The Story of a Nutcracker by Alexandre Dumas.
Title: The Story of a Nutcracker.
Author: Alexandre Dumas (translated by Sarah Ardizzone).
Country: France.
Language: French.
Publication Date: 1844.
Summary: A re-telling of E.T.A. Hoffmann's The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (1816). The nutcracker doll that mysterious Godfather Drosselmayer gives to little Marie for Christmas is no ordinary toy. On Christmas Eve, as the clocks strike midnight, Marie watches as the Nutcracker and her entire cabinet of playthings come to life and boldly do battle against the malevolent Mouse King and his armies. But this is only the start of the fantasticalrr tale.
My rating: 8.5/10.
My review: An important note on the translation, to me, is that it's utterly unnecessary. It's almost identical to the original translation, the only difference being it is much less eloquent.
♥ Now, since everyone must keep their word, even when it has been pledged to children, I invited my audience to sit comfortably, so that they could pass painlessly from listening to slumber, and, when each child had found a chair, I began like this.
♥ Each country has its own customs, as even the most ignorant among you are aware - am I right? And doubtless the better educated among you know that Nuremberg is a town in Germany renowned for its playthings, its dolls and its Punchinello puppets, which it exports by the crate-load to countries the world over; from which we might deduce that the children of Nuremberg are the happiest children on earth, unless they are like the inhabitants of Ostend, whose oysters are glimpsed only in the dispatching.
So, Germany, being a different country to France, has different customs. In France presents are exchanged on New Year's Day, with the result that a great many people would rather the year began on the 2nd of January. But in Germany the day of exchanging presents is the 24th of December, or Christmas Eve. Not only that, but presents are exchanged in a very particular way on the other side of the Rhine: a great tree is pitched in the drawing room, in the middle of a table, and the playthings for the children are hung from its branches; what can't be hung from the branches is placed on the table. The children are then told that it is the dear little Lord Jesus who has sent them their share of his presents from the Three Kings, which only only a half-lie, for, as you know, all that is good in this world comes from Jesus.
♥ Godfather Drosselmayer was a doctor who could by no means be described as handsome. At five foot eight he was a tall and skinny man, but terribly stooped, so that, despite his long legs, in the event of his handkerchief falling to the floor, he hardly needed to bend down at all in order to pick it up. His face was as wizened as a Golden Reinette apple nipped by the frost. He wore a black patch over his right eye; and he remedied his bald head by wearing a wig that was grassy and frizzy, an ingenious invention of his own making in spun glass; out of respect for this piece of headgear he kept his hat tucked under his arm at all times. His remaining eye, which was keen and glittering, appeared not only to perform its own duty but also that of its missing companion, so rapidly did it roll around a room whose details Godfather Drosselmayer wished to survey at a glance, and so hard did it stare at those whose deepest thoughts he wanted to fathom.
Now, Godfather Drosselmayer was a doctor, as we've said, but instead of busying himself, as did most of his colleagues, with killing living human beings correctly and according to the rules, he was only concerned with bringing dead things back to life. By this I mean that, from studying the bodies of men and animals, he had so cleverly grasped the mechanics of their bodies that he could make men who marched, saluted and presented arms; women who danced and played the harpsichord, harp and viol; dogs that ran and fetched and barked; birds that flew and hopped about and sang; fish that swam and swallowed. He had even succeeded in making dolls and Punchinello puppets say a few words, albeit simple ones, such as 'papa', 'mama' and 'horsey'; but they did so in a depressingly monotonous squawk, which you could tell was produced by an automated device and, when all is said and done, an automated device is only ever a parody of the Lord's great works.
Despite these failed endeavours, Godfather Drosselmayer did not despair, not once, for he insisted that one day he would produce real men, real women, real dogs, real birds and real fish.
♥ Like an acupuncturist selecting the sharpest implements, he would plunge them inside the clock, much to the distress of Marie, who was convinced that the poor timepiece suffered during this operation; whereas, in point of fact, it resuscitated the patient undergoing surgery by trepanation. As soon as the clockwork parts were restored to their box, or between their columns, or on their stand, the timepiece would spring back into action, beating and whirring even louder than before; and so life was restored to the apartment which, upon losing its cheery lodger, had been deprived of its soul.
♥ As dusk was descending on this blessed Christmas Eve, Fritz and Marie, who had not been allowed to set foot inside the ceremonial drawing room all day, were to be found huddling in a corner of the dining room.
While their governess, Miss Trudchen, was knitting over by the window where she had moved to catch the last rays, the children were seized by a vague kind of terror, because, in accordance with the custom of that solemn day, no light had been brought to them; and so they talked in hushed voices, the way you or I might talk when we're feeling a touch afraid.
♥ My dear children, you are all familiar with Susse and Giroux, those great purveyors of childhood happiness; you have been led to their magnificent toy-filled premises, and urged not to count the cost: 'Come, take your pick!' Eyes wide and mouths gaping, you stopped in a moment of breathless ecstasy, the like of which you will never experience again, not even on the day when you are inducted as fellows of the Academy, members of parliament or peers of the land.
♥ Her godfather grimaced dreadfully, like a man hopping off burning coals; then he began to chant in a voice that was both nasal and monotonous:
'Clock parts whirr
And pendulum beat.
Fine squadron, stir -
Advance and retreat!
The plaintive clock
Will strike midnight;
The owl lands atop
As the King takes flight.
Clock parts whirr
And pendulum beat.
Fine squadron, stir -
Advance and retreat!'
♥ There was, in the vicinity of Nuremberg, a tiny kingdom which was neither Prussia, nor Poland, nor Bavaria, nor the Palatinate, and it was ruled by a king.
One day, the wife of this king, who was as a result a queen, brought into the world a little girl, who was as a result a princess, and she was given the gracious and distinguished name of Pirlipata.
♥ Not only that but Pirlipata entered this world with her two rows of tiny teeth (though really we should call them pearls); and, scarcely two hours after her birth, she used these teeth to bite the finger of the Lord Chancellor who, being near-sighted, had tried taking too close a look at her. So hard did she bite him that, according to some, despite his belonging to the Stoic school, he cried out:
"What the devil?"
While other maintain that, in honour of his philosophy, he merely said:
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"
Indeed, to this very day, opinion remained divided on such an important question, with neither side willing to cede ground. The only thing the devilists and the ouchists could agree on, the single incontestable fact, was that Princess Pirlipata had bitten the Lord Chancellor on the finger. From this moment on, the country learned that charming little Pirlipatina was as headstrong as she was beautiful.
♥ "What an unlucky monarch am I! And how cruel a Fate are you!"
Perhaps, instead of accusing Fate, the King should have reflected upon being the maker of his own misfortune, as are all men in the ordinary way of things; since, if he could have eaten his black puddings with a little less bacon than usual and, by renouncing revenge, left Dame Mousey and her family beneath the hearthstone, this lamentable turn of events would never have come to pass. But, and here I must be frank with you, the thoughts of Pirlipata's royal father did not take this philosophical turn,
On the contrary, just as those in positions of power always believe it necessary to lay the blame for any disasters that befall them on those less powerful than themselves, so the King laid the blame firmly on Christan-Elias Drosselmayer.
♥ Master Drosselmayer had no pretentions to heroism, and had never counted on dying anything other than a good death; so he was greatly afraid of this threat. But he found some comfort by trusting in his science, the full extent of which his personal modesty had never prevented him from appreciating, and he immediately busied himself with the first and most useful operation: that of finding out whether there might be a remedy for the curse, or whether it truly was incurable, as it had seemed to him at first glance.
To this end, he nimbly dismantled first her head, then one by one each of Princess Pirlipata's limbs, even detaching her feet and hands, so as to examine more properly not only her joints and springs, but also her internal construction. Yet, oh dear, the more he delved into the mystery of Pirlipata's frame, the better he understood that as the Princess grew older, the more hideous and deformed she would become.
&hearts' "O nature's instinct! Eternal and impenertable sympathy of all created beings!" called out Christian-Elias Drosselmayer. "Show me the door that leads to your secrets; there shall I knock, and it will open!"
♥ ..that in order to break the curse which had made Pirlipata so hideously ugly, and so as to restore her original beauty, there was only one thing for it: she had to eat the kernel of the Crackatuck Nut, whose shell was so hard that the wheel of a forty-eight-pounder long gun could rude over it without breaking it. Next, the shell had to be shattered in the Princess's presence by the teeth of a young man who had never shaved, and who had only ever worn boots. Finally, the kernel had to be presented to the Princess by the young man with his eyes closed and, still with his eyes closed, he had to take seven steps backwards without stumbling. This was the reply from the stars.
♥ Consequently, he had misplaced all his hair while suffering from sunstroke in the tropics, and had lost his right eye when an arrow was fired at him by a Caribbean chief. Not only that but his yellow frockcoat, which had hardly been new when he had left Germany, was now literally falling apart at the seams. His situation was, it would be fair to say, appalling; and yet so desperately does a man cling to life that, despite the successive damages to his deteriorated person, it was nonetheless with mounting terror that he viewed the prospect of putting himself back into the King's hands.
♥ Now, the King being a most accessible monarch, who gave an audience to all those needing to speak with him, commanded his Master of Ceremonies to bring him the two strangers.
The Master of Ceremonies pointed out to His Majesty that the two strangers were a sorry sight, pitifully dressed. But the King replied that the heart should not be judged by the outward appearance, and that clothes do not the man make.
♥ There was great rejoicing in the palace. The King immediately sent for the Privy Councillor (who was responsible for the public mood, and for censoring all the newspapers) and ordered him to draft an official note for the Royal Monitor, which the editors of the other gazettes would be forced to print.
♥ Several members of the French Academy were to be spotted at this important conference, including its Permanent Secretary (although he was unable to compete due to a lack of teeth, which he had broken while attempting to rip the works of his fellow writers to shreds).
♥ So there you have it, my dear children: the story of the Crackatuck Nut and the Princess Pirlipata, just as Godfather Drosselmayer told it to young Marie. And now you know why we say, when something is difficult:
"It's a hard nut to crack."
♥ "I shall follow you, my dear Master Drosselmayer. But it mustn't be far, and the journey mustn't last long, for I haven't slept enough yet."
"Then I shall choose the shortest way," said the Nutcracker, "even though it is the most difficult."
♥ Nutcracker clapped his hands, whereupon several shepherds and shepherdesses, hunters and huntresses appeared from the forest: they were so delicate and fair that they appeared to be made of the finest sugar. They carried a handsome chocolate armchair, encrusted with angelica, on which they placed a cushion of jujube, and cordially invited Marie to sit down. No sooner was she ensconced than, as is customary in an opera house, the shepherds and shepherdesses, hunters and huntresses assumed their positions. They began to dance a charming ballet, accompanied by horns, which the hunters blew in virile manner, so that their faces were flushed and their cheeks resembled rose conserves Once the dance was over, they all vanished into the bushes.
♥ "This is the River of Orange Juice," said Nutcracker, without waiting for Marie to ask him. "It is one of the most minor rivers in the kingdom. For, aside from its sweet fragrance, it cannot compare with the River of Lemonade, which flows into the Southern Sea, also known as the Sea of Punch, nor to the Lake of Sweet Syrup, which flows into the Northern Sea, known as the Sea of Almond Milk.
.."This is the Hamlet of Marzipan. It's a dear little place, as you can see, located on the Brook of Honey. And its inhabitants are rather pleasing to behold; it's just that they're always in a bad mood, because they're forever fighting toothache."
♥ Nutcracker clapped his hands again, and the River of Attar of Roses swelled before their eyes, as a chariot made from shells emerged from its choppy waters. It was covered in gemstones that sparkled in the sunlight, and was pulled by golden dolphins. A dozen miniature Moors, looking splendid with their caps made from the scales of gilthead bream and their clothes of hummingbird feathers, leapt onto the bank and gently carried first Marie, and then Nutcracker, on board their chariot, which set forth again cross the water.
The spectacle of Marie in her chariot of shells, fragrant with perfume and floating on waves of attar of roses, was ravishing to witness and, I have to confess, worthy of comparison with Celopatra's voyage in her barge upon the river Cydnus. The golden dolphins tossed their heads and sent brilliant sprays pf rosy crystal into the air; and these came tumbling back down again as variegated rain in every colour of the rainbow.
♥ Pushing aside the final branches, Marie was taken aback at the sheer scale, magnificence and originality of the city that rose up before her out of a lawn of flowers. Not only did the walls and bell towers shine with the brightest colours, but the shape of the buildings was quite unlike anything on earth. As for the ramparts and gates, they were formed entirely from candied fruits, whose original colours (made even more brilliant by the crystallised sugar that coated them) glistened in the sunlight. At the main gates, through which Nutcracker and Marie made their entrance, silver soldiers presented arms, and a miniature man, wrapped in a gold brocade dressing gown, threw his arms around Nutcracker, saying:
"Dear Prince, here you are at last! Welcome to the City of Candied Fruits!"
..Spurred on by hew own curiosity, and the Nutcracker's polite invitation, Marie hastened her step, and soon found herself in the main market square, which benefited from the most splendid aspect you could wish to see. All the surrounding houses were made of sugar candy, with balconies atop balconies. In the middle of the square, rising up in the shape of an obelisk, was a gigantic brioche from which gushed four fountains, of lemonade, orangeade, sweet syrup and gooseberry cordial. As for the basins below, these were filled with a whipped cream so appetising that plenty of well-dressed people (who looked the height of respectability) were eating whole spoonfuls of whip-syllabub, in full public view. But the most agreeable entertainment was provided by the delightful miniature people jostling and strolling in their thousands, arm in arm, laughing, singing and chattering at the tops of their voices, resulting in the happy racket which Marie had heard. In addition to the capital's residents, there were men from every country: Armenians, Jews, Greeks, Tyroleans, officers, soldiers, preachers, Capuchin monks, shepherds and Punchinellos. In short, people of every kind, including tumblers and acrobats, such as you might meet in the world.
♥ "But, dear Master Drosselmayer," said Marie, "how is it that these miniature people are so affected by the thrice-repeated word: 'Confectioner! Confectioner! Confectioner!'?"
"I should inform you, Miss Silberhaus," replied Nutcracker, "that the people of the City of Candied Fruits believe, through experience, in metempsychosis (or the transmigration of souls); consequently, they acknowledge the superior power of a principle known as "confectioner". This principle affords a person whatever shape he likes, according to his fancy, and by submitting him to a longer or a shorter baking time, as the case may be. Now, given that everybody already believes their own shape to be the best, nobody ever wants to change; hence the magical effect of the word "confectioner" upon the people of the City of Candied Fruits. And that is why this word, spoken by the mayor, is all it takes to calm even the greatest commotion, as you have just witnessed. Each person instantly forgets about earthly matters, fractured ribs or bumps to the head. Returned to himself, he thinks: My God! What is man, and what may he not become?"
♥ ..they had arrived opposite a palace that gave off a rosy lustre, and was surmounted by a hundred elegant aerial turrets. Its walls were strewn with nosegays of violets, nacissi, tulips and jasmine flowers, whose various colours enhanced the rosy-tinted background. The great dome in the middle was covered with thousands of gold and silver stars.
"Oh my!" cried Marie. "What is this marvellous building?"
"It is the Marzipan Palace," replied Nutcracker, "which is to say one of the most remarkable monuments in the capital of the Kingdom of Sweets."
♥ And at this very moment, Marie is still queen of that exquisite kingdom where you can glimpse the sparkling Christmas Forest; Rivers of Orangeade, Sweet Syrup and Attar of Roses; and diaphanous palaces built from a sugar that is finer than snow and more translucent than ice. In short, you will notice all sorts of weird and wonderful things, provided your eyes are sharp enough to discover them.