The Nutcracker and the Mouse Queen

Chapter 7: Tale of the Hard Nut

Pierpont's father was the husband of the queen and therefore the king, and that made Pierpont a prince from the very moment he was born. The queen was beside herself with joy at the sight of her handsome little son. She whooped and hollered and swiveled around on one leg and cried out again and again: "Oh, joyous day! Have you ever seen anything more handsome than my Pierpont?" And the ministers, generals, and staff likewise spun on one leg and cried, "No! Never!"

Anyone who had seen the little prince could not deny that he was probably the most handsome little boy in the whole world. His face was like the finest lily-white and rose-red silk ever woven, his lively little eyes were like two sparkling azure stones, and his curly hair was like threads of pure gold. In addition, Prince Pierpont had come into the world with two rows of pearly-white teeth, which he used for the very first time when he bit the finger of the chancellor who tried to get a better look at his face. The chancellor cried out "oh, jiminy!" Or maybe it was "that hurt!" Opinions to this day are divided on the matter.

But Pierpont had most certainly bitten the chancellor's finger, and the delighted kingdom knew at once that their prince was spirited, sharp, and clever.

All were cheerful and merry - all except the king, who looked anxious and fearful for reasons no-one knew. In addition to the two guards standing outside the door of the prince's room, the king had ordered that six female attendants sit closely around her cradle every night. What seemed completely mad and utterly incomprehensible to everyone, however, was that each attendant had to hold a tomcat on his lap and stroke her so that she never stopped purring.

It's impossible for you dear children to guess why Pierpont's father gave these orders, but I know, and I shall tell you.

It had happened some time ago in the royal court that many splendid queens and excellent princesses were gathered. It was a marvelous affair - there were jousts, comedies, and dancing. In order to show that he wasn't at all lacking in gold or silver, the queen took a sizable sum out of the royal treasury to do something really spectacular.

Having heard from the head chef that the court astronomer had privily told her that now was the proper time for slaughtering the livestock, the queen ordered the preparation of a lavish sausage feast. Then she threw herself into her carriage and invited all of the queens and princesses to have a "spoonful of soup" so she could enjoy their surprise when they saw what she really had planned for them.

Then she approached her king and said very kindly, "you do know, sweetie, how I like sausages."

The king knew what she meant - that he, as he had done in times past, should take up the useful job of sausage-making. The chief treasurer immediately had the golden sausage boiler and silver casserole dishes sent to the kitchen, a roaring fire of sandalwood was set ablaze, and the king put on his damask apron. It wasn't long before the delicious smell of sausage soup wafted out of the boiler and into the council of state.

The queen was seized with such delight that she could not contain herself. "Pardon me, ladies!" she shouted, and leapt away to the kitchen where she hugged the king and stirred the soup with her golden scepter. Feeling much better, she returned to the council.

The crucial moment had come in which the fat had to be cut into cubes and roasted on silver grills. The gentleman-in-waiting left the kitchen because the king wished to perform this task alone out of love and devotion to his royal spouse.

As soon as the fat began to sizzle, a tiny little voice called out: "Give me some of that fat, brother! I'm also a king, and I deserve to feast, too! Give me some fat!"

The king knew that it was Lord Mouserinks. Lord Mouserinks had lived for years in the palace and claimed to be related to the royal family and even king of of a realm called Mouseland. He also claimed to have a large court under the stove.

The king was a good and charitable man, so although he didn't recognize Mouserinks as a king or a brother he was willing to let him enjoy the feast as well. "Come out and you may have some of my fat," he said.

Lord Mouserinks jumped out, hopped up to the stove, and grabbed piece after piece of fat from the king in his delicate little paws. But then came his cousins, aunts, uncles, and his seven daughters, and the latter were such unruly brats that they ran all over the fat and the terrified king could do nothing to stop them. Fortunately, the head gentleman-in-waiting came in and chased away the unwanted guests before all of the fat could be gobbled up. The court mathematician was called in, and he calculated how best to distribute what was left of the fat among the sausages.

Trumpets and drums sounded. The queens and princesses arrived - some on white horses, some in crystal coaches, and all in their best clothes. The queen greeted them cordially, then sat down at the end of the table in queenly dignity with her crown on her head and her scepter in her hand.

During the liver sausage course, the queen gradually grew paler and she raised her eyes toward the heavens. A sigh escaped her chest, as if some enormous pain was digging at her insides.

During the blood sausage course, she fell back into her chair sobbing and moaning, with both hands over her face. Hearing the queen's wailing and howling, everyone jumped up from the table. The court physician tried in vain to take the unfortunate queen's pulse. A deep, nameless misery seemed to be tearing her up.

Finally, after much persuasion and attempts to use the strongest remedies available (feather quills and such), the queen stammered in a barely audible voice, "too little fat."

The king threw himself at his feet in despair and cried, "oh, my poor unfortunate royal wife - oh, what pain you've had to endure - you see the guilty one here at your feet. Punish - punish him hard - Lord Mouserinks and his cousins and uncles and aunts and seven daughters have eaten the fat..."

With that, the king fell back in a faint.

The queen jumped up and demanded, "Chief gentleman-in-waiting, how did this happen?"

The chief gentleman-in-waiting told her all he knew, and the queen decided to take revenge on the Lord Mouserinks and his family. The privy council was summoned, and it was decided that Lord Mouserinks would stand trial and all his property would be confiscated. But the queen was worried that Lord Mouserinks and his family would go on eating her fat in the meantime, so the task of solving the problem was given over to the clockmaker and wizard.

The clockmaker, whose name is the same as mine - Christine Elise Drosselmeier - promised to rid the palace of Lord Mouserinks and his family forever. She created many small and very intricate little machines into which a piece of fat was placed and set near the home of Lord Mouserinks.

Lord Mouserinks was too clever to fall for it himself, but despite his warnings all of his cousins, aunts, uncles, and even his seven daughters went after the fat. Just as their greedy little paws reached for the fat, a grate slammed shut trapping the lot of them. Then they were promptly taken to the kitchen and executed in disgrace.

Fearing for his life, Lord Mouserinks left the castle with what family he had left. Grief, despair, and rage filled his chest.

All of the royal court cheered - all except the king, who was worried. He knew what sort of man Lord Mouserinks was, and that he would not let the deaths of his daughters and other family members go unavenged. Indeed, Lord Mouserinks appeared one day when the king was preparing another one of the queen's favorite dishes and said, "My family is dead - take care, my king, that the Mouse King does not bite your little prince to pieces! Take care!"

Then Lord Mouserinks disappeared from sight. The king was so startled that he dropped the food he was preparing into the fire. For the second time Lord Mouserinks had spoiled one of the queen's favorite dishes, which made her very angry.

Well, that's enough for tonight - I'll tell the rest later."

As much as Marlon, who had his own thoughts about the story, asked his godmother to tell the rest of it, she refused. She jumped up saying, "too much at once is unhealthy. I'll finish it tomorrow."

Just as the judge was about to leave through the door, Félicie asked, "but tell me, Godmother Drosselmeier - is it really true that you invented the mousetrap?"

"How can you ask such a silly question?" their father asked her.

But the judge smiled strangely and said quietly to Félicie, "am I not a clever enough clockmaker that I could invent a mousetrap?"