Peter Quantrill

There is a nice irony to the fact that the most silent musicians of all are required to be the best with words. Orchestras may like the conductors who speak the least, but explanation, correction and encouragement can’t entirely be done at the tip of a baton. Meanwhile, the public is perennially fascinated by the power dynamic at play when a single figure seems to conjure unity from the talents of a hundred individuals.

A lifelong loner, unmarried and childless, Hans Christian Andersen was one of those authors for children who didn’t much care for children (or anyone else). Forget the image of Danny Kaye, in 1953, tip-tapping his way on to the silver screen with ‘I’m Hans Christian Andersen, I am’. The recollection of the poet Heine seems closer to the mark. ‘He is a haggard man with a hollow, sunken face, and his demeanour betrays an anxious, devout type of behaviour that kings love. He is the perfect representation of a poet, just the way kings want them to be.’