The Nutcracker by E. T. A. Hoffmann

Author:E. T. A. Hoffmann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Conclusion of the Tale of the Hard Nut

NO SOONER WERE THE LIGHTS LIT ON THE following evening than Godfather Drosselmeier actually showed up and continued the story.

***

Drosselmeier and the court astronomer had been roaming for fifteen years already without catching even a hint of the Krakatuk Nut. Now I could spend four whole weeks telling you, dear children, where they had been and what strange things they had encountered. But I won’t report on those matters. I’ll merely say that in his deep sorrow, Drosselmeier eventually felt deeply homesick for his dear hometown of Nuremberg. This yearning swept over him especially one day when he and his friend happened to be in a vast, Asian forest, smoking pipes filled with cheap tobacco.

“Oh, beautiful, beautiful hometown of Nuremberg—beautiful town. If a person hasn’t seen you, even though he may have traveled a lot, to London, Paris, Petrovaradin, then his heart cannot have surged. He must long for you always, long for you, oh, Nuremberg, beautiful town with its beautiful houses and windows.”

When Drosselmeier lamented so dolefully, the astronomer was filled with profound commiseration, and he started to bawl so deplorably that his weeping and wailing could be heard all over Asia. But then he pulled himself together, wiped the tears from his eyes, and asked:

“Worthy colleague, why do we sit here and blubber? Why don’t we go to Nuremberg? Does it really matter where and how we seek the wretched Krakatuk Nut?”

“That’s true,” Drosselmeier replied in comfort.

The two men stood up, knocked the tobacco from their pipes, and headed straight out of the Asian forest toward Nuremberg. No sooner had they arrived, than Drosselmeier hurried over to visit his cousin, the doll maker, lacquerer, and gilder Christoph Zacharias Drosselmeier, whom he hadn’t seen for many, many years.

The clockmaker told his cousin the entire story about Princess Pirlipat, Frau Mouserink, and the Krakatuk Nut. Time and again, the cousin threw his hands together and cried out in amazement: “Oh, cousin, cousin, what wondrous things these are!”

Drosselmeier kept talking about his adventures on his vast travels. He had spent two years with the date king, had been disdainfully rejected by the almond prince, and had inquired in vain at the Nature Society in Eichhornshausen. In short, the clockmaker had failed everywhere to find even a trace of the Krakatuk Nut.

During this account, Christoph Zacharias had often snapped his fingers, whirled around on one foot, clicked his tongue, and cried out: “Hm, hm, I, Ei, O—the devil take it!” Finally, he threw his cap and his wig into the air, and hugged and squeezed the cousin. “Cousin, cousin! You are safe and you are sound, I tell you, for everything and everyone must be deceiving me if I don’t own the Krakatuk Nut myself!”

He then produced a box, from which he drew a gilt nut of medium size. “Look,” he said, showing the nut to his cousin. “Look! Let me tell you about this nut.”

—

Many Christmases ago, a stranger came here, peddling a sack of nuts.

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