Bruxelles, Vandamme et Co., (10 May) 1906.
1 vol. (280 x 320 mm) of 234 p., [6] f. and 32 inset plates. Polycarbonate binding, decoration on all four covers, double black Japanese paper endpapers, preserved covers, polycarbonate decorated slipcase (binding signed Edgar Claes 30 April 2017).
Original edition of the French translation by Henry-D. Davray and first illustrated edition by Alvim Corrêa.
Single print run of 500 numbered copies, this one a pass copy (not justified and not signed).
32 full-page printed drawings on cream gummed paper and 101 engravings in the text.
We apologize for the imperfect translation generated by Deepl for the purposes of the show.
This is the very first edition to be illustrated, eight years after the first publication. The original English edition, published in 1898, did not include any illustrations.It should be noted, however, that the pre-original (in the monthly Pearson’s Magazine, in 1897) was illustrated with a few drawings by Warwick Goble, which disappointed Wells – mainly because of the way the artist depicted the Martians.
A superb edition illustrated by the Brazilian artist Alvim Corrêa.
Born into an aristocratic family, Alvim Corrêa left Rio de Janeiro to settle in Lisbon with his family, then in Paris. In 1894, he began his artistic studies with Jean Baptiste Edouard Detaille (1848-1912), a famous painter of military themes, and the following year he frequented the studio of Jean Jacques Brunet. In love with Blanche Fernande Barbant – the daughter of the engraver Charles Barbant – he married her against the wishes of his family, who cut him off. Regardless, he moved with his wife to Brussels, where he opened a studio. To make ends meet, Corrêa had to do wall decoration, advertising design, caricatures and erotic drawings, which he signed under the pseudonym Henry Lemort.
It was in Brussels that he discovered Wells’ novel in 1903 and decided to cross the Channel to visit him and offer to illustrate it. After a few trial sketches, Wells didn’t hesitate: it was a deal. It took the artist just over two years to produce the 137 illustrations for the book, which he presented in London in 1905. Wells was dazzled: ‘Alvim Corrêa has done more for my work with his paintbrush than I have with my pen.’ It was a total success; in his illustrations, Corrêa managed to recreate the strange landing and the growing fear, with caricatured Martian tripods overlooking realistic landscapes. Sticking as closely as possible to Wells’ text, he plays on contrasting, heavily shaded tones, with few characters; imagining an invasion of aggressive Martians, with disproportionate, tentacular heads supported by huge metal tripods, which reduce the English countryside to ashes with their fiery rays and suck human blood. To make London appear devoid of all life, he depicts buildings with round eyes in place of windows. A visionary, so much will modern films copy this model for several adaptations featuring creatures from outer space – first and foremost those of Steven Spielberg, who is rumoured to be the anonymous buyer of the original plates, auctioned in Dallas in 2015 for $500,000.
This edition offers the translation by Henry-Durand Davray, Wells’ long-time friend, which appeared in pre-original form in the Mercure de France (from no. 120 of December 1899 to no. 123 of March 1900) and, subsequently, in volume form by the publisher of the same name.
A masterpiece of illustration and science fiction.
Remarkable binding by Brother Croisier Edgard Claes, who composed, in his workshop in the depths of the monastery of Denderleeuw, a remarkable, refined and radiant work: a multicoloured counterpoint to the illustrations of Corrêa and the aggressiveness of the invaders, made much more likeable here after their treatment with polycarbonate and the master’s airbrush!