Uncle and Nephew

IF ANY ONE OF MY HIGHLY ESTEEMED READERS OR listeners has ever accidentally cut himself on broken glass, he will personally know how painful it is, and how awful it is altogether since it heals so slowly. Marie had to spend nearly a whole week in bed because she felt so dizzy whenever she stood up. But finally she was hale and hearty again, as ever, springing all about the room. The inside of the glass cabinet looked very appealing since trees and blossoms and houses and lovely, glowing dolls stood there, new and shiny.

Above all, Marie found her dear Nutcracker, who, erect on the second shelf, smiled at her with sound little teeth. When she gazed at her favorite to her heart’s content, she suddenly felt very agitated. She saw everything Godfather Drosselmeier had told them—especially the story of Nutcracker and his quarrel with Frau Mouserink and her son.

Now Marie realized that her Nutcracker could be none other than young Drosselmeier from Nuremberg—the likable nephew, who, alas, was hexed by Frau Mouserink. As the tale was being told, Marie didn’t doubt for even an instant that the skillful clockmaker at the court of Pirlipat’s father could have been anyone else but Godfather Drosselmeier himself. “But why didn’t Uncle help you? Why didn’t he help you?”

That was Marie’s lament, and it raged livelier and livelier inside her, while the battle she was watching focused on Nutcracker’s crown and kingdom. Weren’t then all the other dolls his subjects, and wasn’t it then certain that the astronomer’s prophecy had come true, and that young Drosselmeier had become king of the kingdom of dolls? In properly weighing all these matters, wise Marie also believed that Nutcracker and his vassals had actually started living the moment she entrusted them with life and motion.

But that wasn’t the case. The figures in the cabinet remained stationary and motionless. And Marie, far from giving up her inner conviction, put the blame on the still effective spell cast by Frau Mouserink and her seven-headed son.

“Well, dear Herr Drosselmeier,” Marie spoke aloud to Nutcracker. “You may not be able to move or to speak. But I’m well aware that you understand me and that you fully know my good intentions with you. Count on my aid if you need it. At least, I want to ask my uncle to lend a helping hand when his skill calls for it.”

Nutcracker remained still and quiet. But Marie felt as if a gentle sigh were breathing through the glass cabinet, whereby the panes resounded—barely audible, but wondrously charming—and a faint chimelike voice appeared to be singing: “Little Marie, my guardian angel be! Yours I will be, my Marie!”

The girl felt a strange comfort in the icy shudders that flashed through her body. Twilight had arrived. The medical officer and Godfather Drosselmeier came into the room, and it wasn’t long before Luise had set the tea table, and the family sat around, talking about all kinds of cheerful things. Marie had very quietly brought in her little armchair and settled at Drosselmeier’s feet. Now when everybody held their tongue, Marie peered into Drosselmeier’s face with her big, blue eyes, and she said:

“I now know, dear Godfather, that my Nutcracker is really your nephew, young Drosselmeier from Nuremberg. He has become prince or rather king—all this has come true as was predicted by his companion, the astronomer. But you also know that he is on a war footing with the ugly Mouse King, the son of Frau Mouserink. Why don’t you help him?”

Marie then retold the entire account of the battle as she had witnessed it. She was often interrupted by the noisy laughter of Luise and the mother. Only Fritz and Drosselmeier remained earnest.

“Just where does the girl get all her nonsense from?” said the medical officer.

“Goodness,” the mother replied. “Why, she’s got a lively imagination. These are just dreams created by her ardent fever.”

“None of this is true,” said Fritz. “My red Hussars aren’t such cowards! Goodness, gracious me! Darn it all! How else would I come down?”

With a bizarre smile, Godfather Drosselmeier took Marie on his lap and spoke more gently than ever:

“Why, dear Marie, you’ve been given more than I, than any of us. Like Pirlipat, you are a native-born princess, for you rule a bright and lovely kingdom. But you’ll have to suffer a lot if you want to take charge of poor, deformed Nutcracker, since Mouse King persecutes him anywhere and everywhere. However, I’m not the one who can save him! Only you can rescue him. Be strong and loyal.”

Neither Marie nor anybody else knew what Drosselmeier meant. Instead, the medical officer found those words so strange that he checked Drosselmeier’s pulse: “Most worthy friend, you have a serious case of cerebral congestion. Let me write you a prescription.”

But the mother thoughtfully shook her head and murmured: “I can catch Godfather Drosselmeier’s drift, but I can’t articulate it clearly.”