“The Snow Queen”
by Hans Christian
Andersen
***
The life of Hans Christian Andersen foreshadowed his own fairy tales: the early death of a beloved father
that plunged Hans and his mother into poverty, an abusive childhood at the
hands of schoolmasters and foster families, and adult infatuations with unattainable
lovers of both sexes. Luckily for the rest of us, he was able to transmute
personal disasters into fantastic stories as meaningful to adults as to
children. And although an artist in miniatures, he stretched himself in 1844
with the publication of a story collection of tales that included “The Snow Queen,” his longest tale.
artist: Anne Anderson |
Written in seven separate but
interrelated stories, “The Snow Queen” is an epic in miniature of humanity’s
fall and redemption. But readers didn’t let that stop them from enjoying its
glittering, fantastic beauty.
The tale begins with a prologue
in which as supernatural being, usually translated as “imp”, but in the 1958 Reginald
Spink’s version on my desk as “the very Devil himself.” In a parody of
creation, the devil makes a looking-glass – a mirror – “which had the magic
power of making anything good and beautiful that looked into it shrink to next
to nothing, while what was no good or was ugly stood out well and grew even
worse. . . If a nice, kindly thought passed through anybody’s head, the
looking-glass would show such a grin that the demon couldn’t help but laugh at
his curious trick.”
However, when the demon attempts
to take his distorting mirror up to heaven, it shatters, presumably unable to
withstand the power of infinite goodness. Unfortunately, the shattered
fragments, some as fine as dust, scatter all over the world, infecting anyone
who comes in contact with them. (Andersen’s own aversion to mirrors may have
some roots in his own less than beautiful physical appearance, which he may
have blamed for his romantic failures.)
And there things stand until the second
story, of two children, Kay (Kai) and Gerda. Living in the garrets of houses close
together, the children’s families have built a box garden of roses across their
overlapping gutters. This garden is the children’s favorite playground, and
they are inseparable – until winter, when their only contact with each other is
through the peepholes they melt in the frost of their windowpanes. But it is on
a lovely summer day when the children are in the garden that Kay is sudden
stricken by fragments of the evil mirror from the first story of the tale.
“Ooh, something pricked me in the
hear!” he says to Gerda. And then, “now I’ve got something in my eye!”
Hans Christian Anderson |
And although the pain of the
encounter soon passes, Kay is changed, his eye now poisoned, and his heart turning into a lump of ice. Now displeased with the beauty of the roses and the
love of his little friend, he finds nothing to his liking until winter, when he
becomes obsessed with snowflakes. While out sledding one winter day, he hitches
a ride on the sleigh of the Snow Queen. Her first kiss completes the
transformation of his heart into ice. Her second makes him completely forget
Gerda and his previous life.
Gerda’s search for his missing
friend is the subject of the third story. Kay has wandered inadvertently into
the icy prison of the Snow Queen’s palace. But Gerda becomes equally lost in the
a magical ever-summer flower garden she enters while looking for Kay. The old
woman who tends the garden banishes all her roses underground to prevent Gerda
from being reminded of her love for Kay. But the remaining flowers each tell
the little girl their own stories, and one is so sad that Gerda weeps. Her tears
falling to the ground wake the roses. Seeing them reminds her of her mission,
and she sets out again to search for Kay.
The fourth story of “The Snow
Queen” is a tale of mistaken identity that allows Andersen to indulge his
penchant for political satire. The prince who Gerda at first mistakes for Kay,
however, sends her back on her search, straight into a forest full of robbers,
which leads to the fifth story, entitled:
“The Little Robber Girl,” in
which a strange child saves and befriends Gerda. Despite her terrifying nature,
the robber girl’s animal familiars are able to direct Gerda toward the Snow
Queen’s palace. The robber girl lends Gerda her tame reindeer to carry her into
the land of perpetual cold where the Snow Queen reigns. (The robber girl will
late reappear, this time riding a white horse, in token of the change in her
nature brought about by Gerda’s beneficent influence.)
As Gerda makes her way north in
the sixth story, she stops twice at the houses of women who mirror the strange
fairy of the perpetual summer garden. On these new encounters, however, the
women speed Gerda onward instead of impeding her search, until in the seventh
story she at last reaches the Snow Queen’s palace. And finds Kay, who has
completely forgotten her.
Can he break the double spell of
the evil mirror and the Snow Queen’s icy kisses? Check the story out for
yourselves, dear readers. Your local library probably has copies, or read it
online at The Literature Network.
(Next Friday, Adventure classics
begins a December of adventures of the spirit and self-discovery with W.
Somerset Maugham’s The Moon and Sixpence.)
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