Claude Debussy

Études (Debussy)

The Études (CD 143) are the final collection for piano by Claude Debussy, comprising twelve pieces composed between 5 August and 29 September 1915. Divided into two books and dedicated to the memory

Context#

In the years leading up to World War I and the composition of his Études, Debussy faced numerous challenges despite widespread recognition of his work across Europe and the United States: Pelléas et Mélisande was performed in Brussels, Berlin, Frankfurt, Milan, Munich, and New York City. Although theater directors and concert organizers invited him to present his works from 1907, his career encountered new difficulties. The premiere of Le Martyre de saint Sébastien on 22 May 1911 was a failure. According to Jean Barraqué, “the reception was mixed” due to the “pretentiously mystical poem” by Gabriele D’Annunzio. Jeux, premiered by Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes on May 15, 1913, met with “a lukewarm, even indifferent public: some applause, some boos”. This same public elevated Igor Stravinsky to prominence with the scandal of The Rite of Spring, premiered two weeks after Jeux. Critics and audiences perceived Debussy as “declining”, while Maurice Ravel and Stravinsky were “rising”. Although Vladimir Jankélévitch argues that “it would be wrong to think Ravel surpassed Debussy in a kind of arms race where Stravinsky then outdid him” in exploring new harmonies, the rivalry between the two French composers peaked in 1913, when Ravel composed his Trois poèmes de Mallarmé simultaneously with Debussy’s . Stravinsky recalled that “in 1913, Debussy and Ravel were not speaking”. Jankélévitch acknowledges that “it is possible that the hardening of Debussy’s late works was largely due to Ravel’s influence”. Debussy’s personal and financial situation deteriorated sharply after the death in February 1907 of a wealthy uncle of his wife Emma Bardac, who was disinherited. The uncle, who “always disapproved of his niece’s relationship with a composer who, unlike Richard Strauss, could not earn a living, let alone support his wife and daughter”, bequeathed his fortune to the Pasteur Institute. Consequently, Debussy accepted all concert invitations despite his aversion to public appearances and lack of experience as a conductor.

World War I#

The declaration of war on 3 August 1914 caught Debussy off guard, as he had spent the first half of the year travelling and performing incessantly to meet financial obligations. During the July Crisis, his mood swung between exaltation and despair. In a letter to a friend, he wrote of “hours when one sees little but suicide as an escape”, revealing his seemingly depressive state : The outbreak of hostilities silenced his musical activities. In a letter to his publisher Durand on August 8, he described himself as “a poor atom swept up in this terrible cataclysm. What I do seems so miserably small! I end up envying Erik Satie, who is seriously preparing to defend Paris as a corporal”. Until the end of 1914, Debussy remained inactive. His depression worsened as the war continued, contrary to his hopes for a resolution by Christmas. His correspondence reflects a chauvinism criticized by biographers. On March 11, 1915, he published a patriotic article in L’Intransigeant titled “Enfin, seuls !…” comparing France and the German Empire musically:

1915#

In early 1915, Debussy worked on a new edition of Chopin’s works for Éditions Durand, letter from Debussy to Jacques Durand, January 27, 1915. With German editions withdrawn due to the war, he contributed to an original publication, consulting the manuscript of Chopin’s Second Ballade in F major, Op. 38, owned by Camille Saint-Saëns. This editorial work prompted deep reflection on pianistic technique, distracting him from his progressing rectal cancer, diagnosed in 1909, which worsened to the point where doctors recommended surgery while acknowledging its terminal nature. The death of his mother on 23 March 1915 deeply affected him. He discussed the meaning of death in letters to friends, including Paul Dukas, Gabriel Fauré, Gabriel Pierné, and the young composer Edgard Varèse, mobilized to the École de guerre in April. Amid external and internal struggles, Debussy emerged from silence with bold aesthetic choices. Signed “Claude Debussy, French musician”, his upcoming works were, per Gilles Macassar and Benoit Mérigaud, “war works in every sense: wartime compositions, economical, rationed, concentrating their means and condensing their effects”, fulfilling a vision from 1908, when he told Harper’s Weekly:

Composition#

The twelve Études are among Debussy’s final works, composed in 1915. Ill and staying in Pourville, Normandy, letter from Debussy to Jacques Durand, 14 July 1915., he found temporary vitality. Marguerite Long, in her memoir Au piano avec Claude Debussy, recalls how Debussy composed the two-piano suite En blanc et noir in June–July, the Sonata for Cello and Piano in late July–early August, and the Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp in late September–early October. These works share, per Harry Halbreich, “a similar inspiration and aesthetic”. The Études were composed between the two Sonatas, at the explicit request of Jacques Durand, who provided a pension and sought new music in return, from 5 August to 29 September 1915. Composer and pianist André Boucourechliev reflects: Debussy’s correspondence dates specific pieces, such as the étude Pour les agréments (August 12) and Pour les sixtes (August 22, his fifty-third birthday). Musicologist Heinrich Strobel describes him as “seized by a true creative frenzy”. On September 30, Debussy wrote to Durand: On 7 December 1915, Debussy underwent surgery for his cancer, severely weakening him, letter from Debussy to Jacques Durand, 26 December 1915. Jean Barraqué notes that “it is symptomatic of his patriotic fervor that his rare public appearances in his final years were at concerts for war charities”. Durand published the two books of Études in 1916, letter from Debussy to Jacques Durand, 9 February 1916.

References and form#

Debussy’s Études are firmly rooted in a musical tradition shaped by considerations of pianistic technique. According to Jean Barraqué, “the studies intended for student practice could intimidate when composed by the finger gymnasts of the 19th century. But Chopin and Liszt lent admirable musical nobility to a genre meant for pedagogy. Debussy embraces this lineage”. Closer to Chopin’s Twenty-four Études than Liszt’s Transcendental Études in their effort to “soften the hammers of the piano”, Debussy’s Études present formidable technical challenges while remaining thoroughly musical. In letters to his publisher, the composer stated that “these Études conceal rigorous technique beneath harmonic blossoms”. On September 27, 1915, he added that “beyond technique, these Études will usefully prepare pianists to better understand that one should not approach music solely with formidable hands”. However, musicologists agree that “Debussy adheres to the rules of the game”. Like his predecessors, he assigns each étude a specific challenge: “this purpose is upheld, explored, and executed with supreme acrobatics”, with the second book addressing “not an interval or pianistic case, but a broader situation. More risk, more invention, more genius. Less pedagogy, more freedom”. According to pianist Paul Crossley, Debussy “almost rediscovers, reinvents: the character, emotion, and sonority of these pieces are unlike any other in the pianistic literature, including, curiously, Debussy’s other works”. Antoine Goléa suggests that “upon reflection, this approach seems curious and, in reality, adheres little to pianistic technique considerations”. However, for Alfred Cortot,

Dedication#

The Études are dedicated to the memory of Frédéric Chopin – “at least theoretically”, notes André Boucourechliev, as “the dedication to the Pole was omitted in the published edition”. Debussy initially considered François Couperin, finding in these Études “the spirit of Baroque dance”, according to pianist Philippe Cassard. On August 15, he shared his hesitation with his publisher: “I have as much respectful gratitude for one as for the other of these two admirable masters, such marvelous diviners”. Thus, it was, according to the composer, “not without some apprehension” that the twelve pieces were published in homage to Chopin, with Debussy fearing unfavorable comparisons. According to Émile Vuillermoz, “these are pages of high technical and pedagogical value, but, like Chopin’s Études, they are masterpieces of absolute music”. André Boucourechliev argues that these twelve Études “have little to do with the famous Twenty-four, for while each is devoted to a specific pianistic situation, they do not provide practice material for pianists. As much as Chopin’s are essential for progress, Debussy’s are aimed at an accomplished musician, summarizing all they know or are presumed to know”. Heinrich Strobel emphasizes that the technical aspect of the challenges posed by the Études “stands out more clearly than in Chopin. Despite their shared nature, this reflects the difference in eras and generations”. In her memoirs, Marguerite Long attests to Debussy’s great admiration for Chopin’s music and confirms that, rather than Couperin, he chose to dedicate the work to him: Comparing the Études of Chopin and Debussy, Philippe Cassard identifies “technical difficulties just as numerous and sadistic, revolving around instrumental idioms (thirds, octaves, repeated notes, etc.) but never ostentatious, requiring more agility and reflexes than power and exhibitionism”. Philosopher and musicologist Vladimir Jankélévitch views the necessity of the Études project differently, responding to “the essentially innovative vocation of Debussy’s music. There is in Debussy a desire not to retrace his steps, never to rely on the past, to avoid precisely the expected or predictable”: “This resolve never to imitate himself and to defy expectations undoubtedly explains the disconcerting and profoundly nonconformist language of Ibéria and the Douze Études”.

Preface#

The printed edition is preceded by an “amusing foreword, where Debussy, with his usual irony and taste for paradox, justifies – per Harry Halbreich – not including fingerings”: These final words inspire Vladimir Jankélévitch to comment: André Boucourechliev sees a caution in this:

Commented Études#

According to Jean Barraqué, “in terms of pianistic technique, the Préludes and Images innovate far less than the Études”. This final collection has prompted numerous commentaries, beyond biographies or monographs dedicated to Claude Debussy, before becoming the subject of more in-depth studies.

1. Pour les cinq doigts (For the five fingers), after Mr. Czerny#

Vladimir Jankélévitch comments on the “abruptness” of these opening measures: “an explosion of violence”. The first étude, Pour les cinq doigts, begins “quite properly, as if ‘at in the morning’, as Erik Satie might say, the hour when model little girls practice their scales on the white keys. “What is this impertinent and indiscreet A-flat that suddenly jars and insists brazenly, impatiently, beneath the five notes in C major? It’s the genius of the spelling mistake and the inkblot that derailed the pensum”. Marguerite Long, working on this étude with the composer, notes the “mockery” of the opening measures where the right hand plucks the A-flat “like a fingernail, like a guitar pick, a way of ‘plucking’ that made the Master say, with a glint of amusement in his eyes: – Gotcha!” Thus, Harry Halbreich considers that

2. Pour les tierces (For thirds)#

first notes the “continuous writing of thirds, predominantly in the right hand, very different from that of the prelude “, which in 1912 was “an étude in all but name”. In this renewed context, André Boucourechliev admires “the rigor of the writing: not a single sound in the main voice that isn’t or doesn’t contain a third”. The third, representing, in his view, “the quintessential tonal interval”, this étude reveals “a nostalgic and languorous Debussy, the soft consonances of thirds in D-flat major lending themselves to these romantic effusions”: The expression gradually intensifies, reaching “a passionate outburst, almost Brahmsian, con fuoco, abruptly cut off by the merciless conclusion in B-flat minor”. Harry Halbreich also notes that “the uncompromising requirement of makes the piece particularly demanding for the performer”. Vladimir Jankélévitch comments on this progression: Christian Goubault compares this piece to Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 6, dedicated to the same interval. However, Debussy’s tempo is more moderate, “suggesting that the composer was aware of the limits of his own virtuosity and intended to perform his own pieces”.

3. Pour les quartes (For fourths)#

This étude “is nominally in F major – at least that is its key signature”. André Boucourechliev observes that “all F’s are absent from the initial statement. But the étude is exemplary as a study of sonorities. The subsequent rupture resonates far, before descending in three stages”: Debussy wrote to his publisher on August 28, 1915, that some Études were dedicated “to exploring special sonorities, including Pour les quartes – so neglected, where you will find the unheard”. Harry Halbreich describes these sonorities as “cold and somewhat lunar, determined by the presence of this anti-romantic and anti-tonal interval, occasionally lit by the harsh light of the tritone”. The “unheard” quality of this piece, with its great formal freedom, aligns it with the late piano works of Alexander Scriabin, who had recently died, while anticipating the future scores of Olivier Messiaen. Thus, “the étude Pour les quartes serves as the key to the entire first book, just as Pour les sonorités opposées is the key to the second”. Antoine Goléa clarifies that “the fourth is one of the three ‘just’ intervals of all modal music, and the inversion of the fifth”. According to him, “this is certainly why Debussy did not compose an étude for fifths, though technically, it would have presented a different challenge from that posed by fourths”.

4. Pour les sixtes (For sixths)#

André Boucourechliev notes that “Debussy softens a bit. He revels in the sonority of sixths in all possible contexts and registers”. Indeed, the composer wrote to his publisher on August 28, 1915, that “the concern for the sixth extends to constructing harmonies solely from the aggregation of these intervals, and it’s not unattractive!” Debussy confided that “for a long time, the continuous use of sixths felt to me like pretentious young ladies sitting in a salon, sullenly embroidering, envying the scandalous laughter of mad ninths…” which leads Harry Halbreich to clarify that “their propriety is heavy with restrained desire, and this piece has a warmth and tenderness quite different from what the composer’s biting comment might suggest”. For , “the warm fullness of the sixths (in both hands) forms a happy contrast with the previous étude”.

5. Pour les octaves (For octaves)#

This lively, brilliant, and joyful piece is “one of the rare études where unclouded joy prevails”, according to Harry Halbreich, who compares its “sovereign freedom of writing” to the suite En blanc et noir for two pianos. André Boucourechliev sees in this étude only “the unnecessary feat, the difficulty per se “, specifying that the writing in octaves aims for “the conquest of a total and open, discontinuous space”: Debussy rarely employed the technique of playing in octaves, except in the prelude from 1912, also very Lisztian. However, pianist Claude Helffer detects “traits close to those of Chabrier, an elastic and swirling waltz rhythm”, which Paul Roberts connects to The Waltz, a bronze by Camille Claudel that Debussy kept on his desk. Roland de Candé notes that “one forgets the octaves, so colorful is the harmonic filling. The central section, in the style of the trio in classical scherzos, offers an excellent contrast with its calm sobriety” – an opinion shared by Harry Halbreich:

6. Pour les huit doigts (For eight fingers)#

This étude, in “perpetual motion with consistently muted dynamics”, “poetically reinvents a sonic material reduced to the minimum”, excludes the use of thumbs. According to Debussy himself, “in this étude, the changing hand positions make the use of thumbs inconvenient, and its execution would become acrobatic”. According to André Boucourechliev, “this étude is composedof one sound across several pages, close to the speed of sound. The thumbs are excluded – too heavy and too short” for this étude where Vladimir Jankélévitch hears a “true flight of the bumblebee”. Marguerite Long says: The étude is based on “the ultra-rapid alternation of the two hands, chaining groups of four sounds with elusive virtuosity”, according to Harry Halbreich. The harmony, “completely freed from tonality, arises solely from melodic undulations, splashing the keyboard with a thousand fine droplets reflecting the sun as through a prism”: Vladimir Jankélévitch also focuses on this “deluge of tiny notes on the black and white keys. In the étude Pour les huit doigts and at the end of Pour les agréments, the tiny notes disintegrate and fall like rain”. The philosopher thus defines the unity of this first Book in terms of a sensory atmosphere: “the austere grayness of Autumn envelops both the étude Pour les cinq doigts, a homage to Mr. Czerny, and the étude Pour les huit doigts”.

7. Pour les degrés chromatiques (For chromatic steps)#

This étude, “technically and musically quite close to the previous one”, according to Harry Halbreich, combines “a stubborn, well-defined theme with a swirling swarm of triplet sixteenth notes in chromatic groups, in a totally free, fairy-like universe, neither tonal, nor modal, nor atonal. The questioning ending is a ‘perhaps’ open to infinite possibilities”. Roland de Candé suggests “it can be described as ‘pantonale’, where the ear should not distinguish each note but perceive a continuous sonic movement without tonal polarity”. Vladimir Jankélévitch links the “chromaticism of this seventh étude to the Épigraphes antiques: does it not, in its way, give thanks to the morning rain?” – the melody “emerging from a kind of sonic silence”: For Guy Sacre, “it anticipates the impalpable rustlings, wing flutters, and elytra sounds that Bartók would fill his night music”. André Boucourechliev emphasizes the extreme difficulty of performing this étude. When the left hand “ventures to play triplet sixteenth notes itself, it creates a rupture and problems for the pianist”:

8. Pour les agréments (For ornaments)#

Of this étude, Debussy said it “borrows the form of a barcarolle on a somewhat Italian sea”. André Boucourechliev sees it as Harry Halbreich also notes “the rhythmic and agogic structure, of extraordinary flexibility, within a very slow , while the tonality of F major remains fairly perceptible” at the beginning and end of the piece. Among the enchantments of a writing where melody and rhythm “are instantly replaced by a new idea”, André Boucourechliev highlights two measures where “bursts of timbral perfumes emerge, with superimposed irrational rhythms”: For Harry Halbreich, the technical difficulties peak in the two following measures in , with their rapid parallel chords in the right hand:

Composer: Claude Debussy