But, above all, it was the figure of Melisande herself that
made him pour himself completely into the setting of the play. For that
figure permitted Debussy to give himself completely in the creation of
his ideal image. The music is all Melisande, all Debussy's love-woman.
It is she that the music reveals from the moment Melisande rises from
among the rocks shrouded in the mystery of her golden hair. It is she
the music limns from the very beginning of the work. The entire score is
but what a man might feel toward a woman that was his, and yet, like all
women, strange and mysterious and unknown to him. The music is like the
stripping of some perfect flower, petal upon petal. There are moments
when it is all that lies between two people, and is the fullness of
their knowledge. It is the perfect sign of an experience.
And so, since Debussy's art could have no second climax, it was in the
order of things that the works succeeding upon his masterpiece should
be relatively less important. Nevertheless, the ensuing poems and songs
and piano-pieces, with the exception of those written during those years
when Debussy could have said with Rameau, his master, "From day to day
my taste improves. But I have lost all my genius," are by little less
perfect and astounding pieces of work.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139