THE THEMES AND THEIR TREATMENT
The score of Pelléas et Mélisande ill brooks the short and ruthless method of the thematic annotator. As I have pointed out in the foregoing pages, its themes are often so indeterminate, so shadowy and elusive, as to rebuke the analyst who would disengage and expose them. Many of them are simply harmonic hues and half-lights, melodic shreds and fragments, whose substance is as impalpable as mist and whose outlines waver and fade almost before they are perceived. Few of them are clearly and definitely articulated; for the most part they are, as I have called them, mere "sound-wraiths," intentionally suggestive rather than definitive, evocative rather than descriptive. If one ventures to exhibit and to name them, one does so rather for the purpose of drawing attention to their beauty, their singularity, and their delicate potency, than with any thought of imposing an arbitrary character upon them or of insisting upon what seems to be their essential meaning—which is often altogether too recondite for positive identification. I shall not, therefore, attempt to dissect the music measure by measure, but shall endeavor rather to survey it "in the large," to offer simply a general indication of its more significant features. Nor shall I offer any further justification or apology for the titles which I have adopted for the various representative themes than to say that they have seemed to me to be sufficiently supported by their association with the moods and events of the drama. It is, of course, entirely possible that apter designations might be found for them; I offer those that I have chosen more as an invitation to the sympathetic and the inquisitive than from any desire to impose my own interpretation upon unwilling, dissenting, or indifferent minds.
ACT I
A brief orchestral prelude, less than twenty measures in length, introduces the opening scene of the first act. Divided and muted 'cellos, double-basses, and bassoons intone, pp, a solemn and brooding theme[6] designed to evoke the thought of the forest, which, sombre, mysterious, and oppressive, forms the background against which the events of the drama are projected (page 1, measure 1):[7]
I.THE FOREST
This is immediately followed by one of the most important themes in the opera, that which seems to typify the veiled and overshadowing destiny which is very close to the central thought of Maeterlinck's play. Strangely harmonized, this Fate theme (it is in the second measure that its kernel is contained, and it is this portion of it that is most frequently repeated) is sounded, pp, très modéré, by oboes, English horn, and clarinets (page 1, measure 5):
II. FATE
These two themes are repeated, with altered harmonization; then follows one of the two principal themes of the score—that of Mélisande, sung, doux et expressif, by the oboe over tremolos in the divided strings (page 1, measure 14):
III. MÉLISANDE
It is followed by a derivative theme which, in the drama, suggests the naïveté of Mélisande's personality (page 1, measure 1):
IV. MÉLISANDE'S NAÏVETÉ
Flute, oboe and clarinet repeat it over a counterpoint formed by the Fate theme (2 horns), and the curtain opens to the accompaniment of the Forest motive. This latter theme, with the motive of Fate, underscores the earlier portions of the dialogue between Golaud and Mélisande. At Golaud's words: "Oh! you are beautiful!" we hear (page 7, measure 1) an ardent phrase in the strings expressive of his awakened passion for the distressful little princess:
V. GOLAUD'S LOVE
This theme is sounded again, with peculiarly penetrating effect, in the divided strings, as Golaud entreats Mélisande not "to weep so" (page 9, measure 4), and, later in the scene (page 19, measure 1), when he tells her that she must not stay in the forest alone after nightfall, and urges her to go with him. As he informs her that he is "Prince Golaud, grandson of Arkël, the aged king of Allemonde," we hear, on the bassoons and horns, his own motive (page 14, measure 8):
VI. GOLAUD
"You look like a mere child," he says, and the Mélisande theme is given out, doux et calme, by the divided strings (page 18, measure 2). As the two go out together, the motive of Fate is quietly intoned by the horns (page 22, measure 3).
An interlude of some fifty measures, in which the Forest, Fate, and Mélisande themes are exploited, introduces the second scene of the act. To an accompaniment of long-sustained chords varied by recurrences of the Mélisande theme, Geneviève reads to the venerable Arkël Golaud's letter to his brother. The entrance of Pelléas is accompanied by the theme which characterizes him throughout—the second of the two motives (that of Mélisande being the other) which most conspicuously dominate the score. It is announced (page 33, measure 10) by three flutes and a clarinet, over a viola accompaniment:
VII. PELLÉAS
The scene closes with a variant of this, and there is an interlude in which the orchestra weaves a commentary out of the themes of Fate and Golaud's Love.
As the third scene opens (before the castle), the Mélisande theme is sung, mélancolique et doux, by the oboe against a murmuring accompaniment of the strings. Together with the Pelléas theme, it accompanies the opening portion of the scene. A suggestive use is made of a fragment of the Fate theme at Mélisande's words, after Pelléas prophesies the approach of a storm: "And yet it is so calm now!" (page 44, measure 5). Just before the voices of the departing sailors are heard, the curious student will note a characteristic passage in the orchestra (page 45, measure 1)—a sequence of descending "ninth-chords" built on a downward scale of whole tones. The Fate theme, combined with that of Mélisande, colors the rest of the scene to the end. The conclusion of the act is striking: two flutes outline a variant of the Mélisande motive; a horn sounds the first three notes of the second measure of the Fate theme, and four horns and flute sustain, pp, an unresolved suspension—C#-F#-A#-D#-G#.
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ACT II
The Pelléas theme, sung by two flutes, opens the brief introduction to the second act. It is repeated, interwoven with harp arpeggios. Immediately preceding the entrance of Pelléas and Mélisande a muted horn, two flutes, two oboes, and harp sound a chord of singularly liquid quality—one of those fragmentary effects in the invention of which Debussy is so curiously happy. It is the motive of The Fountain.[8]
IX. THE FOUNTAIN
It is repeated, with still more magical effect (scored for divided violins and violas, two muted horns, and harp), as Mélisande remarks upon the clearness of the water, while the violins and violas weave about it a shimmering figure in sixteenth-notes with which its appearances are usually associated. As Pelléas warns Mélisande to take care, while she leans above the water along the marble edge of the basin, the clarinet, over a string accompaniment, announces an impassioned phrase (page 62, measure 3)—the theme of Awakening Desire:
X. AWAKENING DESIRE
As Pelléas questions Mélisande about the ring with which she is playing,—her wedding-ring,—and when it falls into the water while she is tossing it in the air, we hear persistently the theme of Fate, which, with the Golaud theme (portentously sounded, pp, by horns and bassoons), closes the scene. There is an interlude in which the Golaud, Mélisande, and Fate themes are heard.
The rhythm of the latter theme mutters ominously in the bass as the second scene is disclosed. When Golaud, lying wounded on his bed, describes to Mélisande how, "at the stroke of noon," his horse "swerved suddenly, with no apparent cause," and threw him, as he was hunting in the forest ("could he have seen something extraordinary?"), the oboe recalls the theme of Awakening Desire, which was first heard as Mélisande and Pelléas sat together by the fountain in the forest during the heat of midday. The rhythm of the Fate motive is hinted by violas, 'cellos, and horns as Golaud, in answer to Mélisande's compassionate questioning, observes that he is "made of iron and blood." Mélisande weeps, and the oboe sounds a plaintive variant of her motive (page 82, measure 2); the strings repeat it as she complains that she is ill. Nothing has happened, no one has harmed her, she answers, in response to Golaud's questionings: "It is no one. You do not understand me. It is something stronger than I," she says; and we hear the Pelléas theme, dulcetly harmonized, in the strings. When, later, Golaud mentions his brother's name inquiringly, and she replies that she thinks he dislikes her, although he speaks to her sometimes, we hear, very softly, the theme of Awakening Desire. As their talk progresses to its climax, there is a recurrence of the Fate theme; then, as Golaud, upon discovering the loss of her wedding-ring, harshly tells her that he "would rather have lost everything than that," the trombones and tuba declaim (page 99, measure 5) a threatening and sinister phrase which will later be more definitely associated with the thought of Golaud's vengeful purpose:
XI. VENGEANCE
This is repeated still more vehemently three measures further on, and there is a return of the Fate motive as Mélisande, at the bidding of Golaud, goes forth to seek the missing ring. An interlude, in which are blended the variant of the Mélisande theme, which denotes her grieving, and the shimmering figure in sixteenth-notes heard during the dialogue at the fountain, leads into the scene before the grotto.
As Pelléas and Mélisande stand in the darkness of the cavern we hear again (page 110, measure 2) the variant of the Fate motive which marked the close of the preceding scene; then, as a sudden shaft of moonlight illuminates the grotto, it is expanded and transmuted into a gleaming flood of orchestral and harmonic color (two flutes, oboe, two harps glissando, string tremolos, cymbals pp). While they talk of the beggars sleeping in a corner of the cave, an oboe and flute trace a tenuous and melancholy phrase (doux et triste) which continues almost to the end of the scene; it leads into a quiet coda formed out of the theme of Fate.
ACT III
After several bars of preluding by flute, harp, violas, and 'cellos (harmonics), on an arpeggio figure, ppp, flutes and oboe present (page 115, measure 6) a theme which, in an ampler version, dominates the entire scene. Its complete form, in which I conceive it to be suggestive of the magic of night, is as follows (page 118, measure 2):
XII. NIGHT
It continues in the orchestra until, as Pelléas urges Mélisande to lean further out of the window that he may see her hair unbound, a new theme enters, seeming to characterize the ardor of Pelléas' mood (page 120, measure 3[9]):
XIII. ARDOR
As Mélisande leans further and further out of her window, these two themes (Night and Ardor) grow increasingly insistent. They are interrupted at Pelléas' words, "I see only the branches of the willow drooping over the wall," by a rich passage for divided violins, violas, and 'cellos (page 124, measure 3), and by a brief phrase to which attention should be drawn because of its essentially Debussy-like quality—the progression in the first measure of page 125 (scored for violins and violas). Then suddenly Mélisande's unloosed hair streams down from the open window and envelops Pelléas, and we hear (a famous passage) in the strings alone, ff, a precipitate descending series of seventh-chords built on the familiar whole-tone scale which Debussy finds so impelling (page 127, measure 1).
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Then begins (page 128, measure 1) a delectable episode. Over a murmurous accompanying figure given out by violas, 'cellos, harp, and horn, a clarinet sings a variant of the Mélisande theme. The harmonic changes are kaleidoscopic, the orchestral color of prismatic variety. The lovely rhapsody over his belovèd's
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tresses which Maeterlinck puts into the mouth of Pelléas is exquisitely enforced by the music. There is ravishing tenderness and beauty here, and an intensity of expression as penetrating as it is restrained. As Mélisande's doves come from the tower and fly about the heads of the lovers, we hear, tremolo in the strings, a variation of her motive. Golaud enters by the winding stair, and the threatening phrase quoted as Ex. XI is heard sombrely in the horns, bassoons, violas, and 'cellos—its derivation from Golaud's own theme (see Ex. VI) is here apparent. The latter motive sounds, p, as he warns Mélisande that she will fall from the window if she leans so far out. It is followed by the Fate theme as he departs, laughing nervously. A short interlude is evolved from the Mélisande theme (the Pelléas motive forming a counterpoint), and the Fate and Vengeance motives—the latter outlined, over a roll of the timpani and a sustained chord in the horns and wood-wind, by a muted trumpet, pp.
No new thematic matter is presented during the two succeeding scenes (in the vaults under the castle and, afterward, on the terrace), nor are there significant reminiscences of themes already brought forward. The music of the vault scene forms a pointed commentary on the implications of the action and dialogue—in character it is dark-hued, forbidding, sinister. As Golaud and Pelléas emerge from the vaults, much use is made in the orchestra of a jubilant figure in triplets (first given out fortissimo by flutes and oboes, over an undulating accompaniment, on page 152, measure 1) which seems to express a certain irresponsible exuberance on the part of Pelléas; it accompanies his light-hearted remarks about the odor of the flowers, the sheen of the water, and the invigorating air, as they come out upon the sunlit terrace. As the scene changes again, a very short interlude introduces a new theme—that of Little Yniold, Golaud's son, whom he is to use as the innocent tool of his suspicions. This motive, which occurs repeatedly during the ensuing scene, is one of the less important, but most typical and haunting ones, in the entire score. It is first presented (page 158, measure 4) by the oboe, doux et expressif:
XVI. YNIOD
It is heard again as an accompaniment to Yniold's naïve answers to Golaud's interrogations (page 160); when he cries out that his father, in his agitation, has hurt him (page 164); and, in a particularly touching form, on page 165, measure 4, when Golaud promises that he will give him a present on the morrow if Yniold will tell him what he knows concerning Mélisande and Pelléas. We hear the Pelléas theme in the strings and wood-wind (page 172, measure 7) when Yniold says that they "weep always in the dark," and that "that makes one weep also," and again when he tells of having seen them kiss one day—"when it rained." Thereafter it is heard repeatedly in varying forms to the end of the scene, at times underlying a persistent triplet-figure which has the effect of an inverted pedal-point. A tumultuous and agitated crescendo passage brings the act to a portentous close.
ACT IV
A variant of the Pelléas theme, with the opening notes of the Fate motive as an under voice, begins the short prelude to the fourth act; there is a hint of the Yniold theme, and the first two notes of the Pelléas motive introduce the first scene. The interview between Mélisande and her lover, in which they arrange their tryst at the fountain in the park, is treated with restraint; an expressive phrase sung by the 'cellos (page 194, measure 11) may be noted at the point where Pelléas informs Mélisande that she will look in vain for his return after he has gone. The Mélisande theme, in a new form, opens the moving scene between Mélisande and Arkël in which he tells her of his compassionate observation of her since first she came to the castle. During his speech and her replies we hear her motive and that of Fate (page 205), the latter theme announcing the entrance of Golaud, distraught, blood-bespattered, seeking, he says, his sword. The music of the ensuing scene does not call for extended description—rather for the single comment that in it Debussy has proved once for all his power of forceful, direct, and tangible dramatic utterance: the music here, to apply to it Golaud's phrase in the play, is compact of "blood and iron"—as well it needed to be for the accentuation of this perturbing and violent episode. The Fate motive courses ominously through its earlier portions. We hear, too, what I have called the "second" Mélisande theme—that which seems to denote her naïveté (see Ex. IV), and a strange variant of the first Mélisande theme (page 212, measure 4). At the climax of the scene, when Golaud seizes his wife by her long hair and flings her from side to side, the music is as brutal, as "virile," as the most exigent could reasonably demand. Later, as he hints at his purpose,—"I shall await my chance,"—the trombones, tubas, and double-basses pizzicato mutter, pp, the motive of Vengeance. The orchestral interlude is long and elaborate. We hear a variant of the Fate theme, which reaches a climax in a fortissimo outburst of the full orchestra. The theme in this form is developed at length; there is a reminiscence of the Mélisande theme, and the music, by a gradual diminuendo, passes into the third scene of the act—in the park, before the Fountain of the Blind. At the beginning occurs the incident of the passing flock of sheep observed by Yniold. This scene need not detain us long, since it is musically as well as dramatically episodic. There are no new themes, and no significant recurrences of familiar ones, though the music is rich in suggestive and imaginative details; as I have previously noted, it is omitted in the performances at the Opéra-Comique.
Pelléas enters, and there is an impassioned declaration of his theme, scored, f, for wood-wind, horns, and strings, as he observes that he is about to depart, "crying out for joy and woe like a blind man fleeing from his burning house." There is a return of the Mélisande theme; and then, as she herself enters, and Pelléas urges her not to stay at the edge of the moonlight, but to come with him into the shadow of the linden, there enters a theme of great beauty and tenderness, announced, mystérieusement, by horns and 'cellos (page 236, measure 6). I may call it, for want of a better name, the motive of The Shadows, since it appears only in association with the thought of sheltering darkness and concealment:
XVII. THE SHADOWS
We hear the Fate motive when Mélisande warns Pelléas that it is late, that they must take care, as the gates of the castle will soon be closed for the night. There is a gracious variant of this motive as Mélisande tells how she caught her gown on the nails of the gate as she left the castle, and so was delayed. Then comes a reminiscence of the Fountain theme (the authentic wonder of which is that it is not a theme at all, but merely a single chord introduced by a grace-note; yet the vividness of its effect is indisputable), suggested, pp, by horns and harp, at Mélisande's words: "We have been here before." As Pelléas asks her if she knows why he has bidden her to meet him, strings and horn give out, pp et très expressif, a lovely phrase derived from the Pelléas theme (page 242, measure 1). Their mutual
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confessions of love, so simply uttered in the text, are entirely unaccompanied by the orchestra; but as Pelléas exclaims: "The ice is melted with glowing fire!" four solo 'cellos, with sustained harmonics in the violins and violas, sound,
pianissimo
, a ravishing series of "ninth-chords" (page 244, measure 6)—a sheer Debussy-esque effect, for the relation between the chords is as absolutely anarchistic as it is deeply beautiful. "Your voice seems to have
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blown across the sea in spring," says Pelléas, and a horn, accompanied by violins in six parts, announces the motive of
Ecstasy
(page 245, measure 7):
XX. ECSTASY
The 'cellos intone the Mélisande theme as Pelléas tells her that he has never seen anyone so beautiful as she; the theme of Ecstasy follows in the strings, horns, and wood-wind, forte; the theme of The Shadows returns as Pelléas again invites her into the darkness beneath the trees; there is a dolorous hint of the Mélisande theme as she says that she is happy, yet sad. And then the amorous and caressing quality of the music is sharply altered. There is a harsh and sinister muttering in the double-basses as Pelléas, startled by a distant sound, cries that they are closing the gates of the castle, and that they are shut out. The Golaud motive is recalled with sombre force in the strings as the rattle of the great chains is heard. "All the better! All the better!" cries Mélisande; and, as they embrace in sudden abandonment, we hear, introduced by an exquisite interplay of tonalities, the motive of Rapture, announced, pp, by divided strings and flutes (page 258, measure 12):
XXI. RAPTURE
As Mélisande whispers suddenly to Pelléas that there is some one behind them, a menacing version of the Vengeance theme is played, pp, by the basses, trombones, and timpani. This theme and that of Rapture hasten the music toward its culminating point of intensity. The Pelléas theme is given out by the 'cellos, the Mélisande theme (this is not indicated in the piano version) by the violins, and as the lovers embrace desperately, a crescendo leads to a fortissimo proclamation, by all the orchestral forces, of a greatly broadened version of the motive of Ecstasy. As Golaud rushes upon them and strikes down Pelléas, the Fate theme is declaimed by four horns in unison over string tremolos; and, as he turns and silently pursues the fleeing Mélisande through the forest, his Vengeance theme brings the act, by a rapid crescendo, to a crashing close.
ACT V
The last act opens with a dolorous phrase derived from the variant of the Mélisande theme noted on page 82 of the piano score. It is played by the violas, with harp accompaniment. The violins repeat it, and two flutes announce a new theme (page 268, measure 5), the motive of Pity:
XXII. PITY
As Golaud bends with Arkël over the unconscious figure of Mélisande where she lies stretched upon her bed, muted horns and 'cellos play a gentle variant of the Fate theme, followed by the Mélisande motive as Golaud exclaims that they had but "kissed like little children." The theme of Pity accompanies Mélisande's awakening, and a new motive is heard as she responds, to Arkël's question: "I have never been better." This new theme (page 274, measure 4), of extraordinary poignancy, is given out by an oboe supported by two flutes, and its expression is marked triste et très doucement expressif. I shall call it the motive of Sorrow, for it seems like the comment of the music upon the transporting and utter sadness of the play's dénouement. It voices a gentle and passive commiseration, rather than a profound and shaking grief:
XXIII. SORROW
A third new theme, also of searching pathos, occurs in the strings, p, très doux, as Mélisande quietly greets her husband (page 279, measure 1), and later, when she says that she forgives him (page 282, measure 1). It may be called the motive of Mélisande's Gentleness:
XXIV. MÉLISANDE'S GENTLENESS
As Golaud's still unvanquished doubts and suspicions torture him into harsh interrogations, and he asks her if she loved Pelléas "with a forbidden love," an oboe and two flutes recall, p et doux, the Rapture motive. Later, in succession, we hear (on a solo violin over flute and clarinets) the Pelléas theme (page 289, measure 2), the motive of Gentleness, for the last time (page 290, measure 3), and the Mélisande theme (pages 290-292). As Mélisande recognizes Arkël, and asks if it be true "that the winter is coming," a solo violin, solo 'cello, and two clarinets play an affecting phrase (page 294, measure 5). She tells Arkël that she does not wish the windows closed until the sun has sunk into the sea, and the orchestra accompanies her in a passage of curiously delicate sonority (page 295, measure 6).
The final scene of the act is treated with surpassing reticence, dignity, and simplicity, yet with piercing intensity of expression. Nothing could be at the same time more sparing of means and more exquisitely eloquent in result than Debussy's setting of the scene of Mélisande's death—it is music which dims the eyes and subdues the spirit. The pianissimo-repeated chords in the divided strings which accentuate Arkël's warning words (page 304, measure 8); the blended tones of the harp and the distant bell at the moment of dissolution (page 306, measure 11); Arkël's simple requiem over the body of the little princess, with the grave and tender orchestral commentary woven out of familiarly poignant themes (pages 308-309); the murmurous coda, with its muted trumpet singing a gentle dirge under an accompaniment of two flutes (page 310, measure 7),—these things are easy to
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value, but they may not easily be praised with adequacy.
Concerning felicities of structural and technical detail in the work as a whole, this has not been the place to speak; but if curious appreciators, or others who are merely curious, should perhaps be induced, by what has been written here, to explore for themselves Debussy's beautiful and in many ways incomparable score, the purpose of this study will have been achieved.