Books, Babble and Blarney: Erik Satie - The Musician and the Mystic

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Lately the music of a particular composer has been running through my mind, the Gnossiennes and the Gymnopédies of Erik Satie (1866-1925).

Deceptively sounding like a set of 'easy-to-play' compositions for piano beginners, these pieces are in fact haunting and quite captivating due to their very simplicity. I love listening to them. You have heard them too – here are a couple of YouTube links, click on the titles. (I won't put the video itself on the blog as these embedded files from YouTube seem to disappear.)

(Image: painting of Erik Satie entitled "El Bohemio, Poet of Montmartre" by Ramon Casas, 1891. The Moulin de la Galette in Montmartre can be seen in the background.)

I first became acquainted with Erik Satie and his compositions during my music student days, and not because his work was featured in the courses, which unfortunately they weren't, but because of my other obsession - with French author Gaston Leroux's (1868-1927) The Phantom of the Opera (1910).

(Image: cover of the first French novel publication of The Phantom of the Opera (1911), which originally was published as newspaper serialisation in Le Gaulois, 1910).

In Leroux's classic tale of the deformed 'Angel of Music' taking up his abode in the labyrinthine cellars of the Palais Garnier, or as is commonly known the Paris Opéra, the hidden genius is a great eccentric. Among his various talents he plays the organ, composes Masses, and, continually contemplates the inevitability of one's own death and the Four Last Things by turning his bed chamber into a great memento mori, taking his nightly repose in an open coffin surrounded by copies of the medieval music from the 'Dies Irae' of the Latin Mass of the Dead on the walls. There is even some slight evidence in the text he has read that monumental spiritual classic the 'Imitation of Christ' by Thomas A, Kempis.

This displays a surprising element of contemplative reflection, even deep piety, from a character portrayed most of the time as a maniacal monster, but then the author Leroux was Catholic who obviously struggled with his own inner demons.

Researching Leroux's story is when I discovered Erik Satie for the first time, and couldn't help but note the similarities between him and the Phantom – both are French and bear the same first name. Erik Satie was born in Honfleur, which is not that far from Rouen. Erik the Phantom is described has having been born in a village outside of Rouen. They are Catholic, have a deep mystical side to them, and, share the same 'gothic' eccentricities. For instance, Erik the Phantom and Erik Satie the composer had the notion to write their music in red ink. I found out Erik Satie also had rigged up one of his apartments to where it had to be opened with a secret system of tripwires, (the Phantom was a master of secret passageways and known as the 'Trap Door Lover'), and, Satie refused to allow anyone inside his apartment near the end of his life. Satie once challenged the manager of the Opéra to a duel when he received no reply after sending him one of his manuscripts – he took the silence as a personal insult and was not about to let it pass! The Phantom declares war on the Opéra mangers too. Of course, I couldn't help but wonder if the composer didn't influence Leroux in some way – he was contemporary with Leroux after all.

About Satie, although he is arguably not as famous as the composer Claude Debussy (1862-1918) who he became friends with and influenced greatly, he is famous of course as one of the father-composers of Impressionist music and is also associated with the French Symboliste movement, his avant-garde harmonies are capturing the attention of more people these days. His work definitely caught the attention of another composer friend, Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971), who described Satie as “the most rare and consistently witty person” he had ever known.

(Image: a photo of Debussy, left, and Erik Satie, right, taken by Igor Stravinsky.)

Learning a little more about Satie, he definitely was eccentric, at one point he got the notion to eat only white foods, and, could be very touchy about his art. When a critic accused his music of having no shape or form, he got back at him by composing music with the whimsical title – 'Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear'. (YouTube link). He is also noted for having created the first 'ambient music', composing works intended to be played in the background and to be practically ignored – he even grew angry when people attempted to pay attention or tried to study the form of his ambient creations!

As for love, he had only one deep brush with romance with Suzanne Valadon (1865-1938) who had been a model for the painters Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901) and Renoir (1841-1919). Despite seeing each other for some time, they only spent one night of passion together after which Satie asked her to marry him -- and she flatly refused. She eventually ended their relationship five months later, after which Satie wrote this rupture had left him “flooded by an icy loneliness that fills the head with emptiness and the heart with sadness”.

He spent the rest of his life a single man. Upon his death they found numerous letters her had written to Valadon, but never had the courage to send to her.

(Images - Right: Renoir's painting 'Dance at Bougival' featuring Valadon, 1882.

Below: Erik Satie in his Montmartre apartment c. 1891, painted by Santiago Rusiñol. )

I couldn't help but be interested in the fellow. Despite the eccentricities, it's interesting to see Catholics like Satie making a mark in the creative world … and then I discovered some other things that were disturbing.

Erik Satie was a friend of the Catholic literary art critic Joséphin Péladan (1858-1918) who was also a Martinist and deeply interested in dubious mysticism. He dabbled in what would be considered the 'white occult', the search for hidden knowledge and wisdom in ancient texts and symbols, such as in alchemy, Kabbala, the Far East, and also Gnosticism.

(Image: Josphin Péladan)

Influenced also by Rosicrucian ideals, Péladan founded a 'Catholic-Rosicrucian' type order called the “Ordre du Temple de la Rose + Croix” that functioned as an outlet for his beliefs regarding idealism and spiritualism in the arts. Not intended primarily as an order like the Freemasons or the Rosicrucians, it was more of a quasi-mystico clique for artists and musicians, but there is evidence Kabbalistic and heretical gnostic mysticism was involved. Erik Satie was one of the musician-members and he composed music for the 'order'.

It is thought Satie's exploration of gnosticism was the prime source of inspiration for the Gnossiennes, a term which he in fact coined as a distinct form of musical composition for the first time. However, some published versions of the score claim that the word derives from Cretan "knossos" or "gnossus" supporting the theory linking the Gnossiennes to the myth of Theseus, Ariadne and the terrifying Minotaur. Several archaeological sites connected to the myth of the inescapable maze were famously excavated around the time that Satie composed these pieces. Perhaps his Gnossiennes were influenced by both – the haunting melody bears all the hallmarks of a wandering soul lost in a profound spiritual and emotional labyrinth trying to find answers that seem to slip beyond his grasp at each turn.

Eventually Satie parted ways with Péladan when they didn't see eye to eye regarding the arts and mysticism, and so Erik founded his own 'church' in 1893 ~ the “Metropolitan Church of Art of Jesus-Conductor”, of which he was high priest, treasurer, chapel master and sole believer. According to him his aim was to create “a refuge where Catholicism and the arts that are inextricably linked to it will grow and prosper under the shelter of any and all profanation”.

It was during this time that he adopted gothic-style apparel similar to dark monastic robes and assumed “the unctuous manners of a priest”, also calling his humble dwelling “abacial”. Also this artistic phase in his life occurred around the time his relationship with Valadon had ended, so no doubt his sorrow only magnified his eccentric side and his attempt to seek solace for life's griefs in unorthodox mysticism.

(Image: Erik during his 'mystic phase', c. 1895)

Eventually he abandoned his 'church', the priest-like robes gave way to a flannel suit, umbrella and bowler hat which remained his personal style to the end of his days. However, the piano-playing bohemian of the Montmartre cafés forever suffered from the grip of one particular afflication, alcohol, and, his personal favourite poison was absinthe, the 'Green Fairy', or rather, the enticing devil of the Belle Epoque days of Paris.

(Image. Edgar Degas' famous work, L'Absinthe, c. 1875)

In 1925 Satie was admitted to St. Joseph's hospital after he fell gravely ill with pleurisy brought on by cirrhosis of the liver and passed away on July 1 of that year.

Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder where the souls of the famous end up for eternity.

So many people in the creative spheres have given so much to the world, only to be dragged down dark twisting paths by its tantalizing snares in their search for beauty and truth in all the wrong ways and places. The eccentric and the creative souls in particular appear to be enticed and led away by the false promises of this life dangled before them.

At least Erik of the Opéra house is given his chance of redemption. Leroux, who claimed long after his story was published that the Opéra Ghost was indeed real, had pity on the man isolated in the depths of the cellars and prayed for his soul according to the Epilogue. One cannot help but wonder what became of Satie the composer who apparently inspired the fictional side of the Opéra Phantom.

Then, I discovered this.

Satie's few close Catholic friends also worried for him, in particular, Jacques Maritain (1882-1973), a philosopher and professor at the Catholic University of Paris. He was also France's ambassador to the Holy See and is famous for his influence in the development and drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

(Image: Jacques Maritain).

Maritain was among the friends who came to see Satie in the hospital the first day he was admitted. It was obvious that Satie was not going to leave the place, but the composer himself didn't know it, or, was in denial his end was approaching. Apparently he was gently urged to make his peace with Heaven, but said that 'once he got better' and was out of the hospital he would then amend his life, but “not too suddenly, as that would upset his friends.” No doubt he meant the other bohemian free-livers he hung out with! Considering his drinking, and his dabbling with the occult and heretical off-shoot mysticism, no wonder Satie's friends were worried for him.

They were also deeply concerned he was delaying to complete his Easter Duty before the season passed, that is, confession and Communion once a year during the Easter period, practically the absolute minimum the Catholic Church requires of those professing to be its members if they hope to attain salvation. The fact he was delaying something so important suggested he hadn't been attending the Sacraments regularly either. However, there was some hope he had not lost the true faith completely as Erik held up a crucifix he carried saying his only hope was: “In this One.” But, he was still in denial of his approaching end, and not accomplishing his Easter duty, a dangerous thing to do.

A thought then struck Maritain – if they couldn't get the touchy artist to prepare properly for death, perhaps someone else could ....

He suggested to Satie that he should see the 'Parish Priest of the Rag-Pickers', he just might like him, and, the composer consented.

Seizing this opportunity, Maritain bolted out of the room to fetch the priest.

Who was the 'Parish Priest of the Rag-Pickers'?

None other than the mystic Père Lamy (1855-1931) gifted with the discernment of souls, prophecy, and who also received numerous visits from Our Lady and the angels. He also saw the devil numerous times. He once witnessed a battle of wills and words between the Queen of Heaven and Satan. The Archbishop of Paris once said with grateful admiration that they had another saintly Curé of Ars in their midst!

If anyone could reach Erik's soul it would be Père Lamy.

But, they had to handle this carefully. As they drove to the hospital Maritain tried to gently explain the situation to the humble unassuming priest of the backstreets...the composer was touchy, and great artiste ... it was easy to upset him. Satie himself once declared: "The musician is perhaps the most modest of animals, but he is also the proudest". Satie's friends knew this was probably their last and only chance to reach Satie and they had to tread softly lest he shut them all out.

As they entered Satie's room the priest and the composer exchanged very polite greetings with “interest and respect”, but then against all the quiet warnings tactfully imparted by Maritain, Lamy launched into the most unexpected and banal conversation!

They small-talked about the rain and fine weather, health and sickness, then proceeded to share an absurd amount of old wives tales regarding home remedies and quack nostrums. They even seemed to enter a friendly 'competition' or 'one up on you', bantering to see who had the most bizarre cure-all for different ailments.

Imagine the scene.

We're trying to save a soul here, and all you two can talk about is -- that?

Wut?

Then, Satie made a passing reference to music.

“Ah, you are musician,” Père Lamy enquired.

“Yes, a bit,” Satie modestly replied.

“You conduct an orchestra?”

“No,” Satie replied, smiling into his sleeve.

“Then you give piano lessons.”

“No.”

Oh no.

Satie's friends were mortified with this turn in the conversation .... to think the great artiste was taken to be an obscure teacher who could not compose or perform and was therefore ended up giving lessons in some apartment.

“Ah, I see you are a Master?” Lamy asked.

The priest didn't know the man and was asking polite questions, but to suggest he was 'unknown' was dangerous territory! Was Satie insulted? Maritain thought by now all was lost... .

Then, Père Lamy changed his tone, and with a regal gravity that was known to transform his jovial nature to majestic bearing, he asked:

“Will you let me give you the benediction of the Blessed Virgin?”

The composer consented, and the old priest slowly and solemnly gave him his blessing.

As Père Lamy left the room, he turned to Maritain:

“He is an honest man, a straight soul.”

This gave Maritain hope.

“You will come back to see him again Father,” he asked, no doubt of all people would convince Erik to accept his fate and fulfil his duty.

Apparently, Père Lamy could read his thoughts.

“There will be no need to – the chaplain will do everything.”

As `Père Lamy foretold, the hospital chaplain found Satie quite willing to accept his spiritual help after that. When asked if he wished to make his Easter duty, Satie declared;

“Yes, certainly. I am a Catholic.”

Pére Lamy

Before his death he received Communion twice as well. The musician's heart had been touched by the benediction of the mystic to the great relief of his friends.

And that's something they don't tell you about in the music books.

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(Source for the information Satie's deathbed moments - “Père Lamy (1855-1931)” by Comte Paul Biver.)

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