ial strength and good judgment in its critical departments,
intimated that after such a revelation it was useless any longer to
speak of Beethoven! Whether Beethoven as a player or Beethoven as a
composer was meant was left unknown. Gottschalk at his earlier concerts
played many of his own compositions, made to order for the display
of his virtuosoism, and their brilliant, showy style was very well
calculated to arouse the enthusiasm of the general public. Perhaps the
most sound and thoughtful opinion of Gottschalk expressed during the
first enthusiasm created by his playing was that of a well-known musical
journal published in Boston:

"Well, at the concert, which, by the way, did not half fill the Boston
Music Hall, owing partly, we believe, to the one-dollar price, and
partly, we _hope_, to distrust of an artist who plays wholly his own
compositions, our expectation was confirmed. There was, indeed, most
brilliant execution; we have heard none more brilliant, but are not yet
prepared to say that Jaell's was less so. Gottschalk's touch is the most
clear and crisp and beautiful that we have ever known. His play is
free and bold and sure, and graceful in the extreme; his runs pure and
liquid; his figures always clean and perfectly denned; his command of
rapid octave passages prodigious; and so we might go through with all
the technical points of masterly execution. It _was_ great execution.
But what is execution, without some thought and meaning in the
combinations to be executed?... Skillful, graceful, brilliant,
wonderful, we own his playing was. But players less wonderful have given
us far deeper satisfaction. We have seen a criticism upon that concert,
in which it was regretted that his music was too fine for common
apprehension, 'too much addressed to the _reasoning_ faculties,' etc.
To us the want was, that it did _not_ address the reason; that it seemed
empty of ideas, of inspiration; that it spake little to the mind or
heart, excited neither meditation nor emotion, but simply dazzled by the
display of difficult feats gracefully and easily achieved. But of
what use were all these difficulties? ('Difficult! I wish it was
_impossible_,' said Dr. Johnson.) Why all that rapid tossing of handfuls
of chords from the middle to the highest octaves, lifting the hand with
such conscious appeal to our eyes? To what end all those rapid octave
passages? since in the intervals of easy execution, in the seemingly
quiet imprompt