, and they don’t involve women! I don’t prevent you from whipping your dolls, and you shouldn’t prevent me from beating my horses and having my soldiers shot. Now I want Nutcracker!”
“Oh, good Father! Save me!” said Marie, enveloping the manikin in her pocket handkerchief. “Help me, Father! Fritz wants to grab Nutcracker!”
Because of her shouting, Marie was approached not only by the judge and his group of children: The mother as well as Godfather Drosselmayer also came run
ning. The two children each explained their reasons: the girl for keeping Nutcracker, the boy for getting him back. To her great amazement, Godfather Drosselmayer, with a smirk that looked ferocious to the little girl, sided with Fritz. Luckily for poor Nutcracker, the two parents came around to Marie’s way of thinking.
“My dear Fritz,” said the judge. “I’ve put Nutcracker under your sister’s protection. To the extent that my paltry medical knowledge allows me to judge his condition, I can see that poor, wretched Nutcracker is terribly injured and needs lots of attention. Therefore, until his complete recovery, I assign full power to Marie, and nobody is to find fault with my decision. Incidentally, you, who are so strong in military discipline: When have you ever seen a general return a wounded soldier to the front—a soldier wounded in the general’s service? The wounded go to the hospital and stay there until they’re cured, while the cripples have the right to army pensions.”
Fritz tried to impose, but the judge raised his forefinger to the level of his right eye, and these two words slipped out of him:
“Herr Fritz!”
We’ve already told you what a powerful impact these two words had on the little boy. Ashamed of having drawn this rebuke, Fritz, gentle and wordless, glided to the area of the table where he had stationed the Hussars, who, after setting up their lost sentinels and establishing their outposts, had silently retired for the night.
Meanwhile, Marie gathered Nutcracker’s minute teeth, which she kept on, wrapped in her handkerchief and supporting his chin in a lovely white ribbon taken from her silk frock. On his side, the manikin, at first very pale and very frightened, appeared to be highly confident about the kindness of his protector. Little by little, he grew more and more reassured, feeling very tenderly cradled. Marie now saw that Godfather Drosselmayer mockingly watched her applying maternal care to the manikin in the wooden cape. It even struck her that his single eye had taken on an expression of spite and malice, which she was not in the habit of finding in him. As a result, she wanted to move away from him.
Nutcracker and Mouse King and The Tale of the Nutcracker Page 12