I
It is not too much to say that Claude Debussy may be considered as the real originator of impressionism in music, although he did not begin to compose in this manner. But Debussy's success has brought forth a host of imitators in France, Russia, England, and even the United States, while so essentially Teutonic a composer as Max Reger has passed through a Debussian phase. Another composer who has contributed to the development of impressionistic method is Maurice Ravel, and he undoubtedly has derived much from Debussy. At the same time he displays many original characteristics which have nothing in common with Debussy, and hence he cannot be dismissed as a mere echo of the older composer. Impressionism has become so essentially a part of ultra-modern French musical evolution as to merit a clear exposition of its claims and the achievements of its founders.
Claude-Achille Debussy was born at St. Germain-en-Laye, not far from Paris, August 22, 1862. His father was ambitious to make a sailor of his son, but a certain Mme. Mautet, whose son was a brother-in-law of Paul Verlaine, herself a pupil of Chopin, was so impressed by the boy's piano playing that she prepared him for entrance into the Paris Conservatory. He obtained medals in solfeggio and piano playing, but was less fortunate in the harmony class. In the class of Émile Durand the study of harmony resolved itself into an effort to discover the 'author's harmony' for a given bass or soprano, hampered by rules 'as arbitrary as those of bridge.'[61] Debussy also entered Franck's organ class at the Conservatory, but here also he was at odds with the master, whose urgings 'modulate, modulate!' during the pupil's improvizations seemed too often without point. In 1879 Debussy journeyed to Russia with Mme. Metch, the wife of a Russian railway constructor, in the capacity of domestic pianist. He made slight acquaintance with Balakireff, Borodine, and Rimsky-Korsakoff, but never came across Moussorgsky, who was destined later to exercise so marked an influence upon his dramatic methods. The dominant expression which he brought back from Russia was that of the fantastic gypsy music, whose rhapsodic and improvisatory character addressed itself readily to his fancy. At last Debussy entered the composition class of Ernest Guiraud, and here his ability quickly asserted itself. After a mention in counterpoint and fugue in 1882, he obtained a second prix de Rome in 1885, and the first prize in the year following with the cantata 'The Prodigal Son,' entitling him to study in Rome at governmental expense.
From Rome Debussy sent back to the Institute, as required, a portion of a setting of Heine's lyrical drama Almanzor, a suite for women's voices and orchestra, 'Spring,' recently published in a revision for orchestra alone; a setting of Rossetti's 'The Blessed Damozel' for voices and orchestra (finished after his return to Paris), and a fantasy for piano and orchestra which has never been published or performed.
On his return to Paris Debussy made the acquaintance of Moussorgsky's Boris Godounoff in the first edition, before the revisions and alterations made by Rimsky-Korsakoff. This work was an immense revelation of the possibilities of a simple yet poignant dramatic style, and undoubtedly was fraught with suggestion to the future composer of Pelléas. A visit to Bayreuth in 1889, where he heard Tristan, Parsifal, and the Meistersinger, showed Wagner in a new light to Debussy. But on repeating the trip in the following year he returned disillusionized and henceforth Wagner ceased to exert any influence whatever upon him. For some time at this period Debussy was generously aided by the publisher Georges Hartmann, who had likewise encouraged de Castillon and Massenet. During these years Debussy composed many piano pieces and songs, among them the Arabesques (1888), the Ballade, Danse, Mazurka, Reverie, Nocturne, and the Suite Bergamasque, all dating from 1890. These piano pieces exhibit Debussy as a frankly melodic composer of indubitable refinement and imagination, in a vein not far removed from that of Massenet, although possessing more distinction and poetic sentiment. Among the songs the early Nuit d'étoiles (1876), Fleur des blés (1878), and Beau Soir (1878) are experimental, the last of the three being the most interesting. The 'Three Melodies' (1880), containing the songs La Belle au bois dormant, Voici que le Printemps, and Paysage sentimental, the Ariettes oubliées (1888, but revised later) show a marked progress in concreteness of mood and harmonic subtlety. Three songs (1890) on texts by Verlaine, L'Échelonnement des haies, La Mer est plus belle, and Le Son du Cor s'afflige, and the Cinq poëmes de Baudelaire (1890), show a further evolution of lyric delineation. If the latter are unequal (Le Balcon and Le jet d'eau are the most vital) they at least demonstrate an æsthetic ferment toward the later Debussy. Mandoline (also 1890) is also a direct premonition of a maturer style. In confirmation of this steady evolution one must recall that side by side with the palpable influence of Massenet in the cantata 'The Prodigal Son' (especially in the prelude) and in the second movement of the suite 'Spring' there were likewise harmonic individualities and expressive sentiments in the first movement of the suite, and in the delicately pre-Raphaelitic 'Blessed Damozel' which presage the developments to come.
However, the direct stimulus which guided Debussy in his search for personal enfranchisement did not come from musical sources,[62] but from association with poets, literary critics, and painters. From 1885 onwards,[63] the symbolist poets Gustave Kahn, Pierre Louys, Francis Vielé-Griffin, Stuart Merrill, Paul Verlaine, Henri de Regnier, the painter Whistler, and many others were in the habit of meeting at the house of Stéphane Mallarmé, the symbolist poet, for discussion on a variety of æsthetic topics. The Salon de la Rose-Croix, formed by French painters as an outcome of pre-Raphaelite influence, grew out of these meetings. Verlaine and Mallarmé had founded the 'Wagnerian Review' as a medium for exposition of the essential unity of all the arts. As a result of these critical inquiries and debates, Debussy was struck with the possibility of attempting to transfer impressionistic and symbolistic theories into the domain of music.
The first concrete instance of a deliberate embodiment of impressionistic method is to be found in the exquisite 'Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun' (1882), founded on the poem by Mallarmé. Here Debussy succeeded admirably in translating the vague symbolism of the poem into music of languorous mood and ineffably delicate poetry. This brief piece, novel and striking in both harmonic and expressive idiom, marks a departure into a field of fertile consequence and far-reaching import both intrinsically and historically.
It was in the summer of 1892, also, that Debussy quite by chance came across Maeterlinck's play Pelléas et Mélisande. Both the intensely human elements in the drama and its sensitive symbolism made a strong appeal to Debussy's newly awakened æsthetic instincts and, after obtaining permission to utilize the play as an opera text, he at once set to work upon it. For ten years Debussy labored upon Pelléas with a patient striving to realize in music its humanitarian sentiment, its creative poetry and its tragedy. During these years of gradual distillation of thought he attained slowly but surely the inimitable style of his maturity. But in the meantime he composed also in various other fields.
Already the songs, Fêtes galantes (1892), on Verlaine's poems showed in their delicately impressionistic introspection that the 'Afternoon of a Faun' was no casual experiment. Similarly, the Proses Lyriques (1893), although unequal, exhibit clearly, especially in the songs De Rêve and De Grève, a formulation of the whole-tone idiom, which was later to become a characteristic feature of Debussy's style. A string quartet (also 1893) was, by virtue of its inevitable restriction, a momentary abandonment of the impressionistic ideal, but within these limitations Debussy achieved an astonishing individuality, charm of mood, and clearcut workmanship, particularly in the thoughtful, slow movement and the piquant scherzo. In 1898 he returned to the impressionistic vein with three Chansons de Bilitis from the like-named volume of poems by Pierre Louys. The naïveté, humor, and penetrating poetry of these lyrics were akin to the imaginative vein of the Fêtes galantes.
In the following year Debussy gave a larger affirmation of his impressionistic creed with the Nocturnes for orchestra entitled 'Clouds,' 'Festivals,' and 'Sirens' (the latter with a chorus of women's voices). These pieces, although avowedly programmistic, do not attempt realistic tone-painting, but aim rather to suggest impressionistic moods growing out of their titles. The slow procession of clouds, the dazzling intermingling of groups of revellers, the elusive seduction of imaginary sirens are pictured with an atmospheric verity that far transcends the possibilities of realistic standpoint. Musically the Nocturnes are distinguished by their intrinsic potency of expression, their basic formal coherence and logic of development, their concreteness of mood, and their picturesqueness of detail. The use of a chorus of women's voices, vocalizing without text, a feature already employed in 'Spring,' was not original to Debussy, for Berlioz had already employed it in his highly dramatic but little known Funeral March for the last scene of 'Hamlet' (1848). But Debussy's highly coloristic and ingenious application of the medium greatly enhances the pervasive poetry of this Nocturne, and transforms it into a virtual novelty. Not the least interesting harmonic consideration of this piece is the use, with some definite system, of the whole-tone scale, which Debussy later exploited so remarkably, and of which up to this time only transient suggestions had appeared.
During his long contemplative absorption in Pelléas Debussy had not entirely neglected composition for the piano. A Marche écossaise 'on a popular theme' ('The Earl of Ross's March') for four hands (1891, orchestrated in 1908) is piquant and vivacious without being particularly characteristic. A 'Little Suite' for the same combination (1894), if somewhat slight musically, is pleasing for its clarity and simple directness. In 1901, however, Debussy showed a far more definite originality, both pianistically and harmonically, in a set of three pieces entitled Pour le Piano, with the subtitles 'Prelude,' 'Sarabande' and 'Toccata.' If the prelude suggests something of the style of Bach, if the Sarabande is to a certain extent a modernization of the gravity of Rameau, and the toccata bears a resemblance in its fiery impulsiveness to Domenico Scarlatti, these pieces are none the less positively characteristic of Debussy in their fundamentals. The frank use of the whole-tone scale in the prelude, the harmonic boldness of the sarabande with its sequences of sevenths, and the ingenious piano figures in the toccata are the external evidences of a basically individual conception. If these pieces do not display the impressionism that is indigenous to the later Debussy, they represent a transition stage of far from negligible interest.
With the performances in 1902 of Pelléas et Mélisande at the Opéra Comique Debussy attained an immediate and definite renown. There was abundance of opposition, disparagement, and ill-natured criticism, but the work was too obviously significant to be downed by it. To begin with it was epoch-making in the annals of French dramatic art in that it marked a complete enfranchisement from the influence of Wagner. Debussy had been censured for saying that melody in the voice parts (that is, formal melody) was 'anti-dramatic,' but his by no means unmelodic recitative with its fastidious attention to finesse of declamation justified the restriction of the melodic element to the orchestra. If the dramatic style of Pelléas, in its economy of musical emphasis, was directly modelled upon Moussorgsky's Boris, the evolution of this idea in which the orchestra throughout, with the exception of a few climaxes, maintained a transparent delicacy of sonority, established a new conception of dramatic style as well as new resources in sensibility of timbre. Harmonically, Pelléas shows both a surprising unity (considering that it occupied Debussy for ten years at a transitional phase of his career) and a remarkable extension of devices scarcely more than hinted at in his earlier works. It is difficult to formulate these innovations briefly, but they may be grouped under three general headings. First, an æsthetic abrogation of certain conventional harmonic procedures; the free use of consecutive fifths and octaves, sequences of seventh chords (in which Fauré definitely anticipated Debussy), and of ninths. In these seemingly anarchistic over-rulings of tradition Debussy was guided by a sure and hyper-sensitive instinct. Second, the employment of modal harmonization, sometimes strict but more often free, with a singularly felicitous dramatic connotation. Third, the development of a logical manner founded on the whole-tone scale. Debussy cannot claim that he originated the whole-tone scale, since it was used by Dargomijsky in the third act of 'The Stone Guest' (1869), by various neo-Russians, notably Rimsky-Korsakoff, by Chabrier, Fauré, and d'Indy (in the second act of Fervaal); nevertheless he can be said to have made this idiom his own by his flexible and discriminating manipulation of its resources. Debussy does not employ the whole-tone scale as monotonously as is often supposed. On the contrary, one of the marked features of his harmonic style is its resourceful variety.
Debussy's use of motives constitutes the very antipodes of Wagner's somewhat cumbrous symphonic development of them. If at first Debussy's treatment seems too fluid and lacking in continuity, a closer study of the score (especially in the orchestral version) will reveal not only a flexible adaptation of motives to the dramatic situations, but a logical and constructive development often with considerable contrapuntal dexterity. Furthermore, a formal coherence is maintained without the artifices of symphonic development.
But the import of Pelléas does not consist merely in the historical or technical value of its innovating features, although this is patent. It resides primarily in the basic poignancy with which the music illustrates and reinforces the touching drama by Maeterlinck, as well as its intrinsic surpassing beauty and poetic thrall. It is because Debussy has characterized the innocent, gentle Mélisande, the ardent Pelléas, Golaud haggard with jealousy, the childlike carelessness of Yniold during a questioning of such import to his father, with such searching fidelity to the creations of the poet that we find music and drama in accord to an extent seldom witnessed in the history of opera. It is because Debussy has brought such freshness of musical invention and profound aptness of interpretation in such scenes as the discovery of Mélisande by Golaud, the questioning end of Act I, the animated scene between Pelléas and Mélisande in Act II, their long love scene in Act III, the dramatic duet at the end of Act IV, and the death scene of Mélisande in Act V, that this opera occupies a unique position. The characterization of the forest, of the subterranean vaults of the château, of the remorse of Golaud after his deed of vengeance, and the purifying majesty of death show Debussy as a poet and dramatist of indisputable mastery. Indeed, it is not too much to say that Pelléas et Mélisande occupies a position in modern French music akin to that of Tristan und Isolde in German dramatic literature.
After Pelléas, Debussy turned again to the impressionistic style in piano pieces and orchestral works of progressive evolution. With the 'Engravings' for piano (1903) containing 'Pagodas,' 'Evening in Grenada,' 'Gardens in the Rain,' he continued the impressionistic method of 'The Afternoon of a Faun' with an amplified harmonic and expressive idiom. 'Pagodas,' founded on the Cambodian scale, and the Spanish suggestions in 'Evening in Grenada' are characteristic instances of the French taste for exoticism; 'Gardens in the Rain' is founded upon an old French folk-song which Debussy used later in the orchestral Image, Rondes de Printemps. All three are markedly individual, and display the poetic insight of Debussy tempered by discretion. 'Masks' and 'The Joyous Isle' (both 1904) contain alike fantastic exuberance and an increasingly personal pianistic and harmonic style. The latter in particular contains a homogeneity of thematic development supposedly incompatible with an impressionistic method. Two sets of Images (1905 and 1907) make still greater demands upon the impressionistic capacity of the listener, sometimes at the expense of concrete musical inventiveness, but those entitled 'Reflections in the Water' and 'Goldfishes' offer no diminution of imaginative vitality. 'The Children's Corner' (1908), a collection of miniatures, are sketches of poetic appeal, though relatively slight. The final number, 'Golliwog's Cakewalk,' is a fascinating French version of ragtime style. Mr. André Caplet has orchestrated these pieces with sensitive taste. Two series of 'Preludes' (1911 and 1913) exhibit both the virtues and defects of Debussy's piano music. In some the piano is scarcely equal to the impressionistic demands made upon it, others touch the high-water mark of Debussy's versatile invention. In the first set, 'Veils,' 'The Wind in the Plain,' 'The Enveloped Cathedral' are felicitously impressionistic; the 'Sounds and Perfumes Turn in the Evening Air,' 'The Girl with Flaxen Hair' are lyrically atmospheric, while in 'Minstrels' is to be found another inimitably humorous transcription of ragtime idiom. In the second set, La Puerta del Vino is an imaginatively exotic Habañera; La terrasse des audiences des clair de lune is of rarefied emotional atmosphere; 'The Fairies are Exquisite Dancers' and Ondine are brilliant bits of delicate fancy; 'General Lavine—Eccentric' is another witty adaptation of rag-time in the Debussian manner. 'Fireworks,' a brilliantly impressionistic study ending with a distant refrain of the Marseillaise in a key other than that of the bass, approaches realism, a final climax, before the above-mentioned refrain, consisting of a double glissando on the black and white keys simultaneously. 'Fireworks' is also notable for a cadenza which is not in Debussy's harmonic style, and which closely resembles cadenzas characteristic of Maurice Ravel. But, with the historic precedent of Haydn in his old age learning of Mozart in orchestral procedure, one must not deny the same privilege to Debussy. This detail is not without its piquant side, because Ravel has been unjustly reproached for too many 'obligations' to Debussy.
In the meantime Debussy has published several sets of songs entitled to mention. A second collection of Fêtes galantes (1904) shows a slight falling off in spontaneity, but Le Faune is imaginative and felicitously inventive, and in the Colloque sentimental an ingenious quotation is made from an accompaniment figure of En Sourdine in the first collection, justifiable not only on account of the sentiments of the text in the second song, but for the reminiscent alteration of the original harmonies. A charming song, Le Jardin (presumably 1905), from a collection of settings by various French composers of poems by Paul Gravollet, having a delightful running accompaniment over a measured declamation of the text, must be regarded as one of Debussy's best. With some departure from his usual choice of texts, Debussy has successfully set three Ballades (1910) by François Villon, reproducing with uncommon picturesqueness the archaic flavor of the poem. The same year witnessed the publication of Le Promenoir des amants on poems by Tristan Lhermitte, whose delicate poetic style is more characteristic of his established individuality. Of the 'Three Poems by Mallarmé' (1913) one must admit an exquisite but somewhat tenuous musical sentiment, not entirely free from the 'polyharmonic' influence now current in Paris.
Among Debussy's vocal works, especial stress should be laid on the spontaneous and spirited settings for unaccompanied mixed chorus of the Trois Chansons of Charles d'Orléans (1908). Here Debussy has caught the spirit of these fifteenth-century poems most aptly, and yet has not departed essentially from his own individuality. It is incredible that these choruses are not better known, and that they are not in the repertory of more choral societies.
In the meantime it is not to be supposed that Debussy had relinquished orchestral composition since his success with Pelléas et Mélisande. In 1904 he wrote two dances, Danse profane and Danse sacrée, for the newly invented chromatic harp with accompaniment of string orchestra. These pieces are pleasingly archaic in character and yet not unduly so, illustrating an unusual capacity in Debussy's inventive imagination. 'The Sea,' three symphonic sketches for orchestra (1903-1905), produced in 1905, cannot be considered entirely successful in spite of many remarkable qualities. Here Debussy has attempted a subject which has proved disillusionizing for many composers, and one which is perhaps beyond the scope of his imagination. There are picturesque and beautiful episodes in the first movement, particularly the last pages, but the effect of the movement as a whole is disjointed. The second movement, Jeux des Vagues, is thoroughly charming in its fanciful delineation of its title, and possesses more continuity of development. The third movement, again, is less satisfactory, although the climax is stirringly triumphant. In 1909 Debussy published three Images for orchestra: Gigues (not published until 1913, although announced with the others), Ibéria, and Rondes de Printemps. Gigues is a slight if charming piece, with vivacious rhythms and no little originality of orchestral effect; Rondes de Printemps is a fantastic and sensitive impressionistic sketch, founded upon the same folk-song which Debussy employed in 'Gardens in the Rain' from the 'Engravings,' here treated with the contrapuntal resources of imitation and augmentation. If an episode in the middle of the piece is less vital both in invention and treatment, the effect of the whole is full of poetry, especially at the climax where the strings divided have a sequence of inverted chords of the eleventh descending diatonically with magical effect. But the most significant by far of these Images is Ibéria (the ancient name for Spain), in which Debussy has given free play to his exotic imagination and his faculty for impressionistic treatment. Like Chabrier's España, Debussy's Ibéria is still Spain seen through a Frenchman's eyes, but with an enormous temperamental difference in vision. In the first section, 'Through the Streets and Byways,' Debussy has never shown more fantastic brilliance and vivid, almost garish, interplay of color. In the second portion, 'The Perfumes of Night,' he has never exceeded its poignant atmosphere of surcharged sensibility. A theme for divided violas and violoncellos recalls the emotional heights of Pelléas. The last movement, 'Morning on a Fête Day,' shows an impressionism intensified almost to realism. As a whole Ibéria is perhaps the most satisfying example of Debussy's mature method, in which we find an undiminished vitality of imagination combined with irreproachable workmanship. Debussy's orchestral style, while difficult to adjust satisfactorily, is full of delicate and brilliant coloristic effects side by side.
In 1911 Debussy wrote incidental music for Gabriel d'Annunzio's drama 'The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian.' It is a thankless task to appraise dramatic music apart from its intended adjuncts, especially when it is somewhat fragmentary in character. There is an abundant use of the quasi-archaic idiom (already employed in the first of the Dances for harp and strings), which found its justification in the mystical character of the drama. Also there seems a little straining of impressionistic resources in harmony, and not a little effective choral writing. An orchestra of unusual constituence gave opportunity for effects of a striking character. But the fact remains that the music loses much of its appeal apart from the conditions for which it was written.
Of late Debussy has taken to the ballet, influenced no doubt by the example of his contemporaries and the magnificent opportunities for performance offered by the annual visits of Diaghilev's Russian Ballet. Florent Schmitt was one of the first of ultra-modern Frenchmen to try this form with his lurid and masterly Tragédie de Salomé (1907); then followed Paul Dukas with La Péri (1910), Maurice Ravel with 'Daphnis and Chloë' (1911), and other works to be mentioned later.
In 1912 Debussy published Jeux, ballet in one act on a scenario by Nijinsky, and Khamma, of the same dimensions, by W. L. Courtney and Maud Allan. Finally, in 1913, he composed the miniature ballet-pantomime La Boîte aux joujoux, by André Heller. In these works he has shown a natural theatrical and scenic instinct which is extraordinary, a sensitive adaptation of music to dramatic situations, and a surprising versatility in spite of his previous vindications of this quality. The plot of Jeux is slight and fantastically unreal and improbable, but it has afforded a basis for impalpable music of great subtlety and distinction, in which the appeal to Debussy's imagination was obvious. Khamma, admirably contrived from the dramatic point of view for the logical introduction of dancing, exhibits a breadth of conception and a heroic quality which is rare in Debussy. Unfortunately, incidents have prevented this ballet from being performed (as far as may be ascertained), but this assuredly has not been on account of the inadequacy of the music. La Boîte aux joujoux differs totally from the two preceding in being, as its title-page asserts, a ballet for children. It is not an unalloyed surprise from the pen of the composer of the 'Children's Corner,' but it combines genuine poetry, humor, mock-realism, and a judicious miniature medium that is entirely original. If musically at least La Boîte aux joujoux presupposes a very sophisticated child, that does not prevent it from making an instant appeal to mature listeners.
For many years it has been announced that Debussy has been at work on operas taken from Poe's stories 'The Devil in the Belfry' and 'The Fall of the House of Usher.' There have also been rumors that he was at work on a version of the story of Tristan. It is a foregone conclusion that these works will not appear until their scrupulous composer is satisfied with every detail.
Like other modern French musicians Debussy has a ready pen and exceedingly interesting critical opinions. He has served as critic for the Revue blanche and for Gil Blas, and many articles on a wide range of subjects have appeared in these periodicals. His conversations with M. Croche[64] have served as an amiable disguise for the expression of his personal views on music.
When we come to survey as a whole the personality and achievement of Debussy we discover that he has been influenced by a fair number of composers, but that their effect has been for the most part superficial and transitory. Such was the contributory share of Chopin and Grieg; Moussorgsky is prominently influential alike for his dramatic style and his fidelity to nature; other Neo-Russians have by their orchestral idiom helped to cultivate his sense of timbre; Fauré and Chabrier both guided him harmonically; Massenet with his sure craftsmanship had more than a casual admiration from Debussy; even the fantastic figure of Erik Satie, an exaggerated symbolistic musician of grotesque ideas but inefficient technique, helped him to avoid the banal path. But the mainstay of Debussy's reputation is simply that of his concrete musical gifts, his inventiveness, his ability to characterize, and pervading æsthetic instinct. It is not by virtue of his determination to be impressionistic in music, nor by the extension of the possibilities of the whole-tone scale, or free modal harmonization, nor by his original pianistic style, despite the intrinsic and historic significance of these, that he has come to be the leading representative of ultra-modern French composers of the revolutionary type, in opposition to the reactionary if modernistic d'Indy. It is because a certain creative field, which others had approached tentatively, has been made to yield a scope of subject, a variety of utterance and an æsthetic import hitherto totally unsuspected. While the impressionistic (or symbolistic) style has in Debussy's hand become a flexible, fanciful, fantastic or poignantly human idiom, its real weight can be appreciated only by neglecting the harmonic novelty or the stylistic medium and concentrating on the direct utterance of the music itself. It is through this basic eloquence of musical speech that Debussy is significant. It is for this reason that, with Strauss, he must be regarded as the chief creative figure of his generation. To realize the simple, almost primitive, attitude of Debussy toward his art it may be illuminating to quote from an article from his pen in response to inquiries 'On the present state of French music,' put by Paul Landormy in the Revue bleue (1904), translated by Philip Hale.[65]
'French music is clearness, elegance, simple and natural declamation; French music wishes, first of all, to give pleasure. Couperin, Rameau—these are true Frenchmen.' Debussy has always admired Rameau, witness his Hommage à Rameau in the first set of the Images for piano and his obvious predilection for the eighteenth-century qualities of lucidity and transparent outline of much of his music. It must not be forgotten that Debussy has joined Saint-Saëns, d'Indy, and Dukas in the revision of Rameau's works for the complete edition. Later in the same article we find Debussy reiterating the view expressed above as to the function of music with an insistence that is both Latin and even Pagan in the best sense. 'Music should be cleared of all scientific apparatus. Music should seek humbly to give pleasure; great beauty is possible between these limits. Extreme complexity is the contrary of art. Beauty should be perceptible; it should impose itself on us, or insinuate itself, without any effort on our part to grasp it. Look at Leonardo da Vinci, Mozart! These are great artists.'
To sum up, Debussy has brought the impressionistic and symbolistic style into music; he has evolved a supple harmonic idiom devoid of monotony, not chiefly characterized by the whole-tone scale as many believe, but comprising a simple style, a taking archaism, an application of modal style, and an extension of the uses of ninths and other chords. He has developed an incredibly simple and yet effective dramatic style, which makes 'Pelléas and Mélisande' one of the significant works of the century. He has extended the nuances and the figures of piano style, and has increased the subdivision of the orchestra into delicate, almost opalescent, timbres. But more than all, he has given to music a new type of poetry, a rarefied humanity, and new revelations of the imagination. It is too soon to judge of the durability of his work, but his historical position is secure—a lineal descendant of French eighteenth-century great musicians with the vision and the creative daring of the twentieth.
Claude Debussy
After a photo from life
If the widespread imitation of Debussy may be taken as an indication, no further proof of the vitality of his creative innovations is needed. Richard Strauss has not disdained to use the whole-tone scale in Salome (the entrance of Herod), Reger has followed suit in the 'Romantic Suite'; Puccini has drawn upon the same idiom in 'The Girl of the Golden West'; Cyril Scott in England and Charles Martin Loeffler in the United States have gone to the same source, despite their indisputably individual attainments. In Paris itself the followers of Debussy are rife, and his influence is as contagious as that of Wagner thirty years ago. A figure long misjudged as a mere echo of Debussy, who after an interval of fifteen years has shown that he steadily followed his own path in spite of some manifest obligations to the founder of impressionism in music is Maurice Ravel. Since he is easily second in importance among the members of the 'atmospheric' group, he deserves, therefore, to be considered immediately after Debussy.