29 years after it’s initial release, Alexandre Dumas took Hoffman’s “Nutcracker and Mouse King”, translated it into French, and branded it with his name on the cover. While Dumas was at a party of a friend and Count, the children at said party, tied him up, held him hostage, and demanded a story. In the Preface we are assured, “The Tale I’m going to tell you is not by me!” When asked who is it by, Dumas replied by “Herr E. T. A. Hoffman.” This is Hoffman’s story, reimagined by Dumas.
A little girl named Marie, is gifted a handsomely decorated nutcracker from her mysterious uncle. On the night of Christmas Eve, the Nutcracker springs to life, along with all the other children’s toys in a battle against the evil seven-headed Mouse King. Marie has to find out the story of the Nutcracker and how the curse fell upon him. To lift his curse, young Marie just might fall in love.
Imagine your favorite song. You know the ins and outs of it. The lyrics, when the bass drops, the bridge, the exact moment when the chorus repeats. Then a more famous rock star comes along and covers it. It’s good, but it’s not the original. The language seems different, the tempo is off somehow, but it’s exactly the same. That’s how Dumas’s version appears.
Dumas’s version tells the exact same story with a plot with very few differences. Godfather Drosselmeier is now Drosselmayer. Marie Stahlbaum is now Marie Silberhaus. Marie’s father, a Medical Officer, is now a Presiding Judge. The Nutcracker, has never worn boots, now has worn nothing but boots. But even with this same plot and very few differences, Dumas has a drastically different prose and a different approach to the story than Hoffman does. Just take a look at the opening paragraphs to each. What one’s your favorite?
Hoffman version:
For the entire twenty-fourth of December, the children of Medical Officer Stahlbaum were not permitted to step inside the intermediary room, much less the magnificent showcase next door. Fritz and Marie sat huddled together in a corner of the back room. The deep evening dusk had set in, and the children felt quite eerie because, as was usual on this day, no light had been brought in. Fritz quite secretly whispered to his younger sister (she had just turned seven) that he had heard a rustling and murmuring and soft throbbing in the locked rooms since early that morning. Also, not so long ago (Fritz went on), a short, dark man with a large casket under his arm had stolen across the vestibule. However, said Fritz, he knew quite well that it was none other than Godfather Drosselmeier. Marie joyfully clapped her little hands and exclaimed: "Ah, wonder what lovely presents he's made for us!"
Dumas version:
Once, in the town of Nuremberg, there lived a highly esteemed presiding judge known as Presiding Judge Silberhaus, which means Silver House. This judge had a boy and a girl. The boy, nine years old, was called Fritz. The girl, seven and a half years old, was called Marie. They were two lovely children, but so different in face and character that no one would ever have believed them to be brother and sister. Fritz was a big boy, chubby, blustering, mischievous, stamping his foot at the slightest annoyance. He was convinced that everything in the world was created for his entertainment, and he stuck to his guns until the doctor, intolerant of his cries and tears, his stamping foot, emerged from his office!