Notes of a Pianist/Biographical Sketch/Chapter 4

by Louis Moreau Gottschalk

CHAPTER IV.

The health of his mother having become delicate, owing to her grief arising from long separation from her much loved son, it was arranged that she should go to Paris with her other children, who would thus also have the benefit of a Parisian education. This resolution was speedily carried out, and the family soon found themselves in Paris. The reunion of mother and son was very affecting. From this moment Moreau became the sole protector of his mother and the younger children, his father, whose business detained him in New Orleans, having confided to him the care of the family.

The great success Gottschalk met with at Sedan induced him to give another concert at the Salle Pleyel. The audience was equally distinguished as the first, and the feuilleton now mingled its praises with those of the connoisseurs. Thalberg, who was present, grasping his hand, said, "Young man, I predict for you a future such as few men have yet seen."

"A young pianist," says a critic on this occasion, "of a most promising future, Mr. Gottschalk, whom the salons so readily received into their protection, has just performed publicly in the Salle Pleyel. Born upon the banks of the Mississippi, he seems to have brought to the Old World songs which he had gathered in the virgin forests of his country. Nothing can be more original, or more pleasing to the ear than the composition of this young Creole. Listen to the 'Bamboula,' and you will comprehend the poetry of a tropical clime. Gottschalk's execution is marvellous. He possesses a force, a grace, an abandonment which carry you away, in spite of yourself, and compel you to applaud like a mere claqueur. The piano is no longer the dry and monotonous instrument with which you were acquainted, and you will find springing from beneath the creative fingers of the artist all the timbres of the orchestra, tous les soupirs des instruments à vent."

"There is a scale like a string of pearls leading you back to the minor key! Oh! listen to that scale which flows so sweetly; it is not the hand of a man which touches the keys; it is the wing of a sylph that caresses them, and causes them to resound with the purest harmony."

The composition of 'Bamboula' was written under the following circumstances. After his mother's arrival Moreau was stricken down with typhoid fever. During the delirium which accompanies this fever, he was seen to wave his hands, which those around him supposed to be symptoms of the delirium; but during his convalescence, which was very slow, he one day got up and wrote out 'Bamboula,' which he said had been running in his brain during his illness. It is composed upon four bars of a negro melody, well known in Louisiana, and is considered one of the most remarkable, as it is one of the most difficult of execution, of all his compositions.

When he had sufficiently improved, he went to the Ardennes, for the full recovery of his health, and there composed the 'Danse des Ombres,' the name of which he afterwards changed to that of 'Danse Ossianique,' besides the two 'Ballades d'Ossian,' which he composed in one night for the fête day of his mother. The 'Bananier,' one of his best compositions, was then written. At this period he made the acquaintance of Mr. Leon Escudier, who became not only the intelligent publisher of his works in Paris, but the devoted friend which he remained until the death of Gottschalk. He also composed 'Les Colliers d'Or,' which afterwards gave rise to a singular episode. In 1848 the following criticism and notice appeared in 'La France Musicale,' Paris.

Who does not know the 'Bamboula?' Who is there who has not read the description of that picturesque, exciting dance, which gives expression to the feeling of the negroes? Joyful or sad, plaintive, amorous, jealous, forsaken, solitary, fatigued, ennuied, or the heart filled with grief, the negro forgets all in dancing the 'Bamboula.' Look down there at those two black-tinted women, with short petticoats, their necks and ears ornamented with coral, le regard brulant, dancing under the banana tree; the whole of their bodies is in movement; further on are groups who excite and stimulate them to every excess of fancy; two negroes roll their active fingers over a noisy tambourine, accompanying it with a languishing chant, lively or impassioned, according to the pose of the dancers. Little negroes, like those on the canvas of Decamps, are jumping around the fiddlers; it is full of folly and delusion. The 'Bamboula' is at its height.

This attractive dance has frequently furnished a theme for instrumental compositions, which, however, have not obtained all the success that we expected from them. The Creole airs transported into our salons lose their character, at once wild, languishing, indescribable, which has no resemblance to any other European music; some have thought that it was sufficient to have the chants written down, and to reproduce them with variations, in order to obtain new effects: not so, the effects have failed. One must have lived under the burning sky from whence the Creole draws his melodies; one must be impregnated with these eccentric chants, which are little dramas in action; in one word, one must be Creole, as composer and executant, in order to feel and make others understand the whole originality of 'Bamboula.'

We have discovered this Creole composer; an American composer, bon Dieu! Yes, indeed, and a pianist composer and player of the highest order, who as yet is only known in the aristocratic salons of Paris, and whose name will soon make a great noise. We have German pianists, Hungarian, Russian, Italian pianists. We have ended by discovering French pianists; and now we have an American pianist. His name is Gottschalk. Close the lips, advance the tongue, appear a little like whistling, and you will have the key to the pronunciation. Gottschalk is already a marvellous pianist; his school is that of Chopin, Thalberg, and Prudent united together. He has taken from one his lightness, grace, and purity; from the others, their unrestrained passion and their attractive brilliancy; and I can assure you that for a long time a pianist so original, so sympathetic, has not been seen. Gottschalk has composed several pieces, among others, one which is a chef d'œuvre. This piece he calls 'Bamboula.' I have heard this 'Bamboula' ten times; in the salons of Mme. Merlin, of Mr. Orfila, of the Marquis d'Albucenza, etc., and ten times the young artist has had to repeat it amid the warmest applause.

On these words, Quand patate la cuite na va mange li, na va mange li, the Creoles chant a short, but poetic and nonchalant motive. Gottschalk has taken the first four bars of this motive, and on this theme has embroidered all sorts of charming fantasies. The pianist vigorously attacks the Creole chant, then follows a second motive in f sharp of an original and singing rhythm. The accompaniment he makes very staccato, the middle chant, played languidly, contrasts in a strange, but deliciously poetic way, with the bass, which always energetically marks the rhythm.

On the third chant, in b flat, comes a variation with a crescendo fortissimo, and directly afterwards the same motive in b flat reappears, and progressively disappears; hardly is it finished, when the rentrée is made by a dazzling trait dash, which I can only compare to a cascade of pearls; this trait very beautifully brings back the motive in d flat. After this succeed variations in triplets, made with wonderful lightness. The theme in b flat reappears with a pianissimo variation, whose harmonies are of unrivalled richness. The pianist immediately falls back on the chord of d flat, escapes by an ascending fusée, and immediately returns to the theme, b flat minor, by a descending scale made with prodigious agility. But why continue the analysis of this 'Bamboula?' How give with the pen even an incomplete idea of it? I would say, and would repeat it a hundred times, that there are new variations, motives in b flat, or in d flat crescendo, forte, traits, arpeggios, etc. 'Bamboula' is a musical poesy which defies analysis, and Gottschalk is a pianist whose name is inscribed in the front of popular favour. Behold his horoscope! He will march alongside of the stars of the piano, in the midst of applauses and triumphs.

Gottschalk, whose health demanded a change of scene and air, resolved to make a pedestrian tour in the Vosges. He left Paris on foot, carrying his passport in a carpet bag; arriving at an inn, he passed the night there, and at daybreak next morning rose and went out to take a walk. The beauty of the landscape, and perhaps absence of mind, prevented him from recognizing how far he had gone, and consequently how distant he was from his inn, where he had left his carpet bag, expecting to return to breakfast. To his surprise, on looking around, he found himself in the large street of a village, while he still thought himself in the open country; but his surprise was increased by the disagreeable sensation of a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. Turning round he saw a gendarme, who regarded him with suspicion, and seemed ready to arrest him.

"Your passport!"

"My passport! but I have not got it with me; I left it at my inn this morning," replied Gottschalk.

"Yes, yes, we know that; if thou hast not got it, forward march to the guardhouse."

Gottschalk, for an instant, thought of resisting, but as a crowd of idlers began to assemble, he put on a stout heart and followed the gendarme. Arriving at the guardhouse, he was left alone for a few moments, awaiting the mayor to examine him. After a quarter of an hour's solitude another gendarme entered, and, seating himself near a window, without taking the trouble to Took at the prisoner, took a paper from his pocket and began reading, 'La France Musicale,' then edited by Léon and Marie Escudier, in which was an account of the last private concert given by Gottschalk, and in which 'Les Colliers d'Or' was inscribed in large letters on the back of the paper. Thinking that the opportunity had arrived for proving his identity, he spoke to the gendarme, and said to him:—

"My good man, if you wish to know who I am, you have only to read the article on the third page and back of the fourth."

The gendarme, who had probably in him more refinement than his comrade, looked at the pianist attentively, and without saying a word left the room. A few moments had hardly elapsed when Gottschalk was brought before the mayor. The mayor, who was a very fat, good-natured man, and quite jovial, questioned his prisoner, and having learned his name laughed heartily at the adventure; but Gottschalk, with the perspicacity which characterized him, perceiving that he still had a faint trace of suspicion, led the conversation in such a way that he learned from the good Mr. Mayor that he had two daughters who played on the piano, and that the 'Bananier' was one of their favourite pieces. "They have a piano," thought Gottschalk; "all right;" and he felt that the difficulty of making himself known was removed. Half an hour afterwards the young pianist saw himself at the piano, having the whole family of Mr. Mayor for his audience. There was no longer any question about the passport. A piece played like that could only appertain to the young American, whose talent was making so much noise at Paris. Gottschalk was invited to spend several days in the family of the mayor, to the mortification of the gendarme who arrested him, and the great disappointment of the rabble of the village, who had hoped that the episode would have terminated in a very different way.

On his return to Paris he performed at several concerts got up by Mr. Léon Escudier, and afterwards, yielding to the desire of a great number of persons, he gave lessons on the piano.

About this period Gottschalk became acquainted with the celebrated Protestant preacher in Paris, Mr. Adolphe Monod. He had been very kind to a person in whom Mr. Monod was very much interested, which, coming to the knowledge of the latter, resulted in a warm friendship, and in Gottschalk becoming a frequent visitor at his house. Mr. Monod was very fond of music, and Gottschalk was always pleased to gratify him. He was accustomed to say, that his music was "more fit for heaven than for earth."

On one occasion Mr. Monod called on Gottschalk to invite him to spend an evening with him, to meet some of his English friends then in Paris. Gottschalk was not at home. As he was returning he met him in the street. While talking together a poor woman came up and asked them for alms. Mr. Monod, wishing to discover if he was as benevolent as he was talented, left him, and watched to see what the young pianist would do. He saw him talk to the woman, give her alms, walk a little way with her, and get at a baker's shop a large loaf of bread and hand it to her. "This act," said Mr. Monod, "touched me more than anything I had yet seen, because it was done without his being aware that any one saw him."

The intimacy and friendship which existed between the Rev. Mr. Monod and Gottschalk soon extended to their respective families, and subsist between the survivors of them to this day.

In 1850 the workshops of Mr. Pleyel, the celebrated piano manufacturer of Paris, unfortunately burned down and threw a large number of workmen out of employment. The susceptible heart of Gottschalk was greatly affected by their misfortune, and, resolving to come to their assistance, he proposed to give a concert for their benefit in Pleyel's Concert Hall. In a week there was not a place to be had; all the seats were sold. Mr. Erard, another celebrated piano manufacturer, generously subscribed 500 francs; and asked only for ten stalls. Mr. Pleyel did the same. The banker, Mr. Nathan Treillé, Madam Mennechet de Barival, the intelligent and charming woman, each took 100 francs' worth of tickets. Mr. Javal, Mr. Orfila, etc. also subscribed. The following is translated from an account of the concert by Mr. Escudier as it appeared in 'La France Musicale' of the 27th of April, 1850.

THE WORKMEN OF PLEYEL AND GOTTSCHALK.

Here is one of the most beautiful and most complete triumphs which we have witnessed this winter. Gottschalk can inscribe this evtfning upon his heart; there was never anything more solemn and more animated. It was for the workingmen, victims of the fire at Mr. Pleyel's manufactory, that Gottschalk had brought together all the artists, all the fashionable world of Paris; marquises, duchesses, bankers, men of letters, and statesmen. All the salons were so full that two hundred persons could not obtain a place to be present at the fête.

There is Gottschalk; they clap their hands; the celebrated artist is prodigious; he plays with an art, a grace, a spirit, a lightness, a power, which carries off everybody, marquises, bankers, and duchesses. He commenced the concert with 'La Chasse du jeune Henri,' and finished with 'Bamboula.' He was called to repeat all his pieces, and, to content the enthusiasts who did not cease to cry encore, he added to his programme 'Moissonneuse, Bananier,' which he had to play twice, and 'God save the Queen,' which was also called for again. These taken in account, Gottschalk played fourteen times. They cried encore after 'Mancenillier,' an adorable composition, a chef d'œuvre of genius which was ten times interrupted by applause.

Hardly had Gottschalk again finished playing on the piano this charming poetic inspiration, when a workman of Pleyel's factory advanced upon the stage, holding a majestic bouquet in his hand, which he presented to the beloved musician in the name of his comrades. The hall, as you may well suppose, was carried away; then Gottschalk executed the andante of 'Lucie' by Liszt. He is at least an artist, a great artist, who can interpret in the author's manner this original and difficult composition. I wish that Liszt had been there; he would, like all the rest of us, have frantically clapped his hands. On all sides they cried encore, and through the whole hall they rose up, the better to see if Gottschalk had not more than two hands at the ends of his arms.

The morning after this fête, the workmen of Pleyel's factories went to express, their gratitude to Mr. Gottschalk, and sent to him a letter of thanks which did honour to the artist as well as to those who wrote it.

The following address was presented by the delegates of the workmen to Gottschalk, the next day after the concert:—

Paris, 22 Avril, 1850.

Monsieur:

Nous venons, au nom de nos camarades, vous offrir le tribut de notre reconnaissance pour la sympathie que vous avez montrée pour le malheur qui a pu atteindre certains d'entre nous par une cessation momentanée de travail occasionée par l'incendie, et vous prier de croire que notre profonde gratitude est pour toujours gravée dans nos cœurs. Elle se confond pour nous délégués qui avons assisté à la belle soirée d'hier, et qui avons eu le bonheur de vous entendre avec la plus vive admiration pour votre talent si justement célèbre; et, c'est pleins des sentiments qui nous inspirent et votre généreuse action, et le plaisir de voir les arts venir ainsi en aide à l'industrie, que nous vous demandons d'accueillir les remerciements les plus sincères de

Vos tres humbles et obéissants serviteurs,

William Donoghoe,
Lefebre,
Guillot,
Crépion,

Délégués des ouvriers de la portion des ateliers de
M. Pleyel & Co. qui a été incendiée le 25 Mars, 1850.

À Monsieur Gottschalk.

(Translation.)

Paris, 22 April, 1850.

Sir:

We come, in the name of our comrades, to offer you the tribute of our gratitude, for the sympathy which you have shown for the misfortunes which certain among us have experienced from the temporary cessation of labour occasioned by the fire, and to beg you to believe that our profound gratitude is forever, engraven upon our hearts. For us delegates, who were present at the beautiful soirée of yesterday, and who have had the pleasure of hearing you, it is mingled with the liveliest admiration for your talent so justly celebrated; and it is, overflowing with the sentiments with which you and your generous action inspire us, and the pleasure of seeing the arts thus coming to the assistance of industry, that we ask you to receive the sincerest thanks of

Your very humble and obedient servants,

William Donoghoe,
Lefebre,
Guillot,
Crépion,

Delegates from the workmen of the workshops of
Messrs. Pleyel & Co. which were burned down March 25, 1850.

To Mr. Gottschalk.