• Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    “The Queen of the Piano”

    Clara Schumann was an incredibly talented musician, shrewd businesswoman, and all-around force of nature.

    As a child, her father had her copy out [often-disparaging] letters that he had written to concert-arrangers and patrons (under the guise of “improving her handwriting”), so from a young age, she gained a rare insight into the business side of music. Her father, Friedrich Wieck, also instilled in her an often-paranoid outlook on the world. Wieck saw “plots and cabals” all around, threatening to ruin his hard work and investment in Clara’s success. This attitude, combined with a determination to succeed, is possibly responsible for the single-mindedness with which she approached concert touring and her general status as a professional musician. She often viewed other up-and-coming musicians as rivals, even when she was older and had established herself as the European “Queen of the Piano.”

    Her ability to garner audiences [read: money] made her somewhat blind to the sensitivity of her husband Robert Schumann and her dogged pursuit of income was often a source of strain in their relationship. Yet Clara viewed this as her one asset with which she could support her large family, and, always the practical one, continued to accept concert engagements no matter her physical or emotional state. She played through injury on more than one occasion (noting with surprise that the audience didn’t seem to notice any change in her playing or demeanor) and seems to have been a kind of Romantic super-woman in that sense.

    Clara’s determination (not to mention, physical strength) was famously apparent when the Schumann family was forced to flee the city in the wake of the May Uprising in Dresden. Reportedly, a civil war-like atmosphere had descended, with insurgents barricading many parts of the city. Clara, Robert, and their eldest child Marie fled the city unnoticed to a haven some 20 kilometers away. But several other children had remained behind with a wet-nurse. So two days later, Clara (then 7 months pregnant) walked back through the city, faced down the insurgents, gathered up children and nurse, and walked back out! It is also said that from the time she was five, Clara enjoyed daily walks, sometimes several hours at a time (her father didn’t change his habits just because she was a child). And considering her longevity, it’s hard to say that those walks were inconsequential.

    Clara’s business sense was also apparent in her first teaching post at Dr. Hoch’s Konservatorium – Musikakademie in 1878. Not only was she the only female faculty member, but she garnered a position that was unprecedented for its time: Clara taught a maximum of 1.5 hours per day, could teach from home if she chose, and also had four months off for vacation and touring. She also demanded two teaching assistants (and who could do the job better than her two daughters!) and only taught the advanced pupils. Clara’s name and reputation helped to elevate the status of the school and brought international students, including such noted pianists as Natalia Janotha (Poland), Fanny Davies (England), Carl Friedberg (Germany), and Ilona Eibenschütz (Hungary). Even modern faculty members would be hard-pressed to find such a position!

    Though some might say that Clara’s determination may have caused some feelings of inadequacy on her husband’s part (and possible marital tension), there’s no debating that she was a woman without precedent. Clara Schumann enjoyed a 61-year career as a concert pianist in a male-dominated time: a feat befitting the “Queen of the Piano!”

    Daniella Theresia
    -September 2020

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    Fanny Hensel

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    In this episode of The Eternal Feminine Podcast Series, we discuss Fanny Hensel (née Mendelssohn, later Mendelssohn-Bartholdy) (1805-1847). Born into a prominent German Jewish family, Fanny showed promising musical talent from an early age, but was prevented from pursuing a musical career by social conventions of the time, as well as the strict opinions of her father and brother (the composer Felix Mendelssohn). She contented herself with being a “critical eye” to her brother’s works (with whom she shared a close relationship), and eventually married Wilhelm Hensel, a painter, who, happily, encouraged her in her musical pursuits. Fanny Hensel composed over 400 musical works during her short lifetime ranging from vocal and piano works to chamber works and cantatas.

    Listen to the full podcast to hear our discussion of this amazing woman and our recording of Hensel’s beautiful piece Sehnsucht nach Italien.

    To learn more about Hensel’s fascinating roots and legacy, read our article “What’s in a name?”

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    “What’s in a name?”

    Both Fanny Hensel’s origins and her legacy are impressive, to say the least. Her paternal grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, was a famous philosopher and literary critic. Moses came from humble beginnings, but soon became well-known and respected in both Jewish and German society. He was an advocate for Jewish emancipation from discriminatory laws in Germany and is credited as one of the forces behind the “Jewish Enlightenment” (HaSkalah) in the late 18th century that ultimately worked to assimilate Jews into European society.

    Moses’ son, Abraham, took this assimilation as far as he could: he converted to Protestantism and added a Germanic surname to try and distance himself from his father (and Judaism). His wife, Lea Mendelssohn (née Solomon), descended from the equally influential Itzig family. Lea’s grandfather, Daniel Itzig, was a banker for two kings of then-Prussia and as such, enjoyed a level of freedom and affluence which was rare among Jews at that time. Like Moses Mendelssohn, Itzig also worked to improve the state of the Jewish people and actually funded members of HaSkalah (including Moses’ teacher, Rabbi Israel of Zamosch).

    Many of Daniel Itzig’s thirteen children were influential in German society, particularly in their roles as patrons of the arts – two of his daughters were patrons of Mozart, while his daughter Sarah (Itzig) Levy studied with Wilhelm Friedemann Bach and also had connections with Carl Philip Emmanuel Bach. Sarah left a collection of Bach manuscripts to the Sing-Akademie of Berlin, which her niece Lea would later join, as well as her grand-nephew Felix Mendelssohn and grand-niece Fanny Hensel (the heroine of our story…you may have been wondering when we’d get back to her).

    Fanny married the painter Wilhelm Hensel in 1829 (whose portrait of her is featured on this page). Thankfully, Wilhelm did not share the Mendelssohn men’s insistence that Fanny give up music for housework and actually made it part of her daily tasks to sit at the piano every morning. Ironically, they only had one child who survived to adulthood: Sebastian Ludwig Felix Hensel. Sebastian’s numerous children included Paul Hugo Wilhelm Hensel and Kurt Wilhelm Sebastian, who each made important contributions to the sciences in philosophy and mathematics.

    Given her extraordinary lineage and musical connections, one can’t help but wonder what Hensel might have accomplished if she hadn’t been born a girl. During her youth, Hensel received precisely the same education, musical and otherwise, as her brother Felix, yet society demanded that her sole profession must be a wife and mother. Yet, even with these restrictions, she still produced an astounding amount of music for such a short lifetime. Hensel wrote over 400 works in a wide variety of genres including Lieder, piano works, chamber music, and cantatas. She was one of the first women to compose a string quartet and she even composed the organ recessional for her own wedding in the span of just hours when her brother could not due to an injury.

    From 1831 until her death, Hensel composed, arranged, and directed the music for her weekly salons, whose success did much to raise Berlin’s status as a musical hub. Through these salons and her travels, Hensel enjoyed acquaintances with many prominent musicians like Gounod, Vieuxtemps, Clara Schumann, and the critic Robert von Keudell, whom she consulted for musical advice when her brother Felix became more engrossed in his work. In fact, Hensel’s son credited von Keudell as being instrumental in her finally publishing a few of her compositions (under her married name) just before her death. In her dedication to the field and her musical sensitivity as a composer, it seems that Hensel was a professional musician in all but name.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series,  Eternal Feminine Series - Featured Work

    Hensel – Featured Work

    Sehnsucht nach Italien

    text: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
    translation: Daniella Theresia

    Kennst du das Land?
    Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühn,
    Im dunkeln Laub die Gold-Orangen glühn.
    Do you know the land?
    Do you know the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
    In the dark leaves, golden-oranges glow.
    Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
    Der Lorbeer hoch und still die Myrte steht.*
    A gentle wind wafts from the blue sky,
    The laurel tree stands tall, and the myrtle, still.
    Kennst du es wohl?
    Dahin!
    Dahin möcht’ ich mit dir,
    o mein Geliebter, ziehn.

    Do you know it well?
    There!
    I would like to go there with you,
    o my beloved.

     

    *the original poem reads “Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    “There’s Something About Alma”

    Alma Mahler-Werfel has always been a bit of a legend, certainly in her capacity as muse and wife (or lover) to an impressive assortment of cultural luminaries. Her elevated status is hardly surprising, considering that her husbands included composer Gustav Mahler, the Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius, and the writer Franz Werfel, not to mention the other flings, of varying seriousness, with composer Alexander von Zemlinsky and the painters Gustav Klimt and Oskar Kokoschka.

    A good part of her mystique, of course, tends to revolve around the question of how she managed to exert such a pull over all these men, all brilliant but each so different in his own way. As Tom Lehrer famously marveled in his song “Alma”, written shortly after her death:

    Though you didn’t even use Ponds,
    You got Gustav and Walter and Franz.

    And yet she was very far from being perfect – quite the contrary, as it happens! She was extremely self-absorbed to begin with, but, more unforgivably, her anti-Semitic remarks – about Mahler, Zemlinsky, Werfel and others – as recorded in her diaries (or, in some cases, by her contemporaries) have not lost their ability to shock with their casual cruelty. But, as Sarah Connolly argues in her essay entitled “The Alma Problem”, if she was a monster, she was nevertheless a “very intriguing monster”. (Much along the same lines, Marietta Torberg, a friend, or perhaps more precisely a frenemy, famously commented that Alma was “a great lady – and also a cesspit.”)

    And certainly the men who fell for her, one after the other, did find her extremely intriguing, which was perhaps not entirely surprising. She was known for her beauty in her youth, was very well-read and accomplished (well beyond what would be expected of the typical well-brought-up young lady), and also seems to have been quite unashamed of her sexuality. All of this together in one woman must have been like catnip to men in a world where the Madonna/whore paradigm loomed large and where, as a result, women of her social class were expected to “behave” themselves and to avoid scandal.

    Despite her adventurous love life, however, Alma proved to be not entirely unconventional in her decision to become a muse to great men, rather than having a career of her own as a composer (though, admittedly, that would have been much more challenging, given the times she lived in). And so it is that, despite a relatively small, if well-crafted portfolio of compositions, we know her less for the art she created and more for the art she inspired: Mahler’s Fifth and Tenth Symphonies (book-ending their marriage), Zemlinsky’s Der Zwerg and possibly the Lyric Symphony* (both written after their breakup), many paintings by Kokoschka (most famously The Bride of the Wind).

    Nevertheless, that portfolio has survived, in no small part thanks to Mahler, who helped to get some of Alma’s music published, in an attempt to repair their marriage after discovering her affair with Gropius. It is an interesting collection, quite sophisticated in its own right, more than just a curious artifact left to us by the muse who inspired so many – and certainly enough to make one wonder what she could have come up with had she turned her not inconsiderable energies to composing instead.

    *There is some uncertainty as to whether the Lyric Symphony was inspired by Zemlinsky’s former relationship with Alma or his relationship with Luise Sachsel, the woman who would become his second wife. Somewhat piquantly, though, what we do know for sure is that Alma would play a role (albeit a supporting one) in the creation of another work related to it. Alban Berg was involved at the time in a passionate affair with one Hanna Fuchs-Robettin, and his Lyric Suite is full of encoded references to their relationship, one of which is a quotation of the line “Du bist mein Eigen” (“You are my own”) from the Zemlinsky work. Which in itself might not seem to have much to do with Alma, except that Hanna Fuchs-Robettin was also Alma’s sister-in-law through her final marriage to Franz Werfel. Berg and Fuchs-Robettin’s illicit correspondence was assisted by Alma and the philosopher Theodor Adorno (quite the pair of couriers!), who helped them carry letters to each other – a magnificent illustration of how extraordinarily entangled the artistic circles of Vienna were at the time.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    Alma Mahler-Werfel

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    In this episode of The Eternal Feminine Podcast Series, we discuss Alma Mahler-Werfel (née Schindler) (1879-1964). Born to a well-known Viennese painter and his singer wife, Alma gained a certain notoriety through her marriages to Gustav Mahler, Walter Gropius and Franz Werfel, and her relationships with such notables as Alexander von Zemlinsky and Oskar Kokoschka. What is perhaps somewhat less explored about Alma’s life is that she also aspired to be a composer at one point, and that she left behind a portfolio of compositions that are quite well-constructed and interesting in their own right.

    Listen to the full podcast for more about her and our live recording of Ansturm.

    To learn more about Alma Mahler-Werfel’s life, check out “There’s Something about Alma”.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series,  Eternal Feminine Series - Featured Work

    Mahler-Werfel – Featured Work

    Ansturm

    text: Richard Dehmel
    translation: Suzanne Yeo

    O zürne nicht, wenn mein Begehren
    Dunkel aus seinen Grenzen bricht,
    Soll es uns selber nicht verzehren,
    Muß es heraus ans Licht!
    Oh, do not be angry when my desire
    Bursts darkly out of its bounds,  
    If it is not to consume us,
    It must come out into the light!
    Und wenn herauf der Aufruhr bricht,
    Jäh über deinen Frieden strandet,
    Dann bebst du aber du zürnst mir nicht.
    You can feel how everything in me is surging,
    And when this tumult breaks to the surface,
    To suddenly become stranded over your peace,
    You will tremble but not be angry with me.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    Poldowski (Régine Wieniawski)

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    In this episode of The Eternal Feminine Podcast Series, we discuss Polish/British pianist and composer Poldowski (1879-1932). A woman of many names, Poldowski was born Irena Régine (Regina) Wieniawski in Belgium to an English mother (Isabella Wieniawski née Hampton) and the famous Polish violinist Henryk (Henri) Wieniawski. Young Régine showed musical talent at a young age and was the only one of her siblings to become a musician. She eventually married into the English aristocracy (thus becoming Lady Dean Paul), and made a name for herself as a sensitive composer of many genres, particularly in her setting of French poetry.

    Listen to the full podcast for more insight into this somewhat elusive figure and hear our live recording of her poignant work Berceuse d’Armorique, which she wrote after the death of her young son.

    To learn more about Poldowski’s famously colorful family, check out From Tsars to Stars.”

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series,  Eternal Feminine Series - Featured Work

    Poldowski – Featured Work

    Berceuse d’Armorique

    text: Anatole le Braz, 1892
    translation: Suzanne Yeo

    Dors, petit enfant, dans ton lit bien clos:
    Dieu prenne en pitié les matelots!
    Chante ta chanson, chante, bonne vieille!
    La lune se lève et la mer s’éveille.
    Sleep, little child in your closed bed:
    May God take pity on the good sailors!
    Sing your song, sing old woman!
    The moon rises and the sea awakens.
    Au pays du Froid, la boule des fiords
    Chante sa berceuse en berçant les morts.
    Chante ta chanson, chante, bonne vieille!
    La lune se lève et la mer s’éveille.
    In the land of the cold, the swell of the fjords
    Sings its lullaby as it rocks the dead.
    Sing your song, sing old woman!
    The moon rises and the sea awakens.
    Dors, petit enfant, dans ton lit bien doux,
    Car tu t’en iras comme ils s’en vont tous.
    Chante ta chanson, chante, bonne vieille!
    La lune se lève et la mer s’éveille.
    Sleep little child, in your soft bed,
    For you will go as they all do.
    Sing your song, sing old woman!
    The moon rises and the sea awakens.
    Tes yeux ont déjà la couleur des flots.
    Dieu prenne en pitié les bons matelots!
    Chante ta chanson, chante, bonne vieille!
    La lune se lève et la mer s’éveille.
    Your eyes are already the colour of the waves.
    May God have pity on the good sailors!
    Sing your song, sing old woman!
    The moon rises and the sea awakens.

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  • Eternal Feminine Podcast Series

    “From Tsars to Stars”

    Irena Régine Wieniawski (aka Poldowski) came from a world-famous line of musicians. Her father, Henryk Wieniawski (1835 – 1880), was steeped in music from birth and from a young age, made a name for himself as both a violinist and composer. He embarked on extensive world tours, often accompanied by his brother Joseph, an equally accomplished and respected concert pianist and composer. It was through his friend and colleague Anton Rubinstein, the celebrated pianist, that Henryk met the Hampton family in London and fell passionately in love with their daughter, Isabella. Isabella’s mother looked kindly on the match – her brother was a famous Irish pianist by the name of George Osborne, and so perhaps she felt more comfortable with yet another musician in the family. But Isabella’s father was more hesitant to accept this vivacious violinist into the family.

    A romantic story tells of Henryk Wieniawski finally winning over his future father-in-law by playing his own composition Légende on the violin and gaining his approval. But a more realistic account states that Mr. Hampton only consented to the marriage after insisting that Henryk take out a substantial life insurance policy and stop touring so much in favor of settling into the responsibilities of married life. Henryk and Isabella eventually married in Paris in August 1860 with quite the wedding party! Rubinstein had the privilege of walking Isabella down the aisle, while the opera composer Gioacchino Rossini served as witness and Belgian composer and violinist Henri Vieuxtemps provided the music. Henryk and Isabella then moved to St. Petersburg, where he had been engaged as the court musician. There, Henryk continued to compose, perform, and teach. He imparted a particular bowing technique to his students, which many still use today when playing particularly difficult staccato passages. Sadly, Henryk developed a heart condition and died, while on tour, at the young age of 44 years old.

    In 1896, Isabella moved her young family of four children back to London, and our story of Régine Wieniawski begins. It seems that Régine held her father’s same zest for life and music, but that didn’t preclude the rest of the family from living intriguing lives. Régine’s older sister Henryka Klaudyna (Henrietta Claudine) married an American stockbroker named Joseph Loring, who was aboard the Titanic during its doomed voyage across the Atlantic. After hearing news of his death, Henrietta booked her own passage to New York on the Carmania, from which she cast flowers into the sea near the site of the Titanic‘s sinking. This poignant scene inspired a New York Times article entitled “Flowers for the Ocean Grave,” which may in turn have have inspired the painting Le supreme adieu, by the French artist Rene Achille Rousseau-Decelle. In the painting, Henrietta is shown casting flowers into the sea, with icebergs floating placidly in the background.

    Régine’s children also led high-profile lives, they became part of a social circle in 1920s London known as the Bright Young Things. This group consisted mainly of young aristocrats and socialites who enjoyed an extravagant lifestyle of fancy dress parties, elaborate treasure hunts, and a (somewhat less salutary) fondness for hard drugs. This lifestyle didn’t work out entirely well for Régine’s daughter, Brenda Dean Paul, an early “It Girl” and celebrated beauty who later became notorious as an opiate user, jailbird, and failed actress.

    Meanwhile, Régine’s son, Brian Dean Paul, earned his nickname “Napper” from his tendency to fall asleep in doorways due to his drug use. He seemed to continue the family tendency to be well-connected with the arts scene – he was a good friend of Lucian Freud and even had his portrait painted by him in 1954! Brian Dean Paul led an apparently less eventful life than his sister, living out his days quietly until his death in 1972, which also marked the end of the Paul baronetcy.

    More first-hand information about the goings on of the Bright Young Things can be found in the novel Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh. Waugh moved in the same circles and it is said that Brenda Dean Paul inspired at least one character in the novel. (Stephen Fry created a film adaptation called Bright Young Things in 2003, featuring such celebrated actors as Peter O’Toole, Stockard Channing, Emily Mortimer, David Tennant, and Michael Sheen.)

    As for Régine herself, it seems that in addition to her musical creations, she also dabbled in fashion at one point (possibly after separating from her husband, although the dates and circumstances are unclear). Régine set herself up as a dressmaker for society ladies and some of her clients were even members of the royal family, but she had to wind up the business when it started taking a toll on her health. Her sudden and early death prompted many tributes from fellow musicians and critics alike, speaking to her much-loved personality as well as to her musical contributions.

    From tsars to stars, just imagine how many lives would have been changed had Mr. Hampton not approved that initial marriage between Henryk and Isabella!

    -Daniella Theresia Teodoro-Dier
    July 2020

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