The Nutcracker and the Mouse King: The Gifts

On the other side of the double doors, a tall fir tree glistened atop a table in the middle of the room. It was decorated with gold and silver apples, and every imaginable kind of candy, from sugar almonds to comfits. Lemon drops hung like flowers from its branches. But the most spectacular thing about the beautiful tree was the many little lights that sparkled amid its dark boughs, illuminating its treasures like stars. The candles seemed to wink at the children, issuing a friendly invitation to partake of its blossoms and fruit.

You remember, dear reader, what Christmas was like as a child. So, you can image the delight and astonishment of the Stahlbaum children as they stared in silence at the spectacle before them. Marie sighed heavily, remarking, “Oh! What perfect beauty!” Fritz sprang into the air three times, each leap reaching greater heights than before. The children had never gotten such nice presents on Christmas Eve before, so they must have been good all year.

Beneath the branches of the tree, Marie spied the prettiest dolls, a tea set, and lovely little doll furniture. Eclipsing all the rest, a silk dress, tastefully ornamented with winsome ribbons, hung upon a frame, so she could view it on every side. She repeatedly exclaimed, “Oh, it’s beautiful! And may I put it on? Yes, yes—may I, though, wear it?”

Meanwhile, Fritz galloped around the room, trying his new bay horse, which he had found fastened by its bridle to the table. Dismounting it, he declared it a wild creature, but not to worry; he would soon break him. He then reviewed his new regiment of Hussars, elegantly arrayed in red and gold, with silver weapons, and riding upon horses bright and shining. As the children settled down, they turned to the picture books on the table, illustrated with beautiful flowers, costumed characters, and characters at play.

Just then—kling, ling, kling, ling—they heard the bell again. Knowing Godfather Drosselmeier was about to present his gifts, they ran towards a table standing against the wall, covered by a curtain from ceiling to floor. With a flourish, Drosselmeier quickly drew the curtain was aside.

A noble castle with clear glass windows and golden turrets stood upon a green, flower-spangled lawn. A musical clock began to play, and the doors and windows of the castle flew open. Little men and women, with feathers in their hats, and long flowing trains, sauntered in and out of the rooms. In the castle’s middle hall, they could see tiny tapers glowing in silver chandeliers. Clockwork children in white frocks and green jackets danced to the music. At intervals, a man in an emerald-green cloak put his head out of the window, nodded, and then disappeared. A miniature Godfather Drosselmeier, not bigger than Papa’s thumb, came to the castle door, looked about him, and then went in again. Fritz, arms propped on the table, admired the castle and the little people strolling and dancing within before saying, “Godfather Drosselmeier, let me go inside this castle.”

Drosselmeier explained this was impossible. It was foolish for Fritz to wish to go into a castle not as high as his head. Fritz could see that very well himself, he replied, remaining intent on watching the mechanical figures. The men and women walked back and forth, the children danced, the emerald man looked out his window, and Godfather Drosselmeier came to the door, repeating the same movements each time. It wasn’t long before Fritz called out impatiently, “Godfather Drosselmeier, this time come out the other door!”

“That can never be, dear Fritz,” said their Godfather.

“Well then,” continued Fritz, “let the green man who peeps out at the window walk about with the rest.”

“And that can never be,” rejoined Drosselmeier again.

“Then the children must come down,” cried Fritz, “I want to see them up close.”

“All that can never be, I say,” replied Godfather Drosselmeier, this time a little out of humor. “As the mechanism is made, so it must remain.”

“So,” cried Fritz, in a mimicking tone, “all that can never be! Listen, Godfather Drosselmeier. If your little dressed-up figures are always in the castle, always doing the same thing, they are not good for much, and I care little about them. Give me my hussars! They can maneuver backward and forward as I order them and are not shut up in a house.”

With this, Fritz darted back to the center table, drew up his regiment upon their silver horses, letting them trot, gallop, cut, and slash to his heart’s content. Marie stole away softly, for she too was soon tired of the sauntering and dancing puppets in the castle. But as she was amiable and good, she did not wish it to be observed so clearly in her as in her brother Fritz.

Godfather Drosselmeier turned to Dr. and Mrs. Stahlbaum and said, somewhat angrily, “An ingenious work like this was not made for simple children. I will take my castle and go home.”

But Mrs. Stahlbaum sweetly asked to see the secret mechanism and curious works by which the little figures set to motion. Drosselmeier took it all apart and then put it together again. His good humor returned while working in this capacity. His mood improved, he gave the children some brown sweet thorn cookies shaped like men and women with gilt faces, hands, and feet. They smelled like gingerbread, delighting Fritz and Marie. Mamma then suggested Marie and her older sister, Luisa, try on their new Christmas frocks, but Marie opted to stay at the table, for something had caught her eye.