Helga bowed her head thoughtfully, and she realised that she must never forget about God.
In the spring, when the storks were leaving again for the north, Helga took off her gold bracelet, scratched her name on it and hung it around the father stork’s neck. She asked him to take it to the Viking woman so she would know that she was safe, and had not forgotten her.
The bracelet was heavy around his neck, but he believed that the Viking people would think that storks brought with them good fortune, so he bore the load.
“You lay gold and I lay eggs,” said the mother stork, “but they don’t appreciate either of us.”
“But you and I know that we have done good deeds, and that is enough,” replied the father stork.
“You can’t hang that around your neck,” retorted the stork mother, “and it won’t give you fine weather or a good meal.”
A little nightingale was sitting on a tamarind tree nearby. It would soon be heading north, too. Helga had often heard it singing sweetly when she lived on the moor. She asked the nightingale to fly to the beech wood in Jutland, where she had built the grave hill, and ask all the other birds to build their nests near the grave. That way, their sweet songs would sound over it for the rest of time. The nightingale flew away and time flew, too.
In autumn, the wealthy and handsome Prince of Arabia came bearing many gifts. When the stork family arrived in Egypt it was a very joyous time in the household; Helga and the prince had been married that day and she was dressed in silk and shining jewels. The bride and groom sat side by side between Helga’s mother and her grandfather. But Helga was not looking at the groom; she was looking at a gleaming star that shone down from the sky.
Although the storks were tired, they flew straight down to the veranda where the wedding feast was being held. Helga had asked that a mural of the storks be painted on the wall, to illustrate her story.
“That’s wonderful,” said the father stork.
“But it’s not enough!” replied the mother stork.
When Helga saw them she stood up and went out to the veranda to stroke their backs. The pair bowed their heads, and even the young ones felt honoured by the princess’s welcome.
Helga looked at the star; it seemed to glow brighter and purer than ever. In front of her floated the spirit of the Christian priest, who had come down from heaven to join the wedding feast.
“The glory of heaven is greater than anything on Earth!” he said. Helga begged the priest to show her the kingdom of heaven, just for a moment. So he took her up into the splendour, where she heard voices that beamed so brightly that words cannot express it.
“We have to go back now, people will be missing you,” said the priest.
“Just one more look!” she begged, “Just one more wonderful minute.”
“We have to go, otherwise all your guests will have gone.”
“Just one more, this is the last one – I promise.”
And then Helga stood on the veranda. But the marriage lights had gone and the lamps in the hall had been put out. The storks were not there, nor were the guests or the groom. Everything had been swept away in those few minutes.
A wave of dread came over her. She walked through the empty hall where she found strange warriors sleeping. She opened the door to her bedroom, but through the door there was a garden instead.
The sky was red and it was morning.
Three minutes in heaven and the whole night had passed.
Then Helga saw the storks and she called to them in their own language. The father stork flew to her. “You speak our language,” he said. “What do you want? Why are you standing before me, strange woman?”
“It is I – Helga – don’t you remember me? We were speaking here three minutes ago.”
“No, you must have dreamt it,” replied the father stork.
“No,” she continued, “you must remember the Viking’s castle and the journey across the vast ocean to get here.”
The father stork blinked his eye and said, “That’s an old story that I heard from my great-grandfather. There was once a princess here from Denmark, but she vanished on her wedding night many hundreds of years ago and never returned. You can read about it in the monument in the garden where there are marble sculptures of two swans. Behind them you are carved in marble, too!”
And there it was. Helga saw it and understood, and she sunk to her knees.
The sun burst through the clouds and Helga’s spirit flew up into heaven. Her body crumbled to dust and all that was left where she had stood was a lotus flower.
“Well, that’s a new ending to the story,” said the father stork. “I hadn’t expected that, but I like it.”
“But what will the young ones say?” asked the mother stork.
“Yes, you’re right, that’s the important point,” he replied.
THE GARDEN OF PARADISE
There was once a prince who read all the books that he could find. He learned everything he wanted to know except for one thing: how to find the Garden of the World.
When the prince was little, his grandmother had told him that the flowers in this magical garden had petals that tasted of sweets, with centres full of honey. Even better, whoever ate them instantly knew all the history, geography and mathematics there was to know and didn’t need to go to school! When the prince became a man, he understood that this story was not really true, but still he wanted to know the real secrets of the Garden.
One day when he was walking in the forest the sky went black and a heavy rainstorm started. Suddenly he heard a roaring noise and saw an enormous cave in which an old woman was roasting a deer on a spit.
“Come and dry yourself by the fire,” she said to the soaking prince.
“There is a strong wind blowing in here,” said the prince.
“It will get worse when my sons come home,” replied the old woman.
“You are in the Cavern of the Winds. My sons are the Four Winds of Heaven and they fly to the four corners of the earth. Ah! Here is one of them now.” And the North Wind blew in, spreading icy air and snowflakes all around.
He wore a bearskin jacket and a sealskin cap. Shining icicles swung from his beard and hailstones showered from his shoulders. Snowflakes were scattered in all directions.
“What are you doing in the Cavern of the Winds?” he shouted at the prince.
“He is my guest,” said the old woman fiercely, “and if you are rude to him, I’ll put you in your bag!” And she pointed at four large bags hanging on the wall.
The North Wind became quieter, and told them what he had seen on his travels.
“I saw whalers hunting in the Arctic Ocean on my way to Bear Island. What a splendid island – half-thawed snow, sharp stones, and the skeletons of sea-cows and polar bears! I blew into the mouths of baby birds in their nests and taught them to shut their beaks! Best of all, I drove icebergs towards the whaling fleet and made it hurry south as fast as it could!”
Next, the West Wind whirled into the cavern with a rush. He was clutching a heavy wooden club and looked like a wild man.
“I have come from the forests,” he said, “where no humans live. I swooped down into the river and soared upwards carrying a rainbow. I saw wild buffalo swimming and flew with a flock of wild ducks. I danced on the prairies, I stroked the horses and I raised howling storms!” He kissed his mother so hard that she almost stumbled and fell to the ground.
In flew the South Wind, dressed in a turban and swirling desert robes.
“It is cold in here!” he complained, throwing wood on the fire. “I have been in Africa, running races with the ostriches and rolling in the desert sands. I met a caravan of camels and buried them in the Sahara. When I puff away the sand, the sun will bleach their bones!”
“What a terrible thing!” said his mother. “Into the bag with you!” And she grabbed the South Wind and put him inside where he wriggled and squirmed but could not escape.
“Your sons are certainly very lively!”
said the prince, as the East Wind blew in.
“I have come from China where I danced in the temples to make the bells ring and whirled through the towns, raising dust storms,” he announced proudly.
“So that is where you have been,” said his mother. “I thought you told me you were going to the Garden of the World.”
“I shall go there tomorrow,” said the East Wind. “It is a hundred years since my last visit.”
“A good thing too,” said his mother. “It will improve your mind. When you are there, drink from the Fountain of Wisdom and bring me back some of the water.”
“I will,” said the East Wind. “Now, if you let my brother out of the bag, he can tell me about the phoenix. The fairy in the Garden of the World will want to hear news of him.”
“SHE TOOK THE PRINCE BY THE HAND AND LED HIM INTO HER PALACE”
When the old woman let the South Wind out of the bag he gave the East Wind a palm leaf, saying, “The phoenix gave me this. On it he has written the story of his life, which spanned one hundred years, for the fairy to read. It tells of how he sat on his nest and then set it alight, burning himself to ashes before being reborn.”
“Is the fairy beautiful?” asked the prince. “And where exactly is the Garden of the World?”
“If you want to go, I will take you,” said the East Wind. “It is on the Island of Happiness, where the Angel of Death cannot go.”
When the prince awoke next morning, he found himself already on the East Wind’s back riding high above the clouds. He gazed down in wonder at the green fields and tiny houses. Soon they were over the sea, whipping up the waves and blowing the sailing ships along.
They flew on across wide plains and through deep forests. As they crossed the Himalayan mountains the East Wind said, “Soon we shall reach the Garden of the World.” Now the prince could smell the scent of spices and pomegranates, and saw grapevines in the fields. Swooping down, they landed on soft grass among bright, nodding flowers.
“Is this the Garden of the World?” asked the prince.
“Not yet,” replied the East Wind. “Do you see that cave over there, half-hidden by hanging vines? That is the way through. Wrap yourself in your cloak because it will be as cold as ice inside.”
They flew through vast chambers, with ceilings as high as a cathedral, past strange rock sculptures and along tunnels so narrow they had to crawl on all fours. A beautiful blue light beckoned them onwards.
Then the rock above them became hidden by mists until they emerged in a beautiful land. The cool air was scented with roses and a clear river, sparkling with gold and silver fish, ran by. Scarlet eels swam slowly along the river bed, flashing blue sparks, and orange water-lilies floated on the surface. A bridge of marble lacework stretched over the water, leading to the Island of Happiness and the Garden of the World.
The East Wind lifted the prince onto his arm and carried him across the river. They floated among beautiful palm trees, festooned with colourful flowers and hanging creepers. Birds with feathers like rainbows perched in the trees, singing the sweetest songs the prince had ever heard, whilst in the grass below them a lion and a tiger played together like kittens. When the prince reached out to stroke a peacock’s tail he found he was touching a plant. It was the most amazing and wonderful place he had ever seen.
The fairy of the garden appeared, dressed in shining robes and with a gentle, beautiful face. The prince presented her with the phoenix’s palm-leaf and she read it with sparkling eyes. Then she led him into her palace, which was like being inside the petals of a glowing flower. Through every window he could watch a scene from earth’s long history as if it was happening then and there. He saw the mountains of the earth being formed millions of years before. They went into a vast hall with transparent walls, on which hung thousands of living portraits. And in the very centre stood a tree with drooping branches laden with golden apples. This was the Tree of Knowledge. From its leaves red dewdrops fell like tears of blood.
“Climb into the boat,” said the fairy. “It does not move, but rocks gently while the world glides past.” They saw snow-capped mountains, dark forests, ancient temples, exploding volcanoes, burning deserts and arctic wastelands, and they heard the cries of animals, music playing and voices singing.
When the Northern Lights lit the sky like a huge firework display the prince was delighted.
“Can I stay here for ever?” he asked.
“You can, but only if you do not want the forbidden fruit,” replied the fairy.
“I promise never to touch the fruit on the Tree of Knowledge,” replied the prince.
“Think carefully before you make that promise,” said the fairy.
“The East Wind flies home tomorrow and you can return with him. If not, you must stay here for a hundred years. The time will pass quickly, but it is long enough for temptation to overcome you. Each evening I shall ask you to follow me, but you must refuse. Every day, the temptation will grow stronger and you will find it harder to refuse, but you must do so. I sleep beneath the Tree of Knowledge. If you lean over me while I am asleep, I will be forced to smile and you will kiss me. Once you do that, the garden will sink into the earth and be lost to you for ever.”
“I shall stay here,” said the prince. So the East Wind kissed him goodbye saying, “Be strong and we shall meet again in a hundred years!” Then he flew away and left the prince.
“Now our dances must begin,” said the fairy. “At sunset, when I am dancing with you, I shall say, ‘Come with me.’ Do not do it. Each time you refuse you will grow stronger.”
The fairy led the prince into a ballroom made of transparent white lilies. A golden harp played in the centre of each flower, and beautiful fairies danced and sang sweetly. When the sun set, the golden sky filled with all the colours of the world. A feeling of happiness and bliss came over the prince. The ballroom wall seemed to vanish and the Tree of Knowledge appeared before him in such streams of light that his eyes were dazzled. In a sweet, tempting voice, the fairy cried, “Come with me!” Immediately, the prince forgot his promise and rushed towards her. The perfumed air grew sweeter, the music sounded clearer and a thousand voices sang, “We must know everything! Man rules all the earth!”
“ ‘NOW WE WILL BEGIN OUR DANCES!’ CRIED THE FAIRY”
“I must follow!” said the prince. “Surely nothing bad will happen. I will only see the fairy sleeping!” The fairy pushed aside the drooping branches of the Tree of Knowledge and disappeared from sight. The prince followed her and found her asleep at the foot of the tree. As he leaned over, she smiled in her dreams and he kissed her on the lips.
At that instant, a huge clap of thunder shook the air and the frightened prince saw the beautiful garden collapse in ruins and plummet into a deep, black hole. At the bottom, he could see the garden twinkling like a faraway star. The prince fell forward, fainting. When he awoke, cold rain beat on his face and a freezing wind howled about him. The Mother of the Winds sat next to him, and she was angry.
“How could you be so weak? And on the very first evening!” she said. “If you were my son I would put you in the bag!”
“He will learn his lesson soon enough,” said the Angel of Death, who sat on the prince’s other side. “But I will give him the chance to make up for his weakness. If, when his time comes to die, he has been good I will take him up to a beautiful garden among the stars. But if he is evil I will sink him lower even than the Garden of the World.”
Harry Clarke’s original illustrations for Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales at the National Gallery of Ireland
This book includes reproductions of the 11 Harry Clarke original paintings held at the National Gallery of Ireland. High quality photographs of these pictures have been digitised and reproduced with the stories they accompanied in the original 1916 book, published by Harrap. These are shown again over the following pages.
The remaining colour illustrations and all black and white drawings have been scanned from a firs
t edition of the original 1916 edition. Despite modern scanning methods, the quality of these images, especially those in colour, cannot match the photographs of the NGI collection, as the printing techniques used in 1916 were unable to reproduce paintings with the fidelty that is possible today.
Each colour plate in the 1916 edition was printed on a different paper to the text pages of the book, then pasted by hand into place in the book. Some of the black and white images were also printed and bound separately into the book.
The original 1916 text has been edited for a modern audience and four stories have been omitted in this edition: The Galoshes of Fortune, The Old House, The Butterfly and What the Moon Saw.
Frontispiece
From The Elf Hill
From The Nightingale
From The Garden of Paradise
From The Wild Swans
From The Snow Queen
From The Travelling Companion
From The Tinder Box
From The Swineherd
From The Shepherdess and the Chimney-Sweeper
From The Little Mermaid
Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales: Twenty Tales Illustrated by Harry Clarke Page 15
