French Conductor Louis Jullien (1812-1860)
French conductor Louis Jullien (1812-1860) was a musician-showman of enormous proportions. From his thirty-seven names, to his reputation, to his popularity, and most of all in the size of his concerts, he was a colossus. Born as the son of a bandmaster, he toured America in 1853-54, performing in New York, Boston, and several other American cities.
Jullien, who received thirty-six Christian names from the thirty-six members of the Philharmonic Society who were his godfathers, developed the promenade concert in England into a highly popular form of entertainment.
These concerts generally had an orchestra, multiple bands, choirs, and soloists. They also had novel effects designed to amuse and intrigue those attending such as cannon fire and performance on enormous, one-of-a-kind instruments. This type of concert, including large number of instrumentalists and vocalists, eventually became known as a "monster" concert. When Jullien toured America, he brought with him a cadre of fine musicians.
When Jullien gave a number of concerts hosted by P.T. Barnum at Castle Garden located in downtown New York in 1853, he received the following anonymous letter suggesting that he write a Katy-did Polka.
Subsequently, The publisher of the musical composition called The Katy-did Polka, by Louis Jullien, appended the following letter to the sheet music:
The composition of the "Katy-did" Polka or Souvenirs of Castle Garden, was suggested to M. Jullien by the receipt of the following letter, which is given verbatim.
Staten Island, Oct. 3d (sic), 1853.
Mon Cher Jullien:--
Loving music as "an art divine" and regarding all its best exponents as my friends, are the only excuses I can offer for addressing you.
Although you have been a short time in America, I dare say you have already concluded that there is little of the romantic in our National character; and you will be right, for as a people, we are more given to the study of the real, than the ideal! We have no time to spare for day dreaming; and in this activity of mind, lies the secret of our greatness as a Nation, and the rapid progress of civilization by our means throughout the length and breadth of this vast continent.
Yet though accustomed from childhood to deal with stern realities, we appreciate the beautiful in ideal when it is placed before us. We love the poetry of nature, and we are ever alive to the harmonious and mystic grandeur of Creation, and its wondrous works. What then, if, after all, ours should be the true romantic admiration, instead of the morbid sensibility of a diseased imagination, which but too frequently assumes the name?
Fortune has dealt kindly by me, in blessing me with sufficient of "the goods the Gods sends (sic) us, "to give me leisure for study, enjoyment, and reflection. I live in a quiet cottage on this beautiful Island, and I am enough of a sailor to let my little boat scud before the wind without a fear of danger, whether it "blows high, or low." But I love best to glide over the bay when the sun is sinking to his fiery bed in the West, when not a sound is heard but the rippling of the water against the sides of my little craft, ere yet the pale moon has risen to silver the placid surface of the bay, or the myriads of insect life have commenced to make the night harmonious with the music of nature, when a "throbbing stillness" reigns during the short interval twixt day and night.
On such an evening a few short weeks since, I was out as usual, enjoying the delicious sensation of the cool sea breeze, after the oppressive heat of a sultry day, though there was scarcely sufficient air to cause a ripple on the mirror-like surface of the bay. The sail flapped idly against the mast, as I let my boat drift with the tide. The sun was setting in a blaze of fiery glory, brilliantly illuminating the western sky in gorgeous colors; now in the brightest scarlet of the Flamingo's wing, next deepening into purple of the richest intensity. A few moments more, and mysterious shadows flitted hither and thither, like long transparent draperies of varied hues appertaining to unearthly forms, which it required but little imagination to picture of the fabled Naiads of the deep.
Spell-bound I gazed upon a scene of such transcendant beauty, as gradually it faded from my view;--it is gone--sunset and twilight have deepened into night, as I gently glide under the walls of Castle Garden--and the moon is rising to give pale lustre to the pictures. Within the walls of the old fortress there is a flood of light, which, escaping through the time honored port holes, is scattered over the distant waters;--now comes the strains of your mighty orchestra swelling on the ear, as some majestic symphony is poured forth, now fading away like a sweet and melancholy echo, to the metre of a valse, only to arise again in harmonious grandeur, to the joyous measure of some sprightly quadrille.
This, thought I, is true enjoyment of music, for never does it sound so beautiful as when it comes floating over the moon-lit waters.
But hark! Nature's orchestra has commenced her mystic harmonies. There is a gentle murmur--a soft rustle of the leaves upon the fine old trees--and now hark! to the merry chirps of the cricket as he gives forth his mighty song in octave notes, to the accompaniment of the whirring drone of the Locust, and the thorough bass of the tree-toad and bull-frog,--whilst that most mysterious of all mysterious little creatures, "The Katy-did," keeps the truest Polka time with the continual asseveration and denial of something, known only to nature.
Katy did! Katy didn't asserted and denied the livelong night, and ever in that mystic number three, (who was Katy? and what did Katy do, that the entire lives of one insect race should be employed in proclaiming to us?) This is Nature's harmony, and is it not as perfect as any that was ever penned on music paper?
Mon cher Jullien, you are great in the art of descriptive musical painting, and I think you can embody my impressions of that evening. Will you attempt to interpret my badly expressed thoughts? but stay, there is yet a sequel.
Three or four nights since I was out again at sunset, but what a "change came over the spirit of my dream." The sky had a cold and wintry look; the sun sank to his rest no longer, surrounded by his gorgeous halo of glory; the very shadows were changed in form and hue, and wore a chill and ghostly aspect, as the wind whistled in sullen gusts; and the foam crowned waters of the bay, hurled themselves in angry fury against the Battery walls, or howling, swept the fallen leaves along the pathways to form a mound over the grave of the departed summer.
I listened in vain for the strains of your orchestra; you and it had vanished; there were lights in Castle Garden, and sounds came from it, the clink of the hammer 'giving note of preparation,' for the exhibition of the realities of man's genius and industry, and the banishment of the romance of the ideal. I listened for the song of the cricket, the drone of the locust, and the cry of the tree-frog; but I listened in vain. Summer was gone, they were silent,--where too was the Katy-did? * * * Dead!
Amico
Jullien, who received thirty-six Christian names from the thirty-six members of the Philharmonic Society who were his godfathers, developed the promenade concert in England into a highly popular form of entertainment.
These concerts generally had an orchestra, multiple bands, choirs, and soloists. They also had novel effects designed to amuse and intrigue those attending such as cannon fire and performance on enormous, one-of-a-kind instruments. This type of concert, including large number of instrumentalists and vocalists, eventually became known as a "monster" concert. When Jullien toured America, he brought with him a cadre of fine musicians.
When Jullien gave a number of concerts hosted by P.T. Barnum at Castle Garden located in downtown New York in 1853, he received the following anonymous letter suggesting that he write a Katy-did Polka.
Subsequently, The publisher of the musical composition called The Katy-did Polka, by Louis Jullien, appended the following letter to the sheet music:
The composition of the "Katy-did" Polka or Souvenirs of Castle Garden, was suggested to M. Jullien by the receipt of the following letter, which is given verbatim.
Staten Island, Oct. 3d (sic), 1853.
Mon Cher Jullien:--
Loving music as "an art divine" and regarding all its best exponents as my friends, are the only excuses I can offer for addressing you.
Although you have been a short time in America, I dare say you have already concluded that there is little of the romantic in our National character; and you will be right, for as a people, we are more given to the study of the real, than the ideal! We have no time to spare for day dreaming; and in this activity of mind, lies the secret of our greatness as a Nation, and the rapid progress of civilization by our means throughout the length and breadth of this vast continent.
Yet though accustomed from childhood to deal with stern realities, we appreciate the beautiful in ideal when it is placed before us. We love the poetry of nature, and we are ever alive to the harmonious and mystic grandeur of Creation, and its wondrous works. What then, if, after all, ours should be the true romantic admiration, instead of the morbid sensibility of a diseased imagination, which but too frequently assumes the name?
Fortune has dealt kindly by me, in blessing me with sufficient of "the goods the Gods sends (sic) us, "to give me leisure for study, enjoyment, and reflection. I live in a quiet cottage on this beautiful Island, and I am enough of a sailor to let my little boat scud before the wind without a fear of danger, whether it "blows high, or low." But I love best to glide over the bay when the sun is sinking to his fiery bed in the West, when not a sound is heard but the rippling of the water against the sides of my little craft, ere yet the pale moon has risen to silver the placid surface of the bay, or the myriads of insect life have commenced to make the night harmonious with the music of nature, when a "throbbing stillness" reigns during the short interval twixt day and night.
On such an evening a few short weeks since, I was out as usual, enjoying the delicious sensation of the cool sea breeze, after the oppressive heat of a sultry day, though there was scarcely sufficient air to cause a ripple on the mirror-like surface of the bay. The sail flapped idly against the mast, as I let my boat drift with the tide. The sun was setting in a blaze of fiery glory, brilliantly illuminating the western sky in gorgeous colors; now in the brightest scarlet of the Flamingo's wing, next deepening into purple of the richest intensity. A few moments more, and mysterious shadows flitted hither and thither, like long transparent draperies of varied hues appertaining to unearthly forms, which it required but little imagination to picture of the fabled Naiads of the deep.
Spell-bound I gazed upon a scene of such transcendant beauty, as gradually it faded from my view;--it is gone--sunset and twilight have deepened into night, as I gently glide under the walls of Castle Garden--and the moon is rising to give pale lustre to the pictures. Within the walls of the old fortress there is a flood of light, which, escaping through the time honored port holes, is scattered over the distant waters;--now comes the strains of your mighty orchestra swelling on the ear, as some majestic symphony is poured forth, now fading away like a sweet and melancholy echo, to the metre of a valse, only to arise again in harmonious grandeur, to the joyous measure of some sprightly quadrille.
This, thought I, is true enjoyment of music, for never does it sound so beautiful as when it comes floating over the moon-lit waters.
But hark! Nature's orchestra has commenced her mystic harmonies. There is a gentle murmur--a soft rustle of the leaves upon the fine old trees--and now hark! to the merry chirps of the cricket as he gives forth his mighty song in octave notes, to the accompaniment of the whirring drone of the Locust, and the thorough bass of the tree-toad and bull-frog,--whilst that most mysterious of all mysterious little creatures, "The Katy-did," keeps the truest Polka time with the continual asseveration and denial of something, known only to nature.
Katy did! Katy didn't asserted and denied the livelong night, and ever in that mystic number three, (who was Katy? and what did Katy do, that the entire lives of one insect race should be employed in proclaiming to us?) This is Nature's harmony, and is it not as perfect as any that was ever penned on music paper?
Mon cher Jullien, you are great in the art of descriptive musical painting, and I think you can embody my impressions of that evening. Will you attempt to interpret my badly expressed thoughts? but stay, there is yet a sequel.
Three or four nights since I was out again at sunset, but what a "change came over the spirit of my dream." The sky had a cold and wintry look; the sun sank to his rest no longer, surrounded by his gorgeous halo of glory; the very shadows were changed in form and hue, and wore a chill and ghostly aspect, as the wind whistled in sullen gusts; and the foam crowned waters of the bay, hurled themselves in angry fury against the Battery walls, or howling, swept the fallen leaves along the pathways to form a mound over the grave of the departed summer.
I listened in vain for the strains of your orchestra; you and it had vanished; there were lights in Castle Garden, and sounds came from it, the clink of the hammer 'giving note of preparation,' for the exhibition of the realities of man's genius and industry, and the banishment of the romance of the ideal. I listened for the song of the cricket, the drone of the locust, and the cry of the tree-frog; but I listened in vain. Summer was gone, they were silent,--where too was the Katy-did? * * * Dead!
Amico
Who was Amico?
At first I thought it might have been Walt Whitman who as a cub reporter for the Brooklyn Eagle did music reviews. He often visited Castle Garden but was more interested in the visiting European opera singers. He never mentioned the Jullien concerts which P.T. Barnum had arranged shortly after the phenomenal success of the Jenny Lind concerts.
When I wrote to Gay Wilson Allen, the top Whitman scholar of his period, several decades ago, he replied that the language and sentiments were Whitmanesque enough to have been written by him, but it was unlikely, because at that period, he was so poor he could not have possibly afforded to have had the row boat or skiff the letter writer describes. He told me he passed the letter on to his student, Max Muller, who had edited a definitive edition of Walt Whitman's letters.
Professor Muller wrote to me that he did not agree with Professor Allen's opinion that the language and thought were that close to Whitman's, but the lack of a rowboat for Whitman should be decisive enough in ruling out Whitman as the anonymous letter writer. He did wish it were a letter from Whitman's pen so that he could add it to his collection of published letters.
I subsequently queried several other major experts in the field including History Detectives who did consider my find at first glance, but declined it on the basis that it was printed matter rather than autograph copy, which takes it out of the realm of their domain.
I have since then been able to narrow my research to target what I think may be the most likely candidate for the anonymous letter, a candidate who would have had a good reason to remain anonymous.
In a later posting I would like to discuss who the gentleman, Amico, may have been.
Jordan Richman, Ph.D.
When I wrote to Gay Wilson Allen, the top Whitman scholar of his period, several decades ago, he replied that the language and sentiments were Whitmanesque enough to have been written by him, but it was unlikely, because at that period, he was so poor he could not have possibly afforded to have had the row boat or skiff the letter writer describes. He told me he passed the letter on to his student, Max Muller, who had edited a definitive edition of Walt Whitman's letters.
Professor Muller wrote to me that he did not agree with Professor Allen's opinion that the language and thought were that close to Whitman's, but the lack of a rowboat for Whitman should be decisive enough in ruling out Whitman as the anonymous letter writer. He did wish it were a letter from Whitman's pen so that he could add it to his collection of published letters.
I subsequently queried several other major experts in the field including History Detectives who did consider my find at first glance, but declined it on the basis that it was printed matter rather than autograph copy, which takes it out of the realm of their domain.
I have since then been able to narrow my research to target what I think may be the most likely candidate for the anonymous letter, a candidate who would have had a good reason to remain anonymous.
In a later posting I would like to discuss who the gentleman, Amico, may have been.
Jordan Richman, Ph.D.
Labels: Who was Amico? Katy-Did Polka.blogspot. com
Was Charles Grobe Amico?
By February 23, 1853 an ornately decorated cover sheet music cover boldly proclaimed: The GALLANTS BRILLANT VARIATIONS ON JULLIENS CELEBRATED Katy-Did Polka composed for the piano Charles Grobe.
Who was Charles Grobe:
Who was Charles Grobe:
Biography
Imigrating from Germany, Grobe received the position of professor at the Wesleyan Female Collegiate Institute at Wilmington, Delaware. He maintained a music store, which had been his primary means of support since 1845, until 1871. In 1872, at Pennington Seminary, Grobe became the head of the music department. When he began publishing in the states he started with "Valse brillante" which was based on the music of Liszt. The rest of his works, for the most part, followed the pattern of three to five right-hand exceptional variations based on current popular melodies, operas, minstrel shows or sacred music. The last publication of his variations were based on Webster's "Sweet By and By." His publications were often reflective of current situations such as the Mexican War, Civil War, and Irish pieces. Grobe also wrote an instructional treatise, "New Method for the Piano Forte," which included a history of the piano. ~ Keith Johnson, Rovi
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