Category Archives: Burne-Jones

Paderewski’s Autograph Book

In my last post I introduced Jan Paderewski, the Polish pianist, Prime Minister and all-round polymath. He’s one of the key figures in my project Musical Portraits in Bohemian London, which explores connections between artists and musicians during the late-Victorian and Edwardian periods.

Laz

Łazienki Park, Warsaw (which I completely fell in love with!)

Edward Burne-Jones, Portrait of Jan Paderewski

Left: Pencil on paper, 1882, National Museum in Warsaw

Right: Oil on canvas, 1890, Royal College of Music Museum

As part of my research for this, I was lucky enough to go to Poland in order to compare a Burne-Jones drawing of Paderewski at the National Museum in Warsaw with a painting at the Royal College of Music in London. I’m still working on the relationship between Burne-Jones and Paderewski, which is more interesting than I had at first realised. I’ll be exploring this in a future post. 

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Paderewski’s Autography Book, National Museum in Warsaw

Thanks to the generosity of Curator Piotr Kopszak in Warsaw, I also had the opportunity to look at an autograph book that belonged to Paderewski himself. It seems that he took this on tour with him, where it was signed by the eminent society figures who flocked to his performances. This makes it an extremely useful source for attempting to understand Paderewski’s social circle, and it certainly revealed some interesting names.

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Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Portrait of Ignacy Jan Paderewski, Oil on canvas, 1891, National Museum in Warsaw

The artist Lawrence Alma-Tadema (who also painted Paderewski’s portrait) pops up a few times, as does his daughter Laurence Alma-Tadema – a noted author, who worked closely with Paderewski. Others include Polish opera singer Marcella Sembrich and one-time President Herbert Hoover, who in 1938 wrote in the album: ‘One of the pleasurable moments that come in our lives is the refreshing of old and tried friendships.’

My favourite page of this autograph book, though, is dated 26th June 1925. It appears that on this evening Paderewski hosted a concert for international visitors at his home in Lausanne, Switzerland. Judging by their effusive messages, he made quite an impression. These entires offer a fascinating glimpse into how audiences (and female audiences in particular) responded to his performances.

Here are a few of my favourite entires:

  • Myrtle Dean Clark: ‘With the admiration of a would-be friend.‘
  • Dorothy F. Gilchrist: ‘A little girl who plays your minuet.‘
  • Mrs Max Gessler: ‘With gratitude for the great privilege of meeting you.‘
  • Mrs W. D. Hurlbut: ‘An unknown admirer.‘ [Not that unknown, if she signed her name!]
  • Mrs Winnie S. Robinson: ‘I am blessed with being here.‘
  • Marian B. Gilchrist: ‘With great appreciation for your hospitality and joy at the beauty I have found here.‘
  • Winifred Harriet [Stevens?]: ‘A very grateful pupil by proxy.‘
  • Mrs John F. Gilchrist: ‘From the big bare lakefront of Chicago, greetings to this jem [sic] of beauty.‘
  • Catherine J. Clark: ‘With deep gratitude for the love and joy you have given the whole world.’
  • Pauline Dunstan Belden: ‘Thank you for the spirit of the ideal in all we have found here.‘
  • Helen West Thomas: ‘With great appreciation to my ideal.‘
  • Jean Stevens: ‘A day I will never forget.‘
  • Margaret Moulding: ‘The most enjoyable afternoon of my European tour.‘
  • Elizabeth Perkins: ‘This afternoon will be the most wonderful memory of this summer.‘

I love the different ways in which these women (and they are all women!) have responded – from the admiring and the grateful, to those who see themselves as students. Some messages almost constitute aesthetic posturing, with references to beauty and the ideal.

Paderewski was an older man by 1925, but it is also worth remembering that he had a frenzied female fan club in his heyday – some descriptions of his performances evoke nothing so much as Beatlemania, with women screaming, passing out and even wielding scissors in an attempt to snatch a lock of his famous red hair. I reckon there’s a lurking sense of this romantic admiration in these 1920s messages, too. Whatever you think, they certainly offer an intriguing glimpse into how women responded to this famous musician.

In a way, this is celebrity autograph culture in reverse – rather than fans seeking the signature of their hero, they offer their own up in tribute to him. A piece of them goes with the celebrity, rather than the other way around.

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Paderewski’s grave

Admiration for Paderewski is still evident in Warsaw, where he is remembered as a national hero – more, I believe, for his political career than his musical one. I visited his grave, in a fantastically creepy crypt under a beautiful old church. It boasted a wreath of fresh flowers in the colours of the Polish flag on the day I was there. I also came across a statue of Paderewski in the park, and (best of all) a brand of Paderewski vodka at the airport. It’d be rude not to… na zdrowie!

Vodkaa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Introducing Paderewski

It’s been a long time since I updated my blog, so I thought it was about time I got back on it – especially as I’ve (finally!) started some exciting new projects. The first of these is entitled Musical Portraits in Bohemian London: 1870 – 1930. I was lucky enough to be awarded an Understanding British Portraits Fellowship to support this research, which you can read more about here.

In a nutshell, my aim is to explore the relationships that existed between (visual) artists and musicians in this period, using four portraits at the Royal College of Music (RCM) as starting point. This post is about one of these portraits – a stunning Edward Burne-Jones painting of Ignacy Jan Paderewski.

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Portrait of Ignacy Jan Paderewski, Edward Burne-Jones, 1890

An international piano virtuoso turned statesman, the Polish polymath Paderewski deserves to be far better known that he is. Indeed, I had never heard of him before I started working at the RCM. Allow me to introduce him…

Born in Poland in 1860, Paderewski studied music at the Warsaw Conservatory, later becoming a piano teacher there. In 1880 he married one of his pupils, Antonina Korsak, who sadly died in childbirth the following year. Encouraged and financed by a Polish actor named Helena Modjeska, he studied in Vienna for several years before making his first public appearances as a concert pianist. Modjeska, as a famous actor, was well aware of how a person had to market themselves – she encouraged Paderewski to wear his hair wild, and dress in dark clothing so that he would cut a romantic and artistic figure. Her advice worked – he soon became a sensation and was in demand across Europe.

The pianist inspired an almost fevered devotion in his fans – particularly his female fans. They were dubbed the ‘Paderwski girls’, or sometimes the ‘Paderewski cult’. There were often small-scale riots at his concerts, as women rushed up to him with scissors hoping for a lock of his famous hair. On one occasion the pianist fainted as he was so overwhelmed by the mob of women that surrounded him! Many were quick to cash in on the popularity of the new virtuoso – he became a celebrity in a very modern sense. He was featured in adverts for a wide range of goods, and his portrait appeared on collectible prints, posters and souvenirs. [1]

But Paderewski was far more than a pianist – he also became a noted statesman. Throughout his career, he had been a staunch patriot and often used his platform to endorse the cause of Polish independence. During World War One, he was appointed as a representative of the Polish National Committee in the United States, and was instrumental in gaining President Woodrow Wilson’s support for an independent Poland. In 1919 Paderewski became Prime Minister of Poland and represented his country at the Paris Peace Conference in the same year – there he signed the treaty of Versailles, which restored some of his country’s former territories.

Although his time as Prime Minister was short, Paderewski achieved an impressive amount during his time as leader. He called a democratic election, passed a treaty to protect ethnic minorities and established a public education system. After the election Paderewski resigned, but he continued to represent Poland at the League of Nations. Here he was the only delegate who did not require a translator, as he was fluent in seven languages.

In 1922 the composer retired from politics and re-dedicated himself to music. He performed across the United States, travelling around in a private railway car. During World War Two Paderewski put his political hat on for one last time, travelling to Europe to speak out against the Nazis. In 1941, the 50th anniversary of the pianist’s first US tour was celebrated with a festival called ‘Paderewski Week’ – over 6,000 concerts were put on across the country in his honour. The composer died later that same year.

In later posts, I’ll discuss the important relationship Paderewski had with artists – most particularly Edward Burne-Jones. I’ll also be sharing some fascinating archival sources that provide new insight into the musical world of Burne-Jones and his circle. Watch this space…

[1] For more on Paderewski’s image, I highly recommend this excellent article which is freely available on JSTOR: Maja Trochimczyk, ‘An Archangel at the Piano: Paderewski’s Image and His Female Audience’, Polish American Studies, Vol. 67. No. 1 (Spring 2010) pp. 5-4