Part 6

In its total aspect as a dramatic commentary the score provokes wonder at its precision and flexibility. The manner in which each scene is individualised, differentiated and set apart from every other scene, is of a vividness and fidelity beyond praise. For every changing aspect of the play, for its every emotional phase, the composer has discovered the exact and illuminating equivalent. The eloquence of this music is seldom abated; it is as pervasive as it is extreme. One would not be far wrong, probably, in finding this music-drama's chief and final claim to the highest excellence in its triumphant character as an expressional achievement; in this it ranks with the supreme things in music. There are in the score innumerable passages which one is tempted to adduce as particular instances of ideally fit and beautiful expression. It is probably unnecessary to allege the quality of such examples as the scene by the fountain, the perilous encounter at the tower window, the final tryst in the park, or the interlude which accompanies the change of scene from the castle vaults to the sunlit terrace above the sea--music that has an entrancing radiance and perfume, through which blows "all the air of all the sea"--these things will be rightly valued by every observer of liberal comprehension and sensitive discernment: to name them is to praise them. But there are other triumphs of expression in the score whose quality is not so immediately to be perceived. I do not speak of the countless felicities of structural and external detail: felicities which will repay close and protracted study. I am thinking of remoter, less obvious felicities: of the grave beauty of the passage in which _Geneviève_ reads to the King the letter of _Golaud_ to his brother _Pelléas_[1]; of the extraordinary final measures of the first act, after _Mélisande's_ question: "Oh! ... pourquoi partez-vous?"; of the delicious effect which is heard in the orchestra at _Pelléas'_ words, in the scene at the fountain, "... le soleil n'entre jamais"; of the exquisite setting of _Golaud's_ exclamation of delight over the beauty of _Mélisande's_ hands; of the entire grotto scene,--a passage of superb imaginative fervour,--with its indescribably poetic ending (the fragment of a descending scale given out in imitation by two flutes and a harp); of the passage in the tower scene where the two solo violins in octaves sing the ravishing phrase that accompanies the "Regarde, regarde, j'embrasse tes cheveux ..." of the enraptured _Pelléas_; of the piercing effect of the _Mélisande_ theme where it is combined with that of _Pelléas_ in the interlude which follows the scene at the tower window; of the passage preceding the entrance of _Mélisande_ and _Arkël_ in the fourth act, where _Mélisande's_ theme is heard in augmentation; of the passage in the transitional music following the misusing of _Mélisande_ by _Golaud_ where her theme is played by the oboe above an interchanging phrase in the horns--a _diminuendo_ of inexpressible poignancy; of the impassioned soliloquy of _Pelléas_ preparatory to the nocturnal meeting in the park; of the theme which is played by the horns and 'cellos as he invites _Mélisande_ to come out of the moonlight into the shadow of the trees; of the exquisite phrase given out by the strings and a solo horn as he asks her if she knows why he wished her to meet him; of the interplay of "ninth" chords which is heard, in the final act, when _Arkël_ asks _Mélisande_ if she is cold, and the mysterious majesty of the passage which immediately follows, as _Mélisande_ says that she wishes the window to remain open until the sun has sunk into the sea; of, indeed, the whole of the incomparable music of _Mélisande's_ death; and finally, of that scene wherein the genius of the musician and musical dramatist is, as I think, most characteristically exerted: the curiously potent and haunting scene in which _Pelléas_ and _Mélisande_, with _Geneviève_, watch the departure of the ship from the port and speak of the approaching storm. Here Debussy, in setting the simple yet elliptical speeches of the two tragedians, has written music which is of marvellously subtle eloquence in its suggestion of the atmosphere of impending disaster, of vague foreboding and oppressive mystery, which rests upon the scene. The penetrating "On s'embarquerait sans le savoir et l'on ne reviendrait plus" of _Pelléas_, sung over a lingering series of descending chords of the ninth; the strange, receding song of the departing sailors; the passage in triplets which is heard when _Pelléas_ speaks of the beacon light shining dimly through the mist; the veiled and sinister phrase in thirds on the muted horns which follows the dying-away of the sailors' call: these are salient moments in a masterly piece of psychological and (there is no other word for it) subliminal delineation.

[Footnote 1: As one out of many instances of similarly striking detail, observe the remarkable and moving progression in the voice-part from the D in the ninth chord on B-flat to the B-natural in the chord of G-sharp minor, at _Geneviève's_ words "... tour qui regarde la mer."]

Whatever Debussy may in the future accomplish--and it is not unlikely that he may transcend this score in adventurousness and novelty of style--will not imperil the unique distinction, the unique value, of "Pelléas et Mélisande." It has had, it has been truly said, no predecessor, no forerunner; and there is nothing in the musical art that is now contemporary with it which in the remotest degree resembles it in impulse or character. That, as an example of the ideal welding of drama and music, it will exert a formative or suggestive influence, it is not now possible to say; but that its extraordinary importance as a work of art will compel an ever-widening appreciation, seems, to many, certain and indisputable. Thinking of this score, Debussy might justly say, with Coventry Patmore: "I have respected posterity."

NOTE

Some of the material contained in the foregoing studies appeared originally in articles published in _Harper's Weekly_, _The North American Review_, and _The Musician_. But for the most part the essays are new; and such passages of earlier origin as are retained have been considerably altered and amplified.

End of Project Gutenberg's Aspects of Modern Opera, by Lawrence Gilman