Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales: Twenty Tales Illustrated by Harry Clarke Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title page

  Introduction

  The Tinder Box

  Great Claus and Little Claus

  Thumbelina

  The Travelling Companion

  The Emperor’s New Clothes

  The Hardy Tin Soldier

  What the Old Man Does is Always Right

  The Storks

  The Ugly Duckling

  The Shepherdess and the Chimney-sweeper

  The Fir Tree

  The Swineherd

  The Snow Queen

  The Nightingale

  The Little Match Girl

  The Elf Hill

  The Little Mermaid

  The Wild Swans

  The Marsh King’s Daughter

  The Garden of Paradise

  Original Paintings

  Hans Andersen

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright page

  About Gill & Macmillan

  Harry Clarke’s original illustrations for Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales at the National Gallery of Ireland

  Harry Clarke (1889–1931) was an artist of great genius, known both as a prolific stained glass artist and master book illustrator. He is generally acknowledged as Ireland’s leading Symbolist artist. In whatever medium Clarke chose, he adeptly wove together an eclectic mix of influences to create his own unique vision. Book illustration offered the dualistic nature of his imagination great freedom. A close friend of the artist’s, the playwright Lennox Robinson (1886–1958), described Clarke’s graphic work as ‘a mixture of the utterly beautiful and the macabre’, drawn with ‘a perfection of line, a minutia of detail’.1 Decadence and refinement became a hallmark of his style, evident in his stylised compositions, populated by elegant figures in flamboyant costume with slender limbs and tapering fingers.

  Hans Christian Andersen (1805–1875), born in Odense, Denmark, is one of the most celebrated and translated children’s authors of all time. The author’s fame stems from his renowned fairy tales and stories, written between 1835 and 1872, in particular ‘The Ugly Duckling’, ‘The Little Mermaid’, ‘The Princess and the Pea’, ‘The Snow Queen’, ‘The Nightingale’ and ‘The Hardy Tin Soldier’. Inspired by the great tradition of the Arabian Nights and the Brothers Grimm, Andersen achieved worldwide recognition as the father of the modern fairy tale. However, the author was somewhat of a tortured soul, as in childhood he endured many hardships, suffered humiliations and taunts regarding his appearance, and experienced alienation among his peers due to his working-class beginnings. In relation to his talents, his ambition and supreme confidence was matched in equal measure by his desperate need for acceptance. Many of his compelling tales and stories empathise with those less fortunate. Andersen’s colloquial writing style and use of wit often disguises the sophisticated moral teachings in his tales. As a shrewd observer of human nature, his stories teach us that appearances can regularly be deceptive, and highlight the fact that one can find beauty within even the most unlikely of characters. They also tend to poke fun at those who behave in a spoiled or conceited manner. His memorable tales have been widely illustrated by some of the best-known illustrators of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries – the Golden Age of illustration – including Britain’s W. Heath Robinson (1872–1944) and Arthur Rackham (1867–1939), in addition to Denmark’s Kay Nielsen (1886–1957) and France’s Edmund Dulac (1882–1953).

  Clarke’s colour illustrations for Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales, published in 1916, offer an exotic and original interpretation of the popular tales. Embellished with exquisitely crafted detail, Clarke’s illustrations enrich the much loved author’s fairy tale world. Just as Andersen magically humanised toys and inanimate objects in his writings, Clarke brought to life Andersen’s characters through a delicate blend of line, pattern and colour. The jewel-like colours, such as ultramarine blue, that suffuse the Andersen illustrations are reminiscent of the artist’s work in stained glass. Dr Nicola Gordon Bowe, author of the 1989 landmark biography on Clarke, has noted that the glowing colours in his Andersen illustrations ‘reveal the inspiration of the travelling scholarship he received in 1914 to look at medieval stained glass in France while working on this commission, as evidenced by the deep blues and rubies, and oranges and yellows offset with grisaille lacey greys’.2 Bowe also points to the influences of ‘Beardsley, the Rococo revival, the Ballet Russes, the Japanese print, [and] the Oriental miniature’.3 The National Gallery of Ireland houses a first edition copy of Andersen’s Fairy Tales, published by Harrap & Co. Clarke had given this book to Thomas Bodkin (1887–1961) as a gift in September 1916. Bodkin, a former Director of the National Gallery of Ireland (1927–1935), and great champion of the artist’s work, admired his ‘profound and independent imagination’, in addition to his ‘superb ... technical accomplishment’ and ‘rare poetic feeling’.4 He had been introduced to Clarke by one of the artist’s most important patrons, Laurence Ambrose ‘Larky’ Waldron (1858–1923), the politician and eminent Dublin stockbroker.

  In 1913, Harry Clarke, aged 24, who had recently finished his training at the Dublin Metropolitan School of Art, visited George Harrap, the principal London publisher of illustrated children’s books. He presented him with a portfolio of his best illustrations for literary works by Coleridge, Keats, Pope, Synge, Yeats and Wilde. Harrap marvelled over the aspiring illustrator’s mastery of line and colour and offered him, somewhat impulsively, his first major book illustration commission. Harrap reminisced: ‘It is not often that a first book by an unknown and untried author or artist is given [this] distinction.’5 This prestigious job, worth 200 guineas to the young artist, entailed producing 40 full-page illustrations for Andersen’s Fairy Tales, published for deluxe and trade editions. Only 16 illustrations were to be in colour, the remainder in black and white, in addition to 16 decorative embellishments executed in pen and ink.

  Illustration from ‘The Galloshes of Fortune’

  Clarke recorded in his diary of 1914 that each vibrantly coloured illustration generally took seven days to finish after an initial draft. He executed a good number of the illustrations in London, some in France and the rest in Dublin. Working scrupulously to a rigorous routine, Clarke completed the commission in Dublin in April 1915, around the same time that he commenced work on his first major stained glass commission for the Honan Chapel in University College Cork, completed in 1918. In the autumn of 1916, the book was published to great critical acclaim. Harrap described that, with this book, Clarke had ‘interpreted the immortal tales with an imagination which penetrated the heart of his subjects and transmuted them into still more shining gold’.6 This commission sparked a fruitful relationship between the Irish artist and the publishing house as Clarke would go on to illustrate numerous literary works for them, including: Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination, 1919; Lettice d’Oyly Walters’s The Year’s at the Spring, 1920; Charles Perrault’s The Fairy Tales of Perrault, 1922; and Goethe’s Faust, 1925. The macabre imaginings of Clarke’s Poe and Goethe illustrations perfectly complemented the more gruesome aspects of these dark stories. Clarke established his reputation with the Andersen illustrations and the Honan Chapel stained glass windows, and from that point on commissions poured his way.

  In 1925, Clarke wrote that Brentano’s of New York, Harrap’s American publishing partners, took ‘my originals for Hans Andersen ... and they were shown in their bookshop in Fifth Avenue’.7 The Brick Row Bookshop on East 47th S
treet, New York, also bought consignments of Clarke’s original artwork and regularly exhibited them for sale. In retrospect this was extremely fortunate, as any original Clarke illustrations that remained in Harrap’s London premises are believed to have been destroyed in the Blitz during World War II. The rarity of Clarke’s illustrations is further compounded by the fact that a number of his haunting illustrations for S.T. Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’, dated 1913–1915, were destroyed in a blaze at the premises of the publishing house, Maunsel and Co. Ltd., on Middle Abbey Street in Dublin during the Easter Rising of 1916.

  Ten of Clarke’s original colour illustrations for Andersen’s Fairy Tales, prized for their pristine condition and rarity, were acquired by the National Gallery of Ireland in 2008, thanks to a generous gift from the Gallery’s former Chairman, Lochlann Quinn, and his wife Brenda. The 10 watercolours in this gift illustrate the following magical tales: ‘The Garden of Paradise’; ‘The Hardy Tin Soldier’; ‘The Snow Queen’; ‘The Elf Hill’; ‘The Swineherd’; ‘The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep’; ‘The Tinder Box’; ‘The Travelling Companion’; ‘The Wild Swans’; and ‘The Nightingale’. These illustrations had been in America since the mid-1920s, where they had passed into the collection of Alfred Shands, an eminent orthopaedic surgeon, who died in 1981. He bequeathed them to his son Alfred R. Shands III of Louisville, Kentucky, who later decided to sell them on to The Fine Art Society in London. The 10 illustrations, which have now returned to Ireland, have significantly enhanced the National Gallery of Ireland’s collection of works by the artist. Due to the delicate nature of works on paper, notably their susceptibility to the damaging effects of light, they cannot be placed on permanent display. However, they are accessible for viewing by appointment in the Gallery’s Prints & Drawings Study Room.

  Illustration from The Galloshes of Fortune

  In more recent years, only two other coloured Andersen illustrations that were published, apart from this series, came to light: ‘The Little Robber Girl’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’. In 2010, the Gallery acquired ‘The Little Mermaid’ from a dealer specialising in book illustration in England. This now brings to 11 the number of original illustrations for Andersen’s Fairy Tales by Clarke in the collection. The Gallery also houses a fine collection of over 60 drawings, watercolours and sketchbooks by the artist’s wife Margaret Clarke (née Crilley) (1888–1961). In addition to working as an artist in her own right, she managed her husband’s successful Stained Glass Studios on North Frederick Street, Dublin, after his premature death in 1931. Plagued by ill health for the majority of his working life, Clarke died in Switzerland from tuberculosis, aged just 41. Despite his short life, Clarke’s level of industriousness and expertise is remarkable. Replete with intricate ornamental effects and theatrical flourishes, Clarke’s exceptional graphic work and unparalleled stained glass designs continue to mesmerise and delight audiences to this day. The new photography carried out by the Gallery on all 11 illustrations in the collection, reproduced here in this book, gives a clear picture of the strikingly vivid colours Clarke applied nearly 100 years ago.

  Niamh MacNally

  Prints & Drawings Collection, National Gallery of Ireland

  1 Nicola Gordon Bowe, Harry Clarke: His Graphic Art, The Dolmen Press Ltd., Portlaoise, 1983, p.172.

  2 Nicola Gordon Bowe, A Fairyland Mise-en-Scéne, Irish Arts Review, Autumn 2008, Vol. 25. No. 3, p.1043.

  3 Nicola Gordon Bowe, Harry Clarke - Ten Original Illustrations for Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales, The Fine Art Society, London, 2008, p.94.

  4 Op.cit. no.1, p.415.

  5 Op.cit. no.3, p.76.

  6 Op.cit. no.1, p.327.

  7 Op.cit. no.3, p.14.

  A soldier was marching down the road one day, with his pack on his back and his sword at his side, when he heard a voice croak, “You look like a brave soldier, who deserves to have as much money as he can carry!”

  The voice belonged to an ugly, old witch.

  “I should like that very much, old witch,” said the soldier.

  “Well, do you see that hollow tree?” said the witch, pointing.

  “The money is down there. If you climb down inside I shall tie a rope around you to pull you back up again.”

  “But how will I find the money?” asked the soldier.

  “At the bottom of the tree is a large hall with three doors leading off it. Unlock the first door and you will see a big chest in the middle of the room. On top is a dog with eyes as big as teacups. Lift him off and put him on this white apron that I’m giving you. He will stay quiet while you take as many copper pennies as you can from the chest. The silver coins are in the next room, guarded by a dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels. Put him on my apron and he will be quiet while you take the money. If you want gold, go into the third room. The dog inside is a fierce dog, with eyes as big and round as towers. But put him on my apron and take as much gold as you like.”

  “But how shall I repay you, old witch?” asked the soldier.

  “All you have to do is bring me back the old tinder box,” said the witch. “My silly grandmother forgot it the last time she was down there.”

  The witch tied the rope around the soldier and gave him her apron. He dropped down inside the hollow tree and found himself in a large hall lit with a hundred lamps. There were three doors leading off the hall, each with a key in the lock. He unlocked the first door and there was the dog with eyes as big as teacups!

  “Good boy!” he said, putting him on the witch’s apron. He opened the chest and filled his pockets to the brim with copper coins. Then he put the dog back on the chest.

  Next, he unlocked the second door. The dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels stared coldly at him. The soldier lifted him down on to the apron, threw away the copper coins and filled his pack and pockets with silver. Then he went into the third room. The dog’s eyes, large as towers, were spinning.

  “Good evening!” whispered the soldier, trembling. But he plucked up his courage and lifted the dog onto the witch’s apron. The dog did not move. The soldier opened the chest and when he saw the gold coins inside, he threw away the silver and filled his pack, his pockets, his boots and his cap with gold.

  “Pull me up, old witch,” he called.

  “Have you got the tinder box?” croaked the witch.

  “Oh, I clean forgot,” said the soldier, and picked it up from the floor. Then the witch pulled him up out of the tree.

  “You’ve got your money,” said the witch nastily, “now give me the tinder box.”

  “What’s so precious about an old tinder box?” asked the soldier. “Tell me, or I shall cut off your head!”

  “That’s my business,” snarled the witch. So the soldier cut off her head, tied up the money in her apron, put the tinder box in his pocket and walked into the town. As he was now rich, he stayed in the finest rooms at the best inn and ordered a splendid dinner. He bought fine new clothes and boots and looked like a grand gentleman instead of a poor soldier.

  One day, he overheard two men discussing the king’s beautiful daughter.

  “The king keeps her locked in a stone castle because it was foretold that she would marry a poor soldier,” said one man.

  “I should dearly love to see her,” thought the soldier.

  The soldier was rich and lived well, but he was generous as well. He gave away as much as he spent until, in the end, he had only two pennies left. He moved into a tiny, dark attic. That night he remembered there was a stub of candle in the old tinder box. He struck the flint to get a spark and, to his amazement, the dog with eyes as big as teacups appeared. “What do you want, master?” he barked.

  “So this is a magic tinder box,” thought the soldier. “Bring me some money!” he ordered, and the dog disappeared. Moments later he was back, carrying a large bag full of copper coins.

  “ ‘BUT HOW WILL I FIND THE MONEY?’ ASKED THE SOLDIER”

  The soldier now knew the value of the tinder
box in his possession. He found that if he struck the tinder box twice, the dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels appeared, and if he struck it three times the dog with eyes as large as towers would immediately appear. He moved back to his fine apartment at once and bought new clothes and boots. He was soon surrounded by friends.

  One night, the soldier lay thinking about the beautiful princess locked up in the great castle.

  “Perhaps the tinder box can help,” he thought, and he struck it once. The dog with eyes as big as teacups appeared and asked for his orders. “I want to see the princess,” the soldier said. The dog vanished, but in a few moments it returned carrying the sleeping princess on its broad back.

  The soldier gazed at the princess’s lovely face and kissed her before the dog took her back to the castle. The next morning, the princess told the king and queen about her strange dream in which she had ridden on a dog and been kissed by a soldier. A lady-in-waiting was ordered to sit by the princess’s bed that night, in case there had been any truth in the dream.

  That night, the soldier sent the dog to fetch the princess again. With the lady-in-waiting chasing after the two of them, the dog carried the princess through the dark streets. It ran so fast that the lady-in-waiting could not keep up, but she saw them disappear into a large house. Thinking quickly, she pulled a piece of chalk from her pocket and drew a cross on the door to mark it.

  Next morning, the king and queen set off with the lady-in-waiting and a crowd of courtiers to find out where the princess had been.

  “It must be here,” said the king, seeing a door with a cross.

  “No, surely it is here,” said the queen, pointing to another door with a cross. When they looked, they could see that every door in sight had a chalk cross on it. The clever dog had made sure that nobody would find its master.