in all his work there are evidences that his passion is only veiled.  It is only the trembling of the melodic line, or the orchestration which, like a shadow passing before the eyes, tells us of the drama that is being played in the hearts of his characters.  This lofty shame of emotion is something as rare in opera as a Racine tragedy is in poetry—­they are works of the same order, and both of them perfect flowers of the French spirit.  Anyone who lives in foreign parts and is curious to know what France is like and understand her genius should study Pelleas et Melisande as they would study Racine’s Berenice.

Not that Debussy’s art entirely represents French genius any more than Racine’s does; for there is quite another side to it which is not represented there; and that side is heroic action, the intoxication of reason and laughter, the passion for light, the France of Rabelais, Moliere, Diderot, and in music, we will say—­for want of better names—­the France of Berlioz and Bizet.  To tell the truth, that is the France I prefer.  But Heaven preserve me from ignoring the other!  It is the balance between these two Frances that makes French genius.  In our contemporary music, Pelleas et Melisande is at one end of the pole of our art and Carmen is at the other.  The one is all on the surface, all life, with no shadows, and no underneath.  The other is below the surface, bathed in twilight, and enveloped in silence.  And this double ideal is the alternation between the gentle sunlight and the faint mist that veils the soft, luminous sky of the Isle of France.

[Illustration]

THE AWAKENING

A SKETCH OF THE MUSICAL MOVEMENT IN PARIS SINCE 1870

It is not possible in a few pages to give an account of forty years of active and fruitful life without many omissions, and also without a certain dryness entailed by lists of names.  But I have purposely abstained from trying to arouse interest by any artifices of writing and treatment, as I wish to let deeds speak for themselves.

I want to show, by this simple account, the splendid efforts made by musicians in France since 1870, and the growth of the faith and energy that has recreated French music.  Such an awakening seems to me a fine thing to look upon, and very comforting.  But few people in France realise it, outside a handful of musicians.  It is to the public at large I dedicate these pages, so that they may know what a generation of artists with large hearts and strong determination have done for the honour of our race.  The nation must not be allowed to forget what she owes to some of her sons.