Antokoletz, Elliot - Musical Symbolism in The Operas of Debussy and Bartok .Oxford University Press, 2008
Antokoletz, Elliot - Musical Symbolism in The Operas of Debussy and Bartok .Oxford University Press, 2008
12. Duke Bluebeard’s Castle: Final Transformation and Retreat into Eternal
Darkness: Synthesis of Pentatonic/Diatonic and Whole-Tone Spheres 248
13. Symbolism and Expressionism in Other Early Twentieth-Century
Operas 262
Epilogue 291
Notes 295
Works Cited 331
Index 341
Backgrounds and
Development
The New Musical Language and Its
Correspondence with Psycho-Dramatic
Principles of Symbolist Opera
y the end of the nineteenth century, many comforting beliefs about what it meant
Bto be human and the accompanying rules and traditions inherent in that notion
had been brought into question. Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution challenged
mankind’s special connection with a divine creator, and even the idea of a deity ex-
ternal to man was replaced, among many, by reliance on the scientific method as the
only acceptable avenue to truth. The appearance of man and woman on earth was ac-
countable to the relentless forces of evolution, governed by the principle of survival
of the fittest rather than by the special touch of a divine creator. Carried to an ex-
treme, such notions replaced the ideals of tolerance and religious freedom of the En-
lightenment and justified the conquest and exploitation of “inferior primitive” popu-
lations.1 The transformation from agrarian to industrial economy in various countries
forced the exodus of peasants from rural to urban areas in search of work. The need
for mass labor fostered exploitation and impersonal relationships between owner
and worker, which in turn led to the development of socialist ideas that further chal-
lenged the social structure. Questions of gender and power also began to surface more
prominently as women no longer wanted to follow Paul’s dictum of being subservient
to men: they were beginning to contemplate equality.2 At the same time, ties between
church and state came into question as the last vestiges of royalty’s claim to a divine
mandate had vanished not only from nations, but also from the basic unit of the fam-
ily. However, although God’s presence may no longer have been felt in traditional
places of worship, it had not vanished. It had found shelter in the unconscious,3 that
mysterious realm of the human mind that Pierre Janet, Josef Breuer, and Sigmund
Freud had begun to explore in a systematic way by the end of the nineteenth century.
plex in Paris that Charcot and his followers used for research based on the scientific
method to diagnose and classify illness. Janet’s method differed from Charcot’s in that
early in his work he decided always to examine the patient himself, to make precise
annotations of what the patient said, and to obtain a comprehensive history of the pa-
tient’s life and past treatments.18 His development of “psychological analysis,” which
was the term he used for his method of treatment, was also an original contribution.
He was able to remove chronic symptoms from some of his patients by inducing som-
nambulistic states in which he helped the patient recall the traumatic incident that
had triggered the symptom. He then helped the patient to confront the irrationality
of the patient’s “fixed idea” (that had been precipitated by the trauma and had main-
tained the patient’s symptoms) and transform it into a realistic one that would bring
about a better adaptation and relieve the symptoms. In subsequent sessions, he would
conduct a systematic analysis of the patient’s symptoms and would implement the
above procedures to effect a cure.19
Sigmund Freud spent a brief time in Salpetrière, where he was exposed to Char-
cot’s teachings and his notion that physical symptoms could be elicited by an idea.
Prior to his visit to Salpetrière, Freud had been intrigued by the case of a young
woman treated by his friend and colleague Josef Breuer. Subsequently they published
the case study and theoretical formulations “On the Psychical Mechanism of Hyster-
ical Phenomena: Preliminary Communication.”20 This work suggested that traumatic
memories were kept outside of normal consciousness and remained the source of hys-
terical symptoms because they had not been appropriately “abreacted.” This term re-
ferred to the accompanying affect and motor responses associated with the idea (such
as crying or anger). The recall of the pathological idea and the affect discharge that
accompanied it made it possible for the memory to be integrated with the person’s ex-
periences and other associations that make the traumatic memory lose its power.21
Freud’s future work would lead him to the development of psychoanalysis, or the
“talking cure.” There was much that the early works of Janet and Freud shared in
common, a fact that evoked some bitter controversy,22 which is beyond the scope of
our discussion.
What is important for this discussion is that the authors of the Pelléas and Blue-
beard texts lived at a time that coincided with a more systematic study and treatment
of mental disorders and an increased awareness of the power of unconscious processes
to influence human behavior: the rational man of the Enlightenment was being trans-
formed into the psychological man of the twentieth century.23
thors began to develop a new interest in psychological motivation and a level of con-
sciousness immersed in metaphor, ambiguity, and symbol.24 The Symbolists were the
most significant group to oppose Naturalism during the second half of the nineteenth
century. In addition to Maeterlinck and Balázs, some of the most prominent of these
new dramatists were Henryk Ibsen, August Strindberg, William Butler Yeats, Anton
Chekhov, Ernst Toller, James Joyce, and other figures of diverse national back-
grounds.25 In Vienna, these new literary assumptions were primarily manifested in the
dramas and novels of Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Jacob Wassermann, and Arthur
Schnitzler, who founded the group known as “Young Vienna” in 1900 in opposition
to the German Naturalist school of drama. Wearied by the “intolerable erotic scream-
ings” of Tristan und Isolde, Hofmannsthal concerned himself with psychological moti-
vation, more lucid character delineation, and the symbolic transcendence of external
reality.
In his Symbolist plays, Maeterlinck was to transform the internal concept of un-
conscious motivation into an external one, in which human emotions and actions are
entirely controlled by fate. In Maeterlinck’s characters, fate and the unconscious ap-
pear essentially to be different manifestations of the same force against which the
human being has no recourse. Opera composers had to expand traditional musical
means in order to express the underlying psychological states — even pathological
conditions — of their characters. The new musical language could, in correspondence
with a literary style that hinted at rather than stated the message, convey a level of
understanding that the characters may or may not express in words. It is not prima-
rily pictorial representation that is evoked by this synthesis but, rather, a less tangible,
more mysterious realm that exists beyond the limits of external, objective reality. With
the advent of the Symbolist movement in literature in the late nineteenth century,
this notion was never more evident. Marcel Schneider points out that the Symbolist
poets “aimed at transcending the appearance of things and suggesting the invisible
and the eternal by means of symbols.”26
Béla Balázs, author of the Bluebeard play, exhibited a lifelong interest in psycho-
logical processes.27 His writings suggest a keen awareness of the symbolic meaning of
dreams. Even the journey inside Bluebeard’s castle resembles a dream, a fact that is
stressed in the original introduction to the play. Balázs’s fascination with psychologi-
cal processes and his self-reflection through journaling was in synchrony with the
times in which he lived and shared by his contemporaries. Interest in the study of
dreams was manifested in the publication of several treatises on the subject that ante-
ceded Freud’s publication of his technique of dream interpretation.28 One of the most
read at the time was “Dreams and the Means to Direct Them,” written by the Mar-
quis Hervey de Saint-Denis, professor of Chinese language and literature at the Col-
lège de France.29 The book describes a detailed account of the technique that Hervey
used to record and control his dreams, as well as a discussion of the different theories
about dreams. The Dutch psychiatrist and writer Frederik Van Eeden began to study
his dreams by using Hervey’s methods in 1896.30 He reported his observations in the
novel The Bride of Dreams31 one year after Balázs completed his Bluebeard play. Al-
though we have not come across direct evidence of Balázs’s awareness of Freud’s writ-
ings, it is conceivable that Balázs knew of Freud’s work since Freud had published his
It is in Maeterlinck’s play, and Debussy’s operatic setting of it, that we have the
perfect embodiment of the symbolist ideal of Mallarmé.41 The latter was inspired by
Wagner’s conception that led to the Gesamtkunstwerk, or the fusion of the arts (music,
poetry, and staging),42 but unlike the Wagnerian profusion of characters from Norse
mythology within the context of an elaborate stage design, his own conception of the
ideal theater was to be devoid of sets, scenery, and costumes. Mallarmé’s stage existed
only “in the imagination of the reader, who constituted a perfect audience of one.”43
Mallarmé’s works were intended to evoke vague and fleeting moods purely by means
of the rhythm and sound of the poetic verses. This musical quality of his poetry, un-
hindered by actual musical notation, “formed an abstract ideal toward which poetry
might aspire.” According to Paul Dukas, one of the staunch supporters of Debussy’s
opera and the Symbolist aesthetics:
Verlaine, Mallarmé, and Laforgue used to provide us with new sounds and sonorities.
They cast a light on words such as had never been seen before; they used methods that
were unknown to the poets that had preceded them; they made their verbal material
yield subtle and powerful effects hitherto undreamt of. Above all, they conceived their
poetry or prose like musicians, they tended it with the care of musicians, and, like mu-
sicians, too, they sought to express their ideas in corresponding sound values. It was
the writers, not the musicians, who exercised the strongest influence on Debussy.44
construction.47 This transformation of a well that gives sight into one that does not is
musically objectified in the transformation from clear dominant ninth to irresolute
whole-tone sphere.
In Wagner’s early operas Rienzi and Der Fliegende Holländer, primitive leitmotivic
constructions had been employed within the more traditional Romantic style of
Weber and Marschner. In Tannhäuser and Lohengrin, recurrent associative themes
were to be more pervasively transformed within the more coalescent forms and tex-
tures as the fairy-tale stage acquired greater symbolic significance. As Wagner moved
toward increasing fusion of the arts, the leitmotifs were to go far beyond their former
role as texturally isolated configurations. In his music dramas, the leitmotifs now en-
tered into an intimate alliance with every step of the dramatic narrative. This new,
more pervasive role of the leitmotifs corresponded with the more intense absorption
of natural phenomena into the supernatural realm of purely symbolic meaning. Mar-
cel Schneider asserts that “the Wagnerian influence, the Mallarméan notion of sug-
gestion, the lessons that can be extracted from Debussy’s work and diffuse mysticism
founded more on spiritual and esthetic intuitions than on religious dogma contribute
towards forming what we can call: ‘symbolistic music’.”48 Thus, the symbolism in De-
bussy’s opera forms a perfect union between Wagner and himself, in spite of his own
conscious disavowal of the Wagnerian influence in Pelléas et Mélisande.49
in a decade of careers and works that facelessly merged into one another, he saw it
and followed it as the way of creating real life and real literature, in other words:
individuality.”52
jective) and internal (subjective and psychological) contained within both local and
more global contexts of the Symbolist operas.58 Natural signs as an inherent type of
symbolism (smoke signifying fire) are manifested in music by means of literal word-
painting. For instance, textural reference to the sky or light might be expressed by a
rising melodic line. Conventional signs, which represent an acquired (noninherent)
type of symbolism, are manifested in music by the use of musical notation. The latter
serves to express specific dramatic meaning by means of systematic musical associa-
tion. For instance, analogous to the evocation of meaning as acquired by words, which
in and of themselves are no more than verbal sounds that have come to signify non-
verbal ideas and corresponding musical structures through an evolving process of
association, musical notation seems to acquire a similar function by means of consis-
tent association with concepts, events, and other nonverbal phenomena. Both types
of signs can be observed and interpreted throughout these Symbolist operas.
A discovery of the way that each composer creates symbolic associations, that is,
by interweaving musical structure with dramatic events, permits an understanding at
the deepest levels of meaning in these works. In Symbolist works, the symbol becomes
more important than the object it represents. For instance, while the descent into the
castle vaults by Golaud and Pelléas is based on literal (that is, objective) pictorializa-
tion by descending scales played by string instruments and bassoons in their lower
registers, what is most striking in this scene and throughout Debussy’s opera on the
whole is the arbitrary (that is, subjective) association of the whole-tone scale with the
scent of death in this descent. Even though there is nothing obvious about the whole-
tone scale that might project a literal meaning for death or for the realm of fate, the
unconscious, or darkness, nor about the diatonic scale that might project the essence
of the natural realm (human leitmotifs, etc.), we nevertheless sense that each one of
them resonates with different extremes of dramatic polarity in the text.59 In Bluebeard,
for instance, the basic “Blood” motif, characterized by half-steps, is gradually mani-
fested in the intrusion of this dissonant element into the opening pentatonic folk
mode (i.e., a scalar structure entirely devoid of half-steps) as Judith becomes aware of
blood on the castle walls. However, psychological tension in the unbroken musical
fabric is created not only by the manifest details but also by the latent symbolic and
metaphorical questions that these details invoke with regard to our own perception
of reality. Such questions are explicit in the Prologue: “The curtains of our eye-lids
are raised. But where is the stage . . . In me? In you?” It is the intention of this book
to show how Debussy and Bartók use both literal qualities of the musical structures
and personal conventions to create such symbolic associations.
In addition to a reaction against Positivism, Realism, and Naturalism, the struggle
of the Symbolists to preserve a place for human mystery and spirituality could be seen
also as a reaction toward the dehumanization brought about by technology. Theodor
Adorno refers to “the concept of shock as one aspect of the unifying principle of the
epoch. It belongs to the fundamental level of all modern music, even of that which
stands at extremes.”60 Shock implies an unexpected and usually violent event that
frightens and overwhelms the person, so his ability to cope with life and gain some
sense of mastery or control is diminished. Certainly, the characters in Pelléas and Blue-
beard seem to be at the mercy of forces beyond their control. Adorno traces the social
origin of shock to the pressures of modern industrialism and its massive power ma-
chinery, which overwhelms the individual and forces him to become aware of his
nothingness.61 Such dehumanizing trends could lead to the development of compen-
satory defenses, in which narcissistic isolation and grandiosity bolster the denial of
human vulnerability and interdependence. These polarities could be easily expressed
in the cultural trend to accentuate gender differences. Both Bluebeard and Pelléas re-
flect the artists’ efforts to create form from these cultural challenges. The conflict be-
tween the individual and modern industrial society also led to a questioning of estab-
lished political institutions and an interest in Socialist ideology by some Symbolist
writers.62
Both the Debussy and Bartók operas, which are reduced to a bare minimum of
characters and actions, provide an artistic synthesis of the inherent cultural contra-
dictions of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The composers and the
writers of these works introduce and elaborate themes of loneliness, unrequited long-
ing for intimacy, grief over the loss of traditional values, and the shock element at a
level of reality entirely steeped in metaphor. The following chapters will discuss how
the unconscious conflicts unfold and are expressed in the characters’ interactions,
and the means by which the musical narrative develops, complements, and enriches
the literary narrative as well as deepens its symbolic significance.
14
the Andante movement. More extensive similarities between the musical languages of
these two composers may be seen in the use of modal and whole-tone formations, for
instance, in Bartók’s First String Quartet (1908-1909) and his opera Duke Bluebeard’s
Castle (1911), the opening strikingly similar to that of the Andante from the Quatre
nénies.
Although there is no mention by Anthony Cross that Bartók purchased a copy
of Debussy’s opera score, Bartók himself said that the kind of musical recitation used
in Bluebeard’s Castle was first created by Debussy in Pelléas et Mélisande and some of
his songs.3 Furthermore, Bartók was surprised to find in Debussy’s music the same
kinds of pentatonic phrases that characterized his own Hungarian folk music, and at-
tributed this feature in Debussy’s music to the influence of the Russian nationalists.4
The cultural exchanges between France and Russia in the early pre – World War I – era
account in part for the absorption of pentatonic and modal phrases from Russian folk
music into the French impressionistic idiom. This inclination toward the pentatonic
and modal constructions of folk music led to a nonfunctional basis on which a new
kind of tonality was to be established.5 In turn, many composers in the late nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries began to derive new kinds of scale constructions, pri-
marily pentatonic-diatonic, whole-tone, and octatonic, from the modalities of their
native folk music. However, it was Debussy and especially Bartók who transformed
these folk modalities most radically into a new kind of chromatic, twelve-tone lan-
guage as a vehicle for their Symbolist messages. The emergence of a new system of
pitch organization also fostered a new autonomy of metric and rhythmic approaches.
With the dissolution of traditional tonal functions, in which the concepts of conso-
nance and dissonance had been inextricably tied to the regular barline, greater free-
dom in metric and rhythmic organization was permitted. Composers using folk music
sources, especially from the borderlands of Western culture (Eastern Europe, Russia,
Asia, and Africa), introduced unequal beat patterns both from dynamic dance rhythms
in strict style (tempo giusto) and free vocal style (parlando rubato), the latter playing a
particularly important role in the quasi-recitative vocal style of both the Debussy and
Bartók operas.
It became clear to me that the old [folk] modes, which had been forgotten in our
music, had lost nothing of their vigor. Their employment made new rhythmic com-
binations possible. This new way of using the diatonic scale brought freedom from
the rigid use of the major and minor keys, and eventually led to a new conception of
the chromatic scale, every tone of which came to be considered of equal value and
could be used freely and independently.7
The free use of the anhemitonic pentatonic scale (represented by any one of five
rotations on the piano’s black-key collection) as well as the heptatonic modal per-
mutations of the diatonic scale (as represented by any one of seven modal octave seg-
ments on the piano’s white-key collection) led to a weakening of the hierarchical
pitch relations inherent in the traditional dominant-tonic progressions and the possi-
bility for diversifying the singular tertian harmonic vocabulary. What emerged was a
new conception of diatonicism based on equalization of the modal scalar degrees, that
is, the elimination of any tendency by one pitch to gravitate to another. This trend
within the diatonic spectrum appears to have paralleled a similar one in late Roman-
tic chromatic music, so composers of divergent stylistic backgrounds began evolving
a new concept of the relations contained within the chromatic continuum.
The tendency to equalize the tones of the chromatic continuum and weaken
tonal motion was foreshadowed in the nineteenth century by the infusion of pitch
symmetry,8 most prominently as the basis of harmonic root progression, into tradi-
tional triadic contexts. In the music of Franz Schubert, Frédéric Chopin, Hector Ber-
lioz, Franz Liszt, Mikhail Glinka, and others, chordal root progressions often outlined
consecutive motions by a single interval, commonly by the minor third, major third,
or major second. Symmetrical pitch relations in the nineteenth century also were
With the tendency to equalize the twelve tones, symmetrical pitch collections
began to appear in the latter part of the nineteenth century as textural devices or local
structural elements. Although symmetrical formations contributed to the dissolution
of traditional tonal functions, they also contributed to the establishment of a new
means of progression. Furthermore, the means by which both Debussy and Bartók
employed symmetrical pitch formations in their operas and other early works was to
pave the way toward a new sense of pitch-class priority. The growth toward this new
system of establishing pitch-class priority was already apparent in the Russian nation-
alists’ and, subsequently, French and Hungarian composers’ operations on symmetri-
cal pitch constructions.
Works of the Russian nationalist and French impressionist composers contain
prominent examples of pitch symmetry. The opening of the Clock Scene at the end of
act 2 of Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov (1871) is entirely based on symmetrical pitch con-
structions and progressions. A prominent example is seen (p. 155 of the score) in the
alternation of two transpositions (B–D # –[F #] – A – C # and E # – A – [C] – D # – Fx) of
the symmetrical dominant ninth chord, with the common axial tritone (D # – A) held
as an ostinato in the bass and reiterated in the voice (ex. 2-1).12 Such progressions re-
sulted in subdivisions of the octave into interval cycles in contexts otherwise based
1st dom. 9th 2nd dom. 9th 2nd dom. 9th 1st dom. 9th
B–D–( )–A–C ( )–A–C–D–( ) E–A–( )–D–F ( )–D–F–A –( )
b. C F
A D
(F ) (C)
D A
B E
1st dom. 9th 2nd dom. 9th
example 2-1. Mussorgsky, Boris Godunov, act 2, Clock Scene (p. 155), alternating
dominant-ninth chords based on common tritone pivot and axis of symmetry
on traditional triadic harmony. In this example, the tritone cycle is the basic interval
of progression between the two dominant ninth chords. While the dominant ninth
chord is a traditional tertian construction, it is its symmetrical intervallic properties
that are exploited in this passage. The primary connection between these two sym-
metrical dominant ninth transpositions is their common tritone, D # – A (or A – D #),
which is held as an ostinato in the bass and reiterated in the voice. This tritone (D # –
A), which serves as a common pivot in the progression, also symmetrically encom-
passes the implied axes (F # and C, respectively) of the two chords (ex. 2-1b). While
these axes are only implied, each dominant ninth symmetrically progresses to the axis
of the other transposition, that is, C # –B of the first (B – D # – [F #] – A – C #) moves to
axis C– C of the second ([ ]–A –C–D # –[ ]), while Fx – E # of the second (E # – A –
[C]– D # – Fx) moves to axis F # –F # of the first ([ ]–D # –F # – A – [ ]). Thus, the invari-
ant segment (axial tritone D # –A) functions as a common pivot in the progression be-
tween the two transpositions of the “set.” This procedure, employed by Nikolay Rim-
sky-Korsakov as early as 1867, foreshadowed the concept of invariant set-segments in
serial compositions and also served as a new means of establishing pitch-class priority
(i.e., based on an axis of symmetry). This type of symmetrical progression, based on
transpositions of the dominant ninth chord, also applies to other symmetrical con-
structions such as the diminished seventh and French augmented sixth chords, the
latter particularly relevant to the opening of Debussy’s opera in terms of the axial
concept. Whereas the concept of an axis of symmetry actually plays a limited role in
Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande —it is more prominent in certain pieces such as “Voiles”
from Preludes I (1910)13 and employed more extensively throughout many of Bartók’s
works— the concept of a pivot (i.e., common element) between two symmetrical (or,
for that matter, nonsymmetrical) pitch collections is essential to the harmonic pro-
gressions in both the Debussy and Bartók operas.
letz, Ex. 2-2:
example 2-2. Debussy, La mer (no. 62, m. 4, horns and trumpets), melodic statement
of whole-tone scale in conjunction with triadic harmonic basis
a. b.
319
c.
a.
b.
2-3b: 320
Antokoletz, Ex. 2-4:
321
322
323
example 2-4. Schoenberg, Harmonielehre, exx. 321–323. Additional example given
by Schoenberg to illustrate “traditional” resolution of six-note chord to C-major triad,
six-note chord resulting from simultaneous raising and lowering of fifth degree: G–B–
(D)–F–A to G–B–(C #–D #)–F–A
tonal system and the formation of a new one based on equal or symmetrical sub-
divisions of the octave. While Modest Mussorgsky and Debussy played important
roles in the evolution toward a new system of pitch relations, each represents only a
part of that multifaceted development that is entirely encompassed by Bartók’s com-
positional evolution, his Duke Bluebeard’s Castle being an early culmination. Mus-
sorgsky never transcended, on the large-scale level of a work, the traditional concepts
of tertian harmonic construction and tonality, but he did prominently employ folk
music elements. Debussy, who was only indirectly influenced by folk music — it re-
mained for him an “exoticism”—went beyond the precepts of tradition in his exten-
sive employment of symmetrical (e.g., whole-tone and pentatonic) constructions.
Thus, it was primarily with Bartók in the early part of the twentieth century that the
first scientific investigations of folk music were exploited for the purpose of pro-
foundly altering the foundations of the traditional major-minor scale system, and it
was his opera, in conjunction with the new developments in literature and drama-
turgy, that served as a significant landmark in the evolution away from traditional
tonality.
The three-note cell, B b –D–E, plays a more extensive pivotal role in Bluebeard,
where it serves as a common subcollection among three different set types, the two
primary ones (diatonic and whole-tone) and the octatonic scale (e.g., B b – B – C # –D–
E– F–G – G #). In other words, the cells are subsets of diatonic, whole-tone, and octa-
tonic sets. In the octatonic set, this “whole-tone” cell appears in four transpositions
(B b –D–E, C # –F–G, E–G # –B b, and G –B –C #) as well as its four inversions (B – C # –
F, D – E– G #, F– G – B, and G # –B b –D). (These relationships are exploited in certain
door scenes of Bluebeard.) The joining of the latter cell (B b – D– E) with its overlap-
ping inversion (D– E– G #) produces the larger, symmetrical French sixth chord (B b –
D–E–G #), which is one of two equivalent tetrachordal partitions (B b – D – E – G # and
C # –F– G – B) of the octatonic collection (B b – B – C # –D – E – F – G– G #). At the same
time, the French sixth chord is a subcollection of the complete whole-tone scale, and
it is in this capacity that important musico-dramatic symbolizations are produced in
connection with Fate, especially in Pelléas. These interactions of the larger modal and
symmetrical sets by means of the pivotal functions of common cells are the primary
means of melodic and harmonic progression throughout both operas and are essen-
tial in the symbolization of the basic dramatic and psychological polarities.
In certain sections of Bluebeard’s Castle, the interval cycles can be shown to be-
long to a more complex unifying principle based on systematic interlocking of the
cyclic partitions (fig. 2-1).22 These partitions provide the framework for the organic
development of a special symmetrical cell, G # –A/A # –B (ratio 1:1),23 which emerges
in correspondence with the dramatic symbol of “blood.” In connection with this
emerging symbol in the opening sections that lead to the first door, combinations of
semitones move from unobtrusive contexts (as part of larger thematic statements) to
being the primary foreground event. More specifically, successive cyclic-interval inter-
lockings suggest a scheme of contracting interval ratios — 1:4, 1:3, 1:2, 1:1 — over a
broad terrain.24 The organic process on the deep-level structure of the music itself,
which is inextricably linked to this abstract scheme outlined in figure 2-1, has been
described by Bartók as “extension in range,” in which chromatic material is expanded
into diatonic themes, or the reverse, which he referred to as “chromatic compres-
sion.”25 Through “extension in range” or “chromatic compression,” Bartók said that
“we will get variety on the one hand, but the unity will remain undestroyed because
of the hidden relation between the two forms.” The general tendency of the interval-
lic ratios is toward increasing dissonance (the most dissonant being the 1:1 ratio,
based exclusively on two semitones a semitone apart) in association with the main
dramatic idea. The main foreground statement of the 1:1 cell (G # – A/A # – B) in the
“Torture Chamber,” the first of the seven doors to be opened by Judith, is part of the
progression of contracting ratios that begins with the gradual infusion of semitones
into the opening anhemitonic pentatonic “Castle” theme.
In certain scenes of both operas, especially Bluebeard, we also find another mani-
festation of the interval cycles based on the systematic interlocking of cyclic-interval
partitions. The process shown in figure 2-1 outlines a succession of various cyclic-in-
terval combinations based on the expansion/contraction of interval ratios, in which
the semitone serves as the common link among all the compound sets. The scheme
shown in figure 2-2 outlines an intervallically expanded relation between two ex-
tended, intercalated segments of the cycle of fifths (F– A – C– E – G– B – D – F # – A –
C # – E– G # – B – D # – F # –A # –C # –E #), which are interlocked alternately by major thirds
and minor thirds in place of the semitonal separation (as in C – C # – G – G # –D–D # –
A – A # –E – E # – B – B # – F #). The sequential pattern of figure 2-2 appears to serve as
background source for one of the basic types of harmonic construction in the opera—
the seventh chord. This harmonic construction is manifested in the scheme in two
adjacent forms — major third/major seventh (e.g., D– F # – A – C #) and minor third/
minor seventh (e.g., B –D–F # –A or F # – A – C # –E)—each built on alternate steps of
the sequence.26 These variant seventh chords, which have their sources in traditional
tertian harmony, are absorbed in the opera into a nonfunctional context, often based
on parallel motion of the seventh chords. Such motion occasionally can be shown on
the surface level in Pelléas, but more explicitly in Bluebeard, to be the result of the
larger sequence generated by the primary intervals (perfect fifth and minor third/
major third) of the two chord types. This phenomenon has been referred to as a
“chain of major and minor thirds” by János Kárpáti,27 who demonstrates that Bartók,
without intending to follow a dodecaphonic series, has arrived at a structure closely
approximating it in principle—he explores systematic chains of fifths with common
third. He also discusses triads with major-minor third structures as “dual” or “alter-
C C # D E b E F F # G G # A B b B (C
C C# D# E F# G A Bb (C
C C# E F Ab A (C
C C# F F# B b B (C
C C# F# G (C
native” structures, which means they still can be justified separately, and, while ap-
pearing together, preserve their original modal content. He discusses the meaning of
this structure also in the context of Edwin von der Nüll’s as well as Ernő Lendvai’s
theoretical concepts (i.e., Lendvai’s 1:3 scale model). Kárpáti also explains that if the
two equivalent kinds of third can appear within the stable frame of a fifth, then one
arrives logically at the dual root and fifth situated around the stable third. In Con-
trasts, the motif of the Lydian fourth becomes equivalent to the dual third-structure
of sound. This phenomenon of the “chain of thirds” is fundamental to both linear and
harmonic construction in certain Bartók works already prior to Bluebeard, for in-
stance, in the early Violin Concerto (1907– 1908),28 but appears more systematically
in later works, such as the second of the Three Studies, op. 18, for piano (1918), and
the “Scherzo alla bulgarese” movement of the Fifth String Quartet (1934).29
A hybrid form of these two seventh chords in the chain of thirds is essential in
the transformation of the original major third/major seventh form (D– F # – A – C #)
of the “Stefi Geyer” motif in the 1907 Violin Concerto into the more funereal (minor
third/major seventh) form, F–A b –C–E, of the First String Quartet (1908 – 1909). In
conflict between their third or seventh degrees.30 The hybrid form of the seventh
chord has twofold symbolic significance in the opera31: one, it serves to increase dis-
sonance in the realization of the semitonal “Blood” motif (based on interval ratio 1:1),
and two, its adjacent major thirds (F # –[A–C # –E #]) permit the chord to serve as a
link in the transformation from diatonic to whole-tone (fatalistic) spheres. Thus, the
“chain of thirds” serves as background source—a kind of harmonic framework — for
progression between consonant and dissonant textures, a significant intervallic prin-
ciple for the realization of the opera’s symbolism.
structural approach that contrasted with the more continuous organic constructions
of Wagner’s music dramas. Bartók’s structural and textural articulations, which are
similar to Debussy’s in certain ways, are especially significant in revealing the com-
poser’s roots in the folk music structures themselves. The folk sources provided for
Bartók a structural foundation on which many levels of expression could be con-
joined. Like Pelléas, Bluebeard consists entirely of distinct forms often based on folk-
like quaternary structures, which sometimes suggest a rondo type of format (e.g., ABAB
or AABA, etc.) within scenes. Furthermore, much of the melodic and harmonic fab-
ric is developed by means of modal variation, an articulative principle that appears to
be derived from the process of thematic variation found in the folk music sources.
From the modal material of their operas, both composers derive the basic leitmotifs
that are central in generating the musico-dramatic fabric and contrasting formal
structures.
The modernistic affinity of both operas is also seen in the relation between music
and language. Bartók’s investigations of the old Hungarian folk tunes permitted him
to break with the established nineteenth-century tradition of translating Western lan-
guages into Hungarian for opera performance, a tradition that had inevitably led to
distortions in Hungarian accentuation. Bartók preserved the Hungarian language
accents strictly in his musical setting of the Balázs libretto. Furthermore, the archaic
syllabic structure is set almost entirely in the old “parlando-rubato” folk style, pro-
ducing a kind of contemporary “recitative opera” similar to that pioneered by De-
bussy.33 As a manifestation of the French reaction to Wagner’s Tristan idiom, Pelléas
was influenced in part by Debussy’s interest in the French Baroque, especially Lully’s
approach to recitative, in which the musical setting was geared to the precise and
realistic declamation of the French text. In Pelléas, the recitative style is always sensi-
tive to the rhythm and meaning of the text. Typical single-note repetitions and a con-
strained vocal range together form a vehicle for the expression of the characters’ in-
tentions.34 In Bluebeard, the Hungarian text—and this is true of the orchestral
phrases as well — is appropriately based on eight syllables per line, which is one of the
isometric stanzaic patterns that the composer found in the oldest of the Hungarian
folk melodies. These music-text relationships in both operas are based on special
premises that could only have been established by the liberation of meter and rhythm
that was permitted by the disappearance of traditional tonal functions in the early
twentieth century. By means of these new syntactical relations between rhythm and
pitch, both composers were able to arrive at new and greatly expanded possibilities for
symbolic representation.
As the intended inception of a new and genuinely Hungarian operatic tradition,
Bartók consciously fused in Bluebeard the fundamental musical elements of Eastern
European folk music with Debussy’s Impressionist techniques. Both of these histori-
cal sources had begun to challenge the hegemony of German late Romantic music in
the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Finding common ground in their
Symbolist assumptions, both the Debussy and Bartók operas are exemplars of the trend
in the first decades of the century toward a new means of musical expression and in-
tegration of the entire musical fabric. Because of the free use of the folk modes and
the disappearance of the triad as the fundamental harmonic premise, which led to the
dissolution of the hierarchical pitch relations inherent in the traditional dominant-
tonic progressions, greater emphasis had to be placed on the intervallic (cell) properties
of both the harmonic and melodic constructions as a means of establishing local and
large-scale structural coherence. It may be inferred from these observations of the
musical language that the primary integrative means for these new musical contexts,
based on the tendency to equalize the elements of the chromatic continuum, are de-
rived from the interaction of discrete pitch-sets. The specific intervallic constructions
of such sets (especially pentatonic/diatonic and whole-tone) are exploited by both
Debussy and Bartók as a means of reflecting the dramatic relations based on polarity,
interaction, and transformation between human and fatalistic realms. It is in this radi-
cal transformation of both the musical language and aesthetics, in which states of
mind are explored in vague and mysterious contexts that go below those levels of re-
ality characteristic of nineteenth-century Naturalist theater, that we find the mod-
ernistic sources of these Symbolist operas.
of events that defy their rendering in language, and music might be and often is an
appropriate vehicle for the expression of the emotional sequela of tragic events. Both
Pelléas et Mélisande and Duke Bluebeard’s Castle are tales of traumatic events as well as
of traumatized people. The authors tell their tales in words, but they also acknowl-
edge that words are incomplete vehicles for communicating the feelings and truths
that their characters experience. Thus, it is no wonder that composers rushed to cre-
ate music that would convey what the story line left unexpressed. The works are cho-
sen because of their powerful depiction of gender conflicts and their traumatic reso-
lution, as reflected in the verbal dialogue as well as the musical structure. The stories
invite us to a reflection of the effect of power inequalities in relationships as well as
within the historical context within which the operas were created.
30
trary and cruel, and in which the only certainty is death.4 The protagonists move like
sleepwalkers uprooted from a painful dream.5 In Bluebeard’s Castle, Judith seems
driven to a journey that leads her to a tragic end. The modern preoccupation with an
inward look to the inner self is reflected in symbols (underground vaults, dark castle,
closed doors). Although the manifest theme in both works appears to be a love story,
the underlying themes reveal the contradictions in socially sanctioned roles and
power differentials at the time in which the works were written.
The difficulties of finding a satisfactory resolution to the characters’ dilemmas, as
attested by the tragic endings in both works, lead us to identify another type of trauma,
one embedded in the social fabric of the times. A theme common to both operas is
the frequency in which the characters are engaged in rigidly structured interactions.
The main characters show no room for compromise, nor are they willing or able to
understand one another. Within this context, the gender interactions in both works
lead to extreme positions, in which only surrender, subversion, domination or coercion
are possible (e.g., Golaud’s “rescue” of and marriage to Mélisande in spite of her early
protests, or Bluebeard’s surrender of the keys to Judith, an action that later leads to her
demise). The underlying social tensions and the ensuing discontent cut across social
and gender categories. Echoes of this more general struggle are evident in Pelléas et
Mélisande, in which social and gender issues are interwoven in the fabric of the work.6
sents the greatest threat for these men. The soft, fluid, boundless perception of the
female body, which is “a subversive source of pleasure or pain,” is contrasted with
the machinelike, clearly defined male body, which is “devoid of all internal viscera.”
Theweleit views the psychological organization revealed in the writings of the Frei-
korps as manifesting narcissistic pathology, not as a regression to the “oceanic feeling”
of merging with the mother but, rather, as an inability to find warmth and affection in
another person because of early deprivation and rejection.12
Writing in 1984, Jessica Benjamin suggested that Western society, by placing issues
of race, gender, or social class as avenues for distinguishing subject from object — or
the privileged one (who becomes the subject) to dominate the other (who is relegated
to the role of the object)—does not provide a healthy ground for the maintenance of
mutually satisfying relationships.13 Benjamin suggests that the notion of an autono-
mous person denies the mutual dependency that exists between men and women and
more generally within members of the society itself. Within this context, domination
becomes intrinsic to the Western society paradigm. Benjamin suggests that acknowl-
edgment of mutual dependency and the need for mutual recognition constitutes an
alternative to either submission or domination in gender relationships.14
Stressing the emotional cost of gender prescriptions, Nancy Chodorow notes that
gender inequalities may cause narcissistic injuries because they restrict the manner in
which a person, who belongs to one or the other gender, may be permitted to express
connection, dependence, independence, differentiation, agency, and initiative.15 Lay-
ton refers to Lisak’s observations that both genders suffer “self-mutilation,”16 because
“each one is forced to extirpate from the self characteristics that are experienced as
parts of the self, yet coded by the culture as belonging only to the other gender.”17
Within these formulations, the gender dilemmas in the Pelléas and Bluebeard dra-
mas (expressing the gender dichotomies of their time) could be seen as attempts of
their authors to understand and grapple with the traumatic “self-mutilation” that the
sociocultural context created for them. In contrast to the Freikorps writings, Pelléas
and Bluebeard held together the painful awareness of the nonviability of the narcis-
sistic solution. The characters in both works are hampered by social restrictions that
prevent them from engaging in a mutually validating relationship. The need for ab-
solute control of the other leads to the destruction of the relationship and to isolation
and loneliness.18
and coexist with the verbal sense as ways that relate to us and others (including the
noninterpersonal world).19 It is in those states of being, in which language is not in-
cluded, that art finds its tremendously compelling power.20 Maeterlinck writes that
“even those who can speak the most profoundly realize — they, perhaps, more than
others— that words can never express the real, special relationship that exists be-
tween two beings.”21 The Symbolist use of language in both operas, in which mean-
ing is not overtly expressed, offers an opportunity for the music to provide alternative
narratives to what is left unsaid by the characters.
journey toward formulating a more benevolent but spiritual view of life was his at-
tempt to regain “a state of grace.” Golaud himself appears trapped in a rigid moral
code when he remarks with anger but also regret (score, p. 218): “I don’t play the spy.
I shall wait on chance; and then . . . Oh, then! Just because it’s customary.”
It is easy to understand why Mélisande needed to free herself from the ring and
the crown, which were considered valuable and precious gifts. Anna Freud, pointed
out, in her essay on “losing and being lost,” that “in losing” an object the loser may be
unconsciously expressing anger against the giver of the gift and may also show a lack
of affective connection with the giver. The loser also may identify with the lost object,
feeling herself lost. All these interpretations are plausible in Mélisande’s case.39
But the material value of both gifts as well as their symbolic meaning (royalty
or a special status in the case of the crown, and a promise of faithfulness or token of
ownership in the case of the ring) lead us to explore once more the gender polarities
and inequality of power in Mélisande’s world. Both men, the donor of the crown
(Bluebeard) and Golaud, give Mélisande very special gifts. For instance, Golaud is
deeply upset when he learns of the loss of the ring (score, pp. 99 – 100): “I would
rather have lost all I possess than have lost that ring! You don’t know what it is. You
don’t know where it came from.” We know, from the rest of the story, that the loss of
the ring also signifies Golaud’s awareness of Mélisande’s attraction to Pelléas, and the
frailty of the marital bond as symbolized by the ring. But Golaud’s attraction to
Mélisande seems to have been a mirage, an idealization of her since, as he confessed
in his letter to Pelléas (score, p. 27), after six months of marriage to her, he knows no
more about her than on the day they met. Mélisande was as mysterious as the women
to whom Maeterlinck attributed both a kinship with the infinite and a possession of
the vision not given to men.
One wonders whether Mélisande’s destiny, men’s attraction to her, and their
need to control her, all leading to their mutual destruction, are reflected in the dy-
namics of men-women relationships at the time the opera was written and, more spe-
cifically, in the personal experiences of Maeterlinck and Debussy. Certainly, Debussy
had his share of passionate relationships and disappointments as well as involvement
in triangular relationships, such as those portrayed in the opera. Debussy refined his
opera at a time in which he felt very alone and had suffered the rejection of three
women he had proposed to marry. Two of the women in his life, Gaby, with whom he
lived for twelve years, and Lilly, his first wife, attempted suicide when they felt aban-
doned by Debussy. In the case of Lilly, the unpleasantness of the situation was aggra-
vated by Debussy’s affair with a married woman of wealthier means, who finally be-
came his second wife.40 Passion, ambivalence, and guilt were prevalent during this
period, which also coincided with the success of Pelléas. Thus, the passionate trian-
gular entanglements, the jealousy, and the guilt prevalent in the opera found a clear
echo in the life of the composer. According to Georgette Leblanc, in one of their early
encounters, Maeterlinck told her “he had always had several mistresses at once. . . .
It was a pastime like any other. But as for happiness, it didn’t exist outside of pleasure
or a good constitution.”41 Complaining about the multitude of distractions that in-
terfered with his composing, an older Debussy would write to his friend, “first, the
family, which clutters and obstructs me. . . . Then there come the Mistresses, or the
Mistress, upon whom one does not even rely, so happy is one to give oneself to her,
even to the point of oblivion.”42 Women were thus loved and feared, sought after and
rejected.
The opera does not end in absolute chaos or hopelessness because, prior to her
death, Mélisande gives birth to a baby girl, but there is uncertainty about what fate
will bring to her daughter. Mélisande herself does not appear to feel hopeful. Her first
words to her are also her last, since she dies soon afterward (score, pp. 298 – 299):
“She doesn’t smile. She’s very small. She’s going to cry. I’m sorry for her.” Arkel him-
self utters the last words in the opera, which reveal an uncertain future for the little
girl: “The child mustn’t stay here in this room. It must live in her place now. It’s the
poor little thing’s turn.”
If Allemonde were the real world, there would be little hope for Mélisande’s little
girl. She is orphaned almost at birth at the hands of her rageful, jealous father, who is
now overcome by grief and who implies that he also may die soon. There also would
be little hope for the infant, if she is to take her mother’s unfortunate place, as Arkel
pronounces. But we know from other experiences that Arkel’s pronouncements,
rather than reflecting wisdom, have at times contributed to the tragedy, as when he
stopped Pelléas from visiting his friend and thereby facilitated his entanglement with
Mélisande.
Thus, we are left alone to answer the question about Mélisande’s little girl. There
are signs of hope. There are the silent women, whose presence supports Mélisande at
her death, whose silent strength and refusal to listen to Golaud’s orders to leave dis-
arm him. Perhaps they provide that quiet, holding environment for the baby that the
family cannot provide. It is they, who are supposedly powerless, who provide a power-
ful, calming presence at Mélisande’s deathbed.
There is also Golaud’s sobs, his last utterances in the opera, a perfect symmetry
to Mélisande’s sobs, which constitute her first utterances in the opera. If part of the
Allemonde tragedy is the irreconcilable gender polarities of strong versus weak, op-
pressor versus victim, then Golaud’s pain is an acknowledgment of the disastrous con-
sequences of narcissistic entitlement.
Arkel seems to say so (score, pp. 304–306): “Careful . . . careful. We must speak
quietly, now. We mustn’t worry her any more. The human soul is a very silent thing.
The human soul likes to take its departure alone. She suffers so timidly. But the pity
of it, Golaud, the sadness of everything one sees. Oh! Oh!”
for the first time, alone, sobbing, and lost in the depths of the forest. We learn that she
is frightened and that awful things have happened to her, which she cannot talk
about. As the story develops, we do not learn much more about her history, except
that she had to run away from a painful situation. Her main torturer gave her a golden
crown, which she “accidentally” had dropped into the well by the time Golaud had
found her.
The “clinical data” thus presented shows basic symptoms of Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder: she has endured events beyond normal human experience; she
avoids places or things that remind her of that event; and she has moments in which
she suffers intrusive symptoms, and other moments in which she appears “numb,” dis-
sociated, and not responding appropriately.43
One of the effects of trauma is that it reduces choices. A traumatized person may
become more passive and less able to respond to the requirements of the present, be-
cause her energy is consumed by coping with feelings and memories of events too
overwhelming to be processed, understood, and integrated with the rest of her life.
Thus, a traumatized person is more susceptible to external pressures and is more at
the mercy of situations and people than others who have not suffered similar experi-
ences. Mélisande’s behavior is consistent with these characteristics: she follows Go-
laud out of the forest and later marries him even though her early encounter with him
suggests not only that she does not find him appealing but also that she is frightened
of him. She is unable to contain her feelings of attraction for Pelléas and acts on them
impulsively without considering safer alternatives.
Dissociation is another possible response to unbearable circumstances. By isolat-
ing the traumatic event from the rest of her experiences, the victim is able to protect
herself from its potentially disorganizing impact.44 One of the problems of using dis-
sociation, however, is that what is experienced is not integrated. Therefore the trau-
matic material is not understood and a person’s reactions to it, or to events that trig-
ger memories of the trauma, are difficult to manage. Part of the treatment of trauma
lies in the recovery of traumatic memories, which then can be stored as something
that happened in the past, so the person is free from reexperiencing the overwhelm-
ing effect triggered by the initial trauma in her daily life. In her 1954 interview, Mag-
gie Teyte, one of the earliest to play the dramatic role of Mélisande, suggested that
Golaud’s violent mistreatment of Mélisande serves as “an archaic shock treatment”;
“It is only after Golaud has pulled her violently by the hair that she returns to her
senses and is whole-heartedly able to accept affection.”45 Up to that point, Mélisande
did not want to be touched, either by Golaud or Pelléas. Teyte suggests that “through
brutality she has lost her mind and through brutality it has been restored.” Golaud’s
abusive treatment of Mélisande thus seems to be a prelude to the intensification of
her relationship to Pelléas. Unfortunately for Mélisande, Golaud’s “therapeutic inter-
vention” was not done in a neutral, safe atmosphere. Instead of helping her to differ-
entiate the past from the present, it repeated the past and thus contributed to further
traumatization. This, of course, is one of the potential risks of trauma, the uncon-
scious search for a repetition of similar conditions with the hope of mastering the
situation (Freud’s notion of repetition compulsion)46 or diminished ability to discrim-
inate dangerous from nondangerous stimuli that may lead to poor judgment with
serious consequences.47 Halls remarks that Mockel,48 one of Maeterlinck’s early crit-
ics, suggested that sadism was Maeterlinck’s prominent theme.49 Golaud’s brutal treat-
ment of the young lovers elicits sorrow and compassion that are voiced by King Arkel
at Mélisande’s deathbed. Mélisande’s new partner is as dangerous as the one she left
behind.
Prior to the fatal outcome, the increasing tension in the play is brought about by
the counterposition between the growing attraction of Pelléas and Mélisande toward
each other and Golaud’s mounting suspicions. Mélisande evolves, however briefly,
from a puppetlike creature to a woman capable of defiance and passion, as evidenced
by her behavior during her last encounter with Pelléas (act 4, scene 4, p. 257). She is
also capable of deception, not only with Golaud but also with Pelléas; for example, she
tells him that she was delayed in meeting him because her husband had bad dreams
and because she caught her dress on the nail of a door (act 4, scene 5). The text leaves
the reader to suspect that this might be a fabrication, as there is no allusion to Go-
laud’s bad dreams or doornails in narrative prior to their encounter. She omits telling
Pelléas of Golaud’s threats and of the violent treatment she received earlier that day,
which could have been the actual reason for her torn dress. By withholding this in-
formation, she fails to alert Pelléas of the increasing danger of their situation.
Mélisande’s behavior defies the barriers of time and space that Maeterlinck sug-
gests are impediments for the perception of the true essence of things. She is at the
wrong time in the wrong place. When Pelléas declares that the doors are locked and
that it is now too late to go back to the castle, Mélisande responds “so much the bet-
ter.” She seems freer to follow the promptings of that inner self without being dis-
tracted by the external aspects of the situation. This is perhaps a remnant of a roman-
tic ideal, although the victory, if any, is tragic and subtle rather than triumphant. At
the time that he wrote Pelléas, Maeterlinck viewed human beings as unable to alter
the designs of destiny. In his later writings, he gave a greater role to our ability of use
our reason to alter destiny.
The tragic outcome suggests awareness and a protest against the power inequali-
ties of the situation. Mélisande’s price for legitimate self-expression is death. As with
Judith’s story in Bluebeard, there is no space for the expression of the woman’s
desire— although, in Maeterlinck’s play, this condition seems to affect peasants, chil-
dren, and Pelléas as well.
Transcending the obvious interpretations of Pelléas and Mélisande as adulterers,
Maeterlinck’s symbolic references portray the young lovers as innocent victims (e.g.,
sheep being carried to slaughter (act 4, scene 3, p. 223); Arkel’s reference to Mélisande’s
eyes, “I see nothing in them but great innocence (act 3, scene 4, pp. 179 – 180),
Yniold’s response to Golaud’s questions about Pelléas, “No, daddy, he is not mad, he
is very good” (act 4, scene 2, pp. 209–210).
Pelléas’s death, however, cannot be easily labeled as claim for self-expression. He
had wanted to leave the castle prior to Mélisande’s arrival, but was prevented in doing
so by his grandfather, who admonished him about family obligations. By postponing his
departure, Pelléas became entangled in a dangerous situation that ended his life. Con-
trary to Mélisande, whose marriage to Golaud provided her with limited options for a
vital life, Pelléas finally has the opportunity to leave the castle after learning of his fa-
ther’s improvement. His words denote hope for a new life, “Already the whole house
seems to be reviving. One can hear people breathing, walking about” (act 4, scene 1,
p. 192). He has reservations about his last encounter with Mélisande: “It is late. She
isn’t coming. It would be better to leave without seeing her” (act 4, scene, p. 233 –
234). His attraction to her overrules his hesitation and ends his hope for a new life.
reevaluation of earlier relationships, including his close friendship with Balázs. Ko-
dály’s lack of interest in the Bluebeard play did not discourage Balázs from dedicating
his first volume of collected poems to him in 1911. The first poem in this collection,
dedicated to a friend, reiterates the conviction that friendship among men is superior
to friendship between men and women, a belief that Balázs and Lukács shared at that
time.64 Balázs’s comments further suggest that he viewed Emma as consciously trying
to increase the distance between Kodály and himself.
Not surprisingly, the three characters of the play (the Castle, Bluebeard, and Ju-
dith) express different aspects of the conflicts that Balázs was struggling with at the
time he wrote it. In Judith, Balázs saw himself in the way she pushed forward in ex-
ploring the inner soul of the other, in ways that created disruptions in the relation-
ship.65 Judith’s choice of the dangerous, risky life to join Bluebeard and abandon the
conventional life offered by her family and her betrothed resonates with a basic theme
in Balázs’s life and work.66 The author viewed his play as “the ballad of inner life.”67
The use of an inanimate object, the Castle, as one of the play’s characters who repre-
sents the duke’s soul, with its own physiognomy, for instance, voice and actions, fore-
shadows the importance that Balázs was to place on the symbolic value of objects in
the new language of visual images created in film. The vitality of objects as conveyors
of meaning rather than as “dead corpses” was also one of Balázs’s father’s teachings.
Simon Bauer68 wanted his son to learn a craft, “not to master it,” but so that the young
Herbert Bauer would see man-made objects as “creations” and not as empty and dead
objects surrounding him like “corpses.”69
Balázs’s “ballad of inner life” may well have represented a developmental crisis,
a journey in exploring and processing important issues of vocation and his relation-
ship to women. From a psychological viewpoint, there was no one more important to
the early development of Balázs’s identity as a man than the figure of his father, who
may well have colored the portrayal of the Castle. Although Balázs’s own accounts re-
flect admiration for his father’s intellectual accomplishments, his integrity, and his di-
rect involvement in Balázs’s education, discipline, and guidance, there is no question
that Balázs viewed his father’s life as a sad, tragic one. The depressive, silent suffering
of the Castle and its protective walls might not only be seen as an abstract symbol of
the man’s soul but also as the shadow of Simon Bauer’s own tragic story.70 The tears,
violence, and cruelty suggested by the Castle’s contents had been experienced in the
flesh by Balázs’s father and indirectly by Balázs in the manner in which his father’s his-
tory affected his own.
darkness. The play maintains a constant tension between signs of violence and cru-
elty (blood on the walls, on the jewels, on the instruments of torture) and a denial of
violence and cruelty, as seen in the Duke’s love for Judith, his willingness to submit
to Judith’s requests, and the final revelation of his former wives’ existence. In some
ways, it resembles a childhood story; for example, Little Red Riding Hood’s grand-
mother is not dead, but alive inside the wolf’s stomach.71 Both Bluebeard and Little
Red Riding Hood acknowledge trauma and loss and, at the same time, deny them. In
Bluebeard, Balázs’s insight into the nature of psychological trauma is evident in the
suggestion that trauma and loss are not less real when the characters in the play do
not die. The trauma comes, instead, from the lack of mutual acknowledgment of the
other’s existence and individuality.72 Unlike Little Red Riding Hood, the Bluebeard bal-
lad does not end happily. Balázs, a man of his time, acknowledges the complexity of
intimate relationships.
The general atmosphere of the play is one of pending threat, a feeling that Balázs
knew very well. His earliest visual images, documented in his journal, are his accounts
of two dreams: a threatening wild horse that nearly collides with him, and a peaceful
night scene that slowly changes to fill him with terror. Balázs acknowledges that he
was terrified of darkness until he was twenty years old.73 Balázs’s early life included
painful losses and unexpected changes, which could have contributed to the young
boy’s expectations of dread. His father’s sudden removal from his teaching post in
Szeged, a sophisticated city, second in population to Budapest, and his transfer to the
remote rural town of Lőcse when Balázs was five years old was very painful to Balázs’s
parents and drastically altered his father’s professional and literary aspirations. Yet,
young Herbert’s early memories portrayed this event as a change engineered by fate
to foster the young child’s development, although it resulted in a profound loss for
the family. Balázs’s transformation of this tragic event into an opportunity for positive
change attests to his healthy resiliency.74 However, young Herbert’s interpretation
could also belie his assuming responsibility for an event far beyond his control to
counteract feelings of helplessness and loss.
Judith’s journey into the castle also may be seen, like Balázs’s reaction, as a strat-
egy to counteract feelings of helplessness and lack of control. Her eagerness to bring
light into the castle could be interpreted as a counter phobic defense to Balázs’s fears
of darkness. It also resonates with his active and at times insensitive efforts to control
the lives of his friends or scrutinize the content of their souls.
The emphases on masculine symbols of power in the castle and the foreboding
bloodstains warns us that it is more than the “inherent incompatibility between men
and women” and the resulting loneliness that is hidden within the walls of the castle.
Balázs was aware of how much violence and cruelty could be inflected toward one an-
other without spilling one drop of blood. He reports that a teenage boarder shattered
his healthier acceptance of sexual love when, as a ten-year-old boy, he was the un-
expected witness and uninformed assistant to the rape of a young servant girl.75 Balázs
felt that this experience had a profound and detrimental effect on his view of love re-
lationships between men and women. It was a sweet-sour tacit cooperation between
two young males to subjugate the initiative and autonomy of a young woman. Rem-
nants of this tacit allegiance, or perhaps a different expression of it, may be seen in
Balázs’s and Lukács’s early belief in the inherent superiority of men’s intellect and the
ultimate irreconcilable differences between men and women. In this case, violence is
not committed in a physical sense but in a psychological one; that is, an inability to
accept the other in the full richness of her or his being. A personal event that brought
to light the serious consequences of interpersonal alienation toward women by both
Lukács and Balázs occurred in 1911, when Irma Seidler, who had become romanti-
cally involved with Balázs after being rejected by Lukács, committed suicide by throw-
ing herself into the Danube.
loneliness versus attunement—that is one of the many others that the castle contains
and that makes it a Symbolist work, attempting to expose and integrate the contra-
dictions of its time.81 Thus, in this view of the work, the drama does not have two pro-
tagonists (Bluebeard and Judith), as the opera suggests, or three characters (Blue-
beard, Judith, and the Castle), as suggested by the Balázs play, but only one character,
Bluebeard, who, like in Jungian dream symbolism, confronts different parts of himself
in a struggle toward self-integration. Within this perspective, Judith’s role is to help
Bluebeard’s soul “to see (and to be seen) and to allow its mystery to slip away.”82
In a letter to Márta Ziegler, Bartók reveals his willingness to explore and express
all feelings, not only those that are comforting and flattering but also those that chal-
lenge an idealized vision of ourselves. He writes: “It is only in our times that there is
place for the painting of the feeling of vengeance, the grotesque, and the sarcastic. For
this reason the music of today could be called realistic because, unlike the idealism of
previous eras, it extends with honesty to all real human emotions without excluding
any.”83 These thoughts are consistent with the views of Lukács who, a few years ear-
lier, had arrived at a coherent view of the function and aesthetics of the art of that
time: “The essence of art is form; it is to defeat oppositions, to conquer opposing
forces, to create coherence from every centrifugal force, from all things that have
been deeply and eternally alien to one another before and outside this form”84
The duke’s story conforms to these aesthetic guidelines. The content of its seven
chambers, the feelings portrayed in the Balázs script, and Bartók’s score opened up a
vast horizon of feelings and associations that range from tenderness and love to hor-
ror, isolation, and loneliness. The Bluebeard score seems to have been a final artistic
solution to the painful ending of Bartók’s relationship with Stefi Geyer. A letter to her
describing the complexity of his feelings attests to the emotional roller coaster that
Bartók experienced at that time.85
By what means is the artwork able to conquer the “opposing forces” that are
introduced at the beginning of the story: the desire to know oneself, even those parts
of the self that may horrify us versus the desire to let go, to keep those doors to self-
knowledge forever closed? Frigyesi suggests that Judith’s intrusiveness is a loving
act, the encouragement from “the other” that is always necessary for us to know
ourselves.86
This interpretation is consistent with the existential dilemmas of the time: the
feeling of alienation and powerlessness,87 and the loss of faith in a benevolent creator
and religious institutions. If there was hope, one had to find it in oneself and in one’s
unconscious. The manifest content of the drama portrays a conflict between a man
and a woman and many writers have interpreted the work along those lines. The ar-
gument can be made for a more general statement about alienation. Bartók himself
candidly acknowledges his difficulties in feeling close to anyone.88
It is not possible to disregard the meaning of Bluebeard’s story as a reflection of
the vicissitudes of men-women relationships at the time the work was written. The
issue was not only an important one in the personal lives of Balázs and Bartók but also
one confronting the social fabric of the cultural world in which they lived.
Carl Leafstedt’s comprehensive review of the transformation of Judith, the self-
sacrificing and courageous biblical heroine into the destructive, sexualized, envious
man-murderer as depicted in Strauss’s Salome and Hebbel’s Judith, attest to the anxi-
ety that the feminist movement engendered with its demands for greater autonomy
and self-determination for women.89 Similarly, Leafstedt’s comprehensive documen-
tation of the transformation of Bluebeard, the wife-murderer, into an unhappy, lonely
man, whose cruelty could have been a response to unhappiness and repeated disap-
pointments, reflects a greater awareness of the complexity of psychological motiva-
tion. As Leafstedt indicates, Bluebeard became a “man to be pitied as well as feared.”90
Leafstedt enriches his discussion of the Bluebeard story by using concepts from
Hebbel’s theory of literary analysis, which had been the focus of Balázs’s doctoral thesis.
He suggests that Balázs’s poem dramatizes Hebbel’s tragic view of human life, which
must submit to the equilibrium prescribed by the universal will or face destruction. In
Balázs’s play, Judith is the Romantic heroine, compelled by the universal will within
her to seek love and self-expression. In the dark confines of the castle, women could
know a man’s soul only at the expense of their love and her destruction. Her com-
pulsive strivings toward liberating Bluebeard’s castle from darkness, even after
achieving a relatively peaceful stage at the fifth door, destroys the balance, which
must be restored through her destruction. Darkness again returns to the castle that is
enveloped by endless night.91
edge her existence: “I am still here,” she says. Bluebeard ignores her, and with protests
of love and appreciation that ring hollow, proceeds to burden her with symbols of his
grandiosity and power that she does not want (e.g., “not the crown,” she begs).
In Bluebeard’s castle, the man is entitled to unquestioned power and grandeur
and the woman is entitled to them only through the love and generosity of the man
that loves her. Judith can only enjoy these benefits if she renounces her agency. The
only manner in which she is allowed to express initiative is by accepting submission.
Within these restricted molds, Judith’s choices to express power, ambition, and a
sense of entitlement as emerging from her own subjectivity must be disavowed. The
need for coercive control is fueled by narcissistic rage. She then overvalues the power
and control that her renunciation of her own agency and submission to Bluebeard
grants her. It is the narcissistic entitlement of the masochistic position. Although Ju-
dith asserts that she is motivated by love to bring light into Bluebeard’s darkness, and
prompts him to unlock all aspects of himself, she is increasingly insensitive to his feel-
ings. The magical power of masochistic thinking is implied by her logic, she has left
everything for Bluebeard; he must now surrender to her. The compulsive quality of
her behavior, the lack of satisfaction of what she finds, even after achieving the fifth
door, reveals the futility of her journey, because she has not acknowledged her desire
for a life of her own.
The final dissolution of the relationship after she discovers Bluebeard’s other
wives is preceded by painful, almost delusional jealousy that is expressed in a repeti-
tive chant in which Judith compares herself unfavorably to each one of the other
three wives. Judith’s behavior further portrays the sense of a narcissistically injured
person, who has no inner resources to maintain a favorable autonomous view of her-
self. Thus, she cannot accept Bluebeard as a person with an autonomous life and re-
lationship. The awareness that there are aspects of Bluebeard’s life that do not in-
clude her — that he has autonomy—is threatening to her. If he has autonomy, he
could choose to leave her. This is too threatening to Judith, who does not experience
herself as a vital autonomous person, and whose sense of inner cohesion depends on
Bluebeard, for example, Judith’s responses to the treasure chamber.
Judith is perhaps more herself, more in contact with her own pain, her vulnera-
bility, her need for recognition of Bluebeard, and of her own subjectivity when she
desperately begs Bluebeard to acknowledge her, “I am still here.” But Bluebeard does
not hear her. Instead, he praises her beauty, assigns her a place among his other wives,
and continues to ignore her subjectivity. She is now another one of his leftover objects.
Thus, Judith and Bluebeard are both victims and perpetrators. Trapped within
the boundaries of rigid gender stereotypes, they are unable to accept each other and
themselves with all the richness, vulnerabilities, and limitations that the human con-
dition entails. Imprisonment does not do well for human love. And it is here where
we could infer another meaning for the pervasive presence of blood in the castle.
and Lukács’s personal and emotional friendship, and how at the time of the play’s cre-
ation both men were involved in elucidating man’s relationship to woman. The par-
allel between Bluebeard’s treatment of Judith, and Lukács’s description of his feelings
about the rupture of his relationship to Irma Seidler are striking, “The ice age has
begun. I have died but she lives within me; to the extent that anything can live within
me. Quietly. Without reproaches. Without pain.”97 This is further stressed in the dedi-
cation of his book, Soul and Form, to her: “What I want to accomplish can only be car-
ried out by a man who is alone. True solitude, however, can only be bought at the
price, of, and after, the deepest experience of intimacy.”98 The importance of Irma, the
real woman, receded and became disposable as the “ideal Irma.” She was replaced in
Lukács’s heart and mind as an object of philosophical explorations. Although Lukács’s
replacement of the “real Irma” by “its symbol” may have been helpful to his profes-
sional development, it was devastating to Irma. Agnes Heller, in a thoughtful and de-
tailed exposition of the correspondence between Lukács and Irma Seidler, describes
the struggle between Lukács the philosopher and Irma the woman. Lukács could only
relate to Irma as a symbol, the passion that she elicited in him as a subject for philo-
sophical analysis. Irma just wanted to love and be loved: “She [Irma] put an end to
the philosophical parables once and for all with her finale gesture of suicide. It was
she, and not the philosopher himself, who cast into doubt and rendered equivocal the
philosophy of Soul and Form with this final gesture. And through her death she earned
the right to share this story [the story of their relationship], not merely as its object,
but as its subject as well.”99
There is strong evidence that Lukács’s relationship to Irma had a powerful influ-
ence on Balázs. In 1910, the year prior to Irma’s death, Balázs wrote a short story,
“Friendship [Baratsag],” under the pen name “Happened,” which is reported to have
been inspired by the writer’s seduction of Irma to avenge Lukács.100 In the voice of
the protagonist, Balázs asserts, “I have humiliated my best friend for a woman I did
not love, and debased a pure-hearted woman.” And later, in a statement reminiscent
of Balázs’s accounts of the early episode when, at age eleven, he was the unknowing
assistant to a rape, the fictionalized Balázs says, “Ervin [who stands for Lukács in the
story] just cried and cried. I felt ashamed. The male in me was humiliated, conquered
and insulted.” In addition, according to Zsuffa, a few months prior to Irma’s death,
Balázs had her read his play, “The Blood of the Virgin,” in which the friendship of two
men “triumphs over earthly love—at the price of a woman’s life.”101
Further information about the context of Balázs’s Bluebeard play may be inferred
from the transformation of his original idea to write Don Juan in Budapest into the
story of Duke Bluebeard. There is no question that the character of Don Juan appealed
to Balázs, and, like Don Juan, Balázs documented his “conquests.”102 Balázs was aware
of the destructive impact of his actions on the women he conquered. Writing to
Lukács about the suicide of a girl he had seduced, he said, “You may have already read
it in the papers or heard from Edith that a girl died here. This time I am positive. I am
not the cause only the occasion of her death. What counts is that death is my com-
panion. I am a public danger.”103
Thus, the information gathered here suggests that the philosophical, benevolent
ending of the Bluebeard play reveals Balázs’s awareness of the destructive effects of the
lack of recognition of the woman’s subjectivity and needs, and his feelings of remorse.
idealized figure for Bluebeard. She is the most beautiful of his wives, and her love will
bring light to his castle. However, she cannot exist in the castle as a whole person with
her vulnerabilities and needs.
Reflections on Modernity
Maeterlinck’s characters, Golaud in particular, find the challenge of modernity too
much to bear. Rather than see all aspects of himself and others, to accept ambiguity
and endure contradictions, he wants certainty, he wants to know “the truth,” as if
there was only one truth, one relevant question: “Did Mélisande and Pelléas love
each other in a ‘forbidden’ way?” He cannot look at himself and see his graying hair,
his stage in life, and accept the offer of his father to find a wife that would solidify the
old order. As a child of modernity, he rejects the past, rejects his grandfather’s advice,
and finds Mélisande. But he cannot see Mélisande’s youth or pain, he can only see his
needs and Mélisande as a suitable object for the satisfaction of his needs. His reac-
tions return him to the role of the all-powerful patriarch without the traits of wisdom,
benevolence, or concern for others that the paternal role could also entail. Within
this point of view, Golaud could be seen as showing the negative side of modernity. It
is the dark side of Modernity that, facing the self with all its complexities and nuances
of darkness and light, closes its eyes and projects the evil outside of itself.107 Golaud
cannot accept the contradictions and uncertainties of the situation, and so reacts
with a sense of entitlement and without regard for the needs of others.
In Allemonde, the pervasive, melancholy air of the castle is accentuated — or
perhaps created — by the absence of the father. This absence of one capable of guid-
ing and protecting the family pervades the mood of the castle. Arkel, the king of Alle-
monde, is old and blind, his well no longer returning sight to the blind. Golaud, who
has the power and strength of the father, is so concerned with his own needs and
so blinded by his sense of entitlement that his power, rather than providing security
to the family, constitutes a greater threat to them than the starving peasants. There
is no equivalent force capable of counteracting his power, and so his destructiveness
is left unchecked. Mélisande, who in her own way could be seen more in the role of
the adversary than the harmless Pelléas, has been weakened by previous victimization
and can only maintain some sort of self-respect by losing her life rather than accept-
ing Golaud’s oppression.
The challenge of modernity, its invitation to accept the self with all its contra-
dictions, is also too much for the characters in the Bluebeard play. The suggestion that
isolation or enmeshment are the only avenues for relatedness places Judith and Blue-
beard’s interaction in a narrow narcissistic paradigm. Bluebeard opens his doors to Ju-
dith, perhaps needing her presence to face all the hiding places where less desirable
aspects of his soul are exposed. However, he only wants her to behave as a reflection
of his glorious, narcissistic self. He wants her to see the diamonds but to ignore the
blood. Judith’s task, then, is similar to the therapeutic dilemma of a therapist treating
a patient with a narcissistic disorder. In urging the patient to confront the aspects of
himself that he wants to ignore, without sensitivity to his fears, the therapist may
cause additional traumatization to the patient. In a treatment informed by an under-
standing of the psychology of the self,108 Bluebeard needed to experience Judith
(therapist) as a benevolent figure that could both see Bluebeard’s sufferings and
shortcomings as well as his strengths, and, through her own empathy and under-
standing, help Bluebeard develop compassion and empathy for those parts of himself
that terrified him. This process also would entail assisting him to remember and ex-
plore the life journey that had led him to accumulate his treasures, his weapons, and
create the suffering that he may have inflicted on himself or others. Judith, with her
own narcissistic vulnerabilities, was not up to the task. She failed to provide the vali-
dation that he needed. Instead of providing understanding and empathy for the parts
of Bluebeard’s soul that he wanted to ignore, but that he knew he needed to face, she
reacted to them with horror and disgust. How could she react otherwise? There is no
acknowledgment of the existence of her soul, and a castle of her own with hidden
chambers that also needed healing. The wounded healer could not heal the wounded
because she had no way of acknowledging and grieving her own pain.
In the context of the gender issues contained within Bluebeard and Pelléas et
Mélisande, it is helpful to consider Julia Kristeva’s identification of “abjection,”109
which she describes as the violent repudiation of that which threatens to detract from
the defined borders of the ego and the effort to be separate from the heterogeneous.
Kristeva suggests that which is excluded—the mother, the feminine. Benjamin’s theo-
retical formulations of human psychology support Kristeva’s position. Benjamin refers
to the pleasure in mutual recognition and reciprocal interaction between the baby
and the mother.110 She suggests that Western society’s overvaluation of work and re-
munerated productivity and undervaluation of work associated with child rearing and
home care creates an artificial dichotomy. It fosters the idealized image of man as an
autonomous, independent being, and allows men to deny their dependency on the
mother and reject any “commonality” that they may have with her. Women as care-
takers must renounce their own subjectivity (that they also have needs, ambitions,
and desires). Subjectivity is a male prerogative.111
This point of view adds another dimension to the death of Mélisande and Pelléas,
who was, after all, a man capable of affection and tenderness, and whose character
could conceivably be played by a woman, as discussed earlier. Tenderness, vulnerabil-
ity, and acknowledgment of dependency were excised from Allemonde by the stroke
of Golaud’s sword, and so was the hope for “new life” promised by the presence of
Melisande. Kristeva’s concept of abjection would seem to be most applicable also to
Bluebeard’s story. It clarifies Judith’s horror at the sight of blood and Bluebeard’s at-
tempts to gloss over its presence. The feminine is rejected, encased in the dark walls
of the castle. Bluebeard remains incomplete and alone.
Pelléas et Mélisande
Polarity of Characterizations: Human
Beings as Real-Life Individuals
and Instruments of Fate
hen one enters the Kingdom of Allemonde, one’s sense of time and space dis-
Wsolves. Allemonde acquires what Freud describes as the quality of the uncon-
scious, in which time and space no longer serve as measuring rods for the relationships
among people, objects, and events. For instance, when Mélisande refers to “long ago,”
we do not know whether she means ten years, a month, or other such measurement
of time. This creates a feeling of anxious uncertainty because, as biological beings, we
exist in a definite relation to our environment. But as psychological beings, the omni-
presence of our unconscious life, which is unrestrained by time and space, allows for
infinite wonderment or horror. The connection made between the unconscious and
Allemonde resonates with Maeterlinck’s notion of Fate. The power of the uncon-
scious to rule our lives may be perceived or expressed externally as Fate.
Ignacio Matte Blanco suggests that unconscious mental processes are governed
by symmetrical relationships, in which the whole and a part may belong to the same
set (e.g., a dog and its color may be substituted for each other in a dream), while in
conscious mental processes the concept of dog and the concept of white would be-
long to different sets and could not be interchanged for one another. In musical terms,
the diatonic scale would be more likely to be associated with the human realm and
consciousness because of the nonsymmetrical hierarchy of its components, that is,
each diatonic tone has a distinctive function within a larger diatonic mode, while
symmetrical pitch formations would be more likely to resonate with the realm of fate
and the unconscious because of the equalization of the individual components.1
The means by which Debussy transforms the harmonic materials of the tradi-
tional major-minor scale system into the new musical language of Pelléas et Mélisande
and the techniques by which he adapts this language to the expression of the psycho-
dramatic symbolism of the Maeterlinck play mark a significant development in the
relation between musical language and text. Within Debussy’s pioneering musical
conception, the various parameters of phrase construction, rhythm, texture, and in-
strumental timbre are inextricably connected to the role of pitch relations in reflect-
55
ing the dramatic symbology. In this regard, instrumental timbre often supports the
dramatic and psychological associations according to a sort of “leit-sound” concep-
tion (timbre associated with a particular dramatic event, mood, or character), which
is analogous to the notion of “leitmotif,” although not used in that capacity to the
same degree as the pitch-related materials. The mosaic construction of Debussy’s or-
chestral textures, based on pervasive phrasal repetition and the juxtaposition of con-
trasting instrumental timbres and figurations, is ideally suited to the realization of one
of the primary dramatic principles of the opera: polarity between individuals as real-
life beings and as instruments of fate. This principle and some of the basic musico-
dramatic polarities subsumed under it are outlined in table 4-1.
The intrusion of fate into the human realm is musically articulated by a distinc-
tive harmonic coloring for each of the individual textural planes. Although directed
motion in the musico-dramatic narrative seems to be produced simply by the plot in
and of itself, a sense of progression is induced on the local level by means of special
transformations from one type of pitch-set to another: diatonic to symmetrical, or vice
versa. Pitch-set transformation is essential for linking the otherwise separate mosaic-
like planes and layers and also for drawing them into the intricate web of symbolic as-
sociations. Immersed in the mood of fate, the introverted characters never seem to
struggle against the relentless force of their destinies, and so the music floats quietly
along much of the time in one or another pitch-set coloring. In particular, as part of
the denial of free will, in which the characters never reveal the full range of their emo-
tions, a static musical quality is produced primarily by the intervallic symmetry of cer-
tain types of pitch-sets (especially whole-tone) and the symmetrical harmonic sub-
collections derived from them. The “somewhat stable character” of a symmetrical
chord can be attributed to “its self-evident structure.”2
Although the opera is permeated by nonsymmetrical pitch collections (including
the traditional major and minor triads) as well as symmetrical ones, properties of the
former in the organic growth of the opera can generally be understood as having la-
tent symmetrical possibilities. That is to say, nonsymmetrical collections often emerge
in the course of a passage or scene as segments of larger symmetrical formations, as
in the case of a given nonsymmetrical three-note cell (say, B b – D– E), which might
be expanded into the dominant ninth chord (C–E–G – B b – D), French sixth chord
(B b – D– E– G #), or complete whole-tone scale (B b –C–D – E – F # – G #). The means by
which various nonsymmetrical pitch collections (both traditional and nontraditional)
are symmetrized in the opera constitute an important part of this study. In addition to
symbolizing the fatalistic side of the main dramatic polarity, that is, human beings as
instruments of fate as opposed to their status as real-life beings, nonfunctional sym-
metrical formations also contribute to the general atmospheric quietude that is often
elicited by the musical descriptions of wells (or fountains) and scenery,3 which are
themselves presented as symbolic manifestations.
Debussy’s aesthetic intentions are revealed in his conversation in October 1889,
with his Paris Conservatory professor Ernest Guiraud, as recalled by Maurice Em-
manuel.4 In expressing his opposition to the Wagnerian approach, Debussy propheti-
cally anticipated his discovery of the Maeterlinck play and the new aesthetic ap-
proach to mood and characterization: “I dream of texts which will not condemn me
to perpetrate long, heavy Acts, but will provide me, instead, changing scenes, varied
in place and mood, where the characters in the play do not argue, but submit to life
and fate.”5 Debussy’s static musical language, based on parallel seventh and ninth
chords, modal and whole-tone melodies and harmonies, and chromatic fragments
within his mosaic-like handling of the structure, provides an ideal medium for the ab-
sorption of worldly objects into the fatalistic realm. All these musical features are most
evident in the orchestra, the vocal line always unfolding in a quasi-recitative style
that is sensitive to the French language. The orchestra, which always carries the melo-
dic phrase, suggests emotion, while the vocal line, which often dwells on a single note,
expresses the characters’ intentions. This relation of voice and orchestra is one aspect
of the principle of polarity. As an essential manifestation of this principle, the voice-
orchestra relation may be viewed as an interweaving of “action” and “reflection,” in
which the music passes “from information to reflection, from the fact to the symbol. . . .
The vocal line frees itself from diction to gain its autonomy: the texture of the or-
chestra changes its meaning: from support it is transformed into sharing.”6
Except for the opera’s distinct subdivisions into acts and scenes, traditional op-
eratic clarity is sacrificed in that there is no notion of distinct recitatives and arias
within the local scenes. However, in spite of this structural ambiguity and Debussy’s
nonfunctional harmonic progressions, discrete musical substructures in the form of
local textural planes and layers may be discerned within each of the scenes in corre-
spondence with Maeterlinck’s otherwise clear dramatic framework. Furthermore,
while Debussy himself generally opposed the “Wagnerian formula”7 and repudiated
the blatant usage of leitmotifs in his own opera, in which he tells us that there is
no “guiding thread” and that “the characters are not subjected to the slavery of the
leitmotif,”8 the individual leitmotifs are usually assigned distinctive pitch-set color-
ings and tend to serve an articulative function in his formal substructures.9 In other
words, the leitmotif conception is integrally linked to the conception of pitch-sets
and their polarized interactions, both closely tied to the symbolic meaning of the
drama. The leitmotifs often serve as local culminating points for melodic/harmonic
interactions and shifts from one area to another in correspondence with the psycho-
logical and dramatic direction.10 Ultimately, however, these leitmotifs remain ex-
tremely supple and are never obtrusive. They appear more like “shadows” that ac-
company the characters.11 Debussy “wanted music to have a freedom that was per-
haps more inherent than in any other art, for it is not limited to a more or less exact
representation of nature, but rather to the mysterious affinity between Nature and the
Imagination.”12
In contrast to the more organic flow of the material in Wagner’s music dramas,
however, Debussy’s orchestral leitmotifs occur in separate phrasal and sectional planes.
Structuralization is achieved by means of frequently paired repetitions of the textural
planes, a feature also reflected in the characters’ frequent word repetitions, especially
Mélisande’s. Such repetitions result in a seemingly less-than-real character, one whose
emotional disconnection seems to indicate the effect of traumatic experience. Further-
more, each plane is defined by static harmonies derived either from the diatonic-modal
or whole-tone scales, depending on its relative position in the symbolic polarity be-
tween the human and fatalistic spheres. Debussy’s approach to the musical language
of Pelléas has been aptly contrasted with that of Tristan: “Whereas Wagner’s different
harmonic fields are momentary, within a constant flow of chromatic harmony, De-
bussy’s range far further, into modal, whole-tone, diatonic ‘white-note’, even octatonic
areas, creating — by the range of possibilities for the presentation of any one motif —
a language of extended flexibility with which to respond to Maeterlinck’s interplay of
themes and symbols.”13
The fundamental dramatic premise of polarity in the opera is manifested in two
dramatic concepts, one in which the individual characters are instruments of fate, the
other in which they are real human beings capable of love, hate, and jealousy. Not-
withstanding the contrasting musical aesthetics of Wagner and Debussy, the Maeter-
linck libretto is reminiscent of the Tristan plot. Golaud finds Mélisande lost in the for-
est, falls in love with her and marries her. Later, he becomes jealous of his half-brother
Pelléas, who has been meeting with Mélisande. Before killing Pelléas, Golaud drags
Mélisande by her hair from left to right and back and forth, the motion invoking the
image of the Cross. She forgives him—as Christ forgave us for our sins — just before
she dies at childbirth. Events seem preordained as the introverted characters move
without resistance toward their fate, a notion that is suggested by Maeterlinck’s own
philosophical questions: “Do I need to be told whether she whom I take in my arms
to-day is jealous or faithful, gay or sad, sincere or treacherous? Do you think that
these wretched words can attain the heights whereon our souls repose and where our
destiny fulfils itself in silence?”14
Musicians no longer know how to decompose sound, to give it in its pure state. In
Pelléas, the sixth violin is just as important as the first. I try to employ timbre in its
pure form; like Mozart, for example. We’ve learned too well to mix timbres; to throw
them into relief with shadows or masses of sound without letting them play with their
own meanings.30
Already, with Debussy, pure sonority had begun to acquire a structural role al-
most as prominent as that of the melodic and harmonic dimensions.31 Analogous to
the use of distinct melodic/rhythmic motifs, Debussy’s concern for the individuation
of pure instrumental sonorities also allows for symbolic association. In those places
where these timbres emerge from the general orchestral fabric as primary surface phe-
nomena, their symbolic associations can be identified with some consistency.32 As
outlined by Arthur B. Wenk, direct associations may be shown between the horn and
Golaud, trombone/tuba and violent death, trumpet and peaceful death, oboe/English
horn and Mélisande, harp and water, timpani and darkness. Extended associations
may be shown between horn and darkness/death, oboe and Mélisande’s sadness,
English horn and Mélisande’s pain/suffering, harp and water, renewal, freshness, or
change, timpani and impending disaster or death. Wenk also points to more super-
ficial uses of timbre, in which instrumental devices such as string tremolo, flautando,
sul ponticello, or harmonics serve to articulate certain structural points. Some of
these devices may have pictorial significance. For instance, the use of sharp pizzicato
may represent sharp objects such as the bristles of Golaud’s beard (in act 3), the point
of Golaud’s sword (in act 4), or a moment of sudden comprehension as when
Mélisande is distracted by something in the water (in act 2), and so on. We also may
cite the descending harp arpeggiation when Mélisande drops her ring into the well (in
act 2). Wenk also points to other sonic categories that Debussy uses for pictorializa-
tion, including spacing, registration, and dynamics.
On this mosaic structural foundation (based on motivic, harmonic, phrasal, and
timbral planes and layers), special relationships are established from the beginning
of the opera between the contrasting diatonic and whole-tone sets that reflect the
fundamental interactions between the polarized dramatic spheres. From the outset,
pentatonic/diatonic collections are identified with those motivic figures that come to
represent the natural or human sphere, whole-tone collections becoming identified
with the “Fate” motif. In the Prelude, the two whole-tone collections are generated
from the whole-step components of the pentatonic scale in connection with the sym-
bolic meaning of the drama, that is, the gradual permeation and transformation of the
natural or human realm by “Fate.” The opening “Forest” motif, which is based exclu-
sively on a D pentatonic collection, D – E – G – A – C, polarizes two of the pentatonic
whole-steps, C – D and G–A, registrally. This motif is immediately absorbed and
transformed by “Fate” (ex. 4-1) as the lower pentatonic whole-step, C – D, moves lin-
early to A b (m. 5) to draw this whole-step into the whole-tone sphere (A b – C– D).
This foreshadows the subsequent transformation (ex. 4-2, a and b) of the diatonic
“Awakening Desire” motif, A–C–D (in act 2, p. 77, m. 4ff., oboe), into the linearly
implied whole-tone form, A b –C–D (p. 86, m. 2), as Mélisande refers to fate, “It’s
something stronger than myself.”
In the Prelude (m. 5), the pentatonic C–D is also reinterpreted harmonically as
the axis of the larger symmetrical French sixth chord, A b –C–D–F # (see ex. 4-1),33
Très modéré
4
4
(G–A)
4
4 (C–D)
(French-
Aug.-6th
with axis C–D)
example 4-1. Prelude, p. 1, mm. 1–6, pentatonic “Forest” and whole-tone “Fate” motifs
Go.
43
- nai - re?
- won - ted.
43
43
b. intervallic
mutation
x. 4-3b: 64
64
B
–dominant-ninth collection (B
–D–F–A
–C) in larger F-Dorian mode
(F–G–A
–B
–C–D–[ ]), containing whole-tone motif, A
–C–D
example 4-2. Transformation of (a) the diatonic “Awakening Desire” motif, A–C–D
(in act 2, p. 77, m. 4ff., oboe), into (b) the linearly implied whole-tone form, A b–C–D
(p. 86, m. 2)
dominant-ninth
C–E–G–B
–D (= G / B
–C–D–E)
example 4-3. “Well” motif (p. 55, m. 10), whole-tone tetrachordal substructure,
B b–C–D-E, of the C-dominant-ninth chord (C–E–G–B b–D) in oboes and clarinets.
Moins lent Golaud
Je ne pour - rai plus sor - tir de cet - te fo -
Am I ne - ver then to leave this for - est a -
WT-1: E –F–G–A–C –D
axis of symmetry
G–A
example 4-4. Golaud’s entrance into the forest (p. 3, mm. 1–2), upper pentatonic
whole-step, G–A, from opening “Forest” theme drawn into whole-tone-1 sphere as
axis of symmetry (in initial ascending triplet ordering)
It would seem that women are more largely swayed by destiny than ourselves. They
submit to its decrees with far more simplicity; nor is there sincerity in the resistance
they offer. They are still nearer to God, and yield themselves with less reserve to the
pure workings of the mystery. And therefore is it, doubtless, that all the incidents in
our life in which they take part seem to bring us nearer to what might almost be the
very fountainhead of destiny. . . . They lead us close to the gates of our being.36
The basic musical premises for this symbolic connection are established from
the outset. Following the initial juxtaposition of the pentatonic “Forest” motif and the
whole-tone “Fate” motif as the basis of the opening phrasal framework, Mélisande’s
main motif emerges in connection with a new pentatonic segment (see p. 1, mm. 14 –
15, oboe), in enharmonic spelling, A b –B b –C #, which suggests the tritone transposi-
tion of the opening pentatonic “Forest” motif (D – E – G – A –C). In a context based
on increased figural activity, this passage draws the human element more intensively
into the fatalistic realm by means of simultaneous transformation of this pentatonic
construction (A b – B b – C #) into the whole-tone set (ex. 4-5). The harmony of the
accompanying strings forms the French sixth chord, B b –D – E – A b, which is a whole-
tone transposition above the original one, A b –C–D–F # (m. 5). The specific har-
monic position of the chord, as it unfolds in the thirty-second-note figuration (A b –
B b –D– E), produces a whole-tone expansion of the “Mélisande” motif (A b – B b – C #
to A b –B b – D) in the three lower notes. The larger, symmetrical French sixth chord
(A b – B b – D– E) can be interpreted as a joining of the latter whole-tone segment (A b –
B b –D) with its inversion (B b –D–E), both occurring throughout the opera. This in-
trusion of “Fate” on “Mélisande” produces a single pungent dissonance between the
pentatonic C # and whole-tone D.
This whole-tone transformation of the pentatonic “Mélisande” theme is con-
firmed later, in the first Interlude (p. 24, m. 3), in which the motif itself is expanded in
each of the two parallel lines to F # –A b –C and D–E–A b, respectively, and drawn ex-
clusively into the complete WT-0 collection as Golaud and Mélisande exit together.
Thus, all the themes that have been presented to this point are drawn into the atmos-
phere of the forest and fatalistic realms through a progressive integration of the con-
trasting pentatonic and whole-tone sets in a growing continuum of thematic and tex-
tural planes. Segments common to both sets are the basic links between these planes.
doux et expressif
example 4-5. Whole-tone transformation, A b–B b–D–E, of the pentatonic “Mélisande”
theme, A b–B b–C # (p. 1, mm. 14–15)
The moment Golaud enters the forest, the authority of the gray-bearded prince who
controls a kingdom of beggars and starving people, and the strength of the hunter
who has just lost his way and the trail of his wounded prey, are brought into question
by the ensuing events. The music itself seems to invoke the question and to reflect
the conditions that surround the princely figure whose powerful physical appearance
belies an emotional dependence on the helpless creature he is about to encounter. Im-
mediately following the Prelude, the musico-dramatic action begins with an ascend-
ing statement of the WT-1 cycle, E b –F–G –A–C b –D b (p. 3, m. 1), which is symmet-
rical around one of the original pentatonic dyads, G – A, and defined both
harmonically and vocally by an interval-4 chord (D b –F– A). This sudden appearance
of the WT-1 cycle, which produces a shift away from the prominence of WT-0 in the
Prelude, reflects Golaud’s concern as he becomes lost while hunting that he “shall
never get out of this forest.” Because this WT-1 passage follows the Prelude’s recapitu-
lation of the diatonic “Forest” motif directly, it establishes itself as the structural
replacement of the original WT-0 collection as the basis for the “Fate” motif (see
p. 1, m. 5). In connection with the fatalistic implication of Golaud’s question, this re-
placement function of the complementary whole-tone cycle (WT-1) is supported by
the triplet “Fate” rhythm in both voice and orchestra. The proportional relation of the
initial statement of the “Fate” motif (at mm. 5– 6) to the “Forest” motif (mm. 1 – 4)
at a ratio of 2:1 (as mentioned earlier) is altered now, as the triplet rhythm of “Fate”
extends the WT-1 figuration at Golaud’s entry into the forest to four and one-half
measures (more than twice its original length). This extension complements the last
statement of the “Forest” motif to produce a sense of increasing engrossment in the
highly static mood of the whole-tone sphere.
From the music, we sense that the snares of destiny are already set from the mo-
ment the curtain rises and Golaud enters the forest. Golaud’s vacillations between
statements of certainty and uncertainty are reflected in orchestral alternations be-
tween segments of the two whole-tone scales. A momentary return to a segment of
the original WT-0 collection (C–B b –A b –G b) in the orchestra (p. 3, mm. 6 – 7) is
directly associated with Golaud’s greater certainty, “Yet I thought I had given it a mor-
tal wound, and here are traces of blood.” The adjacency of these alternating whole-
tone segments produces diatonic intersections, the first in B b minor (p. 3, mm. 5 – 6).
These orchestral alternations also induce a shift from the initial whole-tone chord
(D b –F– A) of this passage to a series of diatonic triads, and the voice moves to a dia-
tonic fourth, F-B b (p. 3, mm. 4–5). As Golaud has lost sight of the boar, the whole-
tone collections cease to alternate and they become equally fused in a diatonicized
form of the “Fate” motif (p. 4, m. 4). In correspondence with Golaud’s realization that
he is lost and must retrace his steps, this diatonicized form of the motif, which is pre-
cisely that of its second occurrence in the Prelude (see p. 1, m. 12ff.) to the point that
it even includes the original G–A dyad as the upper diatonic whole-step, retraces its
steps to the original WT-0 form of the motif (compare p. 4, m. 8, with p. 1, m. 5). The
latter is correspondingly supported by the original whole-tone axis (C–D) in the voice
as part of the complete WT-0 collection in the harmony. This cadential motivic ar-
ticulation rounds out what may be considered the first main subsection of this scene.
Thus, the return to—and structural prominence of—the original whole-tone (WT-0)
form of the “Fate” motif, together with Golaud’s premonitory questions, have prepared
us for the first fateful event of the opera: Golaud’s encounter with Mélisande.
The Prelude also establishes another relationship between diatonic and whole-
tone spheres that will play an increasingly significant role in the musico-dramatic
interactions of the opera. Within the half-diminished seventh chord (F – A b – C b – E b)
of Mélisande’s linearly stated “Naïveté” motif (see p. 2, m. 1), her transposed penta-
tonic motif (E b –F–A b) is implicitly interlocked with an intervallically expanded form
(C b – E b – F), which suggests the larger, symmetrical whole-tone sphere of “Fate.” As
Golaud becomes enamoured of Mélisande (p. 7, mm. 1-2), “Oh, you are beautiful!”
his vocal line outlines a form of her original half-diminished seventh construction (in
root position, G # – B – D–F #). The specific registral position of the notes of this
melodic construction (D–F # –G # –B) reveals an overlapping of whole-tone and pen-
tatonic segments (D – F # –G # and F # –G # –B). The significance of this hybrid (penta-
tonic/whole-tone) statement is revealed by the accompanying “Love” motif of Go-
laud, based on the “Fate” rhythm, the strings evoking the sense of Golaud’s stirred
feelings for the distraught girl. Because the emotions are essential in controlling
human actions, we may assert that they are a primary mover of fate, as emotions are,
for the most part, an unconscious force. It is evident that the half-diminished seventh
outline of Golaud’s vocal line (D–F # –G # –B) represents a partial whole-tone trans-
formation of — that is, fatalistic intrusion into—the purely pentatonic form (F # – G # –
B – C #) of the “Love” motif in the uppermost violin line of the orchestral accompani-
ment. Ultimately, in this phrase, both the half-diminished seventh and pentatonic
constructions belong to the larger E mixolydian mode (E – F # – G # – A – B – C # – D) ex-
clusively, that is, they are subcollections of the diatonic sphere, which serves as point
of departure for whole-tone transformation associated with the awakening of Go-
laud’s passion for the mysterious girl.
The subtle changes of color and shade that elicit the atmospheric nuances in a
French Impressionist painting are often induced by the slightest intrusion of a single,
contrasting hue. Like the enhancement of a given color by means of juxtaposition
with its complementary color, the juxtaposition of specific details in the musical score
also invokes mood change. Analogous to principles in painting, the larger musical
context within which the smaller details interact is essential in establishing the spe-
cific quality of the mood change. In other words, the expressive meaning of a partic-
ular note depends entirely on the larger harmonic context within which it is set. At
the same time, conversely, the harmonic quality is affected by the local microscopic
juxtapositions, in which a single alteration of the local content can produce a radical
transformation of the harmonic palette, say, from pentatonic to whole-tone, or vice
versa. At the awakening of Golaud’s passion (p. 7, mm. 1 – 2), notes C # and D repre-
sent the only pitch-class difference between the opposing sets — pentatonic (F # – G # –
B – [C #]) and hybrid half-diminished seventh/whole-tone (F # – G # – B – [D]) construc-
tions (the latter implying the presence of the WT-0 segment, D – F # – G #). This recalls
the “dissonant” function of these two notes (C # and D) in the Prelude (see p. 1, m.
14f.), in which “Mélisande’s” oboe motif (A b –B b –C #) had come into conflict with the
figuration (A b – B b – D–E) in the bassoons, English horn, and strings to produce the
same dissonance (C # vs. D) by the simultaneous statement of the whole-tone and
pentatonic spheres. However, at Golaud’s “Love” motif, the dissonance is somewhat
subdued by the absorption of both notes into the more homogeneous string texture.
This softening of the dissonance seems more appropriate to this more tender mood.
The half-diminished seventh construction (G # –B–D–F #) of Golaud’s vocal line (see
p. 7, mm. 1– 2) is expanded into the larger dominant ninth chord, E – G # – B– D – F #
(cadential chord of the orchestral “Love” motif ), by the addition of one note, E. Fur-
thermore, the entire harmonic progression that supports this statement of the “Love”
motif is based on alternation of the E–dominant ninth or half-diminished seventh
construction ([E] – G # –B–D–F #) and pentatonic variant (C # – [E] – G # – B) of the up-
permost violin line ([F #]–G # –B–C #). Both the half-diminished seventh chord and the
dominant ninth, which appeared originally on D (see p. 2, mm. 3 – 4) as an expanded
melodic variant of the half-diminished seventh “Naïvete” motif, serve throughout the
opera as prominent hybrid constructions in transformations between the naturalistic
(diatonic) and fatalistic (whole-tone) realms. Thus, the dramatic mood changes are
induced by minimal changes of local pitch details, elucidated by timbral identifica-
tions and associations.
inant ninth) chord throughout the opera, is employed primarily for its sonic quality
and leitmotivic possibilities. However, at those less common occurrences in which the
chord of the dominant does serve a harmonic function as part of a perfect cadence, it
seems to symbolize personal closeness. At the cadence of Golaud’s “Love” motif (p. 7,
m. 2), the unresolved E dominant ninth is associated with Mélisande’s resistance to
personal contact, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, or I’ll throw myself in the water.”
In the preceding passage (p. 5, mm. 8–10), when Golaud tells us that she cannot hear
him yet, nor can he see her face, a dominant ninth harmony (G – B – D– F– A) is pro-
longed. It resolves to the C tonic in the “Forest” motif as he approaches her and
touches her shoulder.37 In act 1, scene 2 (p. 28, mm. 9– 10), when Geneviève reads
Golaud’s letter, which expresses uncertainty regarding Arkel’s willingness to receive
his new bride, “If, however, he agrees to welcome her as he would welcome his own
daughter,” the C dominant ninth harmonization (C–E – G– B b – D) of the “Méli-
sande” motif resolves to the F major tonic with added sixth (F – A – C– D) on “would
welcome.” Later in this scene, when Arkel asks Pelléas to come nearer so he may see
him where it is lighter (p. 34, mm. 9–14), the C dominant seventh chord resolves to
the F major tonic.
Maeterlinck’s portrayal of a relentless force against which human beings are power-
less is apparent in both the dialogue and the music at the initial encounter of Golaud
and Mélisande. Their interaction leads her to ask him (p. 17) why he has come here,
the deeper meaning suggested by his response that he does not know himself. He “was
hunting in the forest, chasing a wild boar.” In other words, Golaud is driven by an un-
known force more powerful than himself. The boar itself seems to serve as a kind of
symbol of Mélisande in that they are both running away from predators. They are
both wounded, Mélisande by psychological trauma, and the wounding of the boar by
Golaud portends the final wounding of Mélisande. Conversely, both the boar and
Mélisande are potential threats to Golaud. Accordingly, Mélisande’s vocal statement
linearly interlocks an inverted transposition of her pentatonic pitch-cell (E b – G b – A b)
with the whole-tone “Fate” cell (D–G b –A b) at the basic pitch level (tonic) of the
opera. The orchestra answers, then, with the “Fate” motif (p. 17, m. 3), in exactly the
same woodwind scoring as the original occurrence of the motif in the Prelude (p. 1,
mm. 5 – 6). In the present passage, the meaning of Golaud’s words, which refer back
to losing his way while hunting, is reflected by the increasingly unstable harmonic
fluctuations between dominant seventh/half-diminished and whole-tone chords (p. 17,
m. 3). Therefore, both whole-tone collections are mixed in these diatonic and whole-
tone alternations in support of the ambiguous text.
Très large
6
Go.
4
Je suis le prin - ce Go - laud le pe - tit
Go - laud, Prince Go - laud, am I, and of Ar -
6
4
6
4
dominant-ninth sequence
Go.
fils d’Ar - kel le vieux roi d’Al - le - mon - de . . .
kel, old king of Al - monde, I’m the grand - son.
dim.
m.d.
partitioning of the B b dominant ninth chord (B b –D–F–A b – C) exposes the first lin-
ear segment (first bassoon) based on the whole-tone components, A b – B b – C– D, of
the latter.
Transformation from diatonic (human) to whole-tone (fatalistic) spheres begins
most prominently when Mélisande, weeping (pp. 12 –14), has just dropped her shin-
ing crown into the pond. As Golaud offers to retrieve it for her, she threatens suicide:
“No, no, I don’t want it. I don’t want it anymore. I would rather die — die here and
now. . . . I don’t want it. If you recover it, I shall throw myself in instead.” This por-
tends the events that will lead to her death. These ominous events include especially
the loss of her ring in the well, her seduction of Pelléas when her hair unfolds from the
tower at night, the discovery of their meetings by Golaud, and the setting of the sun
in the sea as an indication of the coming of winter when Mélisande is on her
deathbed.38 Her death is the inevitable outcome of her unconscious actions based on
her motivation to be free from her marital bond to Golaud. Thus, it seems she is never
really free from Golaud in life, and that the more pervasively she is under the control
of her unconscious, the less one sees her marriage to Golaud or her love for Pelléas as
“a matter of free choice, as is shown subjectively in the fatal compulsion [she] feels so
acutely when [she] is in love [with Pelléas]. The compulsion can exist even when
[she] is not in love, though in less agreeable form.”39
Musically, this moment at the pond (p. 12, mm. 5– 9) is symbolized by the first
recurrence of the same whole-tone scale (G–A –B –C # – D # – E #) that accompanied
Golaud’s entry into the forest. The somewhat urgent sonority of the muted-horn fig-
ure at Golaud’s first notice of the shining crown at the bottom of the pond (p. 11, m.
5) is replaced (p. 14, m. 3) by the lighter rendition of this figure in the flutes and clar-
inets (both passages symbolized by the same glittering key of C major) as Golaud’s in-
sistence on retrieving the crown begins to weaken. Subdued by Mélisande’s threat,
Golaud is rendered helpless, a condition that is indicative throughout much of the
opera of the emotional control that the woman can project over the man. This static
affect of Golaud’s powerless response is supported by the sonic context. The whole-
step (G – A), which formed the axis of symmetry of Golaud’s whole-tone (“Fate”)
scale, and that will be associated with virtually every appearance of Golaud through-
out the opera, now moves to a primary position in the scale as its two lowest notes
(p. 12, m. 5ff.). The association of this dyad with Golaud’s original entry into the
forest (see ex. 4-4) is further supported by the harmony at Mélisande’s declaration
that she would rather die (p. 12, m. 8); above the G– A tremolo (downbeat), both
orchestra and voice present the same augmented triad (C # – F– A, or D b – F– A) of
Golaud’s original vocal statement and underlying orchestral chord reiterated above
the G– A axis of the ascending triplets. It appears, then (p. 13, mm. 7 – 8), in enhar-
monic spelling (A – Fx), as both the boundary and axis of symmetry of the WT-1 scale
(A – B– C # – D # – E # – Fx/A–B–C # –D # –E # –Fx). Thus, the music suggests that Méli-
sande’s fate, which has freed her from Duke Bluebeard, will soon bind her to Prince
Golaud. Debussy’s intentions were to deal more with feelings than with actions,40
prominently with the feeling of fear and the air of mystery.41 One of the rhythmic pat-
terns identified with fear is a repeated-note triplet figure in the vocal part when, for
instance, Mélisande becomes terrified by Golaud’s offer to retrieve her crown from
the pond. The woman’s association of the crown with death is more explicitly realized
at the end of Bartók’s opera, when Judith grows “numb with death” as she is crowned
by Bluebeard.42 The man’s disregard for the woman’s emotional response to the crown
appears to contribute to her extreme sense of isolation and her treatment as idealized
object, which lead to her ultimate destiny.
A kind of word-painting is also evident in this and other sections in the handling
of orchestration and registral placement of instrumental sonority in connection with
the physical position of objects. For instance, as Golaud refers to Mélisande’s crown
at the bottom of the well (p. 13, mm. 3–6 and p. 13, m. 11ff.), the orchestration, com-
prising low strings and bassoons, is maintained exclusively below middle C. The same
orchestration and registral placement can also be observed at similar dramatic mo-
ments throughout the opera. This occurs in passages of the underground “Vault”
scene (act 3, scene 2) and in the scene in which Golaud, lying in bed wounded (act
2, scene 2, p. 77, mm. 2–3), describes how he had become trapped under his horse.
At Pelléas’s description of the darkness of the grotto (act 2, scene 3, p. 105, mm. 5–7),
a fuller orchestration is used (strings and bassoons in oscillating or tremolo figuration,
and tuba), but all are maintained below middle C.
Pelléas there is affection and love, but Love is not to be welcomed, for it can only en-
compass disaster, leaving Death even more firmly ensconced as the arbiter of Man’s
destiny.”45 A statement of “Mélisande’s” motif (p. 18, mm. 2 – 3), which is immedi-
ately followed by the relentlessly pulsating syncopation and other elements of the
“Fate” rhythm, articulates the beginning of another subsection, in which it reflects the
preceding ambiguous mixture of the two alternating whole-tone collections and hy-
brid diatonic (dominant seventh and half-diminished seventh) chords. As Golaud ob-
serves Mélisande and questions her about herself, “You look very young. How old are
you?” the upper line of the strings, which play her motif (B – C # – E), and her vocal line
(G # –A – B – D) together outline the (diatonic) B Dorian mode (B – C # –D–E–[ ]–
G # –A) exclusively. While the initial harmony of her motif forms the E- dominant
ninth chord (E – G # – B –D–F #), which is derived from this mode, the cadential har-
mony alters it to form a hybrid diatonic/whole-tone construction (E – G # – B – D # – F).
At the same time, while the upper harmonic segment (B – D # – F) forms an inverted
WT-1 transformation of her motif, the two remaining notes of the chord (E – G #)
imply the other, complementary WT-0 collection (the intervening chord, F – A – C #,
is exclusively whole-tone). This pitch-set trend regarding transformation toward the
whole-tone sphere (in the ensuing passage, which is weighted more toward WT-0
more often associated with Mélisande or Pelléas than Golaud) appears to be con-
nected with Mélisande’s increasingly evident role as an instrument of fate, that is, by
means of her emotional state, which seems to cast a certain power over Golaud.
The whole-tone harmonic infusion into Mélisande’s linear diatonic context also
anticipates the symbolism of her death inherent in her comment, “I’m beginning to
feel cold.” The fatalistic implication of this reference to “cold” — that is, as cold as
fate—is borne out in act 2, scene 1 (p. 57), in which Pelléas, meeting with Melisande
at the well, describes the water as being “as cool as winter.” The loss of her wedding
ring in the well begins the sequence of events that will inevitably lead to their de-
mise.46 This fatalistic implication is also borne out when Mélisande, on her deathbed,
will refer to the coming of winter (near the end of the opera). The significance of Pel-
léas’s words may also be inferred from Maeterlinck’s own explicit reference to “the icy
hand of destiny.”47 At the present reference (p. 18, m. 4f.), Mélisande’s vocal line in-
fuses her inverted diatonic motif (D # –F # –G #) with the expanded whole-tone form,
D–F # –G #. Under her cadential (diatonic) D #, the linear motivic form (D # – F # – G #) is
closed off, then, by its vertical projection. The entire scene ends (p. 22) with the
“Fate” motif, as Golaud and Mélisande leave together. The first orchestral Interlude
(forty-seven measures) intensifies the material of the Prelude through the simultane-
ous use of the “Forest” and “Fate” motifs.
better than I do. Perhaps nothing ever occurs that is useless.” In correspondence with
the dramatic trend of this subsection, the music moves from pervasive occurrences of
half-diminished seventh and dominant ninth chords (with occasional intrusions of
whole-tone segments) to a pure and complete occurrence of the whole-tone (WT-0)
collection. The latter, which coincides with the rhythm of the suggested “Fate” motif
(p. 32, m. 9, beat 4, through m. 11, beat 2), contributes to the cadential articulation
of this subsection.
The emergence of the whole-tone “Fate” configuration at the cadence is empha-
sized by its contrast with the preceding passages of this subsection. The pure recita-
tive style is supported, during the first two-thirds of the reading of Golaud’s letter
(p. 26, m. 1 to p. 28, m. 8), almost entirely by sustained chords in a diatonic context
based on functional tonality. The remainder (to p. 29, m. 7) is articulated by two
statements of “Mélisande’s” motif, supported by a less stable, nonfunctional series of
seventh and ninth chords. As the letter is read, whole-tone elements also intrude
gradually into the harmonic and melodic dimensions. The first part is subdivided into
two large halves, each half also exhibiting a binary construction.48 The pairs (or
groups) of phrases within each part (A and B) are defined by analogous harmonic pro-
gressions, first (part A) in C major (I –V65, I–V65), then (part B) in A minor (i – V–
VI7, i–V–VI7 – iv7), the latter extended by the whole-tone harmony, A b – G b – C– E
(p. 27, m. 2). Parts A’ and B’ parallel this harmonic/tonal scheme, but with significant
local modifications. The initial C major tonic triad in part A is replaced by a whole-
step (C – D) in part A’, the next chord (V65: B – D – F – G) modified in A’ first by the
omission of the original vocal G, then by the addition of A to form a vii7 chord (B–D–
F–A) at the cadence of part A’. These changes imply the increasing presence of the
whole-tone sphere, the latter now containing the whole-tone cell, B–[ ]–F–A. In cor-
respondence with the increasing symbolic gesture implied in the reading of Golaud’s
letter, we may consider the distinction between the narrative role and the symbolic
significance of objects as well.49 For instance, the lamp, as referred to by Golaud in his
letter to Pelléas (read by Geneviève in act 1, scene 2), is an object that seems to re-
quire no symbolic interpretation, as the lighted lamp is simply used as a signal to wel-
come Golaud and his new bride. At Geneviève’s request (in the last line of the scene)
that Pelléas be sure to “light the lamp this evening,” this object acquires symbolic sig-
nificance, since her statement evokes the polarity of light versus dark. Thus, the
meaning of the object, as observed by Richard Langham Smith, is transformed with
the move “to a different plane of expression, where Beaunier’s ‘direct expression’ re-
cedes, and a symbolic framework begins to make itself apparent.”
The progression in part B’ is extended (p. 28, mm. 7 –8) by a modulation down
a whole-step from A minor to G minor (V–i), the latter moving, then, to the C dom-
inant ninth chord (C –E–G –B b –D) as the basis of the first statement of “Méli-
sande’s” motif. The whole-tone (WT-0) significance of this chord (i.e., B b –C–D–E,
the G initially isolated in the voice), which is exactly the same one that underlies the
“well” motif in act 2, scene 1 (see ex. 4-3, p. 55, m. 10), will be manifested fully in
the course of that scene. The series of tonally unrelated ninth and seventh chords
(p. 29, mm. 1 –3), the parallel fifths in the bass outlining both whole-tone scales (E –
D–[C #] – C – B b – G # and B–A –[G #] –G –F–[ ]), lead to the second statement of
“Mélisande’s” motif a half-step higher, on the C # dominant ninth chord, C # – E # – G # –
“Pelléas” Motif
Often, dramatic events of the opera seem to reveal a special relevance to the broader
philosophical thought of the playwright. The very first appearance of Pelléas may be
interpreted as such an event, its symbolic meaning suggested by his tearful emo-
tional state and the circumstances that have induced it. Not only has he learned
that his friend is going to die but also that the latter has a foreknowledge of exactly
when his death will occur. In retrospect of other prophetic statements in the opera,
we may assume that it is Pelléas’s own death that is forecast, symbolically, at his first
appearance. Pelléas quotes his own father’s premonitory statement (in act 4, scene 1,
pp. 191 – 192), as the latter himself was recovering from an illness: “‘Is that you, Pel-
léas? Why, I’d never noticed it before, but you have the serious, friendly expression of
people who haven’t long to live. You must go on your travels; you must go away.’”
These statements are a parallel to those made by Arkel at Pelléas’s very first appear-
ance (p. 34, mm. 9ff.): “Is that you, Pelléas? Come a little closer so that I can see you
in the light,” at which point Pelléas requests leave, that is, to “make a voyage,” to visit
his dying friend, a visit which Arkel opposes. Such a premonition of death is expressed
by Maeterlinck, in his essay on “The Pre-Destined,” which provides some insight into
these events associated with the character and symbolism of Pelléas:
For it was thus that my brother died. And though he alone had heard the warning
whisper, be it ever so unconsciously—for from his earliest days he had concealed the
message of disease within him—yet surely had the knowledge of what was to come
been borne in upon us also. What are the signs that set apart the creatures for whom
dire events lie in wait? Nothing is visible, and yet all is revealed. They are afraid of
us, for that we are ever crying out to them of our knowledge, struggle against it as we
may; and when we are with them, they can see that, in our hearts, we are oppressed
by their destiny.50
Although Maeterlinck believes that “we diminish a thing as soon as we try to ex-
press it in words,”51 such textual parallels as the foregoing are essential in establishing
the symbolic significance of an event or character. Nevertheless, it is the nonverbal
musical details that can provide insight into thoughts and feelings more directly than
any evocation of the opera’s most explicit parallel dramatic events and statements, or
any of Maeterlinck’s other poetic creations are able to. The musical context deepens
our perception of the symbolic message. Although the musical trend is once again
from the diatonic to whole-tone sphere, the means by which the musical fabric un-
folds is often specific to a given dramatic event. Pelléas’s entry into the room (ex. 4-8)
may be interpreted as a symbolic answer to Geneviève’s question (p. 33, m. 9), “What
are we going to do?” Pelléas’s diatonic (A–major) theme, which is played by the
flutes,52 is harmonized mostly by two half-diminished seventh chords, G # – B– D – F #
and F # – A – C– E, which together yield an impure form of the F # Aeolian mode (F # –
G # –A–B–[C]–D–E–F #) that reveals five notes of WT-0 (G # –F # –E–D–C) when ro-
tated to begin on A (A–B/C–D–E–F # –G #). The whole-tone components (D, F #, and
G #) of the initial half-diminished seventh chord (G # –B–D–F #) are confirmed imme-
diately as such by the orchestral extension of its boundary interval (the ostinato dyad,
F # –G #) to the five notes of WT-0 outlined earlier (i.e., the whole-tone partition gen-
erally associated with Pelléas and Mélisande, in contrast with the WT-1 collection of
Golaud), as Arkel asks, “Who’s that coming in?” Arkel’s vocal part itself is based ex-
clusively on a WT-0 transposition of the basic “Fate” cell, C–E–F #, Geneviève’s an-
swer, “‘It’s Pelléas,” exclusively on the pentatonic form (A–B–D) of Pelléas’s leitmotif
(B–C # –A–D–A). These prominent occurrences of the whole-tone cell, on C, and
Pelléas’s pentatonic cell, on A, are local projections of the main keys of Geneviève’s
letter-reading, in C major and A minor, the former key transformed here into WT-0.
As Arkel and Geneviève puzzle over what they might do about Golaud’s rejec-
tion of his arranged marriage to Princess Ursula and his request that they accept
Mélisande, Pelléas’s motif is based on the rhythm of “Fate.” Arkel has been talking
about never going against fate (p. 32). At this initial appearance of Pelléas, the two
accompanying half-diminished seventh chords, G # –B–D – F # and F # – A – C– E, each
interlock a perfect fifth (originally associated with the diatonic set) with a tritone,
originally associated with the whole-tone set (see the opening of the Prelude).
These intervallic associations were already established in the opening “Forest”
and “Fate” motifs, their harmonic interrelations here suggesting the seeds for trans-
Entre Pelléas
Animez
3
un peu Enter Pelleas
4
Ge.
3
4
m.g. m.g.
43
WT-0 bass
Ge.
C’est Pel - lé - as.
’Tis Pel - le - as.
Arkel
Qui est - ce qui en - tre là?
Who has come in - to the room?
example 4-8. Entry of Pelléas (p. 33, mm. 9–12 to p. 34, mm. 1–4), accompanying
half-diminished-seventh chords to his diatonic (A-major) theme transformed into
WT-0 (G #–F #–E–D–C) at Arkel’s question and Geneviève’s answer
analogously as a common link to the whole-tone sphere (see ex. 4-8, p. 34, mm. 1 –
4), so Pelléas seems to symbolize a nonverbal answer to the querries of Arkel and
Geneviève.
This symbolic role of Pelléas is borne out in act 2 (p. 55 ff.), scenes 1 and 2, in
which his pentatonic motif (A–C–D) is transformed into the whole-tone “Fate” cell
(A b –C– D) in correspondence with the dramatic reference (See ex. 4-2b). The act
opens with a diatonic transposition of the motif (C # –E–F #), as Pelléas and Mélisande
meet at the well in the park. The whole-tone form first appears as the “Awakening
Desire” motif (ex. 4-9, p. 62, m. 3), as Pelléas warns Mélisande not to toss her ring
about, “Take care! Take care! Mélisande.” The diatonic form emerges in act 2, scene 2
(See ex. 4.2a, p. 77, m. 4, and p. 81, m. 1), as Mélisande tends to the wounds of Go-
laud, who has fallen from his horse. In the course of their interaction, Mélisande be-
gins to weep (p. 82, mm. 1–3). At this point, her motivic rhythm is set to the inter-
vallic structure of Pelléas’s transposed motif, E b –G b –A b, which is a literal inversion
of her own motif (A b – B b –C #). When Golaud asks (p. 85) if it is Pelléas who has done
her harm, she responds with an implied reference to fate, “It isn’t anybody. You couldn’t
understand me. It’s something stronger than myself.” Correspondingly, the original
contour of the “Pelléas” motif, which is set in the “Fate” rhythm, appears in its whole-
tone transformation (A b –C–D). Against the latter, the harmony unfolds several di-
atonic forms of the “Pelléas” motif: F–A b –B b, D–F–G, and its inversion C – D– F.
This dramatic moment is yet another parallel to Pelléas’s initial appearance, at which
Arkel asks if it is Pelléas, or the parallel in act 4, based on Pelléas’s reference to the same
question by his father. In all these cases, Pelléas is not easily seen or he is outside of
the light. And in these cases, death is either imminent or is the source of weeping.
En animant
P.
Pre - nez gar - de! pre - nez gar - de!
Do be care - ful On, be care - ful!
example 4-9. Whole-tone form of “Pelléas” motif first appearing as the “Awakening
Desire” motif (p. 62, m. 3)
The symbolism of light and dark that emerges from the descriptive dialogue of
this scene evokes powerful associations to life and death, conscious and unconscious,
real-life world and realm of fate. The garden is dark, the forest so thick it blocks the
sun, and the sea light, yet gloomy. Mélisande’s observation (p. 40, mm. 1 – 2) of “those
forests all round the palace!” foreshadows the later reference to the castle and its dark
underground vaults with stagnant water and stench of death (p. 144), thereby sug-
gesting that darkness and death are associated with the castle. Furthermore, the
unconscious — that which cannot be seen—is suggested by Geneviève’s reference to
the mist (p. 46, mm. 3 –4), which hangs over the sea and might prevent them from
seeing the ship that “comes into the beam of the light.” Geneviève’s reference to the
light, yet gloomy sea (pp. 43–44) seems to be reflected symbolically in the very last
scene of the opera (pp. 295–296), in which Mélisande dies as she watches the sun set
into the sea; hence, light and darkness associated with her life and ultimate fate,
respectively.
This scene appears to be in several dramatic parts. In the first, Geneviève and
Mélisande describe the garden darkened by the forest around the castle, but observe
some light coming from the sea. In the next, they hear Pelléas approaching, and dis-
cuss the sea with him; he comments (pp. 44–45) on a vessel on which “[y]ou could
sail off without knowing and never come back again.” In the last part, Pelléas, at the
request of Geneviève, escorts Mélisande down the dark path. In anticipation of their
meeting at the well (act 2, scene 1), this scene is pervaded by the “Mélisande” and
“Fate” motifs, which are already prominent in the preceding orchestral Interlude,
where they are juxtaposed with “Golaud’s Love” motif (p. 38).
The scene opens with “Mélisande’s” pentatonic motif in the oboe (D # – F # – G # –
B), against which “Pelléas’s” motif is imminent as it is interwoven in the murmuring
string accompaniment. The primary harmony is the B dominant ninth chord (B – D # –
F # – A – C #), embellished by the F # half-diminished seventh (F # – A – C– E). As we
have seen from the outset of the opera, both types of construction — pentatonic and
dominant-ninth/half-diminished—are readily transformed into whole-tone segments
by means of minimal alteration of their components. In the second phrase (p. 39,
m. 3), the pentatonic form of “Mélisande’s” motif is transformed into a second-inver-
sion G # half-diminished seventh outline (D–F # –G # –B) by the lowering of the origi-
nal D # to D. Both pentatonic (F # –G # –B) and whole-tone (D – F # – G #) cells are man-
ifested linearly, while the chords representing Pelléas remain uneqivocally diatonic.
The cadential figuration of the orchestral introduction shifts (at p. 39, m. 6) to a
diatonically expanded form of the very opening pentatonic construction of the “For-
est” motif (C – D– E– F–G –A), where the dyad C–D was articulated in the lower os-
tinato figuration, the dyad G–A in the upper. One significant difference is that the
original “Fate” rhythm, which followed the “Forest” motif in the Prelude, now sup-
plants the latter to produce a more intense infusion. This is modified into a type of
undulating ostinato figuration based on two notes, which continues throughout the
following dialogue between Mélisande and Geneviève. This rhythmic figure seems to
be associated consistently with darkness and foreboding,56 as expressed in the dia-
logue between the two women.
I might digress for the moment to point out that the latter rhythmic figure (asso-
ciated with darkness and foreboding) is also recognizable in act 2 when Pelléas, in the
darkness, cannot distinguish the entrance to the grotto from the night and, in act 3,
when Mélisande, in the tower, fears that her doves will be lost in the night. The most
striking association of this two-note rhythmic ostinato with fear occurs in the “Vault”
scene (p. 144, mm. 6 – 7, m. 10 ff., and p. 145, m. 5 ff.), in which Golaud will frighten
Pelléas by leading him through the dark chasm, the stench of death rising from its
stagnant waters. A syncopated rhythmic figure is used in the same scene when Go-
laud makes the lantern flicker (p. 146) to frighten Pelléas, these rapid alternations be-
tween light and dark perhaps symbolizing the threateningly thin line between life and
death. A syncopated figuration is also used earlier (opening scene, p. 20) in connec-
tion with Golaud’s warning to Mélisande that she will be frightened if she insists on
remaining alone in the dark forest. Yet another syncopated figure appears (act 3,
scene 1, pp. 137 – 138) when Mélisande is startled by the sound of Golaud’s footsteps
as her hair is entangled in the branches during her midnight meeting with Pelléas at
the tower. In association with the sense of impending doom, Wenk reveals a certain
insight, which gives some support to his contention that the motif of “Fate” and that
of “Golaud” are one and the same: “The dramatic situations in which these patterns
occur suggest an association of fear and darkness with the character of Golaud. All
three types of rhythmic pattern are represented in Golaud’s leitmotif: the alternation
of two pitches, the repetition of a pitch, and the syncopation produced by tying across
the main beat.”57
The first part of the present scene culminates in a statement of “Mélisande’s”
motif (p. 41, m. 4), transposed to C # –D # –F #. At Mélisande’s claim that she “can hear
a noise from down below,” we get the first explicit statement of “Pelléas’s” motif in
this scene, C # – D # – A #, this harmonic inversion (in “root” position, A # – C # – D #) of
“Mélisande’s” motivic pitch content initiated by the same two notes (C # – D #). Three
motifs — “Pelléas,” “Mélisande,” and “Fate” — predominate in the remainder of the
scene in correspondence with the dramatic trend. At Pelléas’s forbidding comment
(p. 44, m. 6 ff.) that one could set sail and never return (this reference to permanent
Mélisande
Voy - ez, voy - ez j’ai les mains ple - nes de fleurs.
But look! you see I’ve both my hands full of flowers.
P.
main? Je vous sou -tien -
hand? I will hold you
example 4-10. p. 53, mm. 5–6, Mélisande’s pentatonic motif in parallel fourths to pro-
duce secondary whole-tone forms, successive whole-tone forms in the bass (B b–C–E/
E–F #–A #) outlining larger segment of WT-0, B b–C–E-F #.
departure perhaps invokes the sense of death), the orchestra plays a series of parallel
dominant ninth chords that descend by whole tones from F # to B b (p. 45, mm. 1 –3),
thus linearly unfolding both complete whole-tone scales simultaneously. The last
chord, on B b, initiates a tremolo figure under the “Fate” motif sung by the boatmen,
“Heave Ho! Heave Ho! Ho!”
At the cadential point of this statement of the “Fate” motif, the bass descends by
one more whole-step to A b, which initiates a tremolo on the basic tritone A b – D. In
the Prelude (see ex. 4-1, p. 1, m. 5), this tritone had represented the first extension
and transformation of pentatonic-dyad D–C to whole-tone-cell D – C– A b, this form
manifesting itself at prominent points in the opera as an intrusion of “Fate” into the
“Pelléas” motif, D – C– A. As the two walk down the path together (p. 53, mm. 5 – 6),
the pentatonic form of “Mélisande’s” motif in parallel fourths unfolds simultaneously
with the whole-tone form. While the successive pairings of pentatonic forms are
transposed by the tritone, so the intersecting notes (e.g., p. 53, m. 5: in parallel
fourths, A – C # – D # and E–G # –A #) produce secondary whole-tone forms, the succes-
sive whole-tone forms in the bass (B b –C–E/E–F # –A #) outline a larger segment of
WT-0, B b – C – E – F # (ex. 4-10). These intersections heighten the effect just before the
return to the pure pentatonic form of “Mélisande’s” motif to round out the scene.
Thus, the dramatic fabric weaves itself whole as various interrelated symbols (light
and life, darkness and death) unfold within a relentless web of musical motifs and fig-
urations that deepen these dramatic notions with their more global symbolic associa-
tions. Eventually, all of these symbols are drawn into the more pervasive shadow of
fate in an ominous “Vengeance” motif that emerges with the apprehension of a ship-
wreck (p. 50, mm. 2 – 6) —for, indeed, it was a ship that brought Golaud and Méli-
sande to the castle at Allemonde.
Pelléas et Mélisande
Fate and the Unconscious:
Transformational Function
of the Dominant Ninth Chord;
Symbolism of Sonority
84
of Mélisande’s ring. At this focal point, the motif is based on a new dominant ninth
transposition, C – E– G –B b –D, its four whole-tone (WT-0) components separated
timbrally from the fifth degree (G/B b –C–D–E), that is, the two oboes play the main
whole-tone motivic figure against the contrasting, articulated G of the muted horns,
with less prominent interjections of mixed chordal components by the flutes and
harp. It is significant that the whole-tone dyad, C–D, which forms the boundary of
the symmetrical dominant ninth chord (C–E–G –B b –D) as well as the axis of sym-
metry of the “Well” motif’s whole-tone tetrachord (B b – C– D– E), was already estab-
lished as the primary transformational element between pentatonic and whole-tone
spheres at the opening of the Prelude (see ex. 4-1 earlier), where it moved from its os-
tinato position in the pentatonic “Forest” motif to its axial position in the initial
French sixth chord (A b –C–D–F #) of the “Fate” motif.
After some unfolding of modal and pentatonic scales in the orchestra and vocal
line, respectively, we get a new statement of the “Well” motif (ex. 5-1, p. 57, mm. 1 –
2) as Mélisande becomes intrigued with the well: “Oh, how clear the water is!” At this
point, the whole-tone segment, B b –C–D–E (in divided violins and violas), of the
motif’s timbrally partitioned C dominant ninth chord is transposed to F # – G # – A # – B #
(p. 57, m. 2) to complete the WT-0 set (B b –C–D–E/F # – G # – A # – B #). The latter
transposition of the motif, which accompanies Pelléas’s observation that “it’s as cool
as the winter,”5 that is, like “the icy hand of destiny,”6 is harmonized not by an “ex-
pected” G # dominant ninth chord (G # –B # –D # –F # –A #, or D #/F # – G # – A # – B #) but,
rather, by a whole-tone transformation of the latter by the splitting into, and replace-
ment of, its “expected” fifth degree (D #) by its adjacent half-steps, D and E. The re-
sulting whole-tone collection, D–E–F # –G # –A # –B #, is supported by the explicit
scalar whole-tone segment in the voice (D–E–F # –G # – A #). As Pelléas tells Méli-
sande about the abandoned well, that “It seems it used to work miracles,” D # and D
are juxtaposed in the voice. The latter note serves as the intersection (p. 57, mm. 5 –
6, voice) between a transposition of “Pelléas’s” pentatonic motif, D – F– G, and the
whole-tone “Fate” cell, D–F # –G #, which intersects, in turn, with the original trans-
position of “Mélisande’s” pentatonic motif, G # –A # –C # (in enharmonic spelling, A b –
B b – C #). Thus, the alteration of a single note (fifth degree) of the dominant ninth pro-
duces an almost “magical” quality as it transforms the diatonic (human) into the
whole-tone (fatalistic) realm.
Mélisande
Oh! l’eau est clai - re . . .
Oh! what clear wa - ter
P.
Elle est frai - che com - me l’hi ver.
Yes, and al - ways cold - er than - ice.
C-dominant-ninth
C E G B
D
completed whole-tone collection
D A A
B
F F
G [D ] [D–E]—(actual occurrence
E B B in the excerpt)
C G G
C-dominant-ninth chord (diatonic) G -dominant-ninth whole-tone transformation
example 5-1. “Well” motif (p. 57, mm. 1–2), whole-tone transformation of dominant-
ninth chord
explicit symbolism now provided by the text. At the reference to clear water, winter,
and the abandoned ancient well, the basic grace-note figure of the “Well” is articu-
lated first by horns (supported by harp), then flutes. Wenk associates the horn timbre
with Golaud, or darkness and death,8 the latter two appearing to be symbolized by
the reference to “winter.” Wenk also associates the harp timbre with water, or re-
newal, freshness, and change, which appears to be symbolized by reference to the past
(changed) miraculous powers of the well to heal (renew) the eyes of the sightless. The
“fatalistic” significance of these timbral associations is borne out at the end of the opera
by the musical context surrounding Mélisande’s death.
Mélisande’s death is the inevitable outcome of those events that stem from her
meeting with Pelléas at the well. When she loses her ring in the well (p. 67), the de-
scending harp glissando is followed by a rhythmic reminiscence of the well’s grace-
note figure precisely in the horn and flutes. As Mélisande lies on her deathbed at
the end of the opera (pp. 295–296), she perceives the setting of the sun in the sea
as the coming of winter. This imagery evokes that of the ring falling into the cold
water of the well, a symbolic interpretation supported by the last iterations of the
“Well” motif (short-long rhythmic figurations) at her reference to the setting sun. Ear-
lier (p. 60), when Mélisande tries to see the bottom of the well, Pelléas tells her, “No-
body has ever seen it. It may be as deep as the sea.” This statement provides an addi-
tional confirmation of the direct association of the sea with the well. Here, the
reminiscence of the “Well” motif’s grace-note figure is again articulated by the por-
tentous horn timbre in juxtaposition with the woodwinds, especially flutes (p. 296,
m. 1). We may compare the latter instrumentation with that of the “Well” motif’s
grace-note figures (at p. 57, mm. 1–4). Prevalence of the same instruments (horns
and flutes) at the grace-note figure supports the association of the well and ring to the
sun setting over the sea in winter, and with Mélisande’s death, as the flute and horn
(with harp) take over the long-short “Well” rhythm in the last six measures of the
opera.9 The flute plays this rhythmic figure in counterpoint with the “Mélisande”
motif, the latter doubled by the trumpet, which, according to Wenk, has a direct as-
sociation with “peaceful death.”10 Symbolic associations between the individual dra-
matic moments and the chameleon-like changes of timbre, register, dynamics, and
other parameters, which are in constant alliance with the mosaic textural details of
the opera, are concomitant with, yet inherently independent from, the myriad details
of harmonic (pitch-set) projection. Hence, each of these parameters would warrant
an entire associative study in and of itself, and so, can only receive intermittent at-
tention in connection with primary focal issues and events in this discussion.
sande’s question about the loss of this power of the well, Pelléas says (p. 58): “Since
the king is almost blind himself, people don’t come here any longer.” Freud himself be-
lieved that man was not in control of his destiny, because internal unconscious forces
could influence his actions.13 Healing of the blind signifies the power to give insight,
that is, to bring to consciousness that which is unknown (or unconscious), hence, to
acquire a certain control over one’s destiny. Because old king Arkel himself is blind,
probably a metaphor for the loss of faith in traditional religious beliefs and institu-
tions, neither the well nor the established authority could provide guidance. Thus,
the ultimate fate — tragedy and death—of the characters is determined by the power
of the unconscious, through which no one can see.
It was only shortly before his death that Pelléas was finally to become conscious of
the “snares of destiny” all around him (act 4, scene 4), his hidden unconscious forces
thus becoming conscious too late, as he now likens himself to a blind man who should
flee from his burning house. Yet, the question arises as to why he could not take des-
tiny in hand by fleeing before the fatal blow, given that he was now aware of his desires
and the potential danger associated with them. Freud hypothesized that the uncon-
scious entails more than what has been repressed. There are unconscious elements
which have never belonged to the conscious sphere, and so the mechanism of repres-
sion could not be applied to them.14 According to Freud, these unconscious elements
are instincts, which lie somewhere between the biological and psychological and thus
have no capacity for transference to conscious thought.15 It follows from this Freudian
notion that Pelléas’s inability to divert the final catastrophe might be attributed to the
death instinct.16 Being conspicuously unarmed, Pelléas continues to embrace Mélisande
even though he knows that Golaud would soon fall on him with sword in hand. Given
this dilemma, we can surmise that a kind of equivalence exists between unconscious
motivation — the instinctual kind in this case—and fate, that force against which the
characters never seem to struggle. This force, according to Maeterlinck, differs from
“passive misfortunes (such as the death of a person we adore) which simply come to-
wards us, and cannot be influenced by any movement of ours. Bethink you of the fatal
day of your life.”17 In Pelléas’s case, however, this force, in Maeterlinck’s own words,
seems to come from “some irresistible impulse, towards an inevitable catastrophe.”
Thus, in spite of Pelléas’s new insight into the role of destiny in all these events, one
of the unconscious elements —the death instinct—was to remain hidden, and so
could persist as a dynamic force up to the very moment in which fate would reveal its
final hand in the demise of the two lovers.18 Freud observes how “striking are those
cases where the person seems to be experiencing something passively, without exert-
ing any influence of his own, and yet always meets with the same fate over and over
again . . . we may venture to make the assumption that there really exists in psychic
life a repetition-compulsion, which goes beyond the pleasure-principle.”19
of the “Fate” motif, the first statements of the latter to appear in this act. What tran-
spires at this moment of the drama is a tightly interwoven set of musical interactions
that symbolize the fatalistic meaning of the two lovers at the well. This miraculous ob-
ject no longer gives man conscious control over his destiny, that is, sight to the blind.
Embedded in Pelléas’s vocal line (p. 57, mm. 5–6) at these final two statements of
the “Well” motif are the inverted tritone-related “Pelléas” and “Mélisande” motifs
(D–F– G and G # – A # – C #). The inversional relation of these two strictly diatonic cells
is essential in the symmetrical completion of the whole-tone collection. In connec-
tion with the first of these final two motivic statements (p. 58, m. 1), the contour of
Pelléas’s vocal line telling Mélisande that “They still call it the ‘Blind men’s Well’” is
linearly outlined by the pitch content of the E dominant ninth chord (E – G # – B– D –
F #), the transposed “Well” motif now based exclusively on the whole-tone tetrachord
(D – E– F # – G #) derived from this dominant ninth construction. The latter tetrachord
(D – E– F # – G #) is a whole-tone expansion of the “Pelléas” motif (D – F– G) at the
same transpositional level. In connection with the final statement of the “Well” motif
(p. 58, m. 6), the contour of Mélisande’s vocal line, which expresses awe at “How soli-
tary it is — there’s not a sound to be heard,” is linearly outlined by the slightly modi-
fied pitch content of the B b dominant ninth chord ([ ]– D– F– A b – C– [G]). Its pure
form is confirmed by the first orchestral chord (B b –D–F–A b – C), the transposed
“Well” motif now based exclusively on the whole-tone tetrachord (A b – B b – C– D) de-
rived from this dominant ninth. The latter tetrachord (A b – B b – C– D) is a whole-tone
(fatalistic) transformation of the “Mélisande” motif (G # – A # – C #, or A b – B b – C #) at
the same transpositional level. The tritone-related whole-tone tetrachords of both
statements of the “Well” motif (D–E-F # –G #/A b –B b –C– D) imply the presence of the
complete WT-0 collection, which has been associated with the mood of fate from the
outset. The same transformational process was evident at the first occurrence of the
“Mélisande” motif in the Prelude (m. 14-15), in which the thematic statement of her
cell (A b – B b – C #) was altered to A b –B b –D in the accompanying figuration.
Such transformations between the pentatonic/diatonic and whole-tone spheres
usually continue in more fragmented and ambiguous ways when they are only adum-
brations of the more dynamic dramatic moments of fatalistic consequence. The
“Vault” scene of act 3, scene 2, for instance, is among the most explicit symbolic ref-
erences to Pelléas’s ultimate fate (his death), and so is based on the most dynamic,
unequivocal generation of the complete (symmetrical) whole-tone cycle from pri-
mary “leitmotivic” cells. In the present scene, a subliminal though portentous mo-
ment of fatalistic import occurs when Mélisande tosses her wedding ring into the air
and drops it into the well (p. 67). Symbolic musical transformations correspondingly
remain subtle and incomplete, yet highly effective in preparing for the fulfillment of a
complex web of musico-dramatic associations. It is inevitable that the loss of the ring
will arouse Golaud’s suspicion of Mélisande’s affair with Pelléas and lead to tragedy,
and so the basic leitmotivic pitch-cell segments associated with the human realm and
fate become increasingly enmeshed in the generation of the main larger sets. The
falling motion of the ring is depicted by a descending harp arpeggio, which is set
within a context permeated by the persistent “Fate” rhythm. The arpeggio unfolds an
incomplete F # dominant ninth chord, that is, half-diminished seventh chord, [ ] – A # –
C # – E– G #, which may be interpreted as an ambiguous interlocking of the original
of the same half-diminished seventh chord. Rather, they are nonliteral inversions of
each other (B – D # – E #/E # –Fx –A #), the pentatonic whole-step (Fx – E #) of the “Méli-
sande” motif playing a dual role as it is extended by the whole-tone cell of the or-
chestra to form part of a larger segment of WT-1 (Fx –E # – D # – B).
The significance of these interactions between “Mélisande’s” motif and the or-
chestral statements of the “Fate” cell is manifested in the next passage, at the ap-
pearance of both the “Awakening Desire” motif and a transformation of Golaud’s
“Love” motif (p. 62, mm. 3 and 4, respectively). The latter motivic juxtaposition,
which suggests the first emergence of one of the fundamental dramatic conflicts (that
is, between Pelléas and Golaud), is articulated by the two whole-tone collections as-
sociated with the two brothers, respectively. Pelléas expresses a momentary start,
“Oh! Oh! Take care! Take care! Mélisande! Mélisande!” as she leans over to dip her
hands into the well. This whole-tone polarity has been foreshadowed in Mélisande’s
two statements about her hands. In contrast to the orchestral ostinato based on the
WT-1 transposition of the “Fate” cell (B–D # –E #) underlying her second phrase, Pel-
léas’s “Awakening Desire” motif outlines the original WT-0 transposition of the “Fate”
cell, A b – C– D, that is, a whole-tone transformation of the “Pelléas” motif (A – C– D).
The cell (A b – C– D) at this point forms part of the larger B b dominant ninth
chord (B b –D–F–A b – C). Cell A b –C–D is expanded, then, to a larger whole-tone
tetrachord, A b – B b – C–D, as the basis of the descending triplets of Golaud’s trans-
formed “Love” motif. This WT-0 tetrachord retains four of the five notes of the B b
dominant ninth, that is, without the latter’s fifth degree (F), which belongs to the
other whole-tone (WT-1) collection. This single “odd” note (F) initiates, then, a
sequential transposition of the triplets of Golaud’s “Love” motif, in which F – E b – D b –
C b replaces D – C–B b – A b. It should be recalled at this point that it is the WT-1 col-
lection that was associated with Golaud from the time of his first entry into the for-
est, and it will continue to be associated primarily with Golaud in special ways
throughout the remainder of the opera. Analogous to the tetrachordal expansion
from A b – C– D of the “Awakening Desire” motif to A b – B b – C– D, the WT-1 tetra-
chord (C b – D b – E b – F) is an expansion of the preceding “Fate” cell ostinato, B – D # –
E # (in enharmonic spelling, C b –E b –F). The tritone transposition (F – A – B) of the lat-
ter replaces A b – C-D as the basis of the next statement of the “Awakening Desire”
motif. In turn, F – A – B is expanded to a WT-1 tetrachord, F – G – A – B, of Golaud’s
“Love” motif.
The boundary tritone (F–B) of the latter is projected into the linear structure
([F] – D – C – [B] – A # – F #) of Pelléas’s next vocal statement, “Oh! your hair!” this
WT-1 tritone coming into conflict with a larger segment from the other whole-tone
(WT-0) collection, D –C–A # –F #. The WT-1 note, F, together with the WT-0 dyad,
D–C, forms part of Mélisande’s pentatonic cell in the initial linear adjacency (F – D–
C), the same three-note segment contained at the apex of the “Awakening Desire”
theme (p. 62, m. 3). The symbolic connection between Mélisande’s hair and the
awakening of Pelléas’s desire is thereby reflected in this whole-tone fusion within the
pentatonic cell extracted from the “Awakening Desire” theme. At this point, however,
tritone F-B from WT-1 is replaced in prominence by tritone F # – C from WT-0. This
forms the boundary of the accompanying whole-tone figure, F # – G # – A # – B # (p. 63,
m. 1), the latter expanding WT-0 of the vocal line to five notes (F # – G # – A # – C– D).
(1) As a product, that is, considered independently from its producer, in its struc-
ture, its meaning, its relation to other aspects of the reality of the world which are ex-
ternal to the individual who created the product in question; and also from the point
of view of objective truth, falsehood or imprecision.
(2) As a manifestation or indication of what goes on in the individual at the mo-
ment of its production or in the period around that moment. It is obvious that in
order to study it from this point of view we have to consider at least some aspects
which are different from those considered in the first case.
The differences between both cases result from the fact that in each case the
same piece of reality is seen or considered in a different configuration or gestalt, which
makes more visible some aspects, and not others, of the reality in question. Nothing
prevents us, however, from seeing the same reality from both angles of observation.
Hence, in the case of the polarity between Mélisande’s death (darkness) and the
new life (light) of her daughter, for instance, the notion that the latter will continue
on the same fatalistic path as her mother (continuity based on an asymmetrical con-
ception) is balanced by the interpretation that her daughter will break the fatalistic
pattern of her mother, hence serving, instead of her mother, as the one to usher in the
new era, a role that Arkel had originally assigned to Mélisande (this contrasting polar-
ity of roles based on a symmetrical conception). According to all aspects considered,
both interpretations might be meaningful, and entail both symmetrical-asymmetrical
principles that lead to deeper-level ambiguities in relation to the individual, who
functions in the opera simultaneously as real-life being (one who may be capable of
asserting a will through conscious awareness) and as instrument of fate (one who re-
mains in the grip of unconscious forces).
The significance of Pelléas’s advice to Mélisande, that she tell the truth to Go-
laud about the ring, is suggested musically. The well is a symbol of a miraculous power
that used to give sight to the blind—a metaphor for insight or truth. We may also as-
sociate Pelléas’s reference to the “truth” (p. 72) more literally with the well because
that is where the ring was actually lost. We get a return of the original C # Aeolian six-
teenth-note figuration that had directly followed the first statement of the “Well”
motif (p. 56, m. 1ff.). At its original ocurrence, the C # figuration served as a transi-
tional link between the primarily diatonic (C dominant ninth, G/B b – C– D– E) con-
tent of the “Well” motif and its whole-tone transformation (p. 57, mm. 1 – 2), where
the words suggested the objective coldness of fate. The C # Aeolian pentatonic sub-
structure (C # – B – G # – F # –E–C #), which is pervaded both by the pentatonic “Pelléas”
cell (C # – B – G #, or F # –E–C #) and its “Mélisande” inversion (F # – G # – B) and is di-
rectly associated with Pelléas’s C # Aeolian theme that opened the scene, accompanies
Pelléas’s question that literally pertains to the well, “Don’t you know where I’ve
brought you?” But where is it that he has brought her, symbolically speaking? The pre-
monitory implications of Pelléas’s question is supported by the C # tonality, precisely
the tonality that will accompany Mélisande at her death in the very final measures of
the opera.
The scene ends (p. 72ff.) with a more clearly defined manifestation of the trans-
formational process from pentatonic to whole-tone spheres. Pelléas’s suggestion that
Mélisande tell the truth to Golaud is articulated cadentially by the final return of the
C # Aeolian figuration which, as in the opening of this scene, serves a transitional
function to the whole-tone world of Fate (established at p. 73, m. 4 ff.). In this case
(ex. 5-2), not only is the whole-tone collection associated directly with the “Fate”
motif, but the C # Aeolian figuration itself is transformed first into the original penta-
tonic collection (C – D–G –A) of the opening “Forest” motif and, then, exclusively
into the complete WT-1 collection (B–D b –E b –F–G –A) as it appears in block jux-
taposition with the “Fate” motif.
Shortly after the change of key signature (p. 73, m. 2), transposition of the C # Ae-
olian figuration to the “white-key” pentatonic figure, C – D– G – A (see ex. 5-2), re-
calls the basic pitch relations of the Prelude to the opera. These pitch relations under-
score the parallel dramatic function between this passage and the Prelude. In the
opening scene immediately following the Prelude, Golaud had become lost in the
woods while hunting a wild boar. That event led to Golaud’s encounter with Méli-
sande, who had dropped her shining crown (symbolizing her former bond to Blue-
beard) into a pond, and Golaud’s eventual marriage to her. In act 2, scene 2, Golaud
has fallen from his horse while hunting and is lying on his bed with Mélisande at his
bedside. This event leads to his discovery that Mélisande has lost her wedding ring.
Mélisande’s earlier disposal of the crown symbolizes her escape from bondage to Blue-
beard,28 loss of the ring her freedom from marriage to Golaud. While the woman’s feel-
ings seem to symbolize her freedom from an oppressive social structure, the dramatic
message of Maeterlinck is that the woman’s freedom will inevitably lead to her death.
The musical process supports the dramatic message, which is based on the causal
relation between the woman’s symbolic freedom from her marital bond and her even-
tual death. Transposition of the C # Aeolian figuration to C pentatonic, C – D– C– A –
G –A (see ex. 5-2; p. 73, m. 3), produces four of the five notes of the Prelude’s open-
pentatonic collection (C–D–E–G–A) of “Forest” motif WT-1 collection as basis of “Fate” motif
4
4
4
4
dim.
par dessus
(whole-tone G–A)
example 5-2. Act 2, scene 1, p. 73, mm. 3–10, C #-Aeolian figuration transformed into
original pentatonic collection of “Forest” motif and complete WT-1 collection, in
block juxtaposition with “Fate” motif
ing statement of the “Forest” motif (C–D –E–G –A, originally interpreted as D pen-
tatonic by means of the rhythmic structure). The omission of the single note, E, from
the C pentatonic collection at this point—the E is provided by the C major chord
on the fourth beat — permits the exclusive figural focus on the two pentatonic dyads,
C–D and G – A, which were originally projected as the axes of symmetry of the two
whole-tone collections, respectively (see ex. 4-1 and ex. 4-4 earlier). In correspon-
dence with the dramatic parallel, the C pentatonic figuration, which inverts the po-
sition of the two dyads from their original registral ordering (C – D/G – A) in the “For-
est” motif to G – A/C – D in this closing figuration, moves directly to the “Fate” motif
as before. The registral inversion of the two pentatonic dyads permits G – A, which
was associated originally with the WT-1 sphere of Golaud as he became lost in the for-
est, to be identified with the “Fate” motif in the bass layer (see ex. 5-2; p. 73, m. 10).
The “Fate” motif, as in the Prelude, is based exclusively on the complete whole-tone
collection, with one significant difference: the original WT-0 partition, A b – B b – C–
D–E–F # (with C – D as its axis), is replaced by the WT-1 partition (of Golaud). The
original occurrence of the latter (p. 3, m. 1 ff.) in the orchestral figuration that intro-
duced the first appearance of Golaud had transformed pentatonic-dyad G – A of the
“Forest” motif into the axis of symmetry of the ascending WT-1 scale, E b – F – G– A –
C b –D b. At the present occurrence of the “Fate” motif (p. 73, mm. 4 – 5), G – A forms
the local axis of the upper line (F–G–A–B), which forms part of the complete WT-1
collection, and is exclusive to the sustained bass notes throughout the remainder of
the passage, which includes the cadential statement of the “Fate” motif.
The replacement of the original WT-0 partition by WT-1, and the shift in promi-
nence from dyad C – D (of Pelléas) to G-A (of Golaud), suggests, in terms of these
pitch relations, an abridgment of the Prelude’s structural proportions in anticipation
of the reappearance of Golaud. The significance of these dyadic relations in this dra-
matic parallel is supported by the earlier suggestion of the registral reversal of C – D
and G– A in the first Interlude of act 1, between scenes 1 and 2 (p. 22 ff.), after Go-
laud reveals his predicament to Mélisande, “I don’t know. I’m lost, too.” In the simul-
taneous combination of the “Forest” and “Fate” motifs within that Interlude (on
p. 23), the combination having earlier served to intensify the thematic/phrasal pair-
ings of the Prelude, transposition of the original “Forest” motif from D – A – G – A to
G –D– C– D had placed C–D in the uppermost position one and one-half octaves
above the uppermost notes (G–A) of the accompanying “Fate” motif. Furthermore,
the block juxtapositions of the sixteenth-note figuration and the “Fate” motif in the
present Interlude of act 2 are also analogous to the phrase/period pairings between
the “Forest” and “Fate” motifs in the Prelude (see ex. 4-1 earlier). In the latter sec-
tion, the successive phrase pairings in the opening double period were condensed to
the simultaneous combination of the “Mélisande Naïveté” and “Fate” motifs, which
immediately preceded the final return of the “Forest” motif. The latter also appeared
in simultaneous combination with an intervallic and rhythmic transformation that
suggested a diminished form of the two-note “Fate” motif.
The shift to the WT-1 partition of Golaud in the “Fate” motif (near the end of
act 2, scene 1, p. 73, mm. 4–5) is foreshadowed directly by the intrusion of dyad D # –
G against one of the basic dyads (G–A) of the pentatonic figuration, the combina-
tion producing a form of the “Fate” cell, D # –G –A (see ex. 5-2). A transposed inver-
sion (B – D b – F) of the latter appears, then, as the initial harmonization of the “Fate”
motif. The same form of the whole-tone cell (B–D b –F) also initiates the following re-
turn of the sixteenth-note figuration, the original pentatonic content now trans-
formed entirely into the complete WT-1 collection of Golaud. This transformation is
produced by means of one intervallic mutation in the linear progression. The minor
third gap in the original linear pentatonic statement (D – C– A – G), which implied
the presence of inversionally related forms (D–C–A and G – A – C) of the “Pelléas”
and “Mélisande” cells, is expanded to a major third in each of the two tritone-sepa-
rated parallel lines. This produces the simultaneous linear WT-1 transformations
fallen from his horse at noon, precisely the moment when Mélisande had dropped her
ring into the well, and the latter event occurred shortly after Pelléas’s desire was
awakened. Maeterlinck provides insight into the sources and fatalistic significance of
catastrophe:
we are in the hands of strange powers, whose intentions we are on the eve of divin-
ing. At the time of the great tragic writers of the new era, at the time of Shakespeare,
Racine, and their successors, the belief prevailed that all misfortunes came from the
various passions of the heart. Catastrophes did not hover between two worlds: they
came hence to go thither, and their point of departure was known. Man was always
the master. Much less was this the case at the time of the Greeks, for then did fa-
tality reign on the heights . . . To-day it is fatality that we challenge, and this is per-
haps the distinguishing note of the new theatre. It is no longer the effects of disaster
that arrest our attention; it is disaster itself, and we are eager to know its essence and
its laws.30
It is Mélisande’s shift of attention from Golaud to Pelléas and her passion for him
that is the source of Golaud’s increasing jealousy and the relentless move toward their
ultimate fate. The symbolization of this shift from one brother to the other is further
suggested by Pelléas’s question just prior to the loss of the ring (p. 64): “It was beside
a spring that he found you, wasn’t it?” that is, it is now Pelléas, rather than Golaud,
who “finds” Mélisande beside a well. Pelléas’s statement, which compares the two well
events, also supports the dramatic parallel between this scene (act 2, scene 2) and the
opening scene of the opera more directly. Golaud, like Mélisande, is driven by un-
conscious forces that unchain destructive events. The “blindness” of Golaud’s uncon-
scious and the forceful (fatalistic) nature of the beast within him is symbolized at the
opening by his being led astray during the hunt for the boar and now by the bolting
of his horse, which “galloped blindly like a mad thing straight into a tree!”
Yet, the beast (Golaud’s unconscious) has the ability to sense the mysterious.
This is suggested by Golaud’s thought (p. 77) that his horse bolted because he was
able to sense something strange. The polarity between seeing “something unusual”
versus not seeing, “blindly like a mad thing straight into a tree,” is powerful because
it involves at least two ideas: not seeing what is external to us because it is painful (in
this case, Golaud does not want to see the vast differences between him and Méli-
sande that ultimately make it impossible for their relationship to be successful); and
not wanting to see, that is, not wanting to be conscious of, nor to own painful feelings
and impulses which, left unexamined, may lead to destructive actions. Golaud’s horse,
or that part of himself that is conscious of his desires and his vulnerability, has a hard
time accepting the limitations imposed by external reality (“a tree,” or the fact that
others may have feelings and needs for autonomy and self-expression that may not be
compatible with his), and so, always gets out of control. The most extreme conse-
quences of this are manifested later when Golaud kills Pelléas after dragging Méli-
sande by her hair.
Yet another symbolic interpretation may be made regarding events associated
with the well. According to Pelléas, the well no longer has the power to cure the blind.
While the loss of the well’s “miraculous powers” suggests that all are blind to fate and
the unconscious, an apparent contradiction arises. Old King Arkel, who is almost
completely blind, is the only one who is aware of, and refers explicitly to, fate (see
p. 32): “I have never set myself athwart of destiny.” Debussy himself expressed in a
letter to Ernest Chausson that Arkel “comes from beyond the grave and has that ob-
jective, prophetic gentleness of those who are soon to die.”31 Furthermore, according
to Debussy, Arkel is the only one who understands Mélisande. Maeterlinck himself
seems to have believed that for some people insight emerges more from darkness, or
the unconscious, as he suggests in his The Treasure of the Humble:
Which of us has not met, more than once, along the paths of life, a forsaken soul that
has yet not lost the courage to cherish, in the darkness, a thought diviner and purer
than all those that so many others had the power to choose in the light? Here, too,
it is simplicity that is God’s favourite slave; and it is enough, perhaps, that a few sages
should know what has to be done, for the rest of us to act as though we knew too.32
polarized dramatic spheres. In this section, one sphere is symbolized by Golaud, who
may be seen in his attempts to maintain the status quo as a personification of the
oppressive social structure, the other by Pelléas, who embodies the emotional force
toward change. The C dominant ninth and D dominant ninth chords have symmet-
rically embedded within them the two notes of Golaud’s dyad (G – A) as their respec-
tive fifth degrees (C – E–[G]–B b –D and D–F # –[A]–C– E). These two notes serve
as the single elements of diatonic resistance against whole-tone transformation of
these dominant ninth constructions and, consequently, of the basic pentatonic- dyad,
C–D, the two notes serving as the respective roots of these chords and initiating both
motifs.
Whole-tone transformation of the C dominant ninth chord is imminent in the
second chord of the “Fate” motif (p. 76, m. 4), where omission of the fifth degree (G)
permits the remaining four notes (C–E–[ ]–B b –D, or B b – C– D– E) to outline a
whole-tone tetrachord, exclusively. Whole-tone transformation of the D dominant
ninth chord is imminent in the linear figurations that unfold against the pentatonic
“Awakening Desire” motif (p. 77, m. 4 ff.; see ex. 4-2a). While the latter motif (C –
D–A –C– D) and tremolo figure (C–E–F #), together, produce the pitch content of
the D dominant ninth chord (D–F # –A –C–E), the specific pitch-class partitioning
produces a divergence between them into the two opposing (pentatonic and whole-
tone) spheres, one forming the “Pelléas” cell (A–C–D) as the basis for “Awakening
Desire,” the other a transposition of the “Fate” cell (C– E – F #). This relation differs
from the earlier passage (p. 62, m. 3), in which the pitch content of the “Fate” cell
(A b –C– D) in the vocal line was identical to that of the whole-tone form of the
“Awakening Desire” motif in the orchestra, so no pitch-class conflict occurred be-
tween them at that point. In this passage, by contrast, the two cells (A – C– D and C –
E–F #), respectively, mutate and transpose the latter (A b – C– D). Thus, while these
motivic relations are derived from the earlier passage, dramatic development is now
induced by the conflict between their pitch-set forms. This polarity is reinforced by
the vocal line, which also belongs to the D dominant ninth chord ([] – F # – A – C– E).
The first three vocal notes (E–F # –A), which invert the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell (A –
C–D), outline the “Mélisande” cell, the last three notes (C– E – F #) duplicating the
“Fate” cell of the tremolo figure.
As the dialogue between Golaud and Mélisande progresses to the main dramatic
points of the scene — Mélisande’s fatalistic allusion to Pelléas (p. 86), Golaud’s dis-
covery that the wedding ring is missing from Mélisande’s hand (p. 95), and Golaud’s
increasing vehemence (p. 99) —the same motivic/pitch-set constructions continue
to intensify in their interactions, mutations, and fluctuations between the two polar-
ized spheres. As Mélisande begins to weep for no apparent reason, the oboe, which
we can generally associate with Mélisande’s sadness, sounds a mournful variant of her
motif, D – E b – G b – A b (p. 82, m. 2). While Golaud’s portentous question joins the pen-
tatonic forms of both the “Mélisande” (E b –F–A b) and “Pelléas” (F – A b – B b) cells, this
oboe variant of the “Mélisande” motif fuses the pentatonic form (E b – G b – A b) of the
“Pelléas” cell with its “Fate” transformation (D–G b –A b) linearly. The D of the latter
is supported harmonically by a more explicit form of the “Fate” cell, A b – B b – D (p. 82,
m. 1), precisely the transposition that was embedded in the harmony against the first
linear statement of the pentatonic “Mélisande” motif (A b – B b – C #) in the Prelude (p.
1, mm. 14 – 15). This oboe variant also suggests a motivic fusion in that the contour
also resembles the “Awakening Desire” motif (see p. 62, m. 3, vocal line especially;
see ex. 4-9).
The tritone boundary of the hybrid motivic form (D – A b, which is the basic one
from the opening of the Prelude) is contracted in the following unambiguous state-
ment of the “Mélisande” motif in the strings (p. 82, mm. 5 – 6) to form the original
pentatonic cell (A b – B b –D b) from her first motivic statement in the Prelude (in en-
harmonic spelling, A b –B b –C #, p. 1, mm. 14–15). At the present linear occurrence,
the respelling of the original C # as D b indicates some release from the basic conflict
between diatonic and whole-tone spheres (i.e., the tendency of C # to lead upward to
D), Mélisande’s words implying that she would like to be free from the present situa-
tion, that is, the bonds of fate: “I am sick in this place.” This contrasts with the Pre-
lude, in which the pentatonic C # and whole-tone D were in simultaneous conflict
with each other in the melody and accompaniment as fate intruded into the human
realm. The harmonic underpinning of the pentatonic “Mélisande” motif at these
words contains only a suggestion of Pelléas and fate. The linear bass motion from C b
to B b suggests, in conjunction with the linear motivic statement, the harmonic juxta-
position between a transposition of the “Pelléas” cell (A b – C b – D b) and the “Méli-
sande” cell (A b – B b – D b). The C b in the first simultaneity also produces a vertical
intersection between transpositions of the pentatonic “Mélisande” (E b –F–A b) and
whole-tone “Fate” (C b –E b –F) cells, which are partitions of the larger half-diminished
seventh chord (F – A b –C b –E b).
While this local fusion of the “Mélisande” (A b –B b – D b) and “Fate” (C b – E b – F)
cells in the orchestra only suggests the meaning of Mélisande’s response to Golaud’s
questions, certain musical associations become more evident at the varied repeat of
their text. A musico-textual parallel emerges within the context of these intensified
motif/cell fusions and fluctuations. At her first response to Golaud’s question, “Why
are you crying all of a sudden?” Mélisande’s vocal line at “I feel ill here” outlines a
transposition of the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell in the same motivic contour (B b – D b –
B b – E b) as Pelléas’s whole-tone vocal line (A b –C–A b – D) that unfolded simultane-
ously with the first orchestral statement of the “Awakening Desire” theme (p. 62,
m. 3). At Golaud’s further questioning, Mélisande’s parallel response, “My lord, I’m
not happy here,” reiterates a varied segment of her pentatonic (“Pelléas”) response,
this time in the form of the whole-tone (“Fate”) variant, D – F # – G #. This cell trans-
formation in Mélisande’s vocal line is significant not only in establishing a psycholog-
ical parallel between Pelléas and fate, but in linking Mélisande’s unhappiness to un-
controllable human feelings. That is, the orchestra introduces her statement with the
“Awakening Desire” motif. Mélisande’s vocal statement of the “Fate” cell at this point
(p. 83, m. 4) is at the tritone transposition (D–F # –G #) of Pelléas’s vocal statement of
the “Fate” cell (A b – C–D) that unfolded with the original occurrence of the “Awak-
ening Desire” motif (p. 62, m. 3). This produces maximal pitch-class intersection
(i.e., basic tritone, A b – D) between these vocal statements of the two characters. The
dramatic meaning underlying the structural parallel in this passage (pp. 82-83), which
is based on whole-tone transformation of the pentatonic cell at Mélisande’s reiterated
response, is articulated by an orchestral fusion of the “Fate” rhythm and “Mélisande”
motivic contour accompanying Golaud’s words, “What has happened then?”
In the next textual subsection (p. 83, m. 5 to p. 86, m. 2), the dramatic direction
is toward increasing specificity of Golaud’s questions and Mélisande’s responses. He
asks, “Has some one done you a wrong?” to which she answers, “It isn’t that.” This
dialogue is paralleled, then, by their more explicit questions and responses, “Is it the
King? Is it my mother? Is it Pelléas?” “No, no, it isn’t Pelléas. It isn’t anybody. You
couldn’t understand me. It’s something stronger than myself.” Maeterlinck’s own
question, in his essay on the predestined, about “who can tell us of the power which
events possess — whether they issue from us, or whether we owe our being to them?”34
suggests that Mélisande is perhaps not primarily concealing the truth (although on a
more concrete level that appears to be the case), but that she is living “under the
shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass.” Golaud’s and Mélisande’s state-
ments are articulated in the orchestra by three strategically placed motifs, the first
(p. 84, m. 4) unfolding a variant of the “Fate” motif, the second (p. 85, m. 5ff.) the
“Awakening Desire” motif, and the third (p. 86, m. 2), the “Pelléas” motif. The some-
what obscured variant of the “Fate” motif, which coincides with Golaud’s question,
“But you must be keeping something from me,” may be interpreted as concealment of
the attachment between Pelléas and Mélisande.
We come to one of the most significant focal points not only of this subsection
but also of the larger scene in general. The whole-tone transformation of the “Pelléas”
motif into the “Fate” cell (p. 86, m. 2) symbolizes Mélisande’s reference to something
more powerful than herself (see ex. 4-2b). It is at this point where the human being
is identified most explicitly—both textually and musically — as an instrument of fate
and, furthermore, where human feelings are identified as the basic motivating force
that will lead to destruction. The linear contour of Pelléas’s transformed motif, C – D–
A b (p. 86, m. 2), which recalls the Prelude’s very opening bass-line transformation of
pentatonic dyad C – D of the “Forest” motif into the whole-tone cell (A b – C– D) of
the “Fate” motif, outlines a whole-tone segment of the underlying B b dominant ninth
harmonization (B b – D-F-A b –C), this motivic segment bounded by the basic tritone,
A b –D. The preceding C dominant ninth chord (C–E–G – B b – D), which harmonizes
the reiterated D of Mélisande’s words that link Pelléas to fate, recalls the harmoniza-
tion of the initial occurrence of the “Well” motif (p. 55, m. 10).35 Most striking is the
specific registral spacing of this chord (C–G–E–B b –D), which recalls that of the first
recurrence of the “Well” motif (p. 57, m. 1) accompanying Mélisande’s words, “Oh,
how clear the water is.” In the latter harmonization of the “Well” motif (see ex. 5-1),
C–G was held in the bass, while the tritone B b –E formed the boundary of the motif.
Then, accompanying Pelléas’s words that implied fate, “It’s as cool as winter,” the
reiterated D of Pelléas’s vocal line had served as the altered fifth degree of the trans-
posed dominant ninth chord to form its whole-tone transformation (G # – B # – [D] –
F # – A #), the latter prominently foreshadowing the basic tritone (G # – D) that will out-
line the transformed “Pelléas” motif (p. 86, m. 2).
The symbolization of Pelléas by this special motivic (whole-tone) statement is
enhanced at this crucial moment in the opera by the pastoral-like timbres of the flute
and violin. The flute, in particular, is also used to color Pelléas’s motif at his very first
appearance (p. 33, m. 10) and again at the more pastoral opening of the “Well” Scene
(p. 55), where he brings Mélisande in the midday heat. The use of the flute timbre in
association with Pelléas appears to have a more general symbolic significance in con-
nection with this gentle character type in Debussy’s music, for instance, in the Prélude
à l’après-midi d’un faune (1894), inspired by Mallarmé’s poem, in which the flute sym-
bolizes the faun’s dreaming, and in Syrinx (1913) for solo flute that, like the latter
work, also seems to invoke the image of Pan, a god of the Greeks and Romans who
was part human, part goat.36 He came from a rural area of Arcadia, where shepherd-
ing was an important occupation. In ancient times, the worship of this mythological
creature spread to urban areas of Greece and Rome, where he became a symbol of pas-
toral love and music. He was depicted with nymphs, satyrs, and muses, and shown
playing the syrinx (or panpipe), which he supposedly invented. As part of this sym-
bolic imagery, Mélisande herself seems to display certain qualities of a nymph or muse,
who often comes across, because of her simple, disconnected, and repetitive verbal
utterances, as well as her inextricable connection with wells, ponds, the sea, tears,
and other aquatic manifestations, as a somewhat unreal, mysterious mythological
creature like the mermaid Mélusine.37 Thus, Debussy’s careful choice of instrumen-
tal color enhances and broadens our interpretation of the symbolic meaning of the
characters, the environment in which they act, and their psychological motivations
and behavior.
The harmonic parallel between Mélisande’s fatalistic reference to something
stronger than herself and the well is further developed by Pelléas’s reference to the
miraculous powers of the well (p. 57). His vocal line at that point began with the re-
iterated D and cadenced on D as part of his pentatonic cell, F – G – D. The latter was
transformed, then, into the whole-tone “Fate” cell (D– F # – G #) by the elision of the
cadential note (D) with the following raised notes (F # –G #) of his cell at the opening
of his next vocal statement. This whole-tone cell transformation, like the main trans-
formation of his motif later (p. 86, m. 2), is also outlined prominently by basic-tritone
D–G # (i.e., A b – D). Pelléas’s disclosure to Mélisande (p. 57) that “it opened the eyes
of the blind. They still call it the ‘Blind men’s Well’” also serves another parallel.
Mélisande’s statement to Golaud (p. 85, m. 6) that precedes her allusion to fate, “You
couldn’t understand,” may be associated with this reference to the blind. What is
most striking in this parallel is the symbolization of the clear water of the well as ca-
pable of miraculously healing the blind. It is the water of the well in which Mélisande
loses her ring that is instrumental, however indirectly, in Golaud’s enlightenment,
that is, in opening his eyes. It is the loss of Mélisande’s ring that will awaken Golaud’s
suspicions and unleash those emotional forces (jealousy and anger) that will initiate
the course of events leading to vengeance.
The main transformation of the “Pelléas” motif (p. 86, m. 2), although exclu-
sively whole-tone in and of itself (C-D-A b), represents a fatalistic intrusion into the
diatonic sphere at this point, where it belongs ultimately to the larger B b dominant
ninth harmonization (B b –D–F–A b –C). The latter is partitioned linearly into the
whole-tone content of the transformed motif (A b –C–D) and vertically into the pen-
tatonic content of the basic form of the “Pelléas” motif in the three sustained notes
(F – A b – B b). This hybridized collection (i.e., B b dominant ninth chord, B b –D–F–
A b –C) together with the preceding harmonic construction (C dominant ninth chord,
C – E– G – B b – D), both associated directly at this point with control of Mélisande’s
own life by that which is stronger than herself, contain a significant musical reference
to the very first occurrence of the “Mélisande” motif in the Prelude (p. 1, mm. 14 ff.).
In that passage, fatalistic (whole-tone) intrusion into the human (pentatonic) realm
was symbolized by the orchestral figurations against her theme. Those figurations
were based exclusively on the interlocking of two tritones (basic A b – D and B b – E),
which together formed the larger whole-tone (French sixth) tetrachord, A b – B b –D–
E. It is precisely these two tritones that are embedded symmetrically in the B b domi-
nant ninth (B b –D–F–A b –C) and C dominant ninth (C– E – G– B b – D) chords, re-
spectively, against Mélisande’s implied reference to fate.
This association between the two passages (p. 86, m. 1 and p. 1, m. 14) is sup-
ported by the first chord against Mélisande’s statement on the reiterated D. In the
Prelude, one had sensed the intrusion of fate (whole-tone collection) into the “Méli-
sande” realm most prominently by the conflict between her pentatonic note, C # (in
A b –B b – C #) and the whole-tone element, D (in the French sixth figuration, A b – B b –
D–E). The initial chord (C # –G # –E # –B –D) accompanying Mélisande’s vocal state-
ment is bounded by C # and D, the root of the chord (C #) appearing in conflict with
the reiterated D of her vocal line. Resolution of this particular conflict occurs within
the whole-tone transformation of the “Pelléas” motif, where the initial, expanded
whole-tone dyad, C – D, replaces the C # –D juxtaposition, the C – D expansion pre-
pared harmonically in the root progression from C # to C against Mélisande’s reiter-
ated vocal note (D).
When Golaud asks Mélisande (p. 86, m. 4) what she wants him to do, the same
variant of the “Fate” rhythm from the preceding passage (p. 84, m. 4) returns. How-
ever, it is transposed and infused with certain intervallic mutations as the deep regis-
ter of the bassoons seems to capture Golaud’s increasingly suspicious and dark mood.
At the initial occurrence of the “Fate” rhythm (p. 84, m. 4), the whole-tone variant
of the “Pelléas” cell seemed to answer Golaud’s question regarding concealment.
(Again, in connection with the mood of Golaud, this is characteristically presented in
the dark register of the low strings, and as part of the complete WT-1 collection.) At
this recurrence, Golaud’s question is answered by a contraction of the whole-tone
form of the “Pelléas” cell, A b –C–D, to the basic pentatonic form, D – C– A. (The
whole-tone form, A b – C–D, is characteristically presented as part of WT-0, and in the
lighter register of the flute and first violins.) Although this explicit occurrence of the
“Pelléas” cell (D – C– A) supports the association of the preceding whole-tone trans-
formation (C – D– A b), that is, in accord with Golaud’s offer to help Mélisande against
that which is stronger than herself—namely Pelléas and fate, the upward shift of one
note (A b to A) also plays a local transitional function in the musico-dramatic sym-
bolism. As Golaud asks Mélisande, “Do you want to leave me?” the C dominant ninth
chord that harmonized Mélisande’s reiterated D returns, but now under a linear vocal
statement of a transposition of the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell (G – B b – C).
At the next recurrence of the “Fate” rhythm variant (p. 87, m. 1) at Mélisande’s
response, “Oh no, it isn’t that,” the pentatonic note, A, of the “Pelléas” cell (A – C–
D) is retained while the C–D is shifted up to C # –D # to produce a new transposition
of the whole-tone form of his cell (ex. 5-3). This would seem to suggest that
Mélisande actually wants to be free from her uncontrollable (fatalistic) involvement
with Pelléas. This interpretation is supported by her reassurance to Golaud, “I should
8
Oh! non, ce n’est pas ce - la . . .
Oh! no, no, that is not it . . .
12
Go.
8
ter?
free?
4
4
44
WT-1 cell: A–C –D
! E
–G–A ! E
–G–A
M.
Je vou - drais m’en al - ler a - vec vous . . . C’est i - ci que je ne peux plus
I should like to go a - way with you . . . It is here I can’t live a - ny
Retenu E
–G–A G
dim.
24 44
M.
vi - vre . . . Je sens que je ne vi - vrais plus long-temps . . .
long - er . . . I feel that I shall not live ve - ry long . . .
dim.
24 44
24
44
A–C –D A
example 5-3. Act 2, scene 2, p. 87, mm. 1–6, obsessive repetition of “Fate” rhythm,
reduced to whole-tone cell (A–C #–D #), whole-tone-cell sequence representing shift
away from WT-0, to which Pelléas’s dyad C–D belongs (see p. 86, mm. 2 and 4), to
WT-1, to which Golaud’s dyad G–A belongs
like to go away with you. I can’t go on living here any longer,” her statements accom-
panied by the obsessive repetition of the “Fate” rhythm, reduced now only to the
three notes of the whole-tone cell (A–C # –D #). The latter represents a shift away
from WT-0 (to which Pelléas’s dyad C–D belongs) to WT-1 (to which Golaud’s dyad
G –A belongs). This is confirmed by the shift first from A – C # – D # of WT-1 to B b –D–
E of WT-0 (p. 87, m. 3), then to the cadential transposition, E b – G – A (next mea-
sure). The held G – A of this final statement therefore replaces the held C – D of the
initial statement, so the entire orchestral sequence symbolizes the shift of emphasis
from Pelléas (C – D) to Golaud (G–A), a shift motivated by Mélisande’s wish to es-
cape the grip of fate. We may recall that these two dyads enframed the very opening
statement of the “Forest” motif, these dyads then projected as the axes of symmetry
of the two whole-tone collections, respectively. Here, dyad G – A is the axis of the
combined WT-1 cells: E b – G – A – D b.
Transposition A – D b –E b (in enharmonic spelling, A – C # – D #), the transposition
that indicated a shift away from WT-0 and Pelléas’s dyad (C – D) earlier in this pas-
sage (p. 87, mm. 1 –2), reappears at the cadence as the basis of the abridged “Fate”
variant accompanying Mélisande’s words, “I feel I might not live much longer.” The
implications of this musico-textual association are twofold: the first is based on her
feeling that she cannot live without Pelléas; the second is based on her premonition
that she will be destroyed by Golaud if she remains with Pelléas. The latter is sug-
gested in these cadential measures (see ex. 5-3) by the interlocking of the transposed
“Fate” cell associated with Golaud (E b –G –A) with its tritone transposition, A – D b –
E b (i.e., enharmonic spelling of the initial A-C # –D #), associated with the loss of
Pelléas (A – C– D). Ultimately, in the entire passage to this point (p. 86, m. 4 to p. 87,
m. 6), the transposed “Fate” cell (A–C # –D # and E b –G – A) seems to symbolize the
identity between the loss of Pelléas and the death of Mélisande.
together are bounded registrally by his basic dyad, C–D, and the bass line descends
to D at the cadence. In contrast to the negative form of Golaud’s textual statement,
Mélisande provides a relatively affirmative response, “Oh yes, he talks to me some-
times,” so the basic pentatonic form of the “Pelléas” cell (D – C– A) emerges as a
prominent component of the vocal line. This is the first occurrence of the basic trans-
position of his cell since the variant statement of the “Fate” motif in the orchestra
(p. 86, m. 4). The cell then emerges as a prominent foreground event at Mélisande’s
revealing statement, “I’ve seen it in his eyes,” and in the accompanying orchestral
material, in which one of the cell components (C) serves as linear preparation for the
orchestral statement of the cell by means of its alternation with one of the compo-
nents (B) of the WT-1 form of the “Fate” cell (F–A –B). The latter, which belongs to
the musical realm of Golaud, is also the “Pelléas” inversion of the “Mélisande” form
(F–G – B) in Golaud’s previous vocal line (p. 88, m. 4).
This repetition of the process of the preceding measures, that is, based on the
pitch-class intrusions and conflicts between the same primary WT-1 and WT-0 com-
ponents, is supported by a repeat of the descending linear bass motion to the cadence
on D (p. 88, mm. 8– 10). This musical parallel supports a hidden textual parallel as
well. Golaud’s negative statement that Pelléas does not often speak to Mélisande is
paralleled by Mélisande’s negative reference, “I don’t think he likes me,” while her
statement that he speaks to her at times is paralleled by her statement, “I’ve seen it in
his eyes. But he speaks to me when we meet.” In spite of her statements feigning Pel-
léas’s negativity toward her, the orchestra reveals the truth at the appearance of the
transposed “Awakening Desire” motif of Pelléas (p. 89, m. 3), which is initiated by one
of the basic components (A b) associated with the basic whole-tone form (A b – C– D)
of the “Pelléas” motive. While the other two notes (C and D) are absent from this
transposition of the “Awakening Desire” motif, the accompanying tremolo figuration
(p. 89, m. 7) against the transposed third statement of the motif introduces D and C
under the reiterated vocal note, D, the A b appearing as the intervallically mutated
motif’s cadential and highest note (E b – G – A b).
The fourth orchestral statement of the “Awakening Desire” motif (p. 90, mm. 1 –
2) begins to acquire the dotted element of the “Fate” rhythm as the dialogue between
Golaud and Mélisande progresses toward the climax of the scene. This occurrence of
the “Awakening Desire” motif underlines Mélisande’s allusion to the true reason be-
hind Pelléas’s apparent (that is, feigned) aloofness toward her, “But it isn’t that, it isn’t
that,” her statements contradicting Golaud’s assumptions. This transposition of the
“Awakening Desire” motif is articulated cadentially by Golaud’s dyad, G – A, in an-
ticipation of the shift of focus back to Golaud, “Can’t you get used to the life we lead
here?” The polarity between Golaud and Pelléas intensifies in anticipation of Golaud’s
discovery that the ring is lost. Golaud’s attempt to discover the cause of Mélisande’s
sadness (pp. 90-94) leads him to the notion that it may be the gloomy castle that up-
sets Mélisande. His descriptions (pp. 90–91) are reinforced by Mélisande’s (p. 92),
“Yes, it’s true . . . one never sees the sky here.” The contrasting images of the gloomy
castle and the sky evokes an association to the “Well” scene (pp. 66 – 67). In antici-
pation of the moment when Mélisande dropped her ring into the water, Pelléas
warned her not to toss her ring about above such deep water, observing, in contrast,
how it shines in the sun, that is, before it falls in.
The harmonic underpinning at Golaud’s description (p. 90) of the castle as “very
vast and cold” supports the interpretation regarding the association between the dark
abyss of the castle and the deep water of the well. Golaud’s vocal line is based on three
notes, D – E– C, which is bounded temporally by Pelléas’s dyad, D – C. The cadential
note (C), which articulates “profond,” is harmonized by a C-major triad, the latter ex-
tended upward by thirds (to B b –D–F) in the next measure to imply the presence of
a C dominant eleventh collection, C–E–G –B b –D–F. The C dominant ninth sub-
structure (C – E– G – B b –D), supported by the addition of G and B b to D – E – C in the
voice, is precisely that which formed the harmonic basis of the “Well” motif at its first
occurrence (p. 55, m. 10) and recurrence (p. 57, m. 1) in the first scene of this act, in
which Mélisande referred to the clear water and Pelléas to the coolness of the ancient
well. This reference to “ancient” is also paralleled by Golaud’s reference to the old-
ness of the castle and the people who live in it.
Golaud’s reference to “all those ancient sunless forests” is supported by a sliding
progression of parallel chords (p. 91, mm. 8–9), which unfold the entire WT-1 col-
lection associated with Golaud and seem to reflect (by means of the harmonic paral-
lelism) the archaic quality expressed in the text. Golaud’s dyad, G – A, is the axis of
symmetry of the initial chord, F–G –A –B, which is also linearly projected in the
upper line of this progression and is prominent in the descending segment of the vocal
line. The axial function of the dyad G–A within the WT-1 collection recalls the same
function in the ascending orchestral figuration at the opening of the first scene of the
opera, where Golaud was lost in the forest. Furthermore, the registral partitioning of
the chord isolates the three-note “Fate” cell, F–A –B, which generates the descend-
ing sequence of transpositions of the cell in parallel motion. The initial cell transpo-
sition (F – A – B) and the larger tetrachord (F–G –A –B) are imminent in the preced-
ing phrases, hidden, for instance, in the inner voices of the orchestra at Golaud’s
implicit reference to darkness, “very cold and very deep” (p. 90, m. 11). Thus, the par-
allel text reference to the latter, that is, in the following reference to “woods without
any sunshine,” is supported by these WT-1 “Fate”-cell manifestations.
Correspondingly, on the other side of this polarity between the spheres of Golaud
(dark) and Pelléas (light), the orchestral figure supporting Golaud’s words, “But we
can brighten it all up if we want to,” is initiated now by Pelléas’s dyad, D – C. This also
forms the registral harmonic boundary or axis of the symmetrical C dominant ninth
chord (C – E – G– B b – D) that initiates the three-chord sequence under the words,
“Besides, joy,” the bass in the last two chords moving from A to A b. The larger bass
progression (p. 91, mm. 3–6) that culminates on these two notes (D – C– B b – A – G –
C – A–A b) implies the presence of a background-level transformation of the penta-
tonic “Pelléas” cell (D –C–A) into the whole-tone “Fate” form (D – C– A b) of his cell,
the A b articulated at the vocal cadence under the reiterated statement of “la joie.”
The entire passage is then articulated (p. 92, mm. 2 –3) by the most explicit statement
of the “Fate” motif in the scene thus far. The motif is initiated by dyad
C–D, the cadential segment of the accompanying bass line unfolding the pentatonic
form of the “Pelléas” cell (D–C–A), which then pervades both the orchestral and
vocal lines at Golaud’s words, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
The diatonic sixteenth-note figuration from the opening of scene 1 of this act
(p. 56) reappears (p. 92, m. 8) as a kind of ritornello figure, the significance of its re-
turn seeming to lie primarily in its symbolic associative role. The transposed figure is
presented in counterpoint against a descending segment, D – C– B – A, which implies
the presence of the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell, D–C–A. The transposition of the figu-
ration on A permits a prominent suggestion of the cell within the harmonic content
of the first beat. At its original occurrence (p. 56), the figuration was associated with
the meeting of Pelléas and Mélisande at the well, where even the trees could not
shield them from the heat of noon. In the present passage, Mélisande expresses her
longing to be able to see the sky, “I saw it for the first time this morning,” which Go-
laud assumes is the cause of her weeping. His attempt to console her by holding her
hands leads him to discover that the wedding ring is missing. This dramatic sequence,
in which Mélisande’s reference to the sky is followed by Golaud’s reference to her
hands and the lost ring (p. 95), seems to parallel the earlier dramatic sequence pro-
gressing from Mélisande’s reference to her hands (p. 66, m. 6), “My hands don’t
shake,” Pelléas’s observation of how the ring shines in the sun, and loss of the ring as
Mélisande drops it into the well.
In anticipation of Golaud’s realization that the ring is missing (p. 95, mm. 1 – 3),
the lower tremolo figuration of the orchestra and his vocal line imply the presence of
the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell, A–C–D. The original intrusion of the whole-tone
sphere into the “Mélisande” motif (p. 1, mm. 14–15), based on the conflict between
her pentatonic C # (in A b –B b –C #) and the whole-tone D of the accompanying figu-
ration (A b – B b – D– E), a conflict that resurfaced as Mélisande connected Pelléas with
Fate (p. 86), is further manifested here. At Golaud’s portentous words, “Oh, what tiny
hands they are — I could crush them like flowers,” the first two chords over the D
pedal (A – C # – D and A–C–D) now resolve the original C #/D (pentatonic/
whole-tone) conflict in the “Pelléas” cell, as C # moves down to C. The background-
level structure of the entire vocal phrase implies, furthermore, the presence of the
WT-0 expansion (G # – C–D) of the “Pelléas” cell in conflict with the pentatonic form
(A–C– D). Earlier (p. 72), Pélleas had advised Mélisande to tell Golaud the truth
about the ring, but now she does not (pp. 95– 98) because of her guilt feelings, that
is, her unconscious desires that underlie her symbolic role as siren of destruction.38
However, Golaud’s inquiry as to the whereabouts of their marriage token (p. 96, mm.
5–6) suggests its answer in the “Pelléas” cell, which pervades Golaud’s vocal line and
places emphasis on the “Pelléas” dyad, C–D.
Fragments of the ritornello sixteenth-note figuration (now augmented to eighth-
notes) begin to pervade the ending of this subsection of the scene (p. 97, mm. 4 ff.)
leading to Golaud’s “Vengeance” motif (p. 99, m. 5). The text in this passage is based
on Mélisande’s attempt to conceal the actual place where the ring was lost, “You
know that cave by the sea? Well, that’s where it is . . . it must be there,” but the ri-
tornello (water) figure is associated with that stifling day under the trees by the well.
In anticipation of Golaud’s anger, his dyad (G–A) reemerges, first in the upper part
of the ritornello figuration (E–F–G–A) and the punctuating chords (p. 97, mm. 4–5),
and finally as the principal structural notes of the “Vengeance” motif itself (G-E b – G –
B b –A), the ominous quality induced by the trombones and tuba. The dyad G – A is
then sustained in the tremolo figure and held G.
This statement of the “Vengeance” motif (p. 99, m. 5) is a convergent point for
several polarized elements that have been appearing in juxtaposition and conflict
throughout the scene (ex. 5-4). Golaud’s dyad (G–A) is part of a larger linear mani-
festation of a WT-1 transposition of the “Fate” cell, E b – G – A, which appears in
counterpoint with the”Pelléas” cell at its basic transpositional level (D – C – A) in the
bass line of this measure. Furthermore, the minor form of the A dominant ninth chord
(A–C # – E– G – B b) under the tail figure (G–B b –A) of the motif contains C #, which
replaces the preceding C. This juxtaposition (C vs. C #) has, as we shall see, a similar
significance to the same juxtaposition that leads to the transformed “Pelléas” cell, p.
86, mm. 1 – 2; see ex. 4-2b earlier). Three of the five notes (G – A – C #) of the A dom-
inant ninth chord imply the presence of a WT-1 form of the “Mélisande-Fate” cell. In
the chromatic extension of the “Vengeance” motif (p. 99, m. 6), B replaces B b to sug-
gest the major form of the A dominant ninth (A–[ ]–E – G– B), which gives us an-
other three-note segment of WT-1 (G–A –B) that belongs to the sphere of Golaud.
At the end of this chromatic extension, C is again replaced by C #, which is sus-
tained in the tremolo figure to reinforce the reiterated C # of the voice. At this point,
the vocal C # is part of a longer, more explicit linear manifestation of the whole-tone
form of the “Mélisande” cell (G–A –C #), which is also projected vertically into the
last chord of the tremolo. This WT-1 segment is a fusion of Golaud’s dyad (G – A) and
this whole-tone form (G–A –C #) of the “Mélisande-Fate” cell, or, put another way,
the latter is an extension of the sound world of Golaud. This seems to symbolize Go-
laud’s words, “I would rather have lost all I possess than have lost that ring.” The
vocal C # then moves to D, the juxtaposition of these two notes at this crucial point
echoing the original pentatonic/whole-tone conflict between Mélisande (A b – B b – C #)
and Fate (A b – B b – D) (see p. 1, mm. 14–15; see ex. 4-5 earlier).
The implications of Golaud’s reference to “loss” is indicated, then, by the abrupt
shift from C # back to C, the latter belonging to the basic WT-0 form of the “Pelléas-
Fate” cell, A b – C– D, in the chord under “bague” (ring). Thus, we see a parallel
between this passage and Mélisande’s earlier statement that linked Pelléas to fate
(p. 86, mm. 1 – 2). This conflict between C # and D and its resolution in the C-D of
the WT-0 form of the “Pelléas-Fate” cell (G # –C–D) was already prepared in the pre-
ceding passage (p. 99, mm. 1–4), as Golaud insisted that Mélisande find the ring.
This transformation back to the WT-0 sphere of Pelléas in correspondence with
Golaud’s reference to the “loss” of his possessions is articulated by the second, modi-
fied statement of his “Vengeance” motif (p. 100, m. 2). The latter, which reflects his
increasing anger and his insistence that Mélisande retrieve the ring before the rising
tide of the sea gets it first, now expands his WT-1 sphere more prominently within the
increasingly chromatic context leading to the end of the scene. This statement of
the motif expands the WT-1 components of the combined melodic and harmonic
content of the first motivic statement (WT-1/WT-0: C # – E b – G – A/B b – C– D– E) to a
more foreground five-note segment (C b –D b –E b –F–G) in the tail figure and accom-
panying chord of the second motivic statement, under a residual element (A b) from
the WT-0 form of the “Pelléas” cell in the voice. In the remainder of the scene, the
chromatic figurations result in increased mixture of cellular material from both
whole-tone spheres as Golaud’s insistence becomes focused more explicitly on Pelléas
and on the retrieval of his own possession: the ring.
The sliding chromatic descent in octaves in the bass under this statement of the
“Vengeance” motif is articulated cadentially (p. 100, m. 3) by the B b dominant ninth
Un peu retenu
#
Go.
J’ai - me - rais mieux a - voir per - du tout ce que
I had far ra - ther lose all else that I pos -
" cresc.
example 5-4. Act 2, scene 2, p. 99, m. 5, “Vengeance” motif as convergent point for
several polarized elements
chord, B b –D–F–A b – C, into which the basic WT-0 form of the “Pelléas” cell (A b –
C–D) is projected vertically. Both text and harmonic progression suggest a musico-
dramatic parallel once again with the original well scene. Golaud’s demand that
Mélisande retrieve the ring from the sea, no matter how dark it is, recalls the dialogue
between Pelléas and Mélisande (pp. 58–59), in which the two lovers talked of the
magical powers of “The Blind Men’s Well.” The basic link between these two passages
is the common reference to water. The earlier passage (p. 58, mm. 2 – 6) also unfolded
a descending chromatic progression in the rhythm of the “Fate” motif, which ca-
denced at the “Well” motif on the B b dominant ninth chord. Mélisande’s awareness
of “How solitary it is —there’s not a sound to be heard” seems to have some parallel
in her more fearful protestation (p. 100, m. 6), “I daren’t, I dare not go there alone.”
The significance of this parallel is supported by two symbolic associations, the first
between the power of the well to cure blind men and the awakening of Golaud’s
awareness of Mélisande’s affair with Pelléas. The second is based on Golaud’s explicit
reference to Pelléas. In both passages, the basic WT-0 form of the “Pelléas-Fate” cell
is projected vertically as part of the cadential B b dominant ninth harmonization of
both the “Well” and “Vengeance” motifs (p. 58, m. 6, and p. 100, m. 3). The latter is
followed by Golaud’s demand, based on jealous motivation, that she go with anyone
she likes and that she ask Pelléas to go with her.
With the anticipatory reference to Pelléas (p. 101, mm. 1 – 2), the basic penta-
tonic form of the “Pelléas” cell, A–C–[C #] –A –D, emerges in the vocal line. At the
same time, the one “odd” note (C #), which leads upward to D in this statement, re-
calls the original C # – D conflict that was produced by the intrusion of fate into the
realm of “Mélisande” (see p. 1, mm. 14 –15). This C # – D juxtaposition reflects
Mélisande’s dilemma at this point, which is intensified by the option given her by Go-
laud of asking Pelléas to go with her. Golaud’s demand that she go immediately to
retrieve the ring, which symbolizes their marriage and Golaud’s possession of Méli-
sande, appears to be reflected in the vocal line, which interlocks the “Fate” cell, E b –
G –A, with the pentatonic “Mélisande” cell, G–A –C, both cell transpositions inter-
secting at Golaud’s dyad, G–A. The orchestral Interlude (pp. 103-104) leading to act
2, scene 3, is a motivic and cellular summary of the events that have transpired thus
far in this act.
Pelléas et Mélisande
Musico-Dramatic Turning Point: Intervallic
Expansion as Symbol of Dramatic Tension
and Change of Mood
ubtle mood fluctuations have been manifested, throughout the first two acts,
Sin static (nonfunctional) pitch-set interactions between the contrasting, mosaic
planes and layers, in which whole-tone (fatalistic) intrusions into the pentatonic/
diatonic (human) sphere have been serving a highly localized coloristic function to cre-
ate the opera’s impressionistic shades. At the same time, these local coloristic (modal/
whole-tone) shimmerings form a larger integrated harmonic pallette, a chameleonic
fabric that seems to function as a kind of mysterious textural “ether” for linking the
multiplicity of basic themes and their transformations.
At the center of the opera, act 3 brings us to what may be considered one of the
most significant turning points in the symbolic action. At this juncture, the polarized
pentatonic/diatonic and whole-tone spheres, while still serving a local coloristic role,
acquire a more global structural significance in conjunction with dramatic develop-
ments and long-range symbolic associations. Especially by way of act 3, in which the
atmosphere of darkness —tower scene at night and underground vault — permits a
greater “capacity for telepathy and prophecy and, by extension, [a greater association]
with the pre-conscious or subconscious,”1 it seems that the nonfunctional modal and
whole-tone sets can acquire, in the psychological sense, “linear” (cross-referenced)
associations on the larger structural level of the opera.2
In his essay on “cross correspondence,”3 Maeterlinck goes beyond the mere po-
etic expression of psychic forces as developed in his Pelléas play by probing more
deeply into the question of telepathy as scientific fact, not only in terms of its role in
communicating with the dead during a transitional period in which memory may
linger in an incorporeal state, but in terms of a mystery that may have its place as
much in this world (i.e., between living souls) as in the other.4 Because of our associ-
ation of darkness with the unconscious in the opera (for instance, as is symbolized by
the underground vaults of the castle) and the power of the unconscious to compel the
characters toward their ultimate fate (that is, death), we may link the opera’s sym-
bolism with certain notions of telepathy as set forth by the advocates of Psychic
Force.5 Maeterlinck’s quote from Crookes’s article reveals the importance of uncon-
117
scious suggestion and telepathic communication as a basis for Maeterlinck’s own sym-
bolic thought. The “Vault” scene is a premonitory symbol of Pelléas’s death. As Go-
laud leads Pelléas into the dark underground vaults, for instance, he first asks Pelléas
if he has never yet found his way down into these vaults, and then asks him if he can
smell the stench of death that rises from the stagnant water. Pelléas has thus been
forewarned of his death at the hand of Golaud, this subliminal suggestion seeming to
draw Pelléas relentlessly toward a working out of that destiny in his subsequent ac-
tions. We can only assume that Golaud’s forewarning remains hidden within Pelléas’s
unconscious mind, since it is only on the final night (pp. 232 – 233) that Pelléas will
reveal to Mélisande how he has been “playing like a child around a thing whose exis-
tence [he] did not suspect.” The element of unconscious suggestion may also be ob-
served in Pelléas’s reference to himself as a “child,” which appears to be taken over —
that is, used vicariously by Pelléas—from Golaud’s own metaphorical application of
the word to both Pelléas and Mélisande when he found them together at the tower at
night (see p. 139). Maeterlinck asserts, in his discussion of “cross correspondence,”6
that such phenomena can be attributed to the “special character and the as yet im-
perfectly recognized difficulties of telepathic communication,” and that unconscious
suggestions may perhaps “make their way into certain forgotten corners which the
intelligence no longer visits and thence bring back more or less surprising discoveries;
but the intellectual quality of the aggregate will always be inferior to that which a con-
scious mind would yield.” These notions of telepathic communication and uncon-
scious suggestion appear to underlie the moods of both love and death in the events
of the following two scenes.
strument of her punishment when Golaud drags her by her hair in a motion that simu-
lates the Cross (act 4, scene 2, pp. 215-216): “Ah ha! Your long hair is useful for some-
thing at last. To the right and then to the left! To the left and then to the right! Ab-
salom! Absalom! Forward! Back!” The dual significance of Mélisande’s hair, which is
used to symbolize her as both sensuous woman and “Christ” figure, seems, thus, to
play an essential role in the more global polarity between Mélisande as real-life being
and as instrument of fate.
Act 3 begins with the delicate sonorities of the harp, flute, and strings (in pizzi-
cato and sustained harmonics), which together set the mood for this most sensuous
moment of the opera. This instrumentation, which is strikingly similar to that which
introduced the “Well” scene (opening of act 2), supports an event that is both paral-
lel to and polarized with the earlier one. In act 2 (p. 55), the two lovers had met at
the well in the brightness of the noon-day sun, whereas, in act 3 (p. 115), they meet
in the darkness of the starry mid-night sky. In both cases, the sensuous, seductive
mood will lead to a culminating moment associated either indirectly or directly with
Golaud: in act 2 Mélisande loses the wedding ring given to her by Golaud, in act 3
Golaud himself interrupts them as Mélisande’s unbound hair is caught in the branches.
The opening scene of act 3 is particularly striking, perhaps even unusual in the opera,
for its sense of dramatic buildup in the transformation of moods. The sensuality of
Mélisande, her seduction of Pelléas, increasing suspicion of Golaud, and threat of mor-
tal danger together point the direction of the plot toward the dramatic peak of the
opera. This progression of changing moods, which culminates in the dark, forbidding,
and sinister atmosphere of the castle vaults (act 3, scene 2), is essential in shaping the
musico-dramatic form of scene 1.
The scene begins with Mélisande alone at the tower window, combing her long
unbound hair which she describes as “waiting for you all down the tower.” The ap-
pearance of Pelléas is musically anticipated in Mélisande’s unaccompanied recitative,
which is pervaded by surface reiterations of the “Pelléas” pentatonic cell, B – D– E.
Pelléas would like to see Mélisande move from the shadows, to lean out of the window
under the shining stars of the lovely night so he may see her unbound hair and touch
her hand. While leaning out as far as she can, her hair suddenly falls and envelops him:
“Oh! Oh! my hair is falling right down the tower!” Then begins the sensuous episode
with Mélisande’s hair (p. 128), accompanied by murmuring figurations in the violas,
cellos, harp, and horn, as the clarinet sings the “Mélisande” thematic variant above
kaleidoscopic harmonic changes, which induce an intense but restrained passion. Pel-
léas’s rhapsodic description of Mélisande’s hair suggests what may be interpreted as
the first distinctive metaphor for sexual union as he is engulfed by her tresses down to
his knees: “I’m holding it in my hands, I’m holding it in my mouth, I’m holding it in
my arms, I’m putting it around my neck. . . . Look, look, it comes down from such a
height, and yet it covers me as far as my heart, it even covers me as far as my knees!”
As Pelléas refers to Mélisande as his prisoner for the night, text and music move
from moderation to growing animation and passion. Startled by doves flying down
from the tower in the darkness (p. 135), Mélisande seems to have found the means
for diverting attention away from Pelléas’s seductive teasing. At this point, the string
tremolo linearly joins a pentatonic variant of her motif (at its original pitch level, G # –
A # – C # – A # – G #) with the whole-tone form of the “Pelléas” motif (G # – F # –D–F # –
a.
c.
2
Retenu
4
43
ff
24
43
7th-chord sequence outlining parallel
descending whole-tone tetrachords
example 6-1. Act 3, scene 1, three new motifs: (a) magical quality of “Night” (p. 115,
m. 6 [show mm. 4–6]), (b) Pelléas’s “Ardor” (p. 120, m. 3), and (c) Mélisande’s “De-
scending Hair” (p. 127, mm. 1–3)
have overheard them. As Golaud questions them about their activities, this culmi-
nating moment of the scene (p. 138, mm. 9 –10) is accompanied by a sombre state-
ment of his “Vengeance” motif (compare with the original “Golaud” motif, p. 14, m. 8,
and “Vengeance” motif, p. 99, m. 5). The instrumentation (horns, bassoons, and low
strings), which is essentially the same for all three musical events, contributes to the
symbolic association among these events and provides yet another example of the use
of timbre in a kind of “leit-sound” capacity. Golaud’s final words provide an ironic po-
larity to, even denial of, their seductive activity: “Stop playing in the dark like that.
You’re just a pair of children. What children you are! What children!” and he exits
with Pelléas.
Scene 1 is structurally articulated by three new motifs (ex. 6-1) — the magical
quality of “Night” (p. 115, m. 6), Pelléas’s “Ardor” (p. 120, m. 3), and Mélisande’s
“Descending Hair” (p. 127, mm. 1–3) —which are followed by thematic variants of
“Mélisande” (p. 128, mm. 1–2) and Golaud’s “Vengeance” (p. 138, m. 9). Within this
structural deployment of motifs, the symbolic use of figuration and instrumentation is
especially poignant, the prelude unfolding a quiet arabesque that sets the mood in an-
ticipation of Mélisande’s flowing hair. The opening arabesque, based on pitch-class B
in alternation with the “Night” motif in the suggested key of E minor/major (p. 115.
m. 6ff.), is part of a larger ambiguous tonal polarity between B and E, which resolves
to E at the end of her recitative (p. 117). The prolongation of tonal ambiguity to the
cadential point contributes, within the context of the figural arabesque, to the gen-
eral mood of Mélisande’s seductive action.
“Ardor”
94 64
9 64
4
“Night”
example 6-2. Act 3, scene 1, p. 122, mm. 4–5, “Night” and “Ardor” motifs in close
proximity as Mélisande leans further out of window; transpositional level (B–A #–A–
C #–G #) of “Ardor” motif further extends long-range chromatic descent (D–C #–C–E–B/
B–A #–A–C #–G #), with tritone boundary (D–G #) manifested locally in vocal line
passage, both this WT-1 tetrachord (B–A –G –F) and the tritone transposition (A b –
B b –C– D) of WT-0-tetrachord D–E–F # –G # are precisely those that will outline the
upper and lower layers of the “Descending Hair” motif (p. 127, mm. 1 – 2). The tri-
tone transposition (F–E b –D b –C b) of tetrachord B– A – G – F is also found to
be aligned in one of the inner layers with one other whole-tone tetrachord (G – F–
E b – D b), both together outlining the complete WT-1 collection in the lower inner
lines (see ex. 6-1c). The latter WT-1 tetrachord (G–F– E b – D b), which is apparently
the only new one in this sliding progression of descending parallel dominant seventh
chords, was actually implied already in the passages of increasing passion. Its presence
was first implied in Mélisande’s recitative by the single tritone (G – C #) of the E Do-
rian mode (E – F # – G – A – B – C # –D–E), where it outlined a form of the intruding
whole-tone (“Fate”) cell, G–B –C # (p. 116, mm. 3– 4 and 5 – 6). As Pelléas complains
(p. 124, mm. 3 –4) that he “can only see the branches of the willow that overhangs
the wall,” tritone G – C # is prominently embedded in the vocal line (G – B b – C # – D),
which contains one semitone and a pair of minor thirds. The minor third, which is en-
closed temporally by whole-step orchestral ostinati (see the preceding D – E – F #
triplets and the following G–A sixteenths), is an expansion of the latter interval in
this sensuous (harmonically full) “divisi” string passage that interrupts the developing
“Night” and “Ardor” motifs.
The harmonic accompaniment under this vocal statement of Pelléas (p. 124,
mm. 3 – 4), which contains two incomplete interval-3 cycles (G – B b – C # – [ ] and E b –
F # –A – [ ]) in the upper and lower accompanying instrumental layers, respectively,
foreshadows the larger, exclusive octatonic segment (G – A – B b – C– D b – E b) that fol-
lows directly (p. 124, m. 4). This octatonic collection juxtaposes vertical statements
of the primary interval-3 cycle (G–B b –D b) with the tritone transposition (A – C– E b)
of the other interval-3 cycle (E b –F # –A) of this passage, the ostinato layers linearly
unfolding whole-tone dyads, G–A, D b –E b, and B b –C. In the upper harmonic un-
folding of the parallel dominant seventh chords that comprise the “Descending Hair”
motif, we get pairs of parallel diminished triads a whole-step apart, each pair (D – F–
B and C – E b – A, B b – D b –G and A b –C b –F, etc.) forming a six-note segment of an oc-
tatonic collection. This was foreshadowed by the identical procedure just discussed in
the ostinato figuration that followed Pelléas’s vocal statement (p. 124, m. 4). While
the octatonic segments in the “Descending Hair” motif summarize the intervals of the
expansion process stemming from the beginning of the scene, that is, semitone,
whole-tone, and minor third, the whole-tone dyads of the earlier ostinato figuration
are extended downward now to larger whole-tone tetrachords in the “Descending
Hair” motif. Thus, the whole-tone cycle is given priority in this context, and serves as
a primary focal point in the developing dramatic structure.
2
3
4
4
24
43
7th-chord sequence outlining parallel
descending diatonic and whole-tone tetrachords
E
major or
C minor
example 6-3. Act 3, scene 1, p. 128, mm. 5–6, first variant of “Descending Hair”
motif, diatonic (ambiguous E b-major) transformation of original whole-tone form;
pivotal function of tertian harmony (dominant-seventh chord in initial motivic
statement, half-diminished-seventh in motivic variant) in transformation from one
symbolic realm (fatalistic whole-tone) to the other (human diatonic)
the light, that is, her sensuality (hair) seems to symbolize an unconscious inclination
toward destruction. This interpretation is supported by Maeterlinck’s own words:
“And if the sky is hidden from you, ‘does not the great starry sky,’ asks the poet, ‘spread
over our soul, in spite of all, under guise of death?’”13 At the end of the opera, it is
Mélisande who, on her deathbed, cannot recognize Golaud (p. 279, mm. 2 – 4) be-
cause of the glare of the evening sun in her eyes.
Golaud begs Mélisande to tell him the truth about her love for Pelléas because
soon she is going to die, and he after her (p. 290). He blames himself for their fate,
telling her that now he can see all, but he loved her so (pp. 284 – 285). The final dia-
logue between Golaud and Mélisande provides a link between Mélisande’s love for
Pelléas as the primary motivating force of Golaud’s jealousy and the symbolic polari-
ties identified with the human realm and fate: light and dark, seeing and not seeing,
conscious and unconscious, insight and blindness (Golaud is afraid he will go to his
grave as one that is blind), truth and lies (he begs Mélisande not to lie at the moment
of her death), life and death (ultimate fate). Thus, we may interpret the message of
the symbols and final outcome in terms of the force of human emotions, which are
both real and inevitable. According to Debussy himself, “The drama of Pelléas —
which despite its atmosphere of dreams contains much more humanity than those so-
called documents of real life—seemed to suit my purpose admirably.”14 Debussy also
acknowledged the autonomy of the characters’ emotional expression in his opera:
Above all I respected the characters themselves—their ways. I wanted them to have
their own expression, independent of me. . . . On hearing opera, the spectator is ac-
customed to experiencing two distinct sorts of emotion: on the one hand the musical
emotion, and on the other the emotion of the characters—usually he experiences
them in succession. I tried to ensure that the two were perfectly merged and simul-
taneous. Melody, if I dare say so, is antilyrical. It cannot express the varying states of
the soul, and of life. . . . I have never allowed my music to precipitate or retard the
changing feelings or passions of my characters for technical convenience. It stands
aside as soon as it can, leaving them the freedom of their gestures, their utterances—
their joy or their sorrow. It is this that one of my critics understood so well —M. Four-
caud of Le Gaulois —perhaps without realizing it, when he spoke of Pelléas et Méli-
sande in terms of a “declamation in notes, scarcely accompanied.”15
enters by the winding stairway. Mélisande’s startled words (p. 137, mm. 4 – 5), “I think
it’s Golaud!” are expressed by the same linear statement of the cell (D b – F– G). This
musical connection (that is, the identical form of the “Fate” cell) between Pelléas’s
reference to Mélisande’s sensuously unfurling hair and Golaud’s appearance provides
a portentous sign for the direction of the drama.
It is significant that the latter transposition of the “Fate” cell (D b – F– G) is part
of the WT-1 collection, which has been associated with Golaud since his very first
appearance in act 1. His opening vocal statement (p. 3), which was a prelude to his
first meeting with Mélisande, outlined the augmented (WT-1) triad, A – F– D b (see
ex. 4-4 earlier). At Golaud’s appearance on the stairway (p. 137), where he is about
to encounter Mélisande and Pelléas in a compromising situation (her hair is twisted
around the branches in the dark), the WT-1 “Fate” cell (D b – F– G) is preceded in
Mélisande’s vocal line (p. 137, mm. 1–2) by a permutation (D b – A – F, in enharmonic
spelling, C # – A – F) of the same augmented triad that initiated Golaud’s first appear-
ance in the opera. Furthermore, the ominous mood of the “Fate” cell (D b – F– G) is
enhanced by the ostinato rhythm of the “Fate” motif, which is also associated fre-
quently with Golaud.
The portentous quality of the augmented triad, which belongs to the whole-tone
sphere, is already imminent in the “Night” motif at the beginning of this scene (p. 115,
m. 6; see ex. 6-1a). The chromatic fluctuation between G # and G in the juxtaposition
of the pentatonic “Pelléas” cell (G # –F # –D #) and its variant (G – F # – D #), while fore-
shadowing the chromaticism of Pelléas’s “Ardor” motif, expands the held B major
chord alternately into a minor seventh chord (G # – B – D # – F #) often identified with
both the “Pelléas” and “Mélisande” (pentatonic) cells (i.e., D # – F # – G # and its inver-
sion, F # – G # – B) and a quasi-whole-tone construction (G – B – D # – F #) containing the
augmented (whole-tone) triad associated with Golaud and the fatalistic realm. At the
cadence of Mélisande’s recitative (p. 117, m. 1), the transposed “night” motif unfolds
C –B–G # against a held E to outline a more transparent linear transposition (C– E –
G # –B) of the quasi-whole-tone construction containing another augmented triad
(C –E–G #) as Pelléas enters by the path to encounter Mélisande.
Other musical elements also appear to play a significant symbolic role in the dra-
matic development between the “Descending Hair” motif and the arrival of Golaud.
Golaud’s “Fate” cell (D b –F–G) is harmonized as part of the larger dominant ninth
chord, E b – G – B b – D b – F. At Pelléas’s reference to Mélisande’s hair (p. 127), the cell
is harmonized by an incomplete form ([ ]–G –B b –D b –F) of the same dominant ninth
chord in anticipation of the complete form of the chord to be associated with Go-
laud’s appearance. As Pelléas continues to describe Mélisande’s hair, “Your hair,
Mélisande, all your hair has fallen down from the tower,” the C dominant ninth trans-
position (C – E– G – B b –D) begins to intrude against segments of the E b dominant
ninth to produce an ambiguous hybrid, more chromatic harmonic context. Pelléas’s
vocal line (at p. 127, mm. 8–9) first unfolds C–G, then D # – A # (in enharmonic
spelling, E b – B b), the first implying the basic fifth of the C dominant ninth, the second
the basic fifth of the E b dominant ninth. The orchestral layers support these harmonic
implications. In the preceding measure (p. 127, m. 7), the final eighth note and
tremolo figure together outline C–E–G –B b. In the next measure (p. 127, m. 8), the
final vocal note and tremolo figures together outline E b – G – B b – D b. While the E b
dominant ninth chord is obscured in the first half of the next measure (p. 127, m. 9)
by enharmonic spellings, D # –[ ]–A # –C # (= E b –[ ]–B b – D b), and several chromatic
tones, the C dominant ninth (C–E–G –B b –D) emerges complete and exclusive at
the end of the measure.
The emergence of the C dominant ninth chord in juxtaposition with the incom-
plete E b dominant ninth provides a significant musical clue for dramatic symbolic
association. The C dominant ninth was originally associated with the “Well” motif
(p. 55, m. 10, and p. 57, m. 1). In that scene, Mélisande is looking into the “clear
water,” where she will drop her ring eventually, her vocal line outlining a transposi-
tion of the “Fate” cell (B b –D–E). At its return in the “Hair” scene (p. 127, end of
m. 9f.; see ex. 6-1c), the C dominant ninth chord is based on the same registral isola-
tion of its whole-tone tetrachord (B b –C–D–E) as had characterized the “Well”
motif. Thus, a symbolic musical connection is established between Mélisande’s shin-
ing ring falling into the well and her hair descending from the tower at night, both
events eventually discovered by Golaud. The symbolic connection between these two
events is supported by the contrasting light-dark imagery in Mélisande’s opening
recitative (pp. 116 – 117), “I was born on a Sunday, on a Sunday at noon,” and “I’m
doing my hair for the night.” Furthermore, Pelléas associates her hair with light, “Is
that what I can see on the wall? I thought you had a light.”
cell and the WT-1 cycle are manifested with increasing prominence. These manifes-
tations occur in increasingly distinct juxtapositions with the WT-0 sphere of Pelléas
and Mélisande, the polarity of the whole-tone spheres stemming in this scene from
the chromatic fluctuations between G # and G of the “Night” motif. As Pelléas’s pas-
sionate involvement with Mélisande’s hair intensifies (p. 129, m. 7ff.), a transposition
of the “Pelléas” pentatonic cell, D–F–G, which initiates his vocal line, is simultane-
ously transformed by the C # of violin I into the basic WT-1 transposition (C # –F–G)
of Golaud’s “Fate” cell. The entire harmonic content of the orchestra and voice at this
point (p. 129, m. 8) is based on a five-note segment (F – G – A – B – C #) of the WT-1
collection, plus one “odd” note, D. The latter note represents the single difference be-
tween the pentatonic cell (D–F–G) and its whole-tone form (C # – F– G), so D and
C # again serve as conflicting elements as part of a higher level conflict between har-
monic spheres. The conflict between precisely these two notes is striking considering
that the upper melodic line of the orchestra unfolds a “Mélisande” motivic variant sim-
ilar in rhythm and contour to her original motif in the prelude (p. 1, mm. 14 – 15). At
that point (see ex. 4-5), the same conflict occurred between C # of her pentatonic motif
(A b –B b – C #) and D of the WT-0 accompaniment (A b – B b – D– E), in which D of the
arpeggiation served to transform the pitch content of her motif into a WT-0 transpo-
sition of the “Fate” cell (A b –B b –D). In the sensual “Hair” scene (p. 129, m. 7), the
reverse relation occurs —D in the voice, C # in the accompaniment — as we move to-
ward the WT-1 sphere in anticipation of Golaud. This conflict is intensified (p. 129,
mm. 9–10) as D moves prominently into the bass to form a pedal under the “Méli-
sande” motif, which is bounded by tritone C # –G of the “Golaud-Fate” cell.
As Pelléas describes the entwining of Mélisande’s hair around his heart, two new
notes (A b and C) from WT-0 enter into his predominantly WT-1 vocal phrase ([D] –
F – G– A– [A b] – C # – [C–A b] –A). These two new notes (A b – C) and the initial D,
which are the exclusive representations of WT-0 in this vocal phrase, together imply
the presence of the basic transposition (A b –C–D) of Pelléas’s “Fate” cell. At the same
time, the emergence of D as a pedal against the linear statement of the dyad A b – C
and the reinforcement of the latter dyad by its own harmonic projection (at
p. 129, m. 9, beat 3, and m. 10, beat 3) contribute, together, to the developing ten-
sion between the two whole-tone spheres. It is striking that Pelléas’s A b – C dyad is
linearly adjacent to G and A, the latter two notes implying the presence of the basic
WT-1 dyad (G – A), which was originally associated with Golaud’s very first appear-
ance in the forest (p. 3, mm. 1 and 3, that is, where G– A formed the axis of symme-
try of the ascending complete WT-1 scale). The dyad G– A also belongs to the tritone
transposition (G – A – C #) of the “Golaud-Fate” cell (C # – F– G), both transpositions
imminent in the present passage.
The conflict between the two whole-tone spheres is also intensified in this pas-
sage by the absorption of the single WT-0 component (E) of Mélisande’s thematic
variant (C # – E– G-E) into a larger five-note segment (A b – B b – C– D– E-[F – G]) of
WT-0 at the two points where dyad A b –C is projected vertically (last chord of p. 129,
both mm. 9 and 10). The harmonic alternations between WT-1, F – G – A – B – C # –
[D–E] (p. 129, mm. 8-9, etc.), and WT-0, A b –B b –C– D– E-[F – G] (end of p. 129,
both mm. 9 and 10), result in linear chromatic dyads in several of the layers: A – A b,
C # –C (vocal line), C # –C, A–A b, and B–B b (clarinet and basses). The local fusion of
one level (whole-tone versus chromatic, essentially), together they represent a singu-
lar sphere on one side of a higher-level polarity—both collections represent a deeper
move into the realm of symmetrical pitch construction, such constructions having fa-
talistic significance in contrast to the pentatonic and larger nonsymmetrical modal
pitch constructions associated with the natural human realm. In the first of the two
triads— E b – G b – B b and F # – A – C # (p. 130, m. 7) —that precede the two-chord octa-
tonic phrase segments, the triadic root (E b) ends the descending five-note WT-1 layer
(B–A – G – F– E b) of the “Descending Hair” motif. At the same time, the remaining
third (G b – B b) of this triad ends the descending series of parallel major thirds that un-
fold the two WT-0 tetrachords (E–D–C–B b and C– B b – A b – G b) simultaneously.
While these WT-0 tetrachords, which are initiated by the original major thirds (E–C/
D–B b) of the “Well” motif, together yield the complete WT-0 collection that was only
implied by the “Well” motif originally, the next triad (F # – A – C #) transforms the E b
minor triad from its dual WT-1/WT-0 function into an octatonic function. These two
minor-third-related triads (E b –G b –B b and F # –A–C #) and the following tritone-related
triads (C – E– G and F # –A # –C #) together produce the complete octatonic collection
(C –C # – E b – E– F # – G – A – A #) in contrapuntal synchronization with Pelléas’s vocal
statement. The intervallic structure of the vocal line combines the cyclic intervals
(F # –A–C and B b –C) of the larger octatonic and whole-tone collections, respectively.
The increasingly explicit octatonic and whole-tone—symmetrical — significance of
the three motifs deepens both their musical and symbolic role in producing a sense of
inevitable motion toward the fulfillment of the main events.
Pelléas’s statement (pp. 130–131) that his “hands can’t hold it all — it spreads
out onto the branches of the willow” expresses his loss of control of Mélisande’s un-
bound hair, and his reference to falling once again invokes a symbolic association to
the loss of control of the ring as it had fallen into the well. In connection with both
events— falling of Mélisande’s ring and her unbound hair — we get pitch-set trans-
formations in more complex combinations. The WT-1 collection re-emerges with
greater clarity and prominence now in Pelléas’s vocal line (G – A – B – C # – D #), the
latter generated from the original axial dyad, G –A (see p. 3) associated with the im-
minent appearance of Golaud. The accompanying orchestral material juxtaposes two
dominant ninth chords, D–F # –A –C–E and B–D # –F # – A – C #, precisely the two
that alternated (p. 55, mm. 3–4) in preparation for the primary dominant ninth
chord (C – E – G– B b – D) of the “Well” motif. The original manifestations of these
three dominant ninth chords at that meeting of the two lovers— the dominant ninth
construction has been shown to be maximally whole-tone — are now projected into
the deep-level structure of the “Descending Hair” scene, where they serve as the basis
for increasingly distinct, conflicting musico-dramatic juxtapositions of the two whole-
tone partitions, WT-1 associated with Golaud, WT-0 with Pelléas and Mélisande.
The original interaction between the cellular variants (octatonic G – F # – D # and
pentatonic G # – F # – D #) of the “Night” motif and the whole-tone versus minor sev-
enth ambiguity of the accompanying held chord (p. 115) is projected into a context
of more complex figurations (p. 131). While this projection of the basic cellular ele-
ments of the “Night” motif provides long-range structural unity and continuity in the
developmental process, it also reestablishes the basic generative material of the scene
plaints to Golaud (p. 87), “I should like to go away with you. I can’t go on living here
any longer,” her attachment to Golaud exceeds the mere formality of matrimony. After
all, she was able to escape from her bondage to Bluebeard, as we know from the open-
ing of this and the Ariane et Barbe-Bleue play.
WT-1 collection. At the same time, the shift in Mélisande’s vocal line (p. 136, m. 2,
through p. 137, m. 2) to Golaud’s WT-1 cell (first C # – A – G, then D b – F– G, both
joined locally in voice and orchestra, p. 137, m. 1f.) within the context of the com-
plete WT-1 collection, G–A –B –C # –D # –F (see p. 136, mm. 7 – 8, string tremolo),
points to a deeper symbolic meaning. The loss of the doves implies their freedom, to
which we may associate Mélisande’s own wish to fly away as she apprehends Golaud’s
appearance on the stairway, “Let me lift up my head. I can hear footsteps. Let me go!
It’s Golaud!” The augmented triad of Mélisande’s vocal line (F – A – C #, pp. 136 – 137)
is a permutation of the identical segment that had accompanied Golaud’s first words
in the opera. Furthermore, the axis of symmetry (G–A) of the opening whole-tone
scalar ascent, E b – F– G–A–C b –D b (p. 3, m. 1), which was established in the orches-
tra in connection with the loss of Golaud in the forest, is manifested now (p.136, m. 7)
as an isolated segment of the WT-1 cell (C # –A –G) in direct connection with Méli-
sande’s words, “They will get lost in the darkness.” In the first situation, it was a flee-
ing boar that led Golaud astray and to his encounter with Mélisande. Now, it is flee-
ing doves that distract Mélisande and direct her attention to the approach of Golaud.
The WT-1 collection is momentarily interrupted in the vocal line (p. 137, m. 2)
by the WT-0 dyad, A b –B b, which is established by the following D b as part of Méli-
sande’s basic pentatonic cell, A b –B b –D b (see p. 137, mm. 2 – 3). The pentatonic D b
serves as a transitional link as it initiates the basic WT-1 cell of Golaud (D b –F–G).
This fleeting reference to the WT-0 sphere of Pelléas and Mélisande (i.e., by means
of the linear interpolation of Mélisande’s A b –B b dyad between F – G and D b of the
WT-1 cell) serves as the basic link in the shift of Mélisande’s attention from Pelléas
to Golaud. As Mélisande refers to Golaud, dyad A b –B b is projected into the orchestra
as the only WT-0 element among several WT-1 instrumental layers. At this focal point
in the scene (p. 137, mm. 3 ff.), Golaud’s WT-1 cell (D b – F– G) unfolds both in the
voice and the upper two orchestral layers, the undulating dotted half-notes recalling
the “Forest” motif, the triplet/eighth-note figure the “Fate” motif rhythm. These mo-
tivic references, as at the opening of the opera, anticipate Golaud’s appearance.
The lower layers of this variant of the “Forest” motif, in contrary motion to the
upper layer, draw the cell into a larger context of whole-tone layers. As the sensuous
play with Mélisande’s hair comes to an end by the twisting of her hair in the branches
and the sound of Golaud’s footsteps, the orchestral figurations (p. 137, mm. 3 ff.) sug-
gest one final, dissipating reference to the whole-tone strands of the “Hair” motif. In
the woodwinds, dyads G–F and E b –D b together unfold the WT-1 tetrachord, D b –
E b –F– G, while the dyad B b –A b implies an abridgment of the WT-0 tetrachord, A b –
B b –C– D. Both tetrachords had unfolded in the lower two string layers of the “Hair”
motif (see ex. 6-1c). (These instrumental families, winds and strings, when presented
as choirs rather than solos, are most often associated with Golaud and Mélisande, re-
spectively, the strings providing a more sensual quality, the winds a somewhat more
ominous one.) At the same time, the harmonic content maintains the diatonic asso-
ciation with the parallel dominant seventh chords of the “Hair” motif, but the pro-
gression is reduced to two tertian constructions, on E b and D b. The E b chord outlines
a complete dominant ninth construction (E b – G – B b –D b – F), but the D b chord is lim-
ited to a triad (D b –F–A b) plus a dissonant G. If we interpret the single note A b as the
“odd” element, then the remainder of the D b chord (WT-1 cell D b – F– G) is simply a
component of the larger E b dominant ninth chord. Thus, the WT-1 tetrachordal con-
struction, D b – E b – F– G (and its cellular subcollection, D b – F– G), of the E b dominant
ninth chord emerges as the predominating structure of the passage. The note A b,
which represents the basic transpositional level of the Pelléas and Mélisande cells
throughout the opera, is the only “odd” (that is, WT-0) element of the passage.
The enharmonic reinterpretation of Mélisande’s original pentatonic cell (A b –B b –
C #) as A b – B b – D b in her vocal line (p. 137, mm. 3) also contributes to the shift of em-
phasis from the WT-0 to WT-1 sphere of Golaud, as Mélisande refers to his approach.
The reinterpretation of C # as D b, which was already manifested (p. 137, m. 1) in the
cross relation between the vocal C # and chordal D b, weakens the original conflict in
the Prelude (p. 1, mm. 14–15) between the pentatonic C # of Mélisande’s motif and
the WT-0-related D of the arpeggiations as D b now forms part of the “Golaud” WT-1
cell. In contrast to the original upward tendency of C # to D in the Prelude, the or-
chestral D b now moves down to C, which is maintained in the remainder of the pas-
sage as the basis of the “Fate” rhythm. This reinterpreted tendency of the original C #
(as the enharmonic D b moves down to C) contributes to the weakening of the D (or
A b) area of Pelléas. The momentary return (p. 138, mm. 1 – 4) of his whole-tone
“Fate” cell (A b – C– D) in the combined vocal line and C pedal (exclusively as part of
the larger WT-0 collection) appropriately coincides with his anxiety about her hair
being caught in the branches. As he warns her to remain still, the C pedal of the
“Fate” rhythm moves down by one half-step to B to begin Golaud’s “Vengeance” motif
(p. 138, m. 9). The latter is derived from the earlier “Golaud” motif (p. 14, m. 8).
At its first appearance in act 2, scene 2 (p. 99, m. 5, and p. 100, m. 2), the “Ven-
geance” motif had been presented in two statements in the trombones and tuba, the
second statement more vehement than the first. According to Wenk, the trombones
and tuba are directly associated, in the opera, with “violent death.”17 As Golaud dis-
covers the two lovers in the dark, questions their actions, and warns Mélisande not
to lean out of the window or she will fall, the “Vengeance” motif is again presented in
two statements (p. 138, m. 9, and p. 139, m. 4), first in the bassoons, horns, and low
strings, then in the upper strings. This instrumentation, which represents a softening
of the “more violent” earlier timbral forces, seems to correspond with the more am-
biguous level of Golaud’s anger. At the earlier statements of the motif, Mélisande’s
loss of the ring was intolerable for him. In these more recent statements of the motif,
denial now colors Golaud’s feelings as he treats the two lovers like children. This time,
the contrast between the two motivic statements is more subtle, the second trans-
forming the exclusively diatonic, half-diminished seventh content (B – D– F– A) of
the first into the whole-tone cell contour (D–F # –[A] – G #) of the second within a
highly chromaticized harmonization. This transformation from diatonic to whole-tone/
chromatic, the tendency in keeping with the general direction of the pitch-set trans-
formations of this scene, reflects the symbolic significance of Golaud’s words, “you’ll
fall . . . Don’t you know it’s late? It’s close on midnight.” The parallel association of
Mélisande’s “fall” from the window with Golaud’s reference to the “loss” of the ring
at the initial occurrence of the “Vengeance” motif (p. 99, m. 5) is supported by the
musical association. At that initial statement of the “Vengeance” motif, the whole-
tone “Fate”-cell (E b – G – [B b] –A) had also defined the linear contour. The chromatic
harmonization with its linear half-step manifestations in both cases may be identified
with the character of the “Night” motif. It is striking that in both passages, Golaud’s
threatening words are followed by events in the darkness, the first in which Golaud
insists that Mélisande search for the ring in the grotto that night, the present passage
in which he refers to the mid-night hour. The latter reference also foreshadows the
opening of act 2, scene 2, directly, where Golaud will guide Pelléas through the under-
ground vaults of the castle.
As Golaud, laughing nervously, departs with Pelléas, the tritone transposition
(D–F # – G #) of Pelléas’s WT-0 “Fate” cell in the second statement of the “Vengeance”
motif (p. 139, m. 4) is transposed to its basic pitch level (A b – C– D) in the first chord
(A b –C– D– F) of the Interlude (p. 140), where it initiates the “Fate” motif. The
melodic note, F, is the one “odd” element in this primarily WT-0 chord. At the same
time, the upper thematic layer (F–G) of the motif belongs to the WT-1 sphere of Go-
laud, the second note (G) harmonized by the larger WT-1 segment, B – E b – F– G. The
one “odd” note in this primarily WT-1 chord is the A b pedal. Thus, the Interlude be-
gins with an equal representation of the two men in connection with the dramatic set-
ting. The “Mélisande” motif returns, after two transposed statements (on A and E b),
to its basic pitch level (on G #) at the Modéré (p. 141).
C–D A
G–A
Lourd et sombre (Mème mouvt )
6
44 64
4
%
6 4 64
4
4
64
6
4
WT-0 WT-1 WT-0 WT-1
WT-0 WT-1 WT-0 WT-1
44
&
44
&
WT-0 complete
example 6-4. Act 3, scene 2, “Vault” scene, p. 142, mm. 1–14, sublimated reference
to “Forest” and “Fate” motifs by linearly stated pentatonic dyads (C–D and G–A) in
bass and upper two lines (mm. 1–2); single chromatic change to A b on last beat recalls
original intrusion (p. 1, m. 5) of WT-0 “Fate” motif
lines (ex. 6-4). The single chromatic change to A b on the last beat of both measures
is precisely the same alteration that led to the original intrusion (p. 1, m. 5) of the
WT-0 “Fate” motif. In the vault scene, the unobtrusive A b has two functions: as in the
forest scene, it prepares for the shift to the exclusive WT-0 figuration (C – D– G b – A b –
B b) of “Fate”; and, as in the preceding tower scene, its linear voice-leading function
(A to A b) recalls the linear half-step element of the “Night” motif.
played by bassoons, horns, and low strings. According to Wenk,19 the horns evoke a
direct association to Golaud, an indirect association to darkness and death, thereby
supporting the symbolic association of the WT-1 collection to Golaud throughout the
opera. The threat to Pelléas appears more explicit now in Golaud’s ominous state-
ments, “Well, here’s the stagnant pool I was speaking about. Do you smell the scent
of death that rises from it? Let’s go to the edge of this overhanging rock and lean over
a little. It will strike you in the face.” Precisely at “visage,” the WT-0 dyad, C – D,
which is part of Pelléas’s “Fate” cell (A b –C–D) in the longer vocal line (p. 144, mm.
6 – 7), is interrupted by the complete WT-1 collection of Golaud, the latter replacing
the original WT-0 collection in the inversionally related syncopated scales. According
to Wenk,20 the timpani (ostinato on C–D) provides a direct association to darkness
and an extended association to impending disaster and death. The scalar contour pro-
vides a pictorial representation of the “up” and “down” references in the text.
As a musical response to the dialogue about the chasm (pp. 145 – 146), a series
of half-step reiterations associated with the “Night” motif closes the scene. The text
at this point refers to the flickering light of the lantern on the dark walls, the stark
contrast only serving to heighten the gloominess of the vaults while anticipating the
emergence of the two brothers from the stifling air. The WT-0 motif from the opening
of the scene returns in the interlude (p. 147, m. 3), where it serves a re-transitional
role between the half-steps of darkness and the pentatonic/diatonic sphere associated
with the sunlight and air of the terrace at the entrance of the vaults (act 3,scene 3).
The WT-0 motif in the double basses is transformed (p. 147, m. 7 ff.) into an ascend-
ing figuration in the harps in pictorial representation of the dramatic action. According
to Wenk, spacing and registration play an important symbolic role, in which “changes
in placement mark important movements on stage, such as the ascent of Golaud
and Pelléas from the castle vaults to the terrace by the sea.”21 In anticipation of light
and air, the motif appears in a figuration of extreme lucidity in the original arch-
shaped contour of the motif. The sense of light and air is supported by the extension
of one major-third gap into a complete major-third cycle within the larger WT-0 figu-
ration (A b – B b – C – E– A b –C). These whole-tone arpeggiations are first transformed
at the crescendo (p. 148) into a pentatonic/diatonic (E – F # – G # – A – C # – E – F # – A –
C # – E), then D-dominant ninth construction (D–F # – A – C– E) at the opening of
scene 3, the change of mood expressed by Pelléas’s relief, “Ah! I can breathe at last!”
The transfer of arpeggiations between flute and harp in the move from scenes 2 to 3
indicate an important movement on stage, the harp symbolizing the water of the sea
and the sense of renewal, freshness, and change. Thus, this momentary move from
the sense of death to one of life is reflected in the instrumentation and the tendency
from whole-tone to diatonic, the reverse of the tendency established at the opening
of the opera, in the “Descending Hair” scene, and at the opening of the vault scene.
Textual alternations between these contrasting moods continue throughout scene
3, the WT-1 sphere of Golaud symbolizing the more sinister sense of death, the pro-
gression from the WT-0 sphere of Pelléas to the pentatonic/diatonic one the brighter
sense of life. At Pelléas’s thought that he was going to be ill in the enormous caverns
(p. 149, m. 6), the juxtaposition of an E dominant seventh (E – G # – B – D) and C dom-
inant ninth (C – E– G –B b –D) chord produces linear half-step voice-leadings (G # – G,
B – B b, and B – C) that recall the darkness of the “Night” motif. Following the two
Même mouv t ( = (
3
4
doux et expressif
3
4
44
più %
44
Go.
'
ci, Y - niold; viens sur mes ge - noux; nous ve - rons d’i-
while, Y - niold; Come sit on my knee. Mesuré From here we can
example 6-5. Act 3, scene 4, p. 158, mm. 4–19, “Yniold” motif and introduction to ap-
pearance of Golaud and Yniold; ambiguous interlocking of symbolically related ele-
ments: initial figure (C–D b–F–G, with held C) of scene 4 joins Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate”
cell (D b–F–G) with C of Yniold’s C-major triad to suggest C-Phrygian mode; held C
and F–G of Golaud’s cell suggests cell (C–G–F) derived from transposition of “Yniold”
motif
link to the WT-1 “Fate” cell (D b –F–G) of his father, which is embedded in the larger
figure that opens scene 4 (p. 158, m. 13). The second statement of the motif, on B b
(m. 9), closes the Interlude precisely with the cadential note, D b (m. 12).
The brief orchestral introduction that leads to the appearance of Golaud and
Yniold, the latter of whom is now identified explicitly by the C major triad in Golaud’s
vocal line as the child is asked to sit on his father’s knee, presents an ambiguous inter-
locking of several symbolically-related elements (ex. 6-5). The initial figure of the
scene (C – D b – F– G, with sustained C) joins Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate” cell (D b –F–G)
with the C of Yniold’s triad to suggest the C Phrygian mode. In this modal context,
the sustained C, together with F–G of Golaud’s cell, implies the presence of a cell
(C–G – F) derived from an implied C transposition of Yniold’s motif, C # – G # – F # (see
p. 158, m. 1). The held C, which represents a diatonic extension of Golaud’s WT-1
“Fate” cell (C/D b – F– G/C) also serves as a pivot to the WT-0 sphere of Pelléas, the
following new notes (B b and G b) absorbing the C into the “Pelléas-Fate” cell, C – B b –
G b. The latter is then expanded into a larger, exclusively WT-0 segment (G b – A b – B b –
C, plus E of the voice. Thus, the implied “Yniold” cell (C – G – F) serves as a musical
link between Golaud’s D b –F–G and Pelléas’s G b –B b –C in anticipation of the ensu-
ing dramatic events.
This hybridized introductory passage serves structurally, then, as a kind of ritor-
nello (p. 159, mm. 6 –7), which punctuates Golaud’s statement that reveals his jeal-
ousy of Mélisande, “You’ve forsaken me, too; you’re always with your little mummy.”
This ritornello statement presents equal representation of Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate” cell
(D b – F – G) and Pelléas’s WT-0 “Fate” cell (C – B b – G b), in which Yniold’s cell (C –
G – F) again serves as a link: the one intrusion (C) into the WT-1 cell foreshadows Pel-
léas’s intrusion into the sphere of Golaud; the one intrusion (D b) into the WT-0 cell
symbolizes the reverse. Subsequent variant forms of the ritornello figure, which are
presented simultaneously with vocal statements, shift the balance between these two
whole-tone spheres in distinct juxtapositions between the whole-tone “Fate” cell and
some “odd” (that is, non-whole-tone) element in correspondence with the dramatic
trend. In these juxtapositions of WT-1 and WT-0 (P. 160, m. 8), which follow state-
ments of Yniold’s pentatonic cell (p. 160, mm. 5–6), Golaud refers to someone with
a lantern (apparently Pelléas). Correspondingly, there is a shift to D b – E bb – G b – A b,
which transposes the initial ritornello figure up one half-step (from C – D b –F–G to
D b – E bb – G b – A b) to produce a reversal of whole-tone representation — the trans-
position is based on a complete form of Pelléas’s WT-0 cell plus Golaud’s D b. There is
a direct correlation between Golaud’s observation that “there’s someone going
through the garden with a lantern,” specifically, “with a lantern,” and Pelléas’s WT-0
cell within the larger vocal line; as in the preceding scene, light is associated with the
WT-0 sphere of Pelléas.
Two statements by Golaud to Yniold (p. 163, mm. 1 – 2), “I’m not talking about
the light” and “I’m talking about the door,” provide a more explicit contrast between
light and dark (door signifies privacy or darkness). The paired accompanying phrases
seem to reflect this polarity. Above the undulating triplet figure of the “Fate” motif,
two whole-tone-related dyads appear in alternation. The first dyad (C – D), together
with the whole-tone dyad (F–G) of the triplet, forms a pentatonic tetrachord (F – G –
C–D), which implies the presence of the “Yniold” cell (C – G – F) and its inversion
(G–C– D). The second dyad (B–E b), together with the same F – G dyad of the “Fate”
rhythm, produces a WT-1 segment (F–G –B –E b), which implies the presence of a
transposition of the WT-1 “Golaud-Fate” cell (B–E b –F) and its inversion (F – G – B).
As in the previous scenes, the latter cell is again associated with darkness. The WT-
1 dyad (F – G) of the triplets moves to a half-step dyad (B – C), the combination un-
folding the WT-1 “Fate” cell (F–G –B) plus one “odd” note (C). This recalls the basic
pitch-set (intervallic) relations of the initial ritornello figure, C/D b – F– G (p. 158,
opening of the scene), based on the primary transposition of the “Golaud” WT-1 cell
plus the “odd” note (C) of the implied “Yniold” cell (C– F– G). In both cases, Yniold’s
pentatonic cell, which serves as a link between the respective whole-tone spheres of
Pelléas and Golaud, is the same. At Golaud’s order to Yniold not to put his hand in
his mouth (p. 163), Yniold’s action suggesting inhibition and fear as to what he had
seen, the first chord (B–C–E b –F) modifies the linear triplet segment (F – G – B – C).
The new “Golaud” WT-1 cell segment (B–E b –F, i.e., inverted tritone transposition of
F–G –B) is also combined with the same “odd” element (C).
As Yniold’s agitation increases (p. 164), his pentatonic motif reappears in paral-
lel fourths and thirds at his words, “Daddy, you’ve hurt me!” Within this parallel har-
monization, we find a hidden manifestation of the basic transposition on C (C – G –
F–G, interwoven in second flute and oboes), which emerges as the exclusive form at
Golaud’s bribing words (p. 165, mm. 4–5), “I’ll give you a present tomorrow,” that is,
if Yniold will inform on Pelléas and Mélisande. The first two notes (C – G) of the motif
are harmonized by the C dominant ninth chord (C–E – G– B b – D), which gives pri-
ority to the WT-0 area (B b –C–D–E), the next two notes (F – G) harmonized by the
F dominant ninth (F – A –C–E b –G), which gives priority to the WT-1 area (E b –F–
G –A). Thus, Yniold’s diatonic theme serves as a link between the respective, immi-
nent whole-tone spheres of Pelléas and Golaud.
The direction of the scene, in which Yniold comes to spy on Pelléas and Méli-
sande, is further indicated by the subtle intrusion of a chromatic tetrachord associated
En animant
Y.
Ah! si, pe - tit pè - re, si,
Oh! yes, dear- est fa - ther, yes,
e cresc.
example 6-6. Act 3, scene 4, p. 174, m. 6ff., chromatic tetrachord, D–C #–C–B (orig-
inally as counterpoint to pentatonic “Pelléas” motif ), in agitated ostinato figure, as
Yniold answers Golaud’s question about lovers’ kiss
with Pelléas’s first appearance in the opera (see ex. 4-8 earlier). The first explicit man-
ifestation of a chromatic tetrachord (F–G b – G – A b) in this scene unfolds under the
ritornello figure accompanying Golaud’s question (p. 162, mm. 5 – 6), “Who doesn’t
want it opened?” The chromatic tetrachordal construction can be traced back to the
linear chromatic descent (D–C # –C–B) of Pelléas’s “Ardor” motif (p. 120, m. 3) and,
originally, to this transposition of the descending tetrachord in the lower flute line in
counterpoint with the “Pelléas” motif (p. 33, mm. 10 – 11). This transposition (D –
C # –C– B) emerges subsequently (ex. 6-6) as the basis of an agitated ostinato figure
(p. 174, mm. 6 ff., again played by the flute), as Yniold answers Golaud’s question
about the lovers’ kiss. The tetrachordal ostinato unfolds in counterpoint against a
highly varied version of the “Pelléas” motif in the lower lines, so this passage is a trans-
formation of that (p. 33) which introduced Pelléas’s first appearance. Pelléas’s motif
pervades the remainder of the scene and is joined by Mélisande’s motif (p. 180, mm. 2–
4) as Golaud lifts Yniold to spy on them. As in the “Hair” and “Vault” scenes, refer-
ences to “light” and “dark” continue (p. 177 ff.) and the triplet figure of the “Fate”
rhythm becomes pervasive as the dramatic tension builds to the end of the scene.
Pelléas et Mélisande
Mélisande as Christ Symbol—
Life, Death, and Resurrection—
and Motivic Reinterpretations
of the Whole-Tone Dyad
147
Who can tell us of the power which events possess—whether they issue from us, or
whether we owe our being to them? Do we attract them, or are we attracted by them?
Do we mould them, or do they mould us? Are they always unerring in their
course? . . . Whence is it that they come to us; and why are they shaped in our image,
as though they were our brothers? Are their workings in the past or in the future; and
are the more powerful of them those that are no longer, or those that are not yet? Is
it to-day or to-morrow that moulds us? Do we not all spend the greater part of our
lives under the shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass? . . .
It is death that is the guide of our life, and our life has no goal but death. Our
death is the mould into which our life flows: it is death that has shaped our features.3
The insightful words of Pelléas’s father lead us to draw parallels between events
entailing premonitory perceptions by those men who are close to Pelléas. For in-
stance, we may compare Pelléas’s visit to his father’s bedside, where his father has
forecast Pelléas’s death, with the scene of the dark underground vaults of the castle,
where Golaud had frightened Pelléas with his reference to “the scent of death.” The
latter event supports the equation between darkness (the unconscious, or unseen)
and fate. A parallel may also be drawn between his father’s premonition and Pelléas’s
very first appearance in the opera (p. 34). Pelléas recounts how his father, recovering
from his illness (p. 191), “He knew me. He took my hand, and in that strange man-
ner he’s had ever since he’s been ill, he said: ‘Is that you, Pelléas?’”
Immediately following the musical statement of the “Pelléas” motif at his very first
appearance (in act 1, scene 2, p. 34), it was Arkel who had originally posed the ques-
tion: “Is that you, Pelléas? Come a little closer so that I can see you in the light.” The
descending chromatic tetrachord, D–C # –C–B, which was hidden in the counter-
point under the original diatonic statement of the “Pelléas” motif (p. 33, mm. 10 – 11;
see ex. 4-8 earlier), reemerges as a primary foreground event in the first oboe (p. 191,
mm. 9–11) at Pelléas’s quotation of his father’s question “Is it thou? Pelléas?” It is
striking that at Pelléas’s original appearance, it was his friend Marcellus who was
going to die. The significance of this chromatic tetrachord in connection with his fa-
ther’s premonition of Pelléas’s death—D–C # –C–B belongs to the symbolic realm of
Pelléas — is all the more striking in view of the tetrachord’s manifestation in the agi-
tated ostinato of the preceding scene (p. 174), where Yniold’s description of the kiss
of the two lovers had heightened Golaud’s jealousy, an emotion which will motivate
Golaud’s final violent action against his brother. Whereas the basic “Pelléas” motif
itself had appeared in the scene of Golaud’s jealousy (p. 174, m. 6 ff.) in a highly modi-
fied form in the counterpoint of the oboe and clarinets against the tetrachordal osti-
nato (D–C # –C–B) of the flute, the motif is now manifested (pp. 191–192) in a trans-
posed statement (G – A–E–A–E) consisting of a slight intervallic mutation of the
original occurrence, B –C # –A –D–A (see p. 33, mm. 10 – 12). It is also striking that
the chromatic tetrachord of Pelléas (D–C # –C–B), which directly precedes the trans-
posed form of his motif (G–A–E–A–E) in this passage (p. 191, m. 10) will become
the linear thread of the “Ardor” motif (see p. 120, mm. 3 – 4) as it symbolizes his in-
creasing passion for Mélisande.
The present phrasal and transpositional modification of the “Pelléas” motif in the
flute intensifies the meaning of the text and its symbolic associations.4 It is separated
from, that is, it follows rather than appears in counterpoint with, the chromatic tetra-
chord (p. 191, mm. 9 ff.). This phrasal separation gives greater importance to both
diatonic motif and chromatic tetrachord. The direct correlation of the tetrachord
with his father’s statement about Pelléas’s appearance of one who will not live very
long (p. 191, m. 10, to p. 192, m. 2), also suggests its more prominent musical status.
Furthermore, the specific transpositional level of the “Pelléas” motif at this point pro-
vides yet another level of dramatic association. The motif, which is initiated by none
other than Golaud’s WT-1 dyad (G–A), is linked directly with the statement pre-
dicting Pelléas’s death, which will be inflicted precisely by his jealous half-brother.
The G– A dyad, which appeared as the axis of symmetry of the ascending whole-tone
triplet figure (E b – F– G –A–C b –D b) that first introduced Golaud as he had been
hunting a wounded boar (p. 3), now appears in Pelléas’s vocal line (p. 191, mm. 5 – 8)
as the axis of symmetry of the linear WT-1 tetrachord, F – G – A – B, just prior to his
father’s premonition of Pelléas’s death.
The entire scene is enframed by a sixteenth-note ritornello-like figuration that
recalls the first meeting of Pelléas and Mélisande at the well (p. 56). At the earlier ri-
tornello figuration, which implies the presence of the “Pelléas” motif at a transposi-
tion level (G # – B – C #) that contains one of the primary elements (G #) associated with
Pelléas, the text refers to the stifling heat of the sun at noon. At the opening of the
present scene (p. 189), the ritornello figuration, which implies the presence of the
“Pelléas” motif at the new transpositional level (E–G–A) that contains Golaud’s WT-1
dyad (G – A) and unfolds in linear counterpoint against an explicit statement of this
transposition, G – A – E–A–E (p. 189, mm. 7– 10), is also associated with the meet-
ing of Pelléas and Mélisande. This time, as Pelléas’s words suggest darkness (p. 190),
“I must talk to you this evening,” the ritornello and motif shift momentarily (p. 190,
m. 1 ff.) to the original pitch level (on G #) in the “Well” scene, the latter transposition
supporting the symbolic association of the two scenes. The association with the
“Well” scene becomes explicit (p. 193), as they plan to meet in the evening at the blind
men’s well. A local reference to a variant of Yniold’s motif in the ritornello (p. 189,
mm. 11 –12) provides a transitional link between these opposing transpositional lev-
els, the lowest layer (second bassoon, A–G –F) representing the WT-1 sphere of Go-
laud, the upper three layers (clarinets, E–D–C, C–B b – A b, and F # – E – D) together
producing a complete WT-0 extension of the Pelléas realm.
The symbolic connection between old Arkel and the ancient well, one blind but
also able to foresee fateful events (for instance, in act 4, scene 2, p. 202, he “foresees”
that Mélisande will be the one to open the door to a new era), the other formerly able
to give sight to the blind—hence, conscious (that which is seen) versus unconscious
(that which is unseen), or fate—is one of the central themes of symbolic polarity in
the entire opera. We may identify other significant polarities in this scene as metaphors
of the latter. The polarity between life and death pervades the scene. The warning to
Pelléas of his death contrasts with the revival of his father and all the castle (p. 192).
The symbolic identity between death and night is also suggested as Pelléas tells
Mélisande that their meeting at the well this night will be their last. It is striking that
his statement is punctuated by Mélisande’s vocal line based on the same WT-1 aug-
mented triad (A–C # –F–A) that unfolded in Golaud’s very first statement (see p. 3).
Mélisande’s opposite response, in which she tells Pelléas that she shall always see him,
establishes the dark-light polarity as well.
Modéré
doux et expressif
WT-0 F dominant-ninth
example 7-1. Act 4, scene 1, to opening of scene 2 (p. 197, m. 6, beat 1), sixteenth-
note ritornello figuration, harmonic shift to five-note segment (E–F #–G #–A #–B #) of
WT-0, replacement of B # by one “odd” note (C #) transforming WT-0 collection into
F # dominant-ninth chord (F #–A #–C #–E–G #)
love) is inextricably connected with darkness (death) in the opera, that is, reference
to one of these conditions almost always foreshadows, or invokes its opposite. For in-
stance, Smith cites Pelléas’s reference (p. 236, mm. 6–7) to “the edge of the moon-
light,”6 after which Pelléas expresses his fear of being seen (p. 237, mm. 1 – 3) and that
this is perhaps the last time they shall ever meet (p. 242, mm. 3 – 4).
The darker association of C # is imminent within this seemingly brighter (more
optimistic) context, nevertheless. In the reversed progression — whole-tone to domi-
nant ninth — in the first measure of this scene (p. 197), the C # intrusion that induces
the change to the F # dominant ninth (F # –A # –[C #]–E–G #) also initiates a transposi-
tion of the “Mélisande” pentatonic motif (C # –D # –F #). The latter (notably dyad C # –
D #) also belongs to the darker realm of Golaud’s WT-1 collection. Recall the trans-
position of his “Fate” cell on C # (in enharmonic spelling, D b – F– G) at his appearance
in the “Descending Hair” or “Tower” scene at midnight. The connection between the
C # –D # dyad of this initial statement of the “Mélisande” motif (in the brighter regis-
ter of the violins) and Golaud is subsequently confirmed in this scene (p. 205, mm. 7 –
8) in the darker register of the violas and cellos, where the “Fate” motif, based pre-
cisely on this dyad (C # –D #), accompanies his agitated appearance. The “Mélisande”
motif is transposed, then, in the next statement to the original pitch level, A b – B b – C #
(in enharmonic spelling, G # –A # –C #), which now belongs primarily to the WT-0
sphere, that is, except for the C #. The final transposition of the “Mélisande” motif
transforms the pentatonic structure into the WT-0 “Fate” cell, E – F # – A # (violins
doubled by the horns). This cadences (p. 197, mm. 16 – 17) with the initial WT-1
dyad (D # – C #) of her pentatonic motif that began the passage, expanded (within a
quasi-diatonic collection, D # –C # – B – A – G/F # –E) into a five-note segment of WT-1
(D # –C # – B – A – G) against the “odd” WT-0 half notes (F # and E) in these two ca-
dential measures. The WT-0 interpretation of the latter two notes (F # and E) may be
supported by a comparison of the cadential measures with the preceding two mea-
sures, in which the hierarchical relation between the two whole-tone collections is re-
versed in the quasi-diatonic collection, B # –A # –G # –F # – E/D # – C #. In the latter, F #
and E belong to a five-note segment of WT-0, while the cadential D # and C # repre-
sent the “odd” WT-1 half-notes (see ex. 7-1 earlier). Furthermore, while C # – D # ini-
tiates the first (pentatonic) statement of the “Mélisande” motif (p. 197, mm. 6 – 8),
E– F # initiates the third (whole-tone) statement (p. 197, mm. 14 – 16). Thus, in con-
nection with the successive appearances of Arkel and Golaud, the lighter and darker
moods as symbolized by the special details of the musical fabric seem to be weaving
their net relentlessly around Mélisande.
Mélisande’s motif unfolds over a more fragmented form of the “Fate” ostinato as
Arkel tells Mélisande how he has been observing her life at the castle (p.199) and her
look of one awaiting a calamity. Life and death, which are mixed increasingly in
Arkel’s statements (p. 200, mm. 1–2), are musically identified with an ascending-
descending wedge-shaped progression in crescendo, which seems to depict this dual-
ity literally. This pattern gives way to a mysterious sixteenth-note figuration, as Arkel
claims she is “too young and too beautiful to live day and night under the shadow
of death.” This cross-like figure becomes more continuous and incorporates the
“Mélisande” motif within it (e.g., p. 201, m. 7 ff., last beat, F # – A – F # – E; m. 11ff., B –
D – B– B b, etc.) as Arkel’s words about the reliance on events themselves begin to link
Mélisande with fate.
F # – G – A b (now in the low strings) as the basis of the “Fate” rhythm, thereby further
extending Golaud’s C # –D # dyad chromatically. This progression at Golaud’s en-
trance, which primarily comprises chromatic tetrachords (in the low strings, a timbre
appropriate to Golaud’s character), may be outlined as follows: C # – D #/C # –D–D # –
E/E # – F # – G – A b/A– B b. Thus, the specific instrumental timbres at these separate oc-
currences of the tetrachord (flute, then low strings) seem to support the respective
symbolic associations of this intervallic construction.
The first literal clue to Melisande’s primary symbolic role is suggested by Golaud’s
claim (p. 206) that the blood on his brow was produced by a “thorn hedge.” In view
of certain forthcoming events, this may perhaps be interpreted as a metaphor for the
crown of thorns that Christ wore under the burden of the Cross. This speculation is
based on the imminence of Mélisande’s own symbolic “crucifixion.” As Golaud’s rage
intensifies, he asks first for his sword, which Mélisande, trembling, finds on the prayer
stool. She is reassured by Golaud, however, that she is not going to be killed. As Go-
laud becomes accusatorial, repeated statements of Mélisande’s “Naïveté” motif (p. 208)
are joined by rhythmic elements of the “Fate” motif in support of the increasingly di-
rect dramatic force. But Arkel can see in Mélisande’s eyes a great innocence only, to
which Golaud responds sarcastically with yet other metaphors associated with the
crucifixion (pp. 210 – 211): “They are greater than innocence!. They are purer than
the eyes of a lamb. They could give God lessons in innocence! . . . One would think
the angels of heaven were for ever celebrating a christening there.”
As Golaud’s sarcasm turns to vehemence, new forms of several basic motifs unfold
in combinations and juxtapositions in anticipation of the violent climax of the scene.
A strange variant of the “Mélisande” motif (p. 212, mm. 4 – 5) is now accompanied
by the ascending form of the chromatic tetrachord, A b – A – B b – C b, then B b – B – C–
C #, the descending form originally used in counterpoint against the “Pelléas” motif
both at his first appearance (p. 33) and at Golaud’s jealousy (p. 174). This “Méli-
sande” variant and the “Pelleas” tetrachord together seem to reflect the meaning be-
hind Golaud’s jealousy and sarcastic question, “I have no hidden thoughts. . . . If I
had, why shouldn’t I express them?” This motivic combination leads to the triplet fig-
ure suggesting “Fate,” its contour (D–F # – G – F #) outlining Mélisande’s motif (p. 213,
mm. 2– 8), which is gradually expanded into the more angular figure (p. 214) of two
alternating tritones (F # –C/B b –E) as Golaud seizes Mélisande by her hair. As he forces
her down on her knees, a variant of her whole-tone “Hair” motif unfolds in his vocal
line (p. 215, mm. 8 – 9), “Your long hair is useful for something at last.” Then, his
words and actions seem to symbolize the Cross as he drags Mélisande by her hair,
“To the right, then to the left! To the left, and then to the right! Absalom! Absalom!
Forward! Back!”7 The triplet figuration begins to break up into a crosslike pattern
(p. 216) in the viola and cello. This exclusively WT-0 figuration is reinforced by the
augmented triplet figure in the clarinets and bassoons. The latter figure, in parallel
major thirds (first occurrence, G # –B #/F # –A #), recalls the “Well” motif (see p. 57, m. 2,
flutes) at its original suggestion of ultimate fate, that is, “as cool as winter.” The sym-
bolic association of the well with Mélisande’s ultimate fate is further developed, now,
by the violent imagery of her “Crucifixion.” It is striking that the “Well” motif” (whole-
tone tetrachord) in the latter passage occurs, as in the “Well” scene, as part of the
larger, complete WT-0 collection. Thus, the motivic and harmonic identification be-
tween these two passages contributes to the common symbolic meaning of these oth-
erwise highly contrasting dramatic moments.
In correspondence with the dramatic symbolism, the pairs of major thirds above
the jagged crosslike triplets (p. 216) suggest a fusion of the “Well” motif and a dyadic
fragmentation of the whole-tone tetrachordal “Hair” motif, both motifs prominently
associated with fate. This fusion seems to grow out of the descending segment of the
strange “Mélisande” variant (see p. 212, m. 5). The scene closes (p. 218, m. 12) with
a whole-tone variant of Golaud’s “Vengeance” motif, played by the trombones and
tubas as a timbral reflection of the violent mood,8 above a partial statement (A b – A –
B b –[ ]) of Pelléas’s chromatic tetrachord, and then Arkel’s words (p. 219), “If I were
God, I should have pity on the hearts of men.” But it is Mélisande who, as a Christ
figure on her deathbed (p. 282), answers Golaud’s plea, “Yes, I forgive you.”
The symbol of Christ—life, death, and resurrection — was suggested earlier by
Arkel’s prophecy (p. 202) that Mélisande will be the one to open the door for a new
era. Arkel seems to bear out this metaphor of resurrection more prominently at the
end of the opera (pp. 309–310), where he declares that Mélisande’s child must live
on in her place. This metaphor is articulated by the closing instrumental passage in
C # major (p. 310, m. 2 ff.; ex. 7-2), in which a series of suspensions in the descending
parallel triads over reiterations of the tonic note (C #) lead to a dirgelike theme in the
two flutes and muted trumpet (p. 310, m. 7). This theme is none other than Méli-
sande’s motif in quasi stretto at two transpositional levels: the original one of the
opera (in enharmonic spelling, G # –A # –C #) and its perfect-fourth transposition (C # –
D # –F #). The trumpet, according to Wenk, symbolizes “peaceful death,”9 which is en-
tirely appropriate to the mood of this ending.
These tonal materials are crucial in fulfilling one of the main symbolic messages
of the drama. The significance of these two motivic transpositions, in which the orig-
inal form contains the C # tonic as its upper boundary note, the other the C # tonic as
its lower boundary note, lies in the meaning of the original dissonant intrusion of the
whole-tone “Fate” sphere into the pentatonic “Human” sphere of Mélisande at the
opening of the opera (p. 1, mm. 14–15). At that point, the pentatonic form of her
motif (A b – B b – C #) was expanded intervallically in the accompanying figuration (A b –
B b –D– E) to the whole-tone “Fate” form by the alteration of one note, C # to D. This
dissonance between the pentatonic C # and the whole-tone D represents the first si-
multaneous transformation from one pitch-set to the other. This musical event is a
microscopic reflection (or telescoping) of the opening D pentatonic and closing C #
major tonalities of the opera. The shift from D to C # is reflected locally in the final ca-
dence of the suspensions on D (p. 310, m. 6), the latter then moving down one half-
step to the C # transposition of the “Mélisande” motif in the trumpet. At the same time,
the basic tritone (G #) of D, which hovers above this resolution in the tremolo figure,
prepares for the basic G # transposition of Mélisande’s motif in the flute. The original
intrusion of “Fate” is thereby fulfilled in the final resolution of D to Mélisande’s dia-
tonic note, C #, in which her resurrection is symbolized in the new life of her daugh-
ter. But the destiny of that new life, hence Mélisande’s own fate, comes into question
now as Golaud’s “Fate” cell, D b –F–G (in enharmonic spelling, C # – E # – Fx), is em-
bedded in the cadential C # –major (or Lydian) figuration. This ominous echo of his
12
8
12
8
C major tonic sonority
)
en allant se perdant
C -Phrygian descent
à peine murmuré
%
!
%
!
example 7-2. Act 5, p. 310, mm. 2–12, metaphor of resurrection as Mélisande gives
birth before she dies, articulated by closing instrumental passage in C # major; suspen-
sions in descending parallel triads over reiterations of tonic note (C #) lead to dirge-
like theme in the two flutes and muted trumpet (p. 310, m. 7)
“Fate” motif seems to suggest that the continuation of life and its events remain
bound within the cycle of fate. In more practical terms, the woman, as represented by
Mélisande and her daughter, cannot be free from the power structure as represented
by Golaud.
The harmonic progression underlying the implied “Fate” rhythm provides an-
other level of insight into this dramatic symbolization, and prepares us for the dramatic
events of act 4, scene 4. The initial harmonic construction of the triplets (p. 225,
mm. 11 – 12), above a sustained fifth (F–C), outlines the A-pentatonic collection
(A–C– D– E – G). The latter is a permutation of the pentatonic collection of the
“Forest” motif (C – D – E–G – A), which opened the opera. At that point, the penta-
tonic whole-step ostinato (D–C) of the bass was transformed by the linear motion to
A b (p. 1, m. 5) to outline the first statement of Pelléas’s WT-0 “Fate” cell (A b – C– D).
In the present scene (p. 225), the oscillating A pentatonic triplets contain an unob-
of page 255 in the Durand vocal score, at the double-bar). This divides the scene’s
total of 1316 crotchet beats in exact G.S. of 813:503 (taking the scene’s musical begin-
ning as the 6/4 on p. 232 of the Durand vocal score)—as accurate as anything yet
traced in this book. Pelléas’s and Mélisande’s declaration of love (p. 244 in the Du-
rand vocal score) is placed over the exact halfway point of these first 813 beats.13
Act 4, scene 4 may be analyzed into three large parts, as articulated simultane-
ously by the musico-textual meaning as well as the GS and symmetrical formulas, the
succession of contrasting events producing the final buildup of tension toward the end
of the scene where Golaud falls on Pelléas with his sword during Pelléas’s embrace
with Mélisande. The first section (p. 232, m. 6–p. 244, m. 2), in which Pelléas is
awakened for the first time to the existence of fate, is an expression of hopelessness as
Pelléas realizes that his relationship with Mélisande is destined to come to an end this
night. The second section (p. 244, m. 3–p. 255, m. 2), based on mutual confessions
of love, is an expression of the most ecstatic, tender, and nostalgic feelings. The third
section (p. 255, m. 3 – end), in which the two lovers realize that they have just been
locked out of the castle, comprehends extreme contrasts of mood between rapturous
embrace and the fear of Golaud’s vengeance. In this final section, tension increases
dramatically in anticipation of Golaud’s violent appearance and the inevitable move
toward tragic doom, all of this invoking a striking parallel to the events leading to the
“love-death” of Tristan and Isolde. The increase of passion to the moment of greatest
intensity and the final declaration of love seem to be dependent on Pelléas’s realiza-
tion that he has arrived on the brink of his ultimate fate. Maeterlinck indirectly pro-
vides us with some insight into Pelléas’s psychological condition:
we must accustom ourselves to live like an angel who has just sprung to life, like a
woman who loves, or a man on the point of death. If you knew that you were going
to die to-night, or merely that you would have to go away and never return, would
you, looking upon men and things for the last time, see them in the same light that
you have hitherto seen them? Would you not love as you never yet have loved? Is it
the virtue or evil of the appearances around you that would be magnified? . . . Would
not everything, down to actual evil and suffering, be transformed into love, over-
flowing with gentlest tears?14
Various musical factors, in terms of both local content and the larger structure and
design of this scene and the opera as a whole, deepen our understanding of these psy-
chological (even philosophical) questions and issues invoked by Maeterlinck. At the
opening of act 4, scene 4, Pelléas is introduced by the descending chromatic counter-
point, which has been associated with his motif, and by the held boundary interval
(C–D) of the C dominant ninth chord (C–E–G –B b –D). This basic WT-0 dyad (C –
D) emerges, as it did in the very opening “Forest” motif, as a primary foreground
event. Its direct contrapuntal combination with whole-tone dyad G # – F # in the lower
bass octaves and initial notes of Pelléas’s vocal line produces a more immediate trans-
formation of the C – D dyad into the whole-tone sphere than had occurred either at
the first juxtaposition of the “Forest” and “Fate” motifs (p. 1, mm. 4 – 5), in the “Well”
scene (p. 57), at Mélisande’s cryptic suggestion that links Pelléas to fate (p. 86, m. 2),
or in the triplets accompanying the bleating of the sheep that are being led to the
slaughter by the unseen shepherd (p. 225, mm. 11– 12 to p. 226). This passage at the
opening of scene 4 of this act bears the most direct resemblance to the inversionally
related whole-tone lines that were framed temporally by the dyad C– D (p. 142, mm.
10 ff.) in connection with the descent of Pelléas and Golaud into the dark vaults of
the castle, where the stench of death arising from the stagnant water was premoni-
tory of Pelléas’s death. In musical terms, the WT-0 configuration at the opening of
scene 4 (p. 232, mm. 9–11) implies the presence of a long-range symmetrical trans-
formation of the C dominant ninth chord associated primarily with the “Well”
motif— Pelléas will die at the well in this scene. If we split the fifth degree (G) of the
C dominant ninth chord (C–E–G –B b –D), which is in itself a symmetrical forma-
tion, into its upper and lower half-steps (G # and F #) while retaining the C – D bound-
ary, the present symmetrical WT-0 tetrachord (C–F # –G # – D) is produced. This is a
symmetrical permutation of the very first chord of the original “Fate” motif (p. 1, m. 5),
A b –C–D–F # (in enharmonic spelling, G # –C–D–F #), in which the dyad C – D of the
“Forest” motif was absorbed into the “Fate” motif as the axis of symmetry. Thus, the
WT-0 configuration at the opening of act 4, scene 4, which unfolds toward Pelléas’s
death by the end of this scene, ties together many of the primary symbolic events at
this crucial point in the drama by means of musical association and symbolization.
Pelléas’s further realizations (p. 233) support these long-range symbolic connec-
tions. His reference to the snares of destiny all around him and the likening of him-
self to a blind man, “I shall run away shouting with joy and grief, like a blind man flee-
ing from his burning house,” which symbolize the powers of the well, are represented
musically by the encirclement of his basic motif (p. 233, mm. 4 – 5) by a complex of
varied figures of referential significance (ex. 7-3). The twisting chromatic descents in
the “Fate” triplets, which seem to reflect Pelléas’s textual imagery of the surrounding
snares of destiny, anticipate the chromatic counterpoint originally associated with the
“Pelléas” motif (see p. 33, mm. 10–11, Flute II and Flute III). In answer to his ques-
tion, “Who was it that woke me suddenly?” the two statements of his motif are each
introduced by a rapid flourish of the complete WT-0 scale (B b – C– D – E – F # – G # –
A #), which has been associated primarily with Pelléas’s fate. But what is it exactly that
has awakened him all at once? It is his love for Mélisande, the emotion that serves as
the primary mover of fate, the emotion that Pelléas will soon confess to her. The sec-
ond statement of his motif is then extended by the descending eighths and triplets to
form a variant of Pelléas’s C # Aeolian theme that had introduced the “Well” scene
(see p. 55). The present thematic statement in scene 4 of this act transforms the orig-
inal Aeolian descent into a hybrid mode in which the WT-0 scale (G # – [A] – F # – E –
D–C– [B] associated most often with both Pelléas and Mélisande is preeminent.
One may observe a still more significant parallel between this and the original
“Well” scene. It was at their first meeting at the well that Pelléas’s “Awakening De-
sire” motif (C – D– A b –C–D) first emerged in the orchestra (p. 62, m. 3; see ex. 4-9).
In act 4, scene 4, in which their final meeting is also at the well, the “Awakening De-
sire” motif reemerges in the horns and strings (p. 242, mm. 1 – 2), directly following
two statements of the “Well” motif in the horns and harp. The close identification of
the “Awakening Desire” motif, C–D–A b –C–D (p. 242), with the whole-tone form
of Pelléas’s motif, C – D–A b –D–A b (p. 86, m. 2), clarifies the meaning of Mélisande’s
assertion about something stronger than herself. At the “Awakening Desire” motif in
the present scene, Pelléas asks Mélisande if she knows why he wanted to meet her
Animez un peu
P.
J’ai jou - é, en rêve, au tour des piè - ges de la des - ti - né - e...
I have played and dreamt with all the snares of des - ti - ny a - round me.
Retenu Animé
P.
Qui est - ce qui m’a ré - veil - lé tout à coup? Je vais fuir en cri - ant de
What is it that’s now waked me up all at once? I fly now with a cry of
*
' *
" expressif
*
example 7-3. Act 4, scene 4, p. 233, mm. 1–4, powers of well as symbolized by figural
encirclement of “Pelléas” motif; twisting chromatic descents in “Fate” triplets that re-
flect “snares of destiny” and anticipate chromatic counterpoint associated with “Pel-
léas” motif
here tonight. We soon find that it was to declare his love for her, and it is the emotion
of love that was implied by Mélisande’s reference to something stronger than herself,
hence the connection between their love and their fate. Furthermore, Wenk’s associ-
ation of the horn (darkness, death) and harp (change) timbres seems to capture the
mood of the text: this is the last time they shall ever meet and Pelléas must go away
forever.
Several other motifs emerge in the passages that intervene between Pelléas’s
motif (p. 233, mm. 4– 5) and the reemergence of the “Well” and “Awakening Desire”
motifs (pp. 241 –242). Pelléas’s vocal fragments imply the presence of the pentatonic
“Mélisande” cell, E – F # –A (p. 233, mm. 7 –8), as he urgently expresses to her his need
to take flight at this late moment. He tells her that he has never gazed on her gaze
(p. 235, mm. 1 – 2), as though it were a hundred years since he has seen her, and
Mélisande’s cell (G # – B b –C #) reemerges at its original pitch level, above which the
motif itself unfolds at the tritone transposition, D–E–G – E – D. This combination of
transpositions (G # – B b –C #/D–E–G) contains the original dissonance between C #
and D (see p. 1, mm. 14–15), where the whole-tone (“Fate”) sphere had intruded
into Mélisande’s pentatonic set. At this point, however, the note D does not have
whole-tone significance but, rather, simply echoes the original intrusion. This conflict
is intensified by the cadential articulation of the motivic D by the C # dominant ninth
chord with minor ninth (C # –E # –G # –B –D). The conflict is to be resolved only later,
after Mélisande’s death, by the final, pure C # –major harmony which, as mentioned
earlier, replaces the opening D pentatonic tonality of the opera.
“Shadows” Motif
Pelléas asks Mélisande not to stay on the edge of the moonlight (p. 236, m. 6 ff.), and
this is reflected by the emergence of the “Shadows” motif, E b – D b – E b – G – E b – D b – E b.
The chordal roots that underlie the progression of tertian and supertertian sonorities
(on D b, B bb, D b, E b, D b, B bb, D b) imply the presence of a transposition (in enharmonic
spelling, A – C # – D #) of Golaud’s whole-tone “Fate” cell. The prominence of the dense
horn timbres above the low cello tremolo portends the appearance of Golaud and the
association to darkness, and death.15 The whole-tone transformation of the “Méli-
sande” pentatonic motif in the uppermost horn line of the “Shadows” motif appears
only in association with the idea of sheltering darkness and concealment. The whole-
tone form of the “Mélisande” cell (D b –E b –G), which is bounded by the basic tritone
of Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate” cell (D b –F–G), is somewhat concealed by the diatonic ter-
tian harmonizations. What follows are polarized references to shade and light. Pelléas’s
reference to concealment from the moonlight by taking refuge within “the shadow of
the lime-tree” recalls the analogous event in the original “Well” scene (p. 56), where
the trees served as protection from the stifling heat of the sunlight. The significance
of this parallel between these two scenes seems to lie primarily in the symbolism of
their passion, that is, stifling heat and protection from being seen. At Pelléas’s refer-
ence to the late hour (p. 238, m. 3), the dotted rhythm of the “Fate” motif emerges in
correspondence with increasing passion.
In the second section of this scene (p. 244 ff.), the peaceful, ecstatic mood of mu-
tual confessions of love contains barely a hint of the disruptive force that will emerge
in the third section. The unaccompanied declarations of love (p. 244, mm. 3 – 4) to-
gether outline the C dominant ninth chord (C–E–G –B b – D), which refers primarily
to the WT-0 fatalistic sphere (C–E–[ ]–B b –D) of the two lovers. The one note (fifth
degree, G), which signals the WT-1 sphere of Golaud, is extended to a three-note
WT-1 segment (A – G –F). This seems to symbolize the danger suggested by Pelléas’s
statement that he could hardly hear what Mélisande said, in other words, to indicate
Mélisande’s fear of being overheard. The symbolic implications of these pitch-set re-
lations are developed at the following orchestral entry, where the figural contour of
the four solo cellos (with sustained harmonies in the violins and violas) suggests a
variant of the “Well” motif. Both text and harmonization reveal a striking parallel to
the original meeting of the two lovers at the well (see p. 57, mm. 1 –2). The parallel
between Pelléas’s words, “The ice has been broken with red-hot irons! You said that
Plus lent
P.
On a bri - sé la glace a - vec des fers rou - gis!
We have bro- ken the ice with our i - rons red hot!
più
A–G
D–C
D C
dominant ninth dominant ninth
P.
Tu dis ce - la d’u - ne voix qui vient du bout du mon - de! Je ne t’ai
And you say that in a voice that comes from the world’s end. And I was
F E
dom. 9th dom. 9th
Serrez
P.
pres - que pas en - ten - due. Tu m’ai - mes? tu m’ai - mes aus - si?
hard - ly a - ble to hear. You love me? And you too love me?
più
example 7-4. Act 4, scene 4, p. 244, mm. 6–8 to p. 245, mm. 3–5, alternating C-dom-
inant-ninth and its whole-tone transposition, with chordal roots (D and C of Pelléas)
and fifth degrees (A and G of Golaud) in lowest two lines, A–G representing intru-
sion of WT-1 into WT-0 sphere; transposition of dominant-ninths by major third to
F # and E, combining content of transpositions (on C, D, E, and F #) that permits com-
pletion of WT-0 collection
in a voice that came from the ends of the earth!” and his words at their earlier meet-
ing, “It’s as cool as winter. This is an old abandoned well,” is supported by the similar
scalar pitch construction of his vocal phrases. The present passage outlines an impure
variant, D– E– F # – [ ] –B b –[ ]–G # (i.e., within the complete vocal pitch content: D –
E– [F]–F # – [G] – G # – B b –[C]), of the earlier ascending five-note segment (D – E –
F # – G # –A #) of WT-0. The text in both cases implies coldness and a sense of distance
in time and space, their passion thawing out that coldness.
While the passage in the earlier “Well” Scene (p. 57) alternated the primary C
dominant ninth chord with an altered form of the G # dominant ninth chord, that is,
transformed into WT-0 (G # –B # –[D–E]–F # –A #) by the splitting of its implied fifth
degree (D # into D – E), the present passage (p. 244, m. 6 to p. 245, m. 3) alternates
the C dominant ninth chord with its whole-step transposition (D – F # – A – C– E).
This harmonic progression (ex. 7-4), which alternates the chordal roots (D and C)
and fifth degrees (A and G) in the lowest two lines—the latter dyad (A – G) repre-
sents an intrusion of the WT-1 collection into the otherwise exclusively WT-0
sphere— also recalls the very opening “Forest” motif, the scene in which Golaud was
the first to enter. As Pelléas repeats his words (p. 245), “I hardly heard you. . . . You
love me?” the two dominant ninths are transposed up by major third to F # and E, re-
spectively. These transpositions mirror that in the “Well” scene (p. 57), in which the
C dominant ninth chord was transposed down by major third to the altered (that is,
whole-tone) form of the G # dominant ninth. As in that passage, the combined con-
tent of these transpositions, on C, D, E, and F # (see ex. 7-4) permits completion of the
WT-0 collection. The new WT-1 dyad, C # –B (second cello line from bottom), to-
gether with the first WT-1 dyad, A–G (same cello line), implies the presence of the
larger WT-1 tetrachord, G–A –B –C #. This tetrachord is bounded by the basic notes
(G and its tritone, C #) associated with Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate” cell. As Mélisande re-
sponds to Pelléas’s questions about her love, “Always. . . . Ever since I first saw you,”
it is the WT-1 dyad B –C # of the transposed chordal block (p. 245, mm. 1 – 3) rather
than A – G – F of Pelléas’s vocal line (p. 244, m. 5) or A – G of the first chordal block
(p. 244, mm. 6 –7) that intrudes into the otherwise exclusive WT-0 vocal line.
“Ecstasy” Motif
The mutual confessions of the two lovers invoke the “Ecstasy” motif (p. 245, m. 7,
horn and divided violins), a diatonic construction which soon acquires a somewhat
more whole-tone character (p. 250, m. 6, strings, horns, and woodwinds) in corre-
spondence with the increasing passion expressed in the text, that is, in correspon-
dence with the prime mover of their fate (ex. 7-5). The establishment of the new key
signature (p. 245) seems to support Smith’s interpretation that F # major is the
“aspired-to” key that reflects some particular aspect of the “light-imagery.”16 He ar-
gues that the dominant preparations of this key are fulfilled only in this final love
scene, in which the C # dominant ninth harmony resolves to F # major as the basis of
the new motif. Pelléas’s words seem to capture this imagery: “Your voice sounds as if
it has passed over the seas in springtime! I have never heard it till now.” Smith con-
vincingly demonstrates that while the F # major tonality is prepared as early as act 1 by
a stepwise tonal progression to F # major at certain focal points associated with “light,”
,
a. 64
P.
On di -
One would
, 6
4
doux et expressif
64
+
diatonic
b. Très animé
P.
- vée. Je l’ai trou - vée . . .
you, Found it in you.
+
" expressif et soutenu
quasi whole-tone
F dominant-ninth
(F –A–[C]–E–G)
example 7-5. Act 4, scene 4, (a) p. 245, m. 7, horn and divided violins, diatonic form
of “Ecstasy” motif; (b) p. 250, mm. 5–6, strings, horns, and woodwinds, more whole-
tone character of “Ecstasy” motif, in correspondence with increasing passion of text
The change of key signature from six sharps to five in the second statement of
the “Ecstasy” motif (p. 250, m. 5) lowers E # to E, which permits the melodic line to
outline the F # dominant ninth chord (F # –A # –C # –E – G #). The ordering of the
chordal pitch content gives priority to the WT-0 tetrachord (A # – G # – F # – E/C #), anal-
ogously to that of the C dominant ninth chord (E–D– C– B b/G) of the “Well” motif
(see p. 55, m. 10). This explicit surface (thematic) ordering of the dominant ninth
construction in the “Ecstasy” motif suggests a musical connection between this motif
and the original harmonic disposition of the dominant ninth chord at the “Well”
motif, the symbolic connection between the two motifs being obvious in this scene:
the height of their ecstasy is expressed, here, at the well during this final meeting. The
intervening passages between the two occurrences of the “Ecstasy” motif support the
tendency from diatonic to whole-tone as Pelléas’s passion leads to increasingly ex-
plicit descriptions of Mélisande’s beauty. In correspondence with Pelléas’s increasing
passion, his chromatic “Ardor” motif (p. 248, m. 2), that is, based on the descending
chromatic thread (B – A # – A – G #), intrudes against a triplet figure that juxtaposes
components (C # – D # and C–E–F #) of the two whole-tone collections, the linear
combination producing a more chromatic octatonic segment (C – C # – D # – E – F #).
ously associated with the shade of the tilleuls to deliquesce into half-diminished
chords. . . . Mélisande, the “forewarned,” remarks “Si, si, je suis heureuse, mais je suis
triste . . . “ (Yes, yes, I am happy, but I am sad . . . ); and at once the noise of the clos-
ing of the castle gates is heard. Paradoxes and opposites abound in text and music
from here onwards. . . . The darkness is now of a dual significance. Not only is it a
haven for the declared love of the hopeless pair, but [soon] Golaud makes his pres-
ence felt. . . . What was the initial love-scene theme in F # major is now heard in the
“dark” key of C major. (VS, p. 258)
The pervasive mood of darkness in act 5 is also reflected by the increased promi-
nence of Phrygian and octatonic materials.20 As Pelléas’s apprehension is expressed
from the outset of the love scene (act 4, scene 4), Mélisande’s ambiguous pentatonic
motif (D– E– G – E – D) is absorbed into the larger octatonic sphere, G # – B b – B – C # –
D–E–F–G (for instance, see p. 235, mm. 1–3, in which one note, A, in the vocal
line is the only element that does not belong to this particular octatonic collection).
At the opening of act 5 (p. 268), the “Mélisande” motif itself is transformed unam-
biguously into an octatonic segment, E–F–A b –F–E–F–C # – D (i.e., C # –D–E–F–
[ ] –A b). The tension of the octatonic tritones is intensified, then, in the second mo-
tivic statement (p. 268, mm. 3–4) by the intrusion of two chromatic elements (C and
A) in Violin II.
In the love scene (p. 248, m. 2), the last whole-tone triplet figure, C – D– E,
which further chromaticizes the octatonic segment (C – C # – [D] – D # – E – F #, is itself
extended linearly to a five-note segment (C–D–E–F # – G # – [ ] – B #) of WT-0. At the
same time, the first sixteenth-note figure (E # –D #) extends the preceding WT-1 dyad
(C # – D #) of the triplets to three notes (C # –D # –E #) of WT-1. These whole-tone in-
teractions not only form the basis of the figuration surrounding the “Ardor” motif but
also intensify the motif’s chromaticism (C–B –A # – A – G #) by extending it to the
larger chromatic collection of eleven pitch classes (G # –[ ] – F # – E # – E – D # –D–C # – C/
C – B– A # – A – G #). Thus, the progression from the mood of light to that of darkness
and fate by means of increasing passion underlies these pitch-set associations.
Strikingly, the one missing element from the larger chromatic collection is the
note G, which has been prominently associated with Golaud. This pitch-class enters
into the passage as part of the held chord, G–A –C # (p. 248, m. 5). This subtle in-
trusion of Golaud’s WT-1 “Fate” cell, which is bounded by his basic tritone (G – C #),
once again portends his appearance, this time the fatal one for Pelléas and Mélisande.
The cell alternates with its diatonic (“Mélisande”) form, G – A – C, which is also em-
bedded in Pelléas’s “white-key” pentatonic vocal line as he describes her voice as
purest water that falls on his hands. The symbolic significance of these interactions
between whole-tone and pentatonic sets is all the more evident if we consider that
the pentatonic vocal content (E–G –A –C–D) is identical to that of the “Forest”
motif at the very opening of the opera, which had set the mood for Golaud’s first ap-
pearance. This symbolic association is supported by the ensuing sixteenth-note figu-
rations (p. 249, mm. 5 –6 especially), in which Golaud’s WT-1 dyad (G – A) emerges
prominently as part of the same pentatonic context that is now closer in contour to
the opening four measures of the opera. While both pentatonic/diatonic passages are
cadenced similarly by WT-0 cells (A b –C–D–F #, p. 1, m. 5, and C– E – F # in the bass
line, p. 249, m. 6), the present passage replaces the linear “Forest” motif with
the “Mélisande” form (D–E–G). Its upper note (G) and cadential note (A), which
is the “odd” element within the final WT-0 chord (C–E – F # – [A]), draws Mélisande
closer to the sphere of Golaud (G–A dyad and WT-1), as Pelléas’s praise of
Mélisande’s beauty reaches its culmination. This symbolism is further established by
the following transformation of Mélisande’s pentatonic motif into the WT-1 form, F –
G –B (p. 250, m. 1 ff.), where it is accompanied by, as well as linearly interlocked with,
the inversion (G – B – C #) of Golaud’s basic WT-1 “Fate” cell (G – A – C #). The entire
phrase is based exclusively on five notes of WT-1 (F – G – A – B – C #).
The initial intrusion of the WT-1 “Fate” cell, G–A – C # (p. 248, m. 5), follows the
two slurred chords, WT-0 (F # –G # –B #) and pentatonic (F # – A – B), which together
form another octatonic segment (B # – B – A – G # –F #). This time it is Golaud’s WT-1
“Fate” cell (G – A – C #) that fills in and seals off the latter chromatically (C # – B # – B –
[ ]– A–G # – G – F #). Chromatic intensification also occurs in Pelléas’s vocal line, in
this case by means of “black-key/white-key” pentatonic complementation. The gen-
eral tendency from chromatic to whole-tone material during this impassioned section
is completed by the final transformation from pentatonic to whole-tone material in
the sixteenth-note figurations. The WT-1 transformation of the original “Mélisande”
pentatonic motif (p. 250, m. 1 ff., winds), which is supported by the WT-1 figuration
(strings), is a focal point in this interval-expansion process. At the return to penta-
tonic/diatonic material just before the second occurrence of the “Ecstasy” motif, Go-
laud’s WT-1 dyad (G – A) emerges prominently in the upper line of both the figuration
and the dotted rhythm of the “Fate” motif. The priority of WT-0 is momentarily
reestablished in the first four notes (A # –G # –F # –E) of the “Ecstasy” motif (p. 250, m.
5) (see ex. 7-5b earlier) Thus, three primary motifs— “Ardor,” “Mélisande,” and
“Fate”—emerge at the culmination of the interval-expansion process in correspon-
dence with the buildup of passion in this love duet.
expands to Golaud’s “Vengeance” motif, A b –C–E–D (p. 267, mm. 8 – 9), which im-
plies the presence of Pelléas’s original “Fate” cell, A b – C– D. The cadential note
(sforzando D) of the motif is held against the tremolo octaves (G b – G b and A b – A b), all
three notes together forming the tritone transposition (in enharmonic spelling, D –
F # –G #) of Pelléas’s WT-0 “Fate” cell.
Mélisande’s final vocal statement (p. 267, mm. 2– 9), a chromatic descent (F # –
F – E – D # – D – C # – C – B – B b – A – A b) that ends on A b, recalls the descending chro-
matic tetrachord (D – C # – C – B) that has been associated consistently with the
“Pelléas” motif. The descending tetrachordal construction had emerged prominently
in connection with Golaud’s jealousy and his imminent threat to the two lovers (e.g.,
p. 174). The latter association of the chromatic tetrachord reveals its broader symbolic
meaning, in which Golaud’s jealousy and ultimately his vengeance are inextricably
connected to Pelléas’s passion. The following two statements of the “Vengeance”
motif each end with exclusive foreground harmonic occurrences of Pelléas’s original
WT-0 “Fate” cell, A b – C–D (tremolo A b and motivic cadential notes D – C at p. 267,
mm. 13 and 15).
The latter cell had initiated the earlier change of mood (p. 251, m. 3) as part of
the larger French sixth collection, C–D–F # –G #, which, in turn, could be traced back
to the very first statement of the WT-0 “Fate” motif (see ex. 4-1b earlier). As Pelléas
tells Mélisande (p. 251, m. 4 ff.) that he cannot hear her breathe anymore, his “Fate”
cell (D – F # – G #) is found embedded in the larger vocal contour of her phrase, “that’s
because I am looking at you,” and in the single chord (B– D– F # – G #) of this excerpt.
In the ensuing dialogue (p. 252 ff.), the polarity between darkness (the shadows) and
light explicitly symbolizes the dual emotions of happiness and sadness in this section,
as reflected by the return of the “Shadows” motif (p. 252, mm. 1 – 2).
As an increasing sense of doom is expressed by Pelléas’s awareness (p. 253, m. 1)
that there is so little time left to the two lovers, Golaud’s basic WT-1 dyad (A – G) in-
trudes once again into the WT-0 sphere—the first three vocal segments, F # –E–D–
C–[G], E – F #, and F # –[A]–C (to the first beat of p. 253, m. 3) are otherwise based
exclusively on WT-0. The orchestra prominently unfolds imitative statements that
join the WT-1 dyad (A –G) with a WT-0 tetrachord (F # –E–D– C). The WT-1 sphere
is then extended and interlocked with WT-0 (p. 253, mm. 3 – 4) in both voice and or-
chestra as the lovers seek safety in the darkness. These whole-tone interactions cul-
minate (p. 255, mm. 1–2) in a more chromatically compressed (octatonic) form of
the “Mélisande” motif (G–A b –C b). This is a significant adumbration of Mélisande’s
“Dolorous” theme (E – F–A b), which begins act 5 (p. 268), and Mélisande’s deathbed
scene. This sadder, more expressive transformation of her motif serves as point of de-
parture for the climactic buildup of violence in the final section of the present scene
(p. 255, m. 3 ff.). As Mélisande confides in Pelléas that she is happy but sad too, this
form of her motif (G – A b –C b) is fused with the WT-1 form (F – G – C b) of her “Fate”
cell, the inversion (F –A –B) prominently initiating the final section (p. 255, m. 3).
Both whole-tone forms of the cell (F–G–B and F–A–B) were simultaneously implied
in her vocal line (p. 253, mm. 3–4) at the first extension (F – G – A – B) of WT-1: “I’m
closer to you in the darkness.”
Startled by the sound of the closing doors (p. 255, mm. 3 – 5), Pelléas’s terse vocal
statements alternate with two orchestral statements of a surging figure based on the
progression from the WT-1 “Fate” cell, F–A –B, to its inverted major-third transpo-
sition, A – B – D #, the two forms together forming the larger WT-1 “French-sixth”
symmetry, F – A – B – D #. A harsh, ominous rumbling follows in the low strings to begin
a variant of the “Fate” rhythm, which leads (crescendo) to Golaud’s motif (p. 256,
mm. 4 – 5), at Pelléas’s realization that the big chains have fallen (ex. 7-6). Golaud’s
motif is comprised primarily of the WT-0 “Fate”-cell of Pelléas (F # –D–F # – [A] – G #)
with neighbor note (A) in the upper instrumental line, which unfolds above the pen-
tatonic form of the “Pelléas” motif (E–C # –E–[G]–F #) with neighbor note (G) in the
bass line. It is striking that the two neighbor notes (G and A) again reflect the threat-
ening intrusion of Golaud. The ensuing “Fate” rhythm (p. 256, m. 6 ff.) is initiated by
the E dominant ninth chord (E–G # –B–D–F #), the WT-0 structure (D – E – F # – G #)
within it implying the presence of the inversionally related “Pelléas” (D – F # – G #) and
“Mélisande” (D– E – G #) “Fate” cells bounded by the primary WT-0 tritone (D – G #).
At the second crescendo (p. 256, mm. 8–9), the reiterated chord (A–C–D # –G, above
the E pedal) of the “Fate” rhythm moves to Golaud’s basic WT-1 dyad (A–G) as the
registral boundary of the initial chord (G–D–F–A) of the ascending harmonic se-
quence (p. 256, m. 10 ff.). In correspondence with Pelléas’s exclamation that it is too
late, this boundary dyad (G–A) also initiates linear WT-1 tetrachordal outlines on the
quarter beats in the uppermost (A–B–C # –D #) and lowermost (G–A–B–C #) instru-
mental parts. The weak neighboring eighths correspondingly outline two WT-0 tetra-
chords (uppermost line, C–D–E–F #, and lowermost line, B b –C–D–E), respectively.
At the end of this harmonic sequence, which is based primarily on the WT-1
sphere of Golaud, Mélisande’s cry that it is “All the better!” is accompanied by a pen-
tatonic transformation of Golaud’s motif (F–D–F–A – G) in the horns and cellos,
the cadential neighbor motion again based on Golaud’s primary WT-1 dyad (G – A).
The association between these motivic statements and Mélisande’s exclamations
points to one of the key symbolic issues of the opera. The woman’s apparent wish to
be free from her matrimonial bond is expressed by her exclamations of relief in re-
sponse to the closing of the gate, her conflicting needs being resolved by submission
to fate. Emotional freedom by means of this power beyond human control is expressed
more explicitly by Pelléas, “Things no longer depend on our wish! All is lost, all is
saved!” The fulfillment of their love inevitably at the cost of their lives suggests the
“love-death” symbolism of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. It is significant that this pas-
sionate love duet of Pelléas and Mélisande serves a similar dramatic function in De-
bussy’s opera as the love duet in the Wagner music drama. In both works, love is ful-
filled only in death.
The succession of several highly individualized motifs in the remainder of the
scene contributes to the increasing contrast of moods, the interaction drawing the
music toward its tragic conclusion. As the lovers embrace and Pelléas describes the
throbbing of his heart (p. 258, m. 12), an exotic interaction of shifting tonalities in-
troduces the “Rapture” motif, which may be interpreted as a variant of the “Ecstasy”
motif. Golaud’s WT-1 dyad (A–G) initiates the larger diatonic motif, the significance
indicated by Mélisande’s apprehension of someone lurking behind them. Under her
vocal statement, the basses, trombones (Wenk: “violent death”), and timpani (Wenk:
“impending disaster, death, darkness”) present a quiet statement of the “Vengeance”
motif (p. 259, m. 1), which is outlined by the basic WT-0 cell of Pelléas (C-A b – C–
Animé G–A
3
P.
4
Les gran - des
The chains have
cresc.
3
4
3
4
P.
chai - nes!
fal - len!
cresc.
cresc.
P.
Il est trop tard, il est trop tard! . . .
It is too late, it is too late!
molto cresc.
example 7-6. Act 4, scene 4, p. 256, mm. 4–12, Golaud’s motif, based on WT-0
“Fate”-cell of Pelléas (F #–D–F #–[A]–G #) and neighbor-note A in upper violin I,
above pentatonic form of “Pelléas” motif (E–C #–E–[G]–F #) and neighbor-note G in
contrabass, neighbor-notes G and A reflecting threat of Golaud; at p. 256, m. 8, new
chord (A–C–D #–G) in “Fate” rhythm and initial chord of ascending harmonic se-
quence (p. 256, m. 10ff.) bounded by Golaud’s WT-1 dyad (A–G)
Pelléas et Mélisande
Circuity of Fate and Resolution of
Mélisande’s Dissonant Pentatonic–
Whole-Tone Conflict
173
In addition to the exclusive recall of musical material from previous acts, act 5
nevertheless evokes some new questions, which are left unanswered and open for
speculation. This act, in one continuous scene, serves several musico-dramatic func-
tions. First, it rounds out the overall arch shape of the opera as the quiet mood returns
after the climactic buildup of passion, rage, and vengeance. Second, it ties together
and further explores some of the basic symbolic issues of the first four acts.5 This act
itself may be analyzed into a kind of ternary dramatic arch form, the dialogue of the
central section (p. 281, m. 7 –p. 293, m. 3) echoing the love of Pelléas and Mélisande
and revealing the jealousy and frustration that still lurks in Golaud’s prodding ques-
tions to Mélisande. The beginning of this section contains a recapitulation of the
opening “Forest” motif (p. 279, mm. 7–8), but now on C # rather than D, as Méli-
sande, surprised to see how Golaud has aged, harks back to the first time they had
met. The orchestration, too, is modified, the bassoon maintaining some of the origi-
nal brooding quality of the low strings and bassoon, the doubling by the oboe adding
a certain plaintive quality as a degree of nostalgia is expressed in Mélisande’s remi-
niscence.6 This recapitulation contributes to a rounding out of the opera’s overall
structure. In connection with this background-level structural reference, the long-
range replacement of D by C # recalls the first significant “dissonance” of the opera
(p. 1, mm.14 – 15), where the whole-tone “Fate” cell, A b – B b – D (as part of the larger
French-sixth chord, A b –B b –D–E), intruded against the pentatonic “Mélisande”
motif, A b – B b – C #, to produce a clash between C # and D.7
In the first part of the ternary arch-form of this act, we find Mélisande on her
deathbed, surrounded by the grieving figures of Arkel, Golaud, and the physician.
The act opens (p. 268) with the succession and juxtaposition of several expressive
motifs (ex. 8-1): the “Dolorous” form of the “Mélisande” motif in the violas with harp
accompaniment (E – F–A b –F–E–F–C # –D), which recalls the earlier plaintive vari-
ant sounded by the oboe expressing Mélisande’s weeping as Golaud questioned her
(see p. 82, mm. 1 –2); the “Pity” motif in the two flutes (p. 268, mm. 5 – 8), which
seems to be derived from Golaud’s earlier “Love” motif (see p. 7, mm. 1 – 2); and a
gentle variant of the “Fate” motif, which is initially hinted at by the subtly darkened
timbre of the muted horns (p. 268, m. 14 ff.) in counterpoint with an intervallically
expanded form of the “Dolorous Mélisande” motif in the cellos (A– B b –D–B b – A –
B b –F # – G), as Mélisande lies wounded on the bed in one corner of the room. The
physician’s words at this point imply that something more powerful than Golaud —
perhaps Pelléas’s death and Mélisande’s attachment to him — is responsible for her
own demise: “She’s not going to die from such a little wound. . . . So it isn’t you that
killed her, my lord.” Realistically, however, one must ask how it could not have been
Golaud who has caused Mélisande’s fatal injury. The physician’s suggestion of some
more mysterious force invokes a larger issue related to gender. The blame would seem,
somehow, to be shifted from the man’s responsibility to the woman’s, some unseen vio-
lent action by the man being downplayed within the context of the Maeterlinck play.
The true cause of Mélisande’s death may perhaps be attributed to unconscious
psychological forces related to trauma rather than the supposedly “insignificant”
physical wound inflicted by Golaud. This interpretation regarding the cause of Méli-
sande’s demise is supported by the construction of the orchestral motifs. Arkel’s
prophetic insight (p. 269, m. 8) that the omen is not a good one is introduced (p. 269,
Arkel, Golaud and the Physician are discovered in the corner of the room;
- più
Mélisande est étendue sur le lit.
Melisande lies on the bed.
moto dim.
example 8-1. Act 5, p. 268, mm. 1–16, succession and juxtaposition of expressive
motifs: “Dolorous” form of “Mélisande” motif in violas with harp accompaniment;
“Pity” motif in two flutes (mm. 5–8); and gentle variant of “Fate” motif in muted
horns (m. 14ff.)
m. 6) by the return of the opening form of the “Dolorous Mélisande” motif (in en-
harmonic spelling, E – F–G # –F–E–F–C # –D) in counterpoint with the gentle “Fate”
variant. In the three statements of the “Dolorous” motif that have unfolded thus far
(E–F–A b, A– B b – D, and E–F–G #), the upper boundary note is either A b (= G #) or
D. This tritone provides a subtle hint that the essence of Pelléas (and his WT-0 cell,
A b –C– D), whose presence is still felt after the tragic ending of the preceding act,
underlies Mélisande’s mood and is obviously the direct human source affecting it. The
third occurrence of the “Dolorous” motif (p. 269, m. 6) is reinforced in the bass by an-
other variant (G # – B – D), in which both notes of the tritone (G # – D) now form the
boundary interval. Arkel’s prophetic words of doom are then articulated by a cres-
cendo figure (p. 270) built from the B b dominant-ninth chord (B b –D–F–A b – C),
which absorbs the D – A b tritone into a larger segment (A b – B b – C– D) of the WT-0
sphere.
Arkel’s reference to the eternal coldness of Mélisande’s soul (p. 270, mm. 3 – 4),
which evokes an association to the coldness of the well (see p. 57), is punctuated
(p. 270, m. 5) by the first prominent statement of the “Fate” motif in this act. The
chromatic bass line (G –G # – A – G #) in the cello counterpoint under this statement is
based on a symmetrical encirclement of Pelléas’s G # by Golaud’s G – A dyad, which
may perhaps elicit some symbolic association to Golaud’s statement of remorse that
he has “killed for no reason.” This shift of focus to Golaud suggests the beginning of
a transition to the middle section of the act.
In the presence of Arkel and the physician, Golaud’s jealousy begins to resurface
(p. 271), “They kissed like little children.” While his rationalization momentarily
serves as defense against his most painful feelings, his statement also portends his ac-
tual mood and intentions, which surface in the central section of the act. We may
glean several meanings from his statement: denial, then jealousy, and finally his need
for absolution from guilt for having killed Pelléas and mortally wounding Mélisande.
Golaud’s probing questions, intended to elicit Mélisande’s reassurance, are explicit
from the opening of the central section (p. 281): “Mélisande, are you sorry for me as
I am for you? Mélisande, do you forgive me, Mélisande?” The emotional intensity of
his questioning is heightened by the upward whole-tone/diatonic progression (A – B –
C # – D #/E), which seems to contradict the whispery quality of its actual setting in un-
accompanied recitative style. The whole-tone intervallic construction produces a
sense of expansion as it follows the more chromatic intervals of Mélisande’s “Dolor-
ous” motif, E # – F # – A – F # –E # (p. 281, mm. 5 – 6, bassoon, violin, and cello), her motif
already appearing in contrapuntal conflict with the whole-tone harmony.
Mélisande’s reassurance comes with her words of forgiveness, underlined by her
more peaceful pentatonic “Gentleness” motif, D # –C # –A # – F # – G #. But this is not the
reassurance that Golaud is seeking from her. His quiet statements of admission of
wrongdoing are gradually transformed into a surgent expression of anxiety and jeal-
ous demanding (see p. 286), that Mélisande “must speak the truth to someone who
is going to die.” His own statement seems deceptive because, in this operatic version
of the play, it is only Mélisande who dies. From the dialogue between the servants in
the last act of the original spoken play, we learn that Golaud committed suicide after
killing Pelléas and wounding Mélisande. Given that act 5 of the opera version is based
only on the second scene of the play’s last act, we have only Golaud’s suggestion
about, rather than the realization of, his death. Whether his statements in the opera
libretto are deceitful or really true, the elimination of the suicide act permits a greater
focus on Mélisande’s death, which becomes one of the primary symbolic mani-
festations of ultimate fate in the opera. In any case, we may discern a deeper meaning
in his assertion that without knowing the truth, he would never be able to “rest in
peace.” Any implication that Golaud dies in the opera is left ambiguous. The main
issue is that Golaud’s relentless effort to extract the truth from Mélisande reveals his
need to find some justification for having committed murder, in other words to
achieve some sense of absolution of guilt.
His initial words that express his urgent need to know (p. 286, mm. 2 – 8) are sup-
ported by a progression of alternating complete and incomplete dominant ninth
chords: F # – A # – C # – E–G #, [ ]–G # –B–D–F #, D–F # –A – C– E, [ ] – E – G– B b – D, and
so on. This basic harmonic construction, which pervades the opera, has been associ-
ated with the fatalistic realm ever since its transformation into the whole-tone col-
lection in connection with the well and the meeting of Pelléas and Mélisande. It is in
the present passage (p. 286) that Golaud faces his last chance to learn the truth from
Mélisande about their love. These fortissimo dominant ninth chords, unlike those in
the “Well” scene (p. 57, mm. 1–4; see ex. 5-1 earlier), now remain untransformed,
leaving the whole-tone realm unrealized, although imminent in both the construc-
tion of the dominant ninth chord and in the voice-leading of the first four chords built
on F #, [E], D, and [C]). Correspondingly, Golaud’s question will remain unanswered
on this issue of Mélisande’s emotional attachment to Pelléas, which has led to the
death of the two lovers. It is almost as though an affirmative answer from Mélisande
would, in Golaud’s mind, have justified his vengeful action. In any case, Mélisande’s
death is an indictment against the social power structure, as symbolized by Golaud. It
signifies the irreconcilable conflict between the woman as real-life feeling being and
her ultimate fate, which is fulfilled because of her inability to repress her emotions,
such repression permitting her to adhere to the conditions set down for her by the
omnipotent controlling prince. The sense of power inequality in the opera becomes,
in the final analysis, a dramatic premise by dint of—if nothing else — simply imple-
menting the “Impressionist-Symbolist” technique of vague assertion. That is to say,
there is never a hint that Mélisande actively consents to a proposal of marriage by Go-
laud. Such an event or statement is noticeably missing. It seems, then, that marriage
is a fait accompli simply by some sense that Golaud seems to have wished it so. The
only assertive action in this connection is made by Golaud, however vaguely, when he
approaches Mélisande at their initial encounter, and subsequently in his letter sent
home to Pelléas.
The third (and final) section of this act (p. 293 ff.) begins with Golaud’s request
that Arkel and the physician reenter the room after his unsuccessful attempt to ex-
tract the truth from Mélisande about her love for Pelléas, “It’s useless . . . she’s already
too far gone. . . . I shall never know! I shall die here in blindness.” His realization that
he is fated to die as a “blind” man, which brings to mind the old well that can no
longer heal the blind, is accompanied (p. 293, mm. 9 – 10) by a sequential pair of
chords that alternate two segments (A b –D–F # –B b and E b – A – D b – F) from the two
complementary whole-tone collections, the intervallic set associated with “Fate”
(ex. 8-2). The descending linear configuration of each pair suggests a transformation
of the “Well” motif, the original short-long rhythm replaced now by a more placid,
even rhythm as Mélisande moves toward death.
Mélisande’s decline is symbolized by her question (pp. 294 – 295), “Is it true that
winter is starting?” and Arkel’s query about why she has asked that question. Their
statements are accompanied by an emotionally touching phrase in the solo violin,
cello, and two clarinets. A still more profound symbolism emerges in both text and or-
chestra in connection with the coldness of winter and the setting of the sun over the
3
Plus lent
2: Go.
4 '
Je ne sau - rai ja - mais! Je vais mou - rir i -
I ne - ver now shall know! I shall go to my
3
4
-
3
4
implied “Well” motif
example 8-2. Act 5, p. 293, mm. 9–10, sequential pair of chords that alternate two
segments (A b–D–F #–B b and E b–A–D b–F) from complementary whole-tone collec-
tions, descending linear configuration of each pair suggesting transformation of
“Well” motif
water. Arkel asks Mélisande if she is cold and would like to have the windows shut, to
which Mélisande responds that they should not be shut “until the sun has sunk into
the sea.” At this point (p. 295, m. 6 ff.), the orchestra, in delicate sonority, unfolds the
inversion of the “Well” motif in paired repetitions based on the original short-long
rhythm of the linear motivic whole-steps (see ex. 5-1 earlier). This motivic associa-
tion suggests a symbolic parallel between the fall of Mélisande’s ring from the glare of
the sunlight into the watery depths of the well—the special moment that initiated
the inevitable sequence of events that lead to her demise — and the setting of the sun
in the watery depths of the sea as Mélisande lay on her deathbed. The association of
the setting sun (Mélisande’s death) with the fall of her ring into the well is further
supported by a textual comparison with the “Well” scene, especially with the first ex-
plicit reference to the cold water of the well (p. 57, mm. 1 – 2), “It’s as cool as winter.”
The key word here is “winter,” which reveals the literal connection with Mélisande’s
present reference (p. 295, mm. 1–2 ff., and more directly on p. 296, mm. 2 – 3) to the
cold winter and the setting sun.
The ascending fourths figuration in the even eighth-notes that accompany this
transformation of the “Well” motif (p. 295, m. 6 ff.) supports the interpretation of the
previous, evenly descending-fourths figuration (p. 293, mm. 9 – 10, bass; see ex. 8-2
earlier) as part of the more disguised transformation of the “Well” motif. At the same
time, the present, more explicit transformation of the motif associated with the set-
ting sun serves a more prominent role in the long-range symbolic associations that
pertain to Mélisande’s fate. Like the original harmonization of the “Well” motif (C
dominant ninth, p. 55, mm. 10–11), this inverted occurrence of the motif is also
based on the dominant-ninth construction, but transposed to C # – E # – G # – B – D #.
The registral distribution of the C # dominant ninth components (p. 295) implies the
presence (as in the original C dominant ninth harmonization of the “Well” motif; see
p. 55) of the whole-tone transformation of the diatonic sphere; that is, the gapped
whole-tone cell (B – [ ]–D # –E #) defines the transformed motif exclusively, while the
one diatonic element (fifth degree, G #) of the C # dominant ninth (G #/B– C # – D # – E #)
is somewhat isolated in the eighth-note figuration of the bass. At the same time, the
sustained C # root of the chord anticipates the mysterious C # major tonality associated
with Mélisande’s death at the end of the opera (p. 310) and suggests a tonal link with
the original occurrence of the “Mélisande” motif, A b –B b – C # (see p. 1, mm. 14 – 15).
By means of an enharmonic spelling (G # –A # –[ ]–C #) of the latter (A b – B b – C #),
the C # tonal connection between the basic “Mélisande” motif and her death is made
more evident. The first simultaneous conflict between diatonic (human) and whole-
tone (fate) spheres occurred (p. 1, mm. 14– 15) with the replacement of a single note
(C #) of the “Mélisande” motif (A b –B b –[C #]) by D in the accompanying whole-tone
figuration (A b – B b – [D]–E). In view of certain harmonic events at Mélisande’s death,
this initial dissonance —a microcosmic musical event produced by the intrusion of
Fate— plays a significant role in foreshadowing her death. The clash of D against the
C # of her motif was already prepared by the D pentatonic tonality of the opening
statements of the “Forest” motif. The D became increasingly prominent toward the
end of the Prelude in Mélisande’s “Naïveté” motif (p. 2, mm. 3 – 5), where it served
as the root of the D dominant ninth chord (D–F # –A –C– E). It moved to the D Do-
rian mode in the retransition (p. 2, mm. 6 –7) and D Aeolian in the recapitulation of
the “Forest” motif. As Mélisande dies and only her new-born daughter remains
(p. 310, mm. 3 – 12; see ex. 7-2 earlier), the procedure is reversed — only a hint of the
D–C # conflict is heard as the C # Phrygian scale unfolds in the descending chain of
“Well-motif” suspensions (A–G # –F # –E–D–C #); the cadential point (p. 310, mm. 6–
7) is based on the final resolution of D (second modal degree) to the C # tonic. The
latter defines the pitch level (C # –D # –F #) of the final statement of the “Mélisande”
motif, played as a gentle dirge in the muted trumpet. In counterpoint above it, a per-
mutation of the motif at its original pitch level, A b –B b – C # (now in enharmonic
spelling, G # – A # – C #), is heard in the flutes with murmurs of the “Well” motif. Fur-
thermore, in the last six measures, the C # Lydian/Ionian bimodal construction, C # –
D # –E # – F # – Fx – G # – A # –B #, which suggests the inversion of the preceding C # – Phry-
gian mode, permits local surface echoes of Golaud’s “Fate” cell at its basic pitch level,
C # – E # – Fx. This is an enharmonic spelling of that construction (D b – F– G) that had
appeared so ominously at key dramatic moments in the opera. All of these conflicting
elements are resolved in the final, pure C # major triad as Mélisande is no more.
This tonal resolution suggests a still deeper-level symbolism. Arkel’s last words,
which bring the text to a close, suggest that Mélisande’s daughter is a kind of mirror
image of her mother (p. 309), that “she lies there as if she were her baby’s elder sis-
ter,” and is bound within the same fatalistic structure, “It must live in her place now.
It’s the poor little thing’s turn.” This idea is carried further by David Grayson, who hy-
pothesizes that “if her daughter is the Mélisande of the future, then Geneviève is in
some respects the Mélisande of the past. . . . Geneviève, too, was brought to the castle
as a bride . . . and loved two men who were brothers (or at least half-brothers).”8 The
long-range musical relations seem to symbolize the continuation of Mélisande in her
daughter. The final tonality of C # was an essential detail in the pitch structure of
Mélisande’s original motif (A b –B b –C #). The ultimate tonality of C #, which is associ-
ated with the continuation of Mélisande in her daughter, that is, trapped in the same
fate, has evolved logically from the C # of her original motif (A b – B b – C #). The odd
“misspelling” of the expected D b as C # permits an association between the first state-
ment of Mélisande’s motif and the final tonality, which is related to Mélisande’s death
and her continuation through the life of her daughter, the common C # spelling serv-
ing as yet another confirmation of this symbolic interpretation. However, the replace-
ment of the oboe (Wenk’s interpretation as “Mélisande’s sadness”) as basis of Méli-
sande’s initial motivic statement, A b –B b –C # (p. 1, mm. 14 – 15), by the trumpet
(Wenk’s interpretation as “Mélisande’s peaceful death”) as basis of her final motivic
statement, C # – D # – F # (p. 310, mm. 7–8), supports the fatalistic meaning primarily in
terms of the connection between her sadness and her death, not the new life of her
daughter.
In his symbolic interpretations of the individual tonalities, which he presents
within his larger tonal (major/minor-key) outline, Wenk associates C #/D b with “car-
ing” and “solicitousness” for Mélisande.9 Wenk interprets certain “caring” moments
in the final act under the broad rubric of its closing tonality (D b/C # major). For in-
stance, when Arkel asks the dying Mélisande if she is feeling better (p. 297), she re-
sponds that she is “not worried any more,” and when he asks her if she would like to
see her child, she is puzzled. While Wenk’s interpretation of these caring moments in
connection with the final D b/C # seems to be casting the tonal net a bit too wide, as
these local textual statements have nothing to do with D b/C #, it does bring to our at-
tention the more general mood that foreshadows this closing tonality of the opera. In-
stead, a more direct connection of C # to Mélisande’s (and her child’s) sad fate may be
observed in Arkel’s final words (p. 310), “‘It’s the poor little thing’s turn,” in which
“caring” turns more explicitly to pity.
Like Wenk, Smith associates the sharp (“light”) keys (especially C # and its tonic,
#
F ) with hope and caring in this final scene.10 Smith cites Arkel’s assurance to
Mélisande that he can take care of her child (p. 298, mm. 3 – 4). This is supported by
one of the rare cadential resolutions of the C # major chord to its F # major tonic.
Within the following passages, which contain interspersions of whole-tone (p. 300,
mm. 1 – 3, textual suggestion of fate), octatonic (p. 300, mm. 4 –7, textual suggestion
of ambiguity), descending chromatic figurations (p. 301, mm. 5 – 8, textual associa-
tion with weeping), and Lydian/Phrygian constructions on C # (p. 310), hints of C #
major occur in preparation for its final establishment. As Smith points out, this key of
“light” is the sharpest one, as represented by its key signature of seven sharps.
Although there is some evidence in the score that supports these tonal associa-
tions, the question must be raised regarding the broader symbolic meaning of C #
major as the final key of the opera. In contrast to its associations with light, hope, and
caring, we have seen how the note C # also emerged as part of the threatening “Fate”
cell of Golaud as well as having appeared (p. 1, mm. 14– 15) as the first significant dis-
sonance (against D of the whole-tone harmony in the orchestra) as part of Méli-
sande’s basic motif, A b –B b –C #. Perhaps the message that can be discerned from these
polarized interpretations (life and hope vs. death and fate) is one of ambiguity or du-
ality: Mélisande will live on in her daughter, but as a “poor creature” whose “turn” it
is to continue in the cycle of fate,11 the “cyclical” principle of fate being essential to
the play. Arkel’s words about Mélisande’s daughter living in her place points to a pat-
tern of actions and events that are, as Grayson puts it, “destined to repeat generation
after generation in a cycle of ‘eternal return.’”12 Grayson points out further that “this
cyclical ending, this expression of ‘eternal return,’ produces a feeling less of hope and
comfort than of resignation and fatality.” This association of resignation with the idea
of “eternal recurrence” also may be observed in twentieth-century continental
drama.13 Edward Lockspeiser’s perspective also emphasizes the pessimistic side of the
duality between life and hope versus death and fate, but does not explicitly focus on
the cyclical concept:
The drama of Pelléas preaches the fatalistic philosophy that man’s incapacity to es-
cape from the hidden unconscious forces which determine the course of his life is the
tragedy of his existence. In Maeterlinck’s pessimistic view there is only one certain
reality — death. Death hovers over all his plays, liberating his creatures from their
world of dreams. . . . The vogue of this playwright at the beginning of the century was
based precisely on a denial of free-will and leads, ultimately, to the despairing
predicament of humanity illustrated by such writers of our time as James Joyce, Vir-
ginia Woolf or Franz Kafka. The musical counterparts of these later explorations of
the unconscious mind are Alban Berg’s operas Wozzeck and Lulu; and it is therefore
entirely comprehensible that Pelléas has been considered, on the one hand, as a logi-
cal extension of Tristan and, on the other, as a musical and psychological forerunner
of Wozzeck.14
It must be said, ultimately, that one cannot establish absolute and unequivocal
correspondences between music and text. Attempts have often been made to associ-
ate certain musical qualities, figures, or elements with particular moods, emotions, or
events.15 However, such nonspecific associations “are best understood by observing
the correspondences between music and poetry in a wide range of examples.”16 In De-
bussy’s personal expressive idiom, for instance, there are certain recurrences of specific
musical materials—pentatonic, modal, whole-tone, octatonic, and chromatic—within
a given work that provide insight into the meaning of the text. In other words, such
associations have contextual rather than a priori (precompositional) meaning. Wenk
aptly elaborates on this enigmatic issue of meaning in music: “In no way can we say
that the pentatonic scale means a pastoral scene or that the whole-tone scale means
an escape into another world. Rather we observe a certain pattern in the situations in
which Debussy employs these musical idioms, and the awareness of this pattern
causes us to look for its significance at each new encounter. . . . The progressive elab-
oration of a personal musical idiom, on the other hand, leads the composer to associ-
ate certain musical idioms with certain classes of ideas regardless of their specific po-
etic context.”17 The question of musical meaning and its symbolic associations in
Debussy’s opera is, in any case, explored in this study only in terms of contextual as-
sociation, not a priori assumptions.
182
entire design of the play is the realization that the self does not know its secrets and
that these can be revealed only if the soul is opened—by the Other.”3
The symbolism of the drama suggests yet another level of psychological manifes-
tation, which goes beyond the context of the opera itself. We may attribute an auto-
biographical significance to the subject of the Bluebeard opera as an aspect of its sym-
bolism, based on internal as well as circumstantial evidence. An autobiographical
significance might be assumed separately and in different ways for both the playwright
and composer. As noted earlier, Balázs himself had experienced psychological trauma
when, at the age of ten years old, he became an accomplice as a witness of violence
against a girl. When a young male boarder at his home attacked their young maid,
Balázs aided the boarder to help him pin her down because, as he later confessed, “de-
feat would have been the defeat of maledom.”4 When the boarder lifted the maid’s
skirt, Balázs experienced a “so far unknown, frenzied sexual desire” that terrified him.
A few years earlier he had witnessed the tender embrace of a pair of lovers in the woods.
The original impression of loving tenderness was to become transformed in his mind by
the later violent experience, and the original perception of love “now sank back into
the darkness of the basest, most brutal instincts. . . . Thus originated in my mind a fate-
ful splitting of healthy, harmonious love. It was an inner discord between animalistic,
brutal sexuality and dreamy, spiritual, unphysical love, which for a long time did not
appear together, as if one necessarily excluded the other. This for many years became
the tragic complication of my life and caused a great deal of psychic confusion, suffer-
ing, and misfortune.” Balázs kept a diary for many years, from the time he was thirteen,
of his external and internal world, and so became his own “lifelong psychoanalyst.”5
The connection between Balázs’s earlier trauma and his Bluebeard play seems ob-
vious, the subject of love being colored by violence and blood as light streams forth
from each of the doors unlocked by Judith. For Balázs, the light imagery in the play
suggests a striking association with the maid’s “white thighs gleaming in the twilight
dimness of the room.” The Bluebeard story is, however, a denial of brutality, as Blue-
beard’s actions are devoid of the more overt violent actions of the sword-wielding fig-
ure in the 1697 Charles Perrault tale or the earlier historical figures of the wife mur-
derer on whom the tale is based. In the Balázs play, the only signs of violence are
circumstantial — a torture chamber, armory, and stains of blood — and the former
wives in the seventh chamber are actually depicted as living and adorned by jewels.
Hence, although the play may be interpreted as an expression of Balázs’s trauma and
guilt, the lack of overt physical violence toward Judith and the former wives dimin-
ishes the confessional significance for Balázs and therefore the cathartic psychologi-
cal function of his artistic creation. The more vague Symbolist expression of the play
is all the more striking considering that his “compulsive urge to confess — even his
most intimate thoughts and deeds —is a most important factor in his life and artistic
oeuvre.”6 The ten-year-old boy’s need to protect the power of “maledom” also re-
mains a psychological issue for the adult playwright: Bluebeard’s power is revealed
when the fifth door opens onto his vast domain and Judith’s character conversely di-
minishes toward extinction. Although the original 1697 Perrault tale requires the
woman’s two brothers to save her from being beheaded by Blue Beard, in Balázs’s
Bluebeard play there is no one to save Judith from her ultimate fate.
introverted, withdrawn. Of the character traits that Kodály described, those that
seem to identify the composer most with the protagonist of his Bluebeard opera in-
clude “cool, rigid, fanatical, hesitating, aristocratic, unsociable, idealistic, eccentric,
stubborn, reserved, distrustful, misanthropic.” However, this description is qualified
by Pethő:13
The limits of Kretschmer’s typology and that of the similar introversion-extrover-
sion typology originate above all in their superficiality. Practically, they only de-
scribe two types in details: schizothym and cyclothym (introverted and extroverted
respectively). . . . Bartók’s writings and his contemporaries’ memories permit a typo-
logical refinement. Bartók’s accuracy and assiduity are well-known,14 he consciously
held preciseness second to none15 and hated imperfection.16 . . . “He was extremely
puritan all through his life,” wrote Mrs. Gyárfás, who knew him well in the 1910s.17
Pethő outlines an additional listing of mental characteristics known in “person-
alistic psychology” as the “melancholic” type, which “refers to the well-known rela-
tion between melancholy and philosophical immersion (e.g., visualized by Dürer) on
the one hand and to the tendency to earnestness, pessimism and neurotic or psy-
chotic depression on the other hand,” but he argues against the notion that Bartók
suffered from depression. He does, however, point to Bartók’s pessimism throughout
his life. For instance, during the time of his emigration to the United States, Bartók
wrote that “I have lost all faith in people, countries, in everything.”18 As for Bartók’s
dislike of “imperfection,” we may cite Bluebeard as a symbolic representation of his
need, at all costs, to prevent the woman from prying into each of the seven doors and
exposing the bloody crimes that stain Bluebeard’s past. From our observations of
Bartók’s relationship to Stefi Geyer, or Bluebeard’s to Judith, we may also identify the
man’s narcissistic qualities: self-involvement, based on his need to control or use
others to validate the self and, at the same time, to be dependent on others for such
validation. Bartók says to Stefi, “Here is a case of human frailty! I anticipated that you
might react like this, yet when you actually did so, I was upset. Why couldn’t I read
your letter with cold indifference? . . . Why should I be so affected by your reaction?”19
And Bluebeard begs Judith, “Judith, love me, ask me nothing.” Paradoxically, Bartók,
like Bluebeard, who “collected women,”20 turns out to be a prisoner himself. According
to Giovacchini, some patients use “narcissistic defenses” against “their basic vulnera-
bility and feelings of inadequacy. . . . Kohut (1971) has referred to them as narcissistic
personality disorders,” which seems entirely relevant at least to the character of Blue-
beard, whose vast domain is revealed in the context of his efforts to conceal the
bloody defects within the chambers of his soul (castle). Giovacchini points out that:
This character type has been familiar to both professionals and nonprofessionals for
centuries. Some of these persons have become leaders and through their charisma
have gained immense power. They have been recognized by their sometimes ruthless
ambition for fame, prestige, and power and the sometimes obvious fact that they are
overcompensating for some real or imagined defect.”21
These psycho-dynamic qualities within the narcissistic purview are characterized by
the polarity of psychological extremes—grandiosity as defense-mechanism against
vulnerability — a significant factor that may have contributed to the eternal man-
woman problem of irreconcilability because of sexual inequality within the male-
light, the second door the armory in reddish-yellow, the third door the treasury in gold,
the fourth the garden scene in blue-green. The door that opens onto Bluebeard’s vast
domain is illuminated by an all-encompassing flood of white light. This peak of radi-
ance dims with the gloom of the sixth and seventh doors, one opening onto the lake
of tears, the other Bluebeard’s imprisoned former wives. The white radiance of the
fifth door (in C major) is then polarized by the ultimate darkness that engulfs the
lonely figure of Bluebeard, in the original “darkness” key of F # pentatonic.26 The use
of color in conjunction with specific tonalities or musical details (themes, motifs, or
sections) appears to serve some symbolic role in the musical contexts of works com-
posed during the same period as Bartók’s Bluebeard. Grant points out that:
there was a tendency among composers of the period to use external elements as an
alternative organizing agent to tonality, and an equation of music with colour is a
fleeting, though fascinating, preoccupation. It plays a part in Balázs’s and Bartók’s
scheme for Bluebeard: the first four doors are accompanied by stage instructions
specifying the projection of colours. Previous composers, notably Rimsky-Korsakov
and Scriabin, had associated keys and harmonies with specific colours; Schönberg in
his correspondence with Kandinsky and in Die glückliche Hand (1908–13) —a con-
temporary work of Bluebeard and Scriabin’s Prometheus (with its part for an invented
colour-organ) — took the relationship further. Bartók was not so rigorous, though the
music for the doors is far more static harmonically than the surrounding music for Ju-
dith and Bluebeard. This makes a sole point of contact with another Maeterlinck
opera, Ariane et Barbe-bleue (1907) by Paul Dukas, a feminist version of the legend
that Balázs knew, though Bartók makes no reference to it. In the Dukas, the opening
of the doors reveals jewels of different colours, depicted in washes of gorgeously or-
chestrated static harmony—serving a similar function to the Bartók in bringing sta-
bility to an unstable harmonic language.27
and who lives his own life and to maintain this would even sacrifice love. Judith is
the restless, passionate, demanding one, Bluebeard the reticent character who in his
wisdom understands life, and [somewhat paradoxically] in Judith finds the complete
fulfillment of his desires.29
Veress’s interpretation accords with the inevitable loss of Judith and the signifi-
cance of Bluebeard’s last words that now it will always be dark. However, a broader
historical study of Judith as a more general female type in literature and art may pro-
vide a more profound understanding of the woman’s symbolic significance in the
Bartók-Balázs operatic setting. The subject of Bluebeard suggests the eternally prob-
lematical relation of the two sexes. The relation between the two as depicted in the
opera is one that the contemporary feminist movement would deplore, but all the
more do we have to understand this relation. There are only two characters, a man
and a woman. The man is the central character, and it is perhaps partly for this rea-
son that critical studies of the opera have been devoted almost entirely to the Blue-
beard character, with little or no systematic attention given to that of Judith.30
ductive water sprite in French legend, the mermaid Mélusine, whose connection with
the Maeterlinck character seems to go beyond mere alliteration. Mélusine has fallen
in love with a human mortal but leaves him when he learns her secret. Like the mer-
maid, Mélisande is a mysterious creature who also has a secret, and she also is alien-
ated from the social structure in which she has found herself enmeshed, bound in
marriage first to Bluebeard, then to Golaud. Mélisande and Mélusine both find them-
selves in unequal relationships with men, and each woman can maintain only a fleet-
ing link with human society. Whereas Mélisande’s emotions symbolize (that is, are the
means of achieving) her freedom from an oppressive social structure,34 the dramatic
message of Maeterlinck is that the woman’s quest for freedom will lead inevitably to
her demise. At the same time, because of the consequences for those men connected
with Mélisande, one is led to believe, paradoxically, that for Maeterlinck the woman
symbolizes the siren of destruction, a view of women quite common at that time.35 By
way of dramatic analogy, Bartók’s Judith, the passionate woman, intrudes into Blue-
beard’s soul, her uncontrollable feelings determining the destiny of both characters.
In the opera, the Bluebeard character represents the reticent, reserved man who can-
not reach out to his beloved in the way she desires, and so she pries into the hidden
recesses of his soul until man and woman both submit to ultimate fate.
Balázs’s philosophical view of the woman apparently stems from Friedrich Hebbel’s
transformation of Judith, the selfless biblical character, into something more Salome-
like. Such historical representations of Judith provide insight into the character and
role of Bartók’s Judith, but certain depictions in literature and art reveal more direct
correspondences to the essence of the woman in the Bluebeard opera.36 Around the
turn of the twentieth century, the name of Judith became associated with the seduc-
tive woman whose sexual attractiveness leads to man’s demise as well as her own, and
connections also were made with the figure of Salome. The mistaken identification of
Judith for Salome can be documented from the time of the early reception of two
paintings by the Viennese artist Gustav Klimt, entitled Judith and Holofernes (1901
and 1909), the error stemming from the journal reproduction of the 1901 painting
without its label.37 Judith, like Salome, is depicted as the sexually attractive young
woman who holds the head of the man she has decapitated. The biblical story of Ju-
dith and Holofernes, in which the Assyrian general is decapitated by the woman, is
prototypic of the modern Judith image. However, the modern focus on sexuality and
psychological motivation in connection with Judith appears to stem from Hebbel’s
tragic drama Judith (1840), in which the original biblical figure of a widow who kills
Holofernes to save her people is replaced by the young virgin bent on personal re-
venge. Hebbel’s Judith was performed by Max Reinhardt’s Berlin theater company in
Budapest just before the publication of Balázs’s Bluebeard in 1910. Like Judith and
Salome, the image of the femme fatale also has been manifested in character repre-
sentations such as Frank Wedekind’s Lulu and the anonymous woman in Marie Pap-
penheim’s libretto for Schoenberg’s Erwartung, as well as Maeterlinck’s Mélisande, all
of these female types having drawn opera composers to use them in their musical
settings.38
In analyzing the Bluebeard character, one may cite Bartók’s own adoption of the
more modern ideas of Nietzsche (of his Zarathustra, especially) during this time in
Bartók’s life. He invokes Nietzsche by asserting that one must strive to rise above all
and to be completely independent and indifferent.39 He was to recall this idea a few
years later when, brought to tears by the young woman with whom he was in love, he
expressed shame toward his emotional weakness for what he considered to be his own
“human frailty.”40 The sense of loneliness, pessimism, and despair, as manifested in
these operas, seems to stem in part from the lack of acceptance by men that women
were potentially their equals in both the emotional and intellectual spheres. Balázs
himself “invariably approached women with the idea that he was on a higher plane
intellectually and emotionally, and it was his task to lead women in their quest for
meaning in life. . . . Bartók thought similarly in this matter. But the need to assert
male superiority clashed with his natural inclinations to open up toward women more
easily than toward men.”41 According to Angelica Bäumer, “The demands of nature
time and again drive man into woman’s arms, but he no longer finds a haven there,
no peace or safety, only coldness, distance and insoluble incomprehension.”42 The
image of Bartók’s Judith may be placed appropriately within the context of these so-
cial developments.
24 44(osszerezzen)
24 44
Andante (assai) ( = 104–100
Più sostenuto ( = 60 34
0 ////////////////////////////////////////////////
&
24 44 24 44
.
dim.
(2 Klar.) tenuto
2 4 2 4
4 4 4 4
Trombe c. sord.
Judith
(Judit)
Del - ner Fe - ste Wan - de blu - ten!
A te vá - rad fa - la vé - res!
///////////////////////////////////////////
. (Corni c. sord.)
(Quart.)
example 9-1. Torture Chamber, Section b1, no. 34f., main “Blood” motif occurrence
toward increasing dissonance, the most dissonant relation being the separation of two
semitones by a semitone, in association with the main dramatic idea. The excerpt
shown in example 9-1 —a prominent foreground statement of a four-note semitonal
cell, G # – A/A # – B (i.e., interval-ratio 1:1)46 —occurs in the scene of the torture
chamber, the first of the seven doors to be opened by Judith. The text at this point re-
veals that Judith has just noticed blood in Bluebeard’s domain (no. 34, mm. 5 – 6):
“Your castle walls are bloody!” This pair of semitones (G # – A/A # – B), the most disso-
nant relationship between two semitones, is divorced from any traditional modal con-
struction.
Bartók’s and Debussy’s operas in more than their musico-dramatic Symbolist as-
sumptions. Both operas suggest a similar approach to the relationship between music
and language. Bartók’s investigations of the old Hungarian folk tunes permitted him
to break with the established nineteenth-century tradition of translating Western lan-
guages into Hungarian for opera performance, a tradition that had led inevitably to
distortions in Hungarian accentuation.47 Bartók strictly preserved the Hungarian lan-
guage accents in his musical setting of the Balázs libretto. The archaic syllabic struc-
ture is set by Bartók almost entirely in the old “parlando-rubato” folk style, produc-
ing a kind of contemporary “recitative opera” that was pioneered by Debussy.48 In
Bluebeard, the Hungarian text—and this is true of the orchestral phrases as well — is
appropriately based on eight syllables per line, which is one of the isometric stanzaic
patterns that the composer found in the oldest of the Hungarian folk melodies.49
These music-text relationships are based on special premises that could only have
been established by the liberation of meter and rhythm that was permitted by the dis-
appearance of traditional tonal functions in the early twentieth century.
By means of these new syntactical relations between rhythm and pitch Bartók,
like Debussy, was able to arrive at new and greatly expanded possibilities for symbolic
representation. The opening F # pentatonic “Darkness” theme in Bluebeard unfolds in
two pairs of four-note phrases, or two larger eight-note pairings of the archaic Hun-
garian isometric syllabic structure (ex. 9-2a). As Bartók illustrates in connection with
the old-style Hungarian folk tunes, each line of the eight-syllable format may be re-
duced to the rhythmic schemata of 4 + 4.50 The “Foreboding” motif suddenly appears
in overlap with the E – F # –pentatonic cadence (mm. 18 – 21), its two phrases also ar-
ticulated in 2 ⫻ 8 “syllables.” In addition to its increasing rhythmic agitation by means
of the following more fragmented and irregular statements — that is, the 4 ⫻ 4 mea-
sures of the opening pentatonic theme are followed by measure groupings of 2 ⫻ 2
plus 2 ⫻ 1 (extended by 3) and 2 ⫻ 1 (extended by 4) that lead to Recitative Part 1
(no. 2, m. 7) — the “Foreboding” motif introduces the first intrusion of both chro-
matic and whole-tone spheres into the opening pentatonic theme as Bluebeard and
Judith enter the castle.
Four of the F # pentatonic notes (F # –A –B –[ ]–E) are retained in the “Forebod-
ing” motif (ex. 9-2b), which expands the pentatonic segment to an exotic nondiatonic
mode, F # – G – A– B – C–[ ]–D # –E. This expanded collection suggests a permutation
of E harmonic minor, E–F # – G – A – B – C – D # –E, which explicitly unfolds above the
held F # tonic. This combination of an E-based mode and sustained F # supports the ca-
dential pentatonic dyad (E–F #) of the “Darkness” (or “Castle”) theme. Three semi-
tones (F # – G, B – C, and D # –E) are thereby introduced into the original pentatonic
formation. In the second statement of the motif (mm. 18 – 19), the collection is fur-
ther chromaticized by the addition of C #, the one F # pentatonic note missing from the
first statement, producing F # – G – A – B – C – C # –D # –E. The latter suggests a permu-
tation of the “bimodal” combination of E harmonic minor and E melodic minor (E–
F # – G – A – B – C – C # – D # –E), which unfolds above the held F #. Dissonance and ten-
sion are thereby introduced by the sudden incorporation of semitones into the open-
ing pentatonic framework, the organic process both controlled and heightened by the
metric-syllabic structure of the archaic Hungarian linguistic syntax.
a. Andante ( = 92
,
,
3
(Cord.)
4 sempre leg.
misterioso
,
,
3
4
,
b.
Meno mosso ( = 72
poco marc.
-
4
dolce (Klar.)
1
3
4
4 4
4
3
4
(Harm.)
44
34
44
34
C–D–E–F (WT-0 segment)
F–G–A–B–C–C –D –E exotic nondiatonic mode
(expansion of F –A–B–C–E pentatonic)
example 9-2. Prologue, (a) mm. 1–16, opening F #-pentatonic “Darkness” (or “Castle”)
theme, in two pairs of four-note phrases or two larger eight-note pairings of archaic
Hungarian isometric syllabic structure; (b) m. 16 through no. 1, “Menacing” or “Fore-
boding” motif, whole-tone expansion of cadential F #-pentatonic dyad, E–F #
devotion of the woman.51 However, in Bartók’s opera, each new sign of blood and Ju-
dith’s imminent suspicions of murder induce a gradual change in her attitude. Her
faithfulness eventually diminishes to a jealous uncertainty as her relentless actions
lead to the encounter with her husband’s former wives.
The symbolism contained in the opening musical material portends Judith’s char-
acter transformation and demise. The semitones of “Blood” begin to permeate the
opening pentatonic framework as the whole-tone sphere is introduced into the melodic
and harmonic structure of the “Foreboding” motif. The F # –pentatonic scale (F # –A–B–
C # –E) implies the presence of a segment from each of the two whole-tone collections,
the boundary (F # – E) belonging to one of these collections, the central three notes
(A–B–C #) to the other. In the linear bass accompaniment of the “Foreboding” motif
(see ex. 9-2b earlier), the cadential pentatonic dyad, E– F #, is expanded to a four-note
whole-tone tetrachord, C–D–E–F #, a segment (C–[ ] – E – F #) serving as the basic
chord of the first phrase (mm. 16–17) as well as the embellished frame of the upper
melodic line of the motif. The melodic cadence of the second phrase introduces a
gapped segment (A – [ ]–C # –D #) from the other whole-tone scale, a transposition of
the initial gapped cell (C–[ ]–E–F #) producing a chromatic conflict with the primary
whole-tone collection in the bass.52 The priority of the latter is reestablished by the
initial chord (A b – C– D) of the next statement (no. 1).
These whole-tone segments (C–[ ]–E–F #, or C–D – E – F #, and A – [ ] – C # – D #),
which are embedded in or accompany the “Foreboding” motif, also imply the presence
of the A Dorian/A Lydian modes (A–B –[C–D–E–F #] – G – A/[A] – B – [C # – D #] –
E– F # – [ ] – A). This polymodal combination supports the argument regarding the
semitone (“Blood” motif ) intrusions into the opening anhemitonic F # pentatonic
“Darkness” motif by means of polymodal chromaticism. In addition to the whole-
tone/diatonic intrusion here, we also may point to the octatonic implication. If we
consider one note (B) as an “odd” element within the implied E harmonic minor con-
tent of the thematic structure (E–F # –G –A–[B]–C–C # – D # – E, or its pentatonically
derived permutation, F # – G – A – B – C – C # –D # –E), then we also have seven notes
(F # – G– A– [ ] – C – C # –D # –E) of an octatonic collection. Thus, the basic pitch sets
that will be explored throughout the discussion of the opera are already evident in this
passage.
In contrast to Judith, Bluebeard expresses uncertainty on entering the castle,
questioning his wife’s resolve to follow him (no. 5): “Are you stopping, Judith? Would
you go back?” The musico-textual syllabic scheme of Bluebeard’s first vocal statement
serves the expression of his mood. The underlying octosyllabic linguistic structure
forms the basis for special phrasal reinterpretations and vocal-orchestral elisions,
which permit some sense of musical fragmentation, fusion, and conflict. His first reci-
tative begins with a textual scheme of 4 + 12 syllables, one of the few irregular group-
ings of the 8 + 8 isometric structure. This reinterpretation permits a special phrasal
elision to occur between the final statement of the “Foreboding” motif (no. 2, mm. 1 –
5) and the overlapping initial entry of the vocal part. Specifically, the first two or-
chestral motivic fragments of 4 + 4 articulations are melodically extended by four
more notes, so the four syllables of the overlapping vocal entry complete the latter as
a 4 + 4 rhythmic construction. This technique produces continuity between the or-
chestral introduction and the first words of the opera, while maintaining an allusion
Aug. triad
W.T. F pentatonic
F E
D
A
dolce
3
3
4
Ja, ich fol - ge, Her - zog Blau - bart
Me - gyek, me - gyek, Kék - sza kál - lú
3
3
4
3
4
WT1: G
C
WT2: F E
D
B
example 9-3. Judith’s opening theme, no. 3, further infusion of whole-tone sphere
into F #-pentatonic collection
to the isometric (8 +8) folk structure. At the same time, this cadential four-note or-
chestral extension outlines a segment (F # –A–[ ]–C # – E) of the original pentatonic
collection to establish the pentatonic significance of Bluebeard’s F # octave at his
words (no. 2, mm. 4 – 5), “We have arrived.”
In his ensuing phrase, F # pentatonic is transposed to D pentatonic, a special
transpositional relationship between these two pentatonic collections (F # – A – B –
C # –E and D – F– G – A –C) implying the presence of certain fundamental pitch-set
criteria for further intrusion of the whole-tone sphere and Judith’s first statement.
Specifically, the boundary whole-tone (F # –E) of the original F # – pentatonic collec-
tion is replaced by the new whole-tone boundary (D–C) of Bluebeard’s D pentatonic
statement, both boundaries having unfolded jointly in the bass accompaniment to the
“Foreboding” motif (mm. 16–21) as a whole-tone tetrachordal extension and trans-
formation (C – D– E– F #) of the F # pentatonic sphere. Thus, this primary whole-tone
tetrachordal cell, which is also basic to the chordal structure of the motif, serves as a
link between the two pentatonic transpositions to establish one of the basic musical
premises for the intrusion of fate into Bluebeard’s world.
While Bluebeard’s quiet D pentatonic line is elaborated diatonically by B and E
(no. 2, mm. 10 –14) to form the larger D Dorian mode (D – E – F – G– A – B – C), Ju-
dith responds to his questioning with a contrasting rhythmic and wide-ranging line at
her words (no. 3), “I’m coming, Bluebeard, I’m coming,” based on further infusion of the
whole-tone sphere into the F # pentatonic collection. Her vocal statement (ex. 9-3) out-
lines a descending segment (F–E b –D b –A) belonging to the secondary whole-tone
scale, the cadential Gb revealing the presence of the F # – pentatonic triad (in enhar-
monic spelling, Gb – A –D b), so the basic F # –pentatonic collection is partially trans-
formed into a hybrid whole-tone/pentatonic formation, Gb – A – D b – E b – F (i.e., F # –
molto espr.
example 9-4. Stefi’s leitmotif in musical notation, as outlined for her by Bartók in
1907 (Béla Bartók Letters, ed. János Demény, p. 87).
had expected Stefi to “react like this” to his philosophical arguments. Bartók’s state-
ment can perhaps shed light on his fascination with the Bluebeard-Judith relationship
and suggest connections between the latter and Bartók’s own personal relationships
with the other women in his life. As mentioned earlier, it was Bartók who in 1924 was
to divorce his first wife, Márta, the woman to whom he had actually dedicated the
opera in 1911, in order to marry the younger Ditta Pásztory. Second, Bartók’s extreme
alienation from the Catholic Church, which represents a radical reversal of his earlier
devotion to the faith, and ultimately his denial of the existence of God appear to be
profoundly connected to his sense of isolation from his fellow human beings.58 This
feeling evidently stems at least in part from the widening chasm between what Bartók
considered to be the intellectual stagnation of his urban culture and his own artistic
aspirations and, furthermore, from his pessimism fueled by the increasing indifference
toward his music by the Budapest public. These unhappy circumstances undoubtedly
contributed to Bartók’s espousal of Nietzsche’s philosophy.59 His expressed accept-
ance of his lonely destiny is striking for more than simply the loneliness itself, since
the inevitability of this isolation to which he had referred in connection with his per-
sonal existence is reflected directly in the message of his opera. Bartók’s attitude was
already expressed as early as 1905:
I may be looked after by Dietl or Mandl in Vienna, and I may have friends in Buda-
pest (Thomán, Mrs. Gruber), yet there are times when I suddenly become aware of
the fact that I am absolutely alone! And I prophesy, I have a foreknowledge, that this
spiritual loneliness is to be my destiny. I look about me in search of the ideal com-
panion, and yet I am fully aware that it is a vain quest. Even if I should ever succeed
in finding someone, I am sure that I would be disappointed.60
Bartók’s belief in the inevitability of his spiritual isolation suggests more than ac-
quiescence, as he fervently espoused the basic tenets of atheism, separation from the
Catholic Church, and his aggressive stance toward Stefi on the subject. Bartók’s mes-
sage to Stefi, which implies an actual need for isolation, seems to be reflected in Blue-
beard’s struggle with Judith to protect his privacy and isolation from the outside
world. Thus, while the relationship between Judith and Bluebeard appears on the sur-
face to be the converse of that between Stefi and Bartók — that is, Stefi’s rejection of
Bartók is reversed in the opera between the man and the woman — Bartók’s letter
provides us with a more profound insight into his relationship with Stefi. From this re-
lationship we become aware of significant parallels between Stefi and Judith. Bartók’s
certainty “that he would be disappointed,” even if he “should succeed in finding
someone,” is most evident in the opera, where Judith’s prying into Bluebeard’s per-
sonal life leads him to dissatisfaction with the woman; his abandonment of her, then,
as he forces her to join his previous wives behind the seventh door, leads to his own
eternal loneliness in “endless night,” a metaphor for his death. The latter assumption
is supported by Bartók’s own comment in his last letter to Stefi Geyer in early 1908:
“I have begun a quartet; the first theme is the theme of the second movement [that
is, of the violin concerto]: this is my funeral dirge.”61 It is also significant that the very
opening F # pentatonic (“Darkness”) theme, which returns at the end of the Bluebeard
opera in association with “endless darkness,” is similar to the theme in the second of
Bartók’s Four Dirges for Piano, op. 8b (1908).62
Ultimately, it is Bartók’s need to control the woman that seems to lie at the heart
of the parallel between Stefi and Judith. In the same letter to his mother, he reveals
his conflicted attitude regarding the equality between men and women, the negative
side of this conflict pointing to his need for control:
after giving the subject a great deal of thought, I have come to believe that men and
women are so different in mind and body that it may not be such a bad idea after all
to demand from women a greater degree of chastity. These matters are too intimate
to write about in detail.
But though these considerations might lead one to favour more restraints for
women, one has to take into account what happens all too often as a result. (I’m
thinking, of course, of the dire consequences of “lapsing” from socially accepted stan-
dards, of having to suffer the condemnation of society.) And so finally I come back
to where I started: Equal standards for men and women.63
The question of control between man and woman is crucial not only in the opera
but appears to be significant in Bartók’s own life as well. Although the overt action in
the opera is motivated by Judith’s need to control Bluebeard by her relentless pressure
to open the doors of his castle (that is, to open the wounds of his past) and to learn
everything about him, there is the powerful and relentless counterpressure of Blue-
beard to control Judith’s passion and desires for intimacy and to condemn her to an
emotional isolation that suppresses the essence of who she is. In his personal life,
Bartók reveals to us in his letter to Stefi his need to shape the woman according to his
own views, to win the woman over in their ideological and spiritual struggle. He dis-
cusses their religious disagreements based on the conflict between his atheism and her
“godfearing” stand. Although he asks her permission to develop the two axioms that
he has presented earlier64 — the first stating that it is man who created God after his own
likeness, the second that the soul is transitory and the body (that is, matter) is everlasting —
his painstaking discourse presents his views as though they were a foregone conclu-
sion. It is he who must educate Stefi, so she may eventually come to see things his
way: “You are still green? Never mind! The important thing is that you should want
to mature. . . . Will you allow me to supply you with reading matter from time to time?
(Something not too weighty as a start, just to bring you onto the right track).”65 In
spite of Bartók’s assertion that “it’s only a short time since I was still zealously bent on
winning everyone over to atheism. . . . And now I am saying — let everyone do as he
likes, it’s no business of mine. But there’s trouble in store for any pious person want-
ing to pick a quarrel with me and compel me by law to do this or that,”66 his attempt
to control Stefi’s emotional reaction to what he writes becomes evident: “Though you
wanted me to write on this subject, I must beg you to harbour no resentment against
me for the way in which I’ve written; I would like you to feel towards me as you have
always done in the past.”
Stefi rejected Bartók in the early part of 1908, and this led him to characterize
her in certain works composed at this time according to two personalities. The Two
Portraits for orchestra, op. 5, published in 1911, was derived by combining the first
movement of the unpublished Violin Concerto with an orchestrated version of the last
of the Fourteen Bagatelles for piano, op. 6. To the first Portrait Bartók gave the title
“Une idéale,” to the second, “Une grotesque.” Originally, in the Bagatelles, the latter
piece belonged to a titled pair: “Elle est morte (Lento funebre)” and “Valse: ma mie
qui danse (Presto).” Although there appears to be no direct musical correlation be-
tween these characterizations of Stefi in the Two Portraits and Judith in the opera, a
comparison of certain changes in orchestration of the first (ideal) and second (gro-
tesque) Portraits suggests a more general association to the opera. Bartók heightens
the sense of the grotesque in the second of the Portraits by replacing the more tranquil
sounds of certain instruments with sharper ones.67 The “shrill, hysterical tone” pro-
duced by the addition of piccolo, E b clarinet, B b bass clarinet, several percussion, and
the more prominent use of harps, trumpets and trombones in the second of the Por-
traits draws our attention directly to the grotesque sound associated with the “blood”
motif in the opera. The scene of the “Torture Chamber” is introduced (at no. 30) by
a piercing half-step (B –A #) violin trill and agitated piccolo/flute interjection as Judith
opens the door, producing a blood-red gap in the wall. The main appearance of the
“blood” motif (at no. 34; see ex. 9-1 earlier) is then effectuated by the sharp, yet dis-
embodied quality of the muted trumpets on the half-step G # – A against the original
B – A # trill figure in the flute, which is overlapped by the “dripping” dotted figure in
the clarinets.
“Blood” motif and the whole-tone (fate) symbol also occurs on a more complex level
in the material surrounding Judith’s opening statement. The held orchestral chord ex-
pands Judith’s vocal whole-tone content to five notes (A – B-D b – E b – F) by the addi-
tion of a new note, B, while the cadential pentatonic vocal note (Gb) from the pri-
mary whole-tone scale is expanded to a larger whole-tone segment (Gb – C) by the
addition of the orchestral neighbor note, C. This chromatic mixture of basic compo-
nents from both whole-tone collections (C–Gb, in enharmonic spelling, C – F #, from
tetrachord C – D– E – F #, that is, boundary elements of the basic F # and D pentatonic
formations, and A – B –D b –E b –F from Judith’s statement) is further elaborated in the
next interlude (ex. 9-5), which connects Judith’s line and Bluebeard’s next statement
at the beginning of Recitative—part 2 (no. 3, m. 6). The two parallel ascending lines
(C –D – E – F # and A b – B b –C) in the first four articulations of this interlude together
outline the complete primary whole-tone collection, while the held notes (G – A) and
boundary notes (E b – A) of the descending line imply the presence of a gapped whole-
tone cell (E b – [ ] – G – A) from the secondary whole-tone collection. The entire chro-
matic content that results from these combined whole-tone segments, together with
the next prominent half-step (B–C) in the bass, reveals a systematic structural pro-
jection and chromatic elaboration of the basic whole-tone tetrachord, C – D– E – F #,
that is, the entire content, D–E b –E–[ ]–F # –G–A b –A–B b –B–C–[ ]–D–E b –E, con-
tains two gaps, one between E and F #, the other between C and D. Thus, the musical
premises underlying the dramatic connection between Judith as an unrelenting force
(whole-tone sphere) and the anticipation of the “Blood” of Bluebeard’s soul (chro-
matic sphere) are firmly established at the entry of the two characters into the castle.
At the same time, the interval of the semitone seems to symbolize more than sim-
ply “Blood.” It tends to represent, as Banks suggests, “fear, guilt, pain and sadness —
and it gradually dominates the texture as Judith taunts the duke into giving her the
key to the last door. It continues to resonate in the bitonal textures towards the end —
a somber reminder of the failure of the two characters to establish a true bond. Finally
all that is left is the primeval pentatonicism of the opening.”68 In this musical context,
which is based on pentatonic/diatonic interactions with the whole-tone sphere and
the chromatic filling-in process that results from these interactions, the principle
dramatic concepts of “fate,” “blood,” and the emotional conflicts that can be traced
to them, are inextricably connected with each other on the deepest levels of the psy-
chological and musico-dramatic context.
Following this initial dialogue (Recitative—part 1), which establishes the basic po-
larity between Bluebeard’s distinctive pentatonic-diatonic phrases and Judith’s whole-
tone intrusion into the pentatonic sphere in a folklike quaternary stanzaic scheme of
three lines for Bluebeard and one for Judith, the text (Recitative — part 2) introduces
a more explicit statement of tension into this marriage as Bluebeard warns Judith (no. 3,
mm. 6 – 11): “Don’t you hear the warning bells? Your mother is dressed in mourning,
Your father straps on his sharp sword, Your brother saddles his horse. Judith, do you
still follow me?” With her reaffirmation that she is coming with him, their respective
diatonic and whole-tone spheres undergo the first chromatic transformations. To this
point, the three prominently placed orchestral half-steps (the first two at no. 2, mm.
6 – 7, the third at no. 3, mm. 5–6) have unfolded in a background-level relation sep-
arated by whole-steps: F # –F/D # –D/C–B (i.e., interval-ratio 1:2). These three half-
WT1: C D E F
A
B
C
Assai andante
espr.
3
45
4
(Cord.)
3
4 45
D C
prominent semitone
WT2: E
G A
Entire collection D E
E [ ] G
G A
A B
B C [ ] D E
E
example 9-5. Brief orchestral interlude, no. 3, mm. 3–6, chromatic mixture of both
whole-tone collections
steps then move into the foreground in Bluebeard’s vocal line of Recitative — part 2
(no. 3, m. 6 ff.) in the form of an octatonic intrusion that transforms his diatonic line
into a hybrid diatonic-octatonic formation (fig. 9-1).69 We may outline the entire
pitch content of this vocal phrase (through the high Gb – F) most conveniently in de-
scending scalar ordering: C–B –A –G # –Gb–F–E b –D– C– B – A – G. This scale inter-
locks a complete octatonic scale (C–B –A –G # –Gb–F–E b – D) with a G major seg-
ment (G–A–B–C–D), or one of the permutations (G–A–B–C–D–E b –F) of a larger
nondiatonic folk mode that Bartók found in Eastern European folk music.70
Henceforth, in anticipation of blood, the primary transpositional level of two
semitones at interval-ratio 1:1 (G # –A/A # –B) emerges with increasing prominence
from the modal thematic material into a foreground event. At the return of the “Fore-
boding” motif (no. 4, mm. 5–6), both of these semitones appear for the first time as
octatonic
C B A G# Gb F Eb D C B A G
G-major segment
basic details within the larger thematic statement to introduce Bluebeard’s question
(no. 5) about her stopping and wanting to go back. At this point (no. 5, mm. 2 – 5,
flutes and oboes), one of these semitones (G # –A) appears as the upper boundary of
the successive eighth-note figures. At Judith’s comment (no. 10, mm. 8 – 9) on how
dark his castle is, the pitch content of the accompanying pentatonic collection (D # –
F # –G # – A # – C #) is disrupted by a single dissonant note (A) in the voice, implying the
presence of a partial statement of the basic 1:1 cell, G # – A/A # – [ ]. With this refer-
ence to darkness, the clarinet begins a long sustained melody (no. 10, m. 6 ff.). This
two-note lamenting figure (in alternating long and dotted-note values) seems to an-
ticipate Judith’s wonderment (no. 11, mm. 3 –4) about the kind of water that falls
onto her hand, as though Bluebeard’s castle is weeping. It is striking that the clarinet
timbre will again be used later to simulate the dripping of blood (at no. 34, m. 2 ff.),
the new weeping — or lamenting—figure appearing in counterpoint against the main
statement of the “Blood” motif (G # – A – A # –B), which is presented in anticipation of
Judith’s first explicit reference to blood. Unfolding in counterpoint against the pres-
ent turn figure of the string ostinato (no. 10, mm. 6 ff.), this clarinet “theme” contains
momentary breaks.71 After each (e.g., no. 12), the line is contrapuntally reinforced by
the addition of bass clarinet, followed by English horn, then flutes. As Bluebeard
warns (no. 19, mm. 6 –7) that nothing will make his castle glitter, the darker timbre
of the English horn ends the long lament (in the postlude, no. 19, m. 10 ff.), which
was originally initiated by the clarinet, by expanding the sustained two-note figure to
a broader, turning thematic contour, C–D–A–D–C–D–G # –E/D–C–B–A–D. The
latter, which emulates the ostinato turn figure of the string counterpoint, intensifies
the somber mood. At Judith’s first metaphorical allusion to blood (no. 11), that is, as
oozing water, one of the semitones (G # –A) of the 1:1 cell (G # – A/A # – [ ]) had already
appeared as a primary foreground event in the flutes, oboes, and horns.
2 7 4
4 8 4
2 78
44
4
33 Più mosso ( = 76
4
Jud.
4
ro - te Spies - se . . .
Iz - zó nyár - sak . . .
&. 0
0
&
.
& 0
& .
4
4
.
44
(Corni) (1:4 ration diatonic semitones)
Jud.
Blaubart
Mel - ne Fol - ter - kam - mer, Ju - dith.
Ez a kin - zó - kam - ra, Ju - dit.
&. 0
0.
&
& 0
&
.
example 9-6. Torture Chamber, No. 33ff., trilled semitone A #–B of “Blood” motif in
diatonic interval-ratio 1:4 with two other boundary semitones (A #–B/D #–E and
E #–F #/A #–B) in ascending and descending scalar figure
Whereas the “Foreboding” motif (m. 16 ff.) had begun partially to fill in the anhemi-
tonic gaps of the opening pentatonic “Castle” theme, the shrill figuration (nos. 33 –
34) leading directly to the “Blood” motif represents a complete and systematic mani-
festation of this filling-in principle. A special symmetrical intervallic relation unfolds
between vocal lines and accompanying diatonic figuration, this relation providing the
C–B
–A
–G
–E (WT-0)
5
Jud.
4
Schreck - lich ist die Fol - ter - werk - statt,
Ször - nyü a te kin - zó - kam - rád,
& 0
& 0
&
.
5
4
5
4
G
–A–[ ]–C B
(= F –E–[ ]–C–A )
(WT-0)
5
44
Jud.
4
Viel - be - klag - ter!
Kék - sza - kál - lú!
& 0
0
&
&0
0
&
5 44
4
54
44
& 0
0
&
& 0
0
&
4
4
cresc.
4
4
example 9-6 (continued)
means for fusing diatonic, whole-tone, and chromatic spheres at this significant point
of intervallic compression. While Judith’s vocal line exclusively produces a whole-
tone transformation of both D pentatonic (implied by Bluebeard’s perfect fourths, D –
G –C) and F # pentatonic (represented by Judith’s cadential figure ending on Gb, that
is, to imply a whole-tone mutation, E–C–A b/Gb, of Judith’s original hybrid whole-
tone/pentatonic motif, F–D b –A/Gb), the orchestral figurations produce systematic
semitonal intrusions into Judith’s whole-tone line. The two alternating diatonic or-
chestral figures, A # – B – C # –D # –E, and its inversion, B– A # – G # – F # – E #, both contain
axial whole-tone trichords, B–C # –D # and A # –G # –F #, respectively. The first trichord
produces a chromatic conflict with Judith’s WT-0 vocal line (C – B b – A b – Gb – E) and,
furthermore, complements Bluebeard’s cadential WT-0 dyad, C – D, to imply the pres-
ence of a chromatically filled symmetry, B–[C]–C # –[D] – D #.
The diatonic boundary notes, A # and E, of the first diatonic orchestral figure also
imply an extension of Bluebeard’s cadential dyad (C–D) to a WT-0 tetrachord, A # –
C–D– E, this dyad and Judith’s vocal line together forming the complete WT-0 scale
(D–C –B b – A b – Gb – E). The axial trichord of the second, inverted diatonic orches-
tral figure, A # – G # – F #, duplicates Judith’s axial whole-tone trichord (in enharmonic
spelling, B b – A b – Gb). At the same time, the boundary notes, B – E #, of the second di-
atonic segment (B – A # –G # –F # –E #) map chromatically into Judith’s whole-tone line,
C –[B] – B b – A b – Gb – [E #] –E, precisely between the two whole-steps (C – B b and Gb –
E) that are also vertically projected to form the reiterated “French-sixth” chord (in
enharmonic spelling, A # –C–E–F #). The “Blood” motif (B – A # – A – G #) descends
within this minor sixth boundary (C–E) and is extended further downward to Fx (B –
A # – A – G # – Fx). Judith’s line also unfolds within this boundary. Such half-step intru-
sions into the whole-tone sphere are anticipated in Judith’s initial vocal statements
(no. 32 ff.), in which her whole-tone-related boundary, E–C (no. 33), is adjoined by
half-steps to produce an octatonic, or interval-ratio 1:2 segment, E – E b/D b – C.
The latter chromatic complementation of the combined descending whole-tone
line of Judith and the inverted diatonic orchestral figure (C – [B] – B b – A b – Gb – [E #] –
E) is further chromaticized, then, by the “Blood” motif (G # –A–A # –B), significantly in
descending order: the trill-figure B–A # appears first, to which is added A–G # (no. 34),
then Fx, and so on, in the “dripping” dotted figure of the clarinet. Judith’s vocal line
(through the “Tranquillo”) moves entirely within the ambitus of this descent.
The large-scale development of the contrasting personalities of the two charac-
ters is partly reflected in the formal proportions of their paired statements. Judith’s dy-
namic, though brief, interjectory responses (at no. 3 and no. 4, mm. 3 – 4) within the
opening pair of recitatives shifts in part 2 (no. 6) of the second pair of recitatives to
an extended and uninterrupted assertion of her will to follow her husband. In the
three ensuing monologues (nos. 9–19, m. 4), Judith’s vocal part prevails, and her posi-
tive attitude is expressed by her desire to let light into the castle. The sectional form
of the first door scene (Torture Chamber), a folklike quaternary musical structure out-
lining a larger binary form—introduction, a1, b1 / a2, b2, introduction—serves to de-
marcate the polarized attitudes of the two characters, one positive, the other nega-
tive.73 In the first half, the dialogue of both characters refers to elements of torture,
fear, and blood, the main occurrence of the “Blood” motif articulated by the music of
section b1 (no. 34). In section a2 (no. 36), Judith’s assertion, “No! I am not afraid. —
Look, it lightens already,” is now contrasted by Bluebeard’s observation (no. 37) that
it is a “Red brook — bloody brook.” This polarity is further developed in b2 as Judith
speaks of light, love, and the desire to probe, while Bluebeard refers to hiding, trem-
bling, and danger. The larger binary musical form of this scene is, therefore, in general
correspondence with the textual references to blood and fear in a1 and b1 versus light
and courage in a2 and b2.
In connection with their respective attitudes, the two characters further develop
their corresponding pitch-set spheres (diatonic and whole-tone) that have been es-
tablished from the very beginning. As the orchestra gradually realizes the chromatic
“Blood” motif (see ex. 9-1 earlier), Bluebeard’s interjections establish his pentatonic-
diatonic association in two perfect fourths, C–G and E – B, which are harmonically
projected as an inverted C major seventh chord (E–G – B – C) as well. As Bluebeard
introduces his torture chamber to Judith, the perfect fourth segment, D–G–C (no. 33,
m. 2), suggests the frame of his original D pentatonic recitative (D – F– G – A – C), the
held C major seventh chord providing the two notes (E and B) that originally ex-
panded this pentatonic collection to the larger D Dorian mode (see no. 2, m. 7 ff.,
vocal line). The pentatonic whole-step boundary, D–C, which originally served as a
link with the whole-tone sphere, is brought into registral and temporal proximity at
this statement, analogous to its original cadential function (see no. 2, m. 9). This pen-
tatonic whole-step is then absorbed into the whole-tone sphere, as Judith unfolds her
first whole-tone statement of the passage (C–B b –A b –Gb – E). Her first four pitches,
C –B b –A b – Gb, form the inversion of the original whole-tone tetrachord, C – D– E –
F #, which accompanied the “Foreboding” motif (mm. 16 – 19).
At this point, the whole-tone tetrachord is linearly extended by a transposition,
E– C – A b, of her original augmented triad, F–D b –A (see no. 3), this extension hav-
ing two important consequences: it completes a linear statement of the WT-0 scale
beginning with Bluebeard’s preceding D–C, and it produces a shift from Judith’s origi-
nal secondary WT-1 collection to the primary one containing the whole-steps (C – D
and E– F #) that bounded the F # pentatonic (F # – A – B – C # – E) and D pentatonic (D –
F–G –A – C) collections associated with the castle and Bluebeard.
This transposition (E–C–A b) of Judith’s original augmented triad also permits a
more complete transformation of the F # –pentatonic collection into the whole-tone
sphere. Her original line, F–D b –A –Gb (in enharmonic spelling, F – C # – A – F #), rep-
resented a whole-tone extension of, or deviation from, the F # pentatonic structure,
whereas in the present passage, the transposition (E C – A b) draws the cadential Gb
(i.e., F #) into a WT-0 segment (Gb A b C E) exclusively. It is striking that at her inter-
jections (no. 33, m. 5), “Horrible, horrible,” which directly precede the main state-
ment of the “Blood” motif, we get the tritone transposition (F # – [ ] – A # – C) of the
gapped primary whole-tone cell (C–[ ]–E–F #) that served as the harmonic frame for
the first statement of the “Foreboding” motif. The main harmonic construction at this
point is the “French sixth” (whole-tone) chord, A # –C–E – F #, which represents a fu-
sion of both cell transpositions (C–E–F # and F # –A # –C).
207
Jud.
Al - le Tü - ren sol - len sprin - gen!
Min - den aj - tót ki kell nyit - ni!
Jud.
Al - le Tü - ren!
Min - den aj - tót!
example 10-1. Ending of Torture Chamber scene, no. 40, mm. 1–4, Judith’s “Danger”
motif, rhythmic variant of Judith’s original “fate” motif and its harmonization based
on C # transpositions of major-third and minor-third modal forms of Stefi’s motif,
C #–E #–G #–B # and C #–E–G #–B #
the orchestra, and minor third, E, in both orchestra and voice. This musical impli-
cation of blood (semitone E–E #) corresponds with Judith’s demand that all the doors
must open for her. This statement (at no. 40) follows Bluebeard’s cryptic reference
(at no. 39) to what is behind them. Because the awareness of blood is not yet mani-
fested here, we do not get the basic transpositional level (G # – A/A # – B) of the “Blood”
motif semitones. Strikingly, Bluebeard’s vocal line at this point is based on a non-
diatonic collection (unusual for Bluebeard thus far in the opera). This outlines the
minor-modal version of Stefi’s seventh chord, F # – A – C # – [D #] – E #, at the exact trans-
positional level of Judith’s very opening vocal statement (but in enharmonic spelling).
The melodic contour reveals, therefore, the prominent infusion of the whole-tone
sphere ([F – D b – A] – G b).
One of Bartók’s most characteristic techniques is thereby revealed in the progres-
sion from the Romantic tertian seventh chord construction of the “Stefi” leitmotif to
the chromatically compressed intervals (semitones) of the “Blood” motif. The pres-
ence of the latter is implied, for instance, in the major-seventh boundary or juxta-
posed major third/minor third modal variants of the “Stefi” seventh chord leitmotif
(see fig. 2-2 earlier). The larger (major third) intervals of the “Stefi” chord also imply
the presence of the whole-tone sphere, so the anticipation of blood in the conflicting
major (ideal) and minor (funereal) forms of her seventh chord is symbolized in Bartók’s
characteristic technique based on chromatic compression of diatonic (and/or whole-
tone) material.4 Regarding this principle, Bartók said that “when I first used the device
of extending chromatic melodies into a diatonic form, or vice versa, I thought I in-
vented something absolutely new, which never yet existed. And now I see that an ab-
solutely identical principle exists in Dalmatia since Heaven knows how long a time.”5
We may speculate about the symbolic meaning that Stefi’s leitmotif, especially the
minor-modal form of the C # transposition, C # –E–G # –B # (No, 38, m. 5 ff., and no. 40),
and its dramatic placement at this point in the opera had for Bartók so soon after Stefi
Geyer’s rejection of him. This is precisely the version of the leitmotif that Bartók out-
lined for her in his letter dated mid-September 1907 (see ex. 9-4 earlier).6 The tone
of his letter hints that his relationship with her was already under some strain: “I have
a sad misgiving that I shall never find any consolation in life save in music. And yet —
(This is your “Leitmotiv”). . . . One letter from you, a line, even a word — and I am in
a transport of joy, the next brings me almost to tears, it hurts so. What is to be the end
of it all?” Bartók construed his expression of these personal emotions as a human
weakness.7 This attitude reflects the strong Nietzschean tone expressed in the same
letter (p. 86): “Do you mean to say that you wouldn’t have the courage to read Nietz-
sche’s Zarathustra, even though you would be intrigued by Strauss’s?!” His apprehen-
sion that the love between Stefi and himself would be dissolved was soon to be real-
ized, and he expressed his feelings about this by his eventual transformation of the
lively, “witty and amusing” second-movement theme of the early Violin Concerto,
which he was composing (in 1907–1908) for Stefi at the time he wrote this letter, into
the slow fugue theme that opens the First String Quartet (1907 – 1909). Because of
Stefi’s rejection of him around the time he finished the Concerto, Bartók referred to
this thematic transformation in the quartet, with its more depressed mood, as his “Fu-
neral Dirge,”8 hence, the duality of emotion that spans the gamut from love to the
emptiness of death. The trend from the ideal (in the first movement of the Violin Con-
certo) to the funereal (in the first movement of the First String Quartet and Bluebeard’s
Castle) via the shape of the concerto’s virtuoso second-movement theme appears to
symbolize the final outcome of Bartók’s relationship with Stefi. The theme of un-
requited love in Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde is symbolized in the Violin Concerto by the
spirit of Tristan.9 This connection between the Bartók idiom and that of Wagner is
supported by certain musical elements in the score of the Concerto:
The anguished entry of the countersubject (mm. 7–8) dramatizes the fate of Wag-
nerian “realism” and its great influence. Stefi’s “love-motif” and the “grief-motif” of
Tristan are fastened here forever, and their motivic complementation is thus made
clear. The last note, A, of the subject is the pivot to the countersubject, which sets
up the first polarization in the piece. The countersubject (mm. 7–8) begins with
F– E; together, this subject/countersubject intersection (at A/F–E) forms the first
three notes of Wagner’s opera. This angular contour of the subject/countersubject
convergence (A/F– E–G–C #) foreshadows the jagged virtuoso theme of the second
movement [ex. 5]. Thus . . . the note A as part of the A–F–E motif eliding subject
and countersubject, represents the first implication of the fusion between the ideal
and virtuoso. It is the spirit of Tristan that emerges as a catalyst.10
life save in music,” and immediately following the motif he tells Stefi that he has been
“in a very strange mood, going from one extreme to the other. One letter from you, a
line, even a word — and I am in a transport of joy, the next brings me almost to tears,
it hurts so. What is to be the end of it all? and when?” Frigyesi refers to the seventh
chord on C # as the “dominant” of the opening dark key of F #, which she asserts is the
“polar opposite on the same axis” as C,14 the latter key of light characterizing Judith’s
vocal line. However, it should not be assumed that these two tonalities (F # and C) are
connected in this context by means of the C # seventh chord, since the latter (C # – E –
G # – B #) is not the dominant seventh chord of F #, either in terms of its construction or
its function. Nor is there enough contextual evidence to assume that if C # is the dom-
inant of F #, then it must also function, by substitution of tonalities on the “same axis”
of Lendvai’s system, as the dominant of C, that is, of the polar-axis tritone of F #. There
is no functional relation between the C # chord and C-major vocal outline, only a con-
textual juxtaposition. The significance of these tonal/harmonic juxtapositions be-
tween the bright C major tonality and the C # – minor third/major seventh chord lies
rather in their extremely dissonant half-step relationship. Thus, it would seem that
these dissonant relations point more to emotional conflict and pain rather than pas-
sionate love.
The operatic setting appears to be the final stage in the symbolic metamorphosis
of Stefi’s leitmotif and Bartók’s psychological obsession with her, the seventh chord
construction and its modal variants (always symbolizing Stefi) migrating from one
composition to another during these years of the composer’s emotional upheaval. In
the Violin Concerto, variants of the leitmotif are identified with two contrasting musi-
cal images of the beloved, the “idealized Stefi Geyer, celestial and inward,” and the
lively violin virtuoso depicted as a “cheerful, witty, amusing” young girl. As their re-
lationship came to an end, Bartók still managed to restrain his impulse to character-
ize her as the “indifferent, cool and silent Stefi Geyer” in a projected third movement,
because he felt the music would have been “hateful.”15 However, he soon combined
the “ideal,” loving image of Stefi from the first movement of the Concerto with the
grotesque mood of the first of the Two Romanian Dances, op. 8a (1909). He then re-
named the first movement of the Concerto as “One Ideal” and combined it with an or-
chestrated version of the Fourteenth Bagatelle, op. 6, renamed as “One Grotesque” to
form the Two Portraits, op. 5 (1907–1908). But it is in Bluebeard that Stefi’s leitmotif
undergoes its final metamorphosis beyond the grotesque stage into the violent, blood-
ridden (even hateful) scenario of the opera, which progresses toward the inevitable.
Judith’s “character has a hard, unyielding core over which Bluebeard exerts little con-
trol. She makes a decision at the beginning of the opera and pursues it to the end, a
course of action which, paradoxically, brings about her own ruin. But something even
more vital has been destroyed as well: the fragile love that she and Bluebeard have
nurtured during its brief existence.”16 From Leafstedt’s account, one cannot help but
draw a parallel (albeit a nonliteral one) between the psychology of the characters in
the opera and the adamante stance and hopeless love echoed in Bartók’s last letters
to Stefi.17
Kroó’s assessment of Judith as a symbol of “passion with all its destructive power”
and the “demon whose passion ruins the happiness of both”18 can, in spite of Kroó’s
bias, lend some plausibility to the notion that the woman in the opera serves as the
instrument for the composer’s emotional and psychological catharsis of the pain he
suffered from Stefi’s rejection. The forces behind Bartók’s obsession with Stefi and his
unabated need to work out his emotional struggle with her and the woman in Balázs’s
libretto, both linked by a common musical metaphor (leitmotif assigned to Stefi in his
letter of mid-September, 1907, and to Judith in his opera of 1911), may best be under-
stood in terms of the composer’s relationship to his parents. Bartók’s emotional de-
pendence on his mother throughout his life, for instance, may explain his magnetism
toward girls much younger than himself.19 By controlling younger women, he may
have felt instinctively that he could regain the control that his mother exerted over
him. Pethő, in citing Bartók, brings to our attention the following20:
When he first suffered his existential crisis, as a young man, he mentioned his love
for his mother in the first place as a reason for not committing a suicide.21 . . . Nearly
forty years later, after the death of his mother, this feeling hopelessly kept him in its
power: “I could enjoy all pleasures, if I had not the constant feeling that everything
comes too late.”22 . . . On the other hand his relationship to the opposite sex [was]
characterized by a teaching and elucidating attitude and by the ambition for leading
which revealed both his very strong control of consciousness and his spiritual men-
tality and commitment. His ambition for dominance over women was underlined by
submission appearing in his relationships to some men. . . . Such a polarization of
dominance and submission would certainly not have come about, if he had not lost
his father in his youth and if he had not had to begin to lead a conscious, controlled
and responsible life so early.
Thus, Bartók, although older than the women in his life, remains hopelessly in-
fantalized by his dependence on his mother. This may shed light on the Bluebeard
character as a metaphor for the composer. Bartók’s attachments can help us to under-
stand one of the basic contradictions of Bluebeard’s relation to Judith: the wealthy
and powerful man of the opera gradually weakens in his resistance against the prying
of the woman. Perhaps we also can equate the paradoxical entrapment of Bluebeard
(Bartók) with “endless darkness,” which represents his ultimate weakness yet, at the
same time, his ultimate strength (i.e., his defense against emotional imprisonment
and victory over the woman). The changing strong-weak positions between the two
characters are not synchronized in the drama, a condition that permits development
of the competition for control—Bartók was controlling of, yet dependent on, the
woman (Stefi) who eventually rejected him, the same condition characterizing Blue-
beard’s relationship with Judith except for the reverse in terms of the rejection.23
Thus, based on the outcome of the opera, the relationship between Bluebeard and Ju-
dith may be interpreted, in part, as a metaphor for the psychological/emotional shift
from the composer’s love for Stefi to his anger and depression.
This shift from love to anger/depression and the increasing sense of danger is en-
capsulated in Bluebeard’s question (no. 39) that he poses to Judith about what the
doors are hiding. The answer is implied in the orchestral accompaniment under Ju-
dith’s abridged statement (no. 40, mm. 3– 5), “every door,” based on the more em-
phatic major seventh chordal statements of Stefi’s motif (C # – E # – G # – B #); these are
compounded harmonically by the dotted clarinet figure, which invokes the image of
dripping blood at the main appearance of the “Blood” motif (no. 34, m. 3 ff.; see ex. 9-
1 earlier).24 This added layer (see ex. 10-1 earlier), in the more agitated diminished
rhythm, is generated from the clashing minor third (E) above the major third form of
Stefi’s seventh chord and resolved at the half-step trill (A # – B) of the original “Blood”
motif. The basic four-note form of the “Blood” motif is also present in this progres-
sion: the C # – B # boundary of the seventh chord and the cadential A # – B trill together
imply the presence of the interval 1:1 ratio of two semitones to give us A # – B/B # – C #,
a transposition of the original form (G # –A/A # –B) as it first emerged in the Torture
Chamber; at that occurrence, the dyad A # –B was also presented as a trill. This mu-
sical technique of intervallic reinterpretation permits Bartók to create an inextricable
connection between Stefi’s original (diatonic) love motif and its transformation into
a depressed, frightful, and more abstract (chromatic) form. The A # – B trill, one of the
two main semitones of the “Blood” motif, is carried over into the next (Armory)
scene, where it is transformed into a segment of a new diatonic figure based on the
complete F # Mixolydian mode, F # –G # –A # – B – C # –D # – E (no. 42, m. 5 ff.).
, "
2
4
Fe - ke te föd,
lunga Snow -white ker - chief,
,
Schwarz die Er - de,
24
"
24
(;) E-Pentatonic . E-Dorian
2 23
44
4
fe - hér az én zseb - ken - dóm,
dark bogh field and fur - row show.
schnee weiss ist mein Ta - schen - tuch,
2 23
44
4
espr.
2
dim.
23
44
4
iii 65 V 65 /VI VI
E-Phrygian
4
4
23
El - hag - yott a leg - ked - ve - sebb sze - re - töm.
He who loved me once has left me lone - ly now.
Er ver - liess mich, hort trifft mich der Lie - bes - fluch.
4 23
4
4
4 ( )
23
iii 6 E-Dorian
(E-Pentatonic) espr.
E-Dorian mode
E F G A B C D
E-pentatonic nucleus: E G A B D
E F G A B C D
E-Phrygian
example 10-2. First of Bartók’s arrangement of Eight Hungarian Folk Songs (1907–
1917), mm. 3–8, E-pentatonic pitch content (E–G–A–B–D) of folk tune as point of
departure for expanded modal pitch collections in piano accompaniment, combina-
tion producing larger polymodal chromatic symmetry
m. 37, R.H.). These as well as other transpositions of the cell in this passage (mm. 30 –
41) together produce the entire chromatic continuum.
In the first several sections of the opera’s Armory scene — sections a1 (no. 42,
m.7 ff.), a2 (no. 46 ff.) and part of b1 (nos. 48 –50) —Bluebeard’s vocal line contin-
ues to reflect the reserve that has characterized his demeanor thus far, as he begs Ju-
dith to be cautious (see ending of a2, no. 47, mm. 4– 5), “Beware, beware for us,
Judith!” his phrases remaining short, infrequent, often fragmented, and exclusively
diatonic. In contrast to the wider, more extroverted major seventh boundary of
Judith’s (Stefi’s) motif, which was asserted prominently near the end of the preceding
scene (see ex. 10-1 earlier), Bluebeard’s more introverted vocal line implies the slightly
contracted minor seventh chordal components of the Hungarian pentatonic scale at
prominent structural points. His interjection on C # –F # at the opening of a1 is part of
the tonic minor seventh chord, D # –F # –A # –C # (oboes/clarinets), his last statement
in a2 (no. 47, m.10 – no. 48) outlining a complete G minor-seventh chord (G – B b –
D–F) within the larger G pentatonic collection of his vocal line, G – B b –C–D–F.
In contrast to Bluebeard’s character development, a change in Judith’s extro-
verted manner is imminent as she begins to acknowledge the man’s power. While her
vocal line is still more continuous and prominent than Bluebeard’s in the opening sec-
tions of this scene, the pitch constructions underlying her phrases are somewhat more
diatonic than in the preceding section. Her initial statement (no. 42, mm. 10 – 12),
“A hundred cruel, horrible weapons,” reiterates the D # tonic key of the second door
scene, the orchestral D # –minor seventh chord (D # –F # – A# – C #) to which Blue-
beard’s preceding C # – F # interjection belongs (no. 42, m. 8). The descending minor
seventh chordal outline (C # –A # –F # –D #) of her vocal part represents an intervallic
contraction of the major-seventh boundary of her original (“Stefi”) motif (see ex. 9-
3 earlier). At the same time, her second vocal phrase (no. 43) introduces a chromatic
conflict between A # and A, which prepares us for her first references to blood in this
scene (no. 45, m. 4): “Blood dries on your weapons!”27 This statement is introduced
by Bluebeard’s question, “Are you afraid?” and by the first interjection in this scene of
the other basic half-step, G # –A (in muted horns/trumpets), of the main “Blood”
motif (G # – A/A # – B), the first (A # –B) having initiated this scene as a trill.
The axis of symmetry (A–A #) of the basic transposition (G # – A – A # – B) of the
“Blood” motif (see ex. 9-1 earlier) is established in the initial figuration of this scene
as the implied axis of the basic diatonic fifth (F # –C #) of the opera. The entire figure
(upper oboe/clarinet line, C # – B – C # –D # –C #, lower oboe/clarinet line, F # – G # – F # –
E– F #) outlines the diatonic hexachord (E–F # –G #/B–C # – D # around the implied axis
of A–A #), which links the pentatonic/diatonic sphere of Bluebeard with the more ab-
stract chromatic sphere of blood (G # –A/A # –B). The figural hexachord is a symmet-
rical manifestation of the pentatonic/diatonic form expressly built around the tonic
fifth, F # – C #, of the original “Castle” theme (F # – A – B – C # – E), so blood is imminent
in, even central to, the infra-structure of Bluebeard’s being.
The upper basic half-step (A # –B) of the main “Blood” motif (G # – A/A # – B)
seems to be lurking just below the surface of section a1. It is implied in Bluebeard’s
second statement (no. 43, mm. 3–4), which introduces Judith to his armory. This
adds a new note (B) to his initial fifth (F # –C #) to give us a new fifth (B – F #) within
his larger, incomplete pentatonic vocal segment, F # – B – C #. At this point, the horns
add this perfect fifth (B–F #) to the D # –minor seventh figure of the orchestra (D # –
F # – A # – C #), the overlap (B–D # –F # –A # –C #) also implying the presence of the major
form of Judith’s (Stefi’s) seventh chord motif (B–D # – F # – A #). The major seventh
boundary of the latter outlines precisely the other half-step/major seventh interval
class (A # – B) of the main “Blood” motif, which had introduced this scene in the form
of the trill figure. The B major seventh chord is immediately transformed back into
the original minor seventh form, but remaining at the transposed pitch level (B – D–
F # –A). One of the main differences between the major (B – D # – F # – A #) and minor
(B–D–F # – A) modal forms of these transpositions (on B) is in their respective sev-
enth degrees (A # and A), the chromatic conflict first introduced in Judith’s second
vocal phrase (no. 43). Section a1 closes (no. 45, mm. 12– 16) with a more prominent
manifestation of this conflict (ex. 10-3). Judith’s more chromatic (i.e., octatonic A # –
G–A/A–B
(“Blood”)
octatonic
a tempo ( = 132
Jud.
Gib mir auch die an - dern Schlüs - sel!
Add i - de a töb - bi kul - csot!
B–D–F –[A]–A
“Stefi” motif
Blaubart
24
Ju-dith, Ju-dith!
Ju - dit, Ju - dit!
Meno vivo ( = 108
2
4
(Vlcello.)
espr.
24
example 10-3. Door II (Armory), section a1, no. 45, mm. 12–16, Judith’s more chro-
matic (octatonic A #–B–C #–D–[ ]–F) line initiated by half-step A #–B, A # expanding
boundary (B–A) of held B-minor-seventh chord (B–D–F #–A); vocal half-step (A #–B)
component of basic “Blood” motif (G #–A/A #–B) transforms B-minor-seventh chord
into minor-third modal form of “Stefi” motif, B–D–F #–A #
As Judith renews her fervor to have all the doors open (no. 47), her preceding
vocal statement, which unfolds a more chromatic (octatonic) line (A – B – C– D– E b –
F) similar to the previous one (A # – B – C # –D–[ ]–F) on the same text, “Give me the
other keys,” is transformed at the next statement of the same text (no. 47, m. 7) into a
2
Bl.
4
D seventh (D–F –A–[C]–C)
ber - gen?
aj - tó.
Risoluto ( = 126
.
24
48
* =
.
. cresc. " appassionato
24
WT-0 complete
. .
WT-1 (F–G–A–B–C–[ ])
example 10-4. Door II (Armory), section b1, no. 48, mm. 1–4, more complete whole-
tone transformation at Judith’s more passionate statement, based on D #-minor–seventh
chordal boundary (vocal D #–C #) above ascending scales: major-seventh-chord motif,
F–A–C–E, in first scale, and D #-minor–seventh chord with raised seventh (D #–F #–
A #–Cx), in second scale, upper three notes absorbed into complete whole-tone scale,
D #–E #/F #–G #–A #–B #–Cx–E
The inherent interval-class identity between the boundary (major seventh) in-
terval of the diatonic “Stefi” (Judith) leitmotif (F # – A – C # – E #, or its modal variants)
and the cyclic (semitone) interval of the chromatic “Blood” motif (G # – A – A # – B, or
its transpositions and segments), a connection so essential in the organic musico-dra-
matic processes, may be shown in the Armory Scene to stem ultimately from opera-
tions on the basic F # pentatonic structure (F # – A – B – C # – E, or its minor seventh
chordal substructure, F # – A – C # –E) of Bluebeard’s original “Castle” theme. The Ar-
mory Scene (no. 42) is introduced by a trill based on one of the original semitones
(A # –B) of the “Blood” motif, against descending semitone (E # – E – D # –D–C # – C)
and whole-tone (C # – B –A –G) lines in the upper counterpoint. In overlap with the
trill, the main ostinato figuration (sustained fifth and triplets) of section a’ establishes
a significant reference to the original “Castle” theme, the sustained fifth (F # – C #) serv-
ing as the primary structural interval of the “Castle” theme’s pentatonic outline (F # –
A – B – C # – E). While the A # –B trill expands the chromatic content of the combined
semitonal (E # – E– D # –D–C # –C) and whole-tone (C # – B – A – G) contrapuntal lines
to E # –E – D # –D–C # – C–B–A # –A –[ ]–G (no. 42, mm. 1 – 3, voice and descending
upper line), the following held F # –C # seals off the interval-class 2/10 boundary chro-
matically (E # – [F #] – G) to produce maximal chromatic saturation. The G # of the
triplet figure completes the entire chromatic content of the upper contrapuntal lines.
The pentatonic fifth (F # –C #) serves as the basic thread in the ensuing progression of
seventh chord harmonic variants within the larger stanzaic structure of the scene.
The embellishing motion of the triplet figure draws the sustained fifth, F # – C #
(i.e., the primary structural interval of the original F # pentatonic “Castle” theme),
into a harmonic context based on two types of constructions so essential to the
symbolic polarity of the opera: (1) the Straussian “romantic” major seventh chord (as-
sociated with Judith/Stefi), which frames the triplet figure (E – G # – B – D #); and (2),
the folklike pentatonic/diatonic material (associated with the “Castle” theme and
Bluebeard), which forms the basis of the ostinato figure (E – F # – G # – B – C # – D #,
and/or its pentatonic subcollections, E–F # –G # – B – C # or F # – G # – B – C # – D #). The
symmetrical placement of the sustained fifth, F # –C #, within the major-seventh chord
(E–[F #] – G # – B – [C #] – D #) in this passage suggests the possibility of a link between
the pentatonic “Castle” theme and the major-seventh “Stefi” motif ). That is to say,
the ostinato figuration that opens the Armory scene synthesizes the latter two types
of construction, the catalyst being the primary structural interval (F # – C #) of the basic
“Castle” theme.
Judith’s original statement of the “Stefi” leitmotif, G b – A – D b – F (in enharmonic
spelling, F # – A – C # – E #), was shown earlier to imply a partial whole-tone trans-
formation of Bluebeard’s pentatonic “Castle” theme (F # – A – B – C # – E) by the altera-
tion of the seventh degree, E to F (or E #). In the present (Armory) scene, other chro-
matic alterations of the F # pentatonic structure, which suggest a symbolic significance
in connection with the basic harmonic (pentatonic vs. major seventh) polarity be-
tween Bluebeard and Judith, also contribute to the musico-dramatic direction toward
“Blood.” The A # – B trill figure, which leads into the scene, suggests, together with the
sustained F # – C #, the major modal transformation (F # – A # – C # – [ ]) of the basic F #
pentatonic structure (F # – A – C # –E). The A # of the trill is absorbed, then, into an-
other perfect-fifth figure (D # –A #) in counterpoint with the sustained F # – C #. Both
tonic segment (A # –B–C # –D–[ ]–F), as Judith demands the other keys (see ex. 10-3
earlier). Kárpáti’s observations on Bartók’s First Sonata for violin and piano suggest an
analogy to procedures already developed in the 1911 opera in connection with juxta-
positions, superpositions, and modal alterations of the seventh chord leitmotif:
Folk music also gave Bartók examples of how to employ certain tonal tensions and
colliding intervals. In the present case the violin melody, inspired by a Romanian
tune, is accompanied by an ostinato drumbeat of fifths, towered in such a manner
that upon each fifth there is superposed a diminished fifth. The total value of the two
intervals amounts to 13 (7 + 6) semitones. From that one arrives at the same sound
tension that occurred in the material of the first movement. Of course, this tower of
fifths can be written out more “sparingly,” from which it will appear that the principle
of chromatic adjacents is again valid, but that would only be speculation, because
music of this character is associated almost inseparably with what one can call “false”
or “mistuned” fifths that form a chain. There are similar forms of accompaniment in
numerous other Bartók works . . . in which cases of diminishing and augmenting col-
lisions occur as well.32
At the point in the Armory scene where the complete tetrachordal content (G # –
A – A # – B) of the “Blood” motif “collides” within the larger harmonic and vocal pitch
collection (no. 45, mm. 11–13), the chain of seventh chords associated with Judith
also begins to appear more systematic and extended. These combined harmonic con-
cepts (chromatically compressed “Blood” motif and the diatonic-supertertian exten-
sions associated with Judith) seem to reflect, or symbolize, the polarity (perhaps even
identity) of blood and sunlight in the overall dramatic imagery of this scene, that is,
these two polarized images are inextricably connected in that the sunlight streams
into the castle only if the doors (Bluebeard’s wounds) are opened. The harmonic con-
tent extends the minor seventh chord B–D–F # – A – [A #], which is central to these
measures (see ex. 10-3 earlier), by thirds in opposite directions (G #/B–D–F # – A –
[A #]/C #). Most of this collection has already emerged in the preceding passage (from
no. 45) when Bluebeard questions Judith about her fear as she notices blood on his
armor. The B minor seventh chord (at the Meno vivo, no. 45, m. 14) is followed, then,
by the D # minor seventh chord (D # –F # –A # –C #) and its linear-thematic outline in the
English horn (no. 46), the F # – minor seventh chord (F # – A – C # – E) and its linear-
thematic outline in the clarinet, and the D seventh chord variant (D – F # – A – C),
which is juxtaposed with the linear-thematic outline of the A minor seventh chord in
the flute and oboe (no. 46, mm. 5 –7). Thus far, the entire sequence, in chain-of-
thirds ordering, has unfolded the seventh chord transpositions G # – B– D – F #, B–D–
F # –A/A #, D– F # – A – C, D # –F # –A # –C #, F # – A – C # –E, and A – C– E – G. The first
transposition (on G #) and the last (on A) imply the presence of a hidden (back-
ground-level) unfolding of the lower dyad (G # –A) of the basic “Blood” motif, the other
dyad (A # – B) occurring more locally within Judith’s vocal line (at no. 45, m. 13). This
sequential chain of seventh chords unfolds as part of section a2 (no. 46ff.) in con-
nection with Judith’s reference to the “Beautiful stream of light. — See it! See it!” a
contrast with the allusions to blood in section a1 of this door scene.
Henceforth, as Judith renews her demands for Bluebeard to release the remaining
keys, the modalities of the seventh chords are altered more radically in concomitance
with the move toward greater chromaticism. The larger pentatonic/diatonic scalar col-
string.
Jud.
Son - nen - bach - lein. Siehst Du? Siehst Du?
Szép fény pa - tak. (Fl. ed Ob.) Lá - tod? Lá - tod?
(Viol.)
cresc.
3 linear seventh chords
Octatonic-1
e rallent. al tempo 47
Jud.
" (Cord.) molto espr.
Octatonic-0
Ach - le un - ser, Ju - dith, ach - te!
Vi - gyázz, vig - yázz mi - ránk, Ju- dit!
poco allargando
cresc. " cresc.
example 10-5. Door II (Armory), section a2, no. 46, mm. 4–19, violins, three linearly-
stated diatonic seventh-chords reinterpreted as octatonic seventh chords, succession
of two octatonic collections (C #–D #–E–F #–G–A-A #–C and C–D-E b–F–G b–A b–A–B)
implying presence of total chromatic continuum
lections within which the seventh chords have been embedded are transformed into
symmetrical types of sets (octatonic, whole-tone, and hybrid forms) to reflect Judith’s
intensified move toward her ultimate fate, so the intervallic construction of the origi-
nal diatonic forms of the seventh chord is correspondingly altered. At the first promi-
nent crescendo of the Armory scene (no. 46, m. 7 ff.), the violins diverge from the sus-
tained seventh chord (D–F # –A–C) of the phrase by unfolding a sequence of three
contrasting, linearly stated seventh chords: A–C–E–G, F # –A–B # –E, and D # –F # –
Gx-C # (ex. 10-5). The total content of these three forms, each still diatonic in con-
struction, comprises a seven-note segment of the octatonic-1 collection, C # –D # –E–
F # –G–A–[ ]–C. The second sustained chord (F # –A # –C #) provides the missing A # of
the octatonic collection (C # –D # –E–F # –G–A–A # –C). This draws the very first dia-
tonic seventh chords of the scene (F # –A # –C # –[ ] and D # –F # –A # –C #) into the octa-
tonic sphere. At this point (no. 46, m. 9), both the F # chord (F # –A # –C #) and melodic
first beat (Gx) together form the dual (major-minor) mode, F # –Gx–A # –C # (in enhar-
monic spelling, F # –A–A # –C #), within the basic fifth (F # –C #) of the original “Castle”
theme that pervades this scene. The remaining notes of this measure (except for the
Gx) outlines the minor seventh chord, D # –F # –A # –C #.
At the rallent. al tempo, the D # – minor seventh chord is enharmonically respelled
in the new theme of the violins as an E b – minor seventh chord, E b – G b – B b – D b, ex-
clusively. The latter, which has been shown to have octatonic-1 significance (C # – D # –
E–F # – G – A – A # – C, in enharmonic spelling, D b –E b –F b – G b – G – A – B b – C) in the
preceding linear sequence, is divergent in pitch content from the new sustained
chord, F – A – C. Except for one note (F) of the latter, both chords (E b – G b – B b – D b
and [ ] – A – C) together form a six-note segment of the octatonic-1 collection. How-
ever, the “odd-note” F permits the entire seventh chord, F – A – C– E b, to serve as a
pivot to octatonic-0, which unfolds in the voice as a six-note segment, A – B – C– D–
E b –F— the implied F – A –C–E b seventh-chord frame of the segment is projected ex-
plicitly against it in the harmony. The preceding G b –E b cadential dyad and the follow-
The transition to the third door (Treasure Chamber) entails a further shift of
Bluebeard’s character toward Judith’s more open manner. As Bluebeard gives Judith
the third key, his pentatonic phrase, G # – B – C # –D # (no. 52, mm. 3 – 4), is transformed
into a whole-tone figure in the English horn, A–G –D # – C #, which is based on a
rhythmic variant of Judith’s “Fate” motif. The transition opens, Più lento, with a pair
of vocal statements between Bluebeard and Judith, based on an analogous whole-
tone transformation: Bluebeard sings a variant of Judith’s motif, which outlines the
minor-modal form of the “Stefi” seventh chord, F–A b – C– E. The whole-tone com-
ponent of the latter (augmented triad A b –C–E) is extended in Judith’s vocal line to
a five-note segment of the whole-tone scale, A b –B b –C– D– E (with one “odd” note,
G), and used as the basis for the following brief interlude (no. 53). Three of the four
grace-note dyads that embellish the latter (C–E–A b) outline the complete comple-
mentary whole-tone cycle, A–B/D b –E b/F–G. As Bluebeard becomes more resigned
to the inevitability of Judith’s demands and yields to a somewhat more supportive role
(no. 53, mm. 7 – 8) by telling her not to be afraid and that it does not matter anymore,
his final variant (A – G # –F # –G # –E–C #) of Judith’s motif fuses his original F # – minor
seventh (pentatonic) content, F # –A–C # –E, with the major-modal form of the “Stefi”
motif, A – C # – E– G #.
Whole-tone infusions into the diatonic sphere prevail in the Treasure Chamber,
these pitch-set interactions appearing to symbolize (by means of contextual associa-
tion) Bluebeard’s allusion to the will of fate. Impressed by the vastness of his wealth,
Judith’s vocal statements diminish in force as the scene unfolds. Her opening simple
pentatonic phrases, which together outline A–C–D–E, are transformed by the sus-
tained orchestral chord (D–F # –A) and triplet figure (G # – F # – E – C) into a hybrid
diatonic/whole-tone collection (C–D–E–F # –G #/A): the third degree (F #) of the
held D major triad extends the upper three notes (C–D– E) of her pentatonic line to
a four-note segment of the whole-tone scale (C–D–E– F #); the triplet figure further
extends this to five notes, C–D –E–F # –G #; and the whole-tone cycle is completed by
the addition of A # in the fourth triplet figure (no. 55, m. 10). Judith’s longer third
statement (nos. 55 – 56) introduces a chromatic conflict between the third degrees (C
and C #) of her A minor/major bimodal line. The significance of this conflict is twofold.
First, the C # extends the held D major triad to the major form of the “Stefi” seventh
chord, D – F # – A – C #, and second, the half-step seems to foreshadow the appearance
of blood later in the scene. Thus, the interaction of pentatonic/diatonic, whole-tone,
and chromatic spheres is, once again, manifested as one of the fundamental aspects
of Bartók’s musical language in correspondence with dramatic meaning.
Elements of the basic “Blood” motif (G # –A/A # –B), which begin to emerge at the
opening of the Treasure Chamber, were imminent in the whole-tone intrusions into
Bluebeard’s pentatonic/diatonic sphere that brought the Armory scene to a close and
prepared for the unlocking of the door to the Treasure Chamber. Judith’s vocal line
(no. 49, mm. 4 – 9), which had fused the pitch content of the two basic seventh chords
(D # – F # – A # – C # and F # –A # –C # –E) of this scene above the last two orchestral state-
ments of her “Danger” motif, was followed by two, more subdued pentatonic phrases
sung by Bluebeard, the initial notes (G # and A) of these respective phrases implying
the presence of one of the two basic semitones of the “Blood” motif. As Bluebeard’s
vocal line at the end of the transition to the Treasure Chamber was transformed (at
no. 53, mm. 7 – 8) into the contour of Judith’s more arpeggiated style, these two notes
(A and G #) of the “Blood” motif had come into closer proximity, as the content of the
pentatonic F # – seventh chord collection (F # – A – C # – E) was fused, now, with the
major seventh form at the upper third (A–C # –E–G #) to give us F # – A – C # – E – G #.
In connection with the implication of blood, this closing passage of the transition
between the Armory and Treasure Chamber is even more striking in view of its long-
range relation to the opening of the Armory scene. Although the closing vocal and
orchestral figurations have nothing to do with that of the opening of the Armory
scene, the pitch content is identical, with one exception. Each note of the opening
sustained tonic fifth, F # –C # (see no. 42, m. 5 ff.), is linearly embellished by the whole-
tone trichords, E – F # – G # and B–C # –D #, respectively. This combination of whole-
tone trichords produces a diatonic hexachordal symmetry around an implied axis, A –
A #, in which only the A # is manifested in the trill figure. In the closing passage of the
transition (ex. 10-6), the flutes embellish only the sustained fifth degree, C # (i.e., B –
C # –D #) of the original perfect fifth (F # –C #), the voice presenting a contextual re-
interpretation of the sustained embellished tonic, F # (i.e., E – F # – G #), as part of an
eighth-note segment.34 While the cadential C # of the voice simply duplicates the sus-
tained C #, the initial note, A, replaces the original A # of the semitonal trill (A # – B).
Thus, the two passages complement each other to complete the semitonal axis of
symmetry, A – A #, which is also the axis of the basic “Blood” motif, G # – A/A # – B. Its
semitonal components begin to emerge, then, at cadential junctures of the counter-
point at the opening of the Treasure Chamber.
In the opening portion of the Treasure Chamber, the presence of the two basic
half steps of the “Blood” motif (G # –A/A # –B) is implied by the appearance of the first
dyad, G # – A (at no. 54, m. 8, and again at no. 55, m. 9), in the adjacency between Ju-
dith’s cadential note, A, and the initiating G # of the violin triplets, and by the second
poco "
Bl.
Fürch - te nichts mehr, ’s ist ent - schie - den.
Ju - dit, ne félj, most már mind - egy.
Adagio ( = 50
example 10-6. Door II (Armory), closing passage of transition, no. 53, mm. 7–8,
flutes embellish sustained fifth degree, C # (i.e., B–C #–D #) of original perfect fifth
(F #–C #), while voice presents contextual reinterpretation of sustained embellished
tonic, F # (i.e., E–F #–G #), with one exception, A (related to axis, A–A #, of “Blood”
motif, G #–A–A #–B)
dyad (A # – B) in the uppermost notes of the last two triplet figures (no. 55, mm. 10 –
11). The complementary half-step (G # –A) of the implied “Blood” motif appears, then
(at nos. 56 – 58, horns), as the boundary of the “Stefi” seventh chord motif, A – C– E –
G #, which develops into a horn stretto as an ostinato leading to the complete form
(A–B b/B – C) of the transposed “Blood” motif at the end of this scene (no. 58 – no. 59,
m. 4).35 In this ostinato, which outlines the “Stefi” seventh chord (A – C – E – G #),
pitch-class D is added as a cadential tone to complete the exact pitch collection (no.
54, mm. 4 – 8), A– C – D –E–G #, of Judith’s opening two pentatonic phrases plus the
G # of the adjacent triplet figure. The “fatalistic” association of this transformation of
Judith’s pentatonic segment into the “Stefi” motif is further supported by the de-
scending contour of the motif, G # –E–C-A/D, the first three notes (G # – E – C) giving
prominence to the whole-tone sphere and linking the symbolism of this passage to
that of Judith’s first vocal statement near the opening of the opera (no. 3).
Whole-tone transformation of the diatonic sphere is further established at the
appearance of half-step A–B b (at no. 58f.), which transforms the held D major triad
into an augmented (whole-tone) triad, D–F # –B b. The precise relation of the tetra-
chordal “Blood” motif, A–B b –B –C, to the hybrid pentatonic/whole-tone structure
of the “Stefi” motif, A –C–D–E–G #, in which the chromatic tetrachord fills in the
one non-whole-tone element (lower pentatonic third, A – C) of the hybrid construc-
tion, reveals, on the local foreground level, the extremes of musico-dramatic polarity.
The chromatic sphere associated with “Blood” (A–B b – B – C, to which we can add
the raised seventh degree, G #) is directly juxtaposed with the whole-tone sphere
associated with Judith’s intrusion into the pentatonic realm of the castle, C – D–
E–F # –G # – B b. The latter is formed by the joining of the hybrid — pentatonic/ whole-
tone— segment, C – D–E–G #, with the F # and B b of the held chord. Thus, the basic
motif of Judith (or Stefi) is once again revealed as the symbolic link with “Fate” and
“Blood,” a conception of the woman that accords with the historical transformation
from the biblical heroine to the modern image associated with femme fatale.
lunga
, 59 Più agitato ? = 200 Più agitato ( = 152
5
24
, 34
8
Jud.
> "
,
.
.
Die schön - ste Kro - ne ist blu - tig!
.
.
Leg - szeb - bik ko - ro- nád vé - res!
,
85 24
34
"
, ,
85
24 34
“Blood”
G A
E
F (= WT-1 tetrachord, E
–F–G–A)
C D
A
B
(= WT-0 tetrachord, A
–B
–C–D)
WT-1
(E
–F–G–A)
Lento ( = 80–76
60
24
34
24
(Arpa gliss.)
(Cord.) dolce
(Corno)
2
24
34
4
permutation of E -Lydian
example 10-7. Closing passage of transition, no. 59, to opening of Door IV (Garden),
No. 60, m. 5, vocal phrases outline WT-0 tetrachord (B b–C–D–E) as part of B b-Lydian
collection (B b–C–D-E–F–[ ]–A); harp glissando shifts priority from vocal WT-0 tetra-
chord (B b–C–D–E) to WT-1 tetrachord (E b–F–G–A); tremolo of two major-seventh
chords (A b–C–E b–G and B b–D–F–A) suggests bimodal collection based on two inter-
calated whole-tone tetrachords (A b–B b–C–D/E b–F–G–A)
The half-step intersection (axis D–E b) of the latter chordal combination suggests
a microscopic reflection of the shift from the preceding D major chord, which was sus-
tained throughout the Treasure Chamber (nos. 54 through 59, m. 5), to the asserted
E b tonality of the Garden scene. At the same time, the implied dual axis of symmetry,
A b –A (i.e., symmetrically related to half-step D–E b: D/A b – A/E b), is manifested in
the other symmetrical permutation of the scale, E b –F–G– A/A b – B b – C– D, which is
part of the complete “Blood” motif at the center of this scale (G – A b – A – B b). The
dyad A b – A is precisely the half-step (in enharmonic spelling, G # – A) that is articu-
lated as part of the incomplete “Blood” motif (Fx–G # – A – [ ]) in section d1 (latter
part of this scene, at no. 71). This motivic occurrence accompanies Judith’s more
timid diatonic statement (no. 71, mm. 2–3): “The stems of your white roses are
bloody.” At section d2 (no. 72, m. 8), the latter statement of the “Blood” motif is
transposed to A – B b as part of the larger segment, G # – A – B b – [ ], against a new dia-
tonic statement in Judith’s vocal line. The combination of these two partial “Blood”
motif statements implies a background occurrence of the complete four-note form,
Fx– G # – A – B b. The latter (in enharmonic spelling, G – A b – A – B b) is identical in
pitch content to the chromatic tetrachordal axis of the scale based on the two “Stefi”
major seventh chords (E b –F–[G–A b – A – B b] –C–D) in the opening string tremolo.
Furthermore, the half-step A–B b (no. 58-no. 59, m. 5), which was associated with
blood in the transition leading into the Garden scene, forms the upper half-step of the
latter tetrachordal (“Blood”-motif ) axis of these two “Stefi” seventh chords. This
half-step (A – B b), which then initiated Bluebeard’s vocal line in the Garden scene, is
manifested as the other diatonic half-step (i.e., like D – E b) in the harp glissando,
A/B b –C– D/E b – F– G –A/B b –C–D/E b (see ex. 10-7 earlier). Thus, the Garden scene
reveals a still more intensive musical interaction and integration of the basic sets (di-
atonic, whole-tone, and chromatic) in association with the relentless unfolding of
dramatic symbolism toward the highpoint of the opera.
The transition to the fifth door (no. 73, m. 4 ff.) represents a significant musico-
dramatic focal point in the transformation of the diatonic to whole-tone sphere, as
Bluebeard appears more acquiescent to his destiny: “See how my castle already light-
ens. Open the fifth door.” His rising vocal line outlines exclusively a tetrachordal seg-
ment of the WT-0 collection, D–E–F # –G #, his second, wider-ranging statement out-
lining a segment (augmented triad G–B –D #) belonging to the complementary WT-1
collection. The latter is accompanied by the dotted-rhythmic figure associated with
dripping blood, which also unfolds a segment of the WT-1 collection, D # – F– G. Both
voice and orchestra together yield the four-note whole-tone segment, D # – F – G– [ ] –
B, which is expanded to a five-note segment (B–C # –D # – F– G – [ ]) by the upper lin-
ear whole-tone segment (B–C # –D #) of the chordal ostinato and completed by the as-
cending five-note segment (E b –F–G –A –B) that leads into the fifth-door scene to
give us E b – F– G – A– B–C # –[D #]. Against the WT-1 collectional unfolding of the
voice and upper orchestral lines, the lower three notes of each chord outline a tri-
chordal WT-0 segment, the succession of segments producing the entire WT-0 col-
lection, D– E – F # – G # –A # –B #. Thus the contrasting whole-tone segments in Blue-
beard’s two vocal phrases are extended by the orchestra to the complete whole-tone
collections, respectively.
234
seems, you feel!” The source for this notion is found not only in Bartók’s reading of
Zarathustra, but also in other passages from Nietzsche:5
if [one] were able to grasp and feel mankind’s overall consciousness in himself, he
would collapse with a curse against existence—for mankind, as a whole, has no
goals. . . . But does our philosophy then turn into tragedy? Does not truth become an
enemy of life? . . . although the aftereffect [of knowledge] described above is possible
in some natures, I could just as well imagine a different one, which would give rise to
a life much more simple . . . than the present one . . . [such a man who] continues
to live on only to better his knowledge must be able to renounce without envy and
chagrin much . . . that other men value. He must be content with that free, fearless
hovering over men, customs, laws . . . which is for him the most desirable of states.
He is glad to communicate his joy in this state. . . . But if one nevertheless wants
more from him, with a benevolent shake of the head he will indicate his brother, the
free man of action.
The perspective of this quote clarifies the optimistic nature of Bartók’s own po-
sition. His pronouncement of “indifference” in his 1905 letter to Irmy does not imply
a lack of feeling, nor does his assumption about the “meaninglessness of life” entail a
pessimistic view. On the contrary, he links attainment of the heights — spiritual inde-
pendence — with the intensification of feelings, and he also believes that an enthusi-
asm for life is necessary for the capacity to carry out one’s work.6 These issues are rele-
vant not only to Bartók’s own life but also they inform the gender relationship in his
opera. Bluebeard’s need to maintain the privacy of his vast domain (behind the fifth
door) and his reticence toward Judith’s intrusion into his inner world do not preclude
Bluebeard’s strong feelings for her. He wants to love and be loved by the woman, but
he does not want her to question him or pry into his personal life. With the flood of
light streaming into the castle through the fifth door, which represents the peak of the
formal and dramatic structure, the characters’ emotions as expressed in the earlier
scenes are reversed. The man proudly gazes out toward the horizon of his endless do-
main in all of its brilliance, expansiveness, and grandeur. Concomitant with this sense
of achievement, he feels “liberated, redeemed, luminous, grateful in his happiness”
and “wants to embrace the woman in his arms.” However, she can only see the blood
now, as the daylight dims.7
The Nietzschean notion of the will toward superiority — striving toward the goal
of the Übermensch (superman), like his Zarathustra, informs the mood of the fifth
door scene. Nietzsche had attacked the Christian ethic because it idealizes the hu-
mility and weakness of the common man while repressing the aspirations of the no-
bility. It is in this scene of the opera—Bluebeard’s endless domain — and in Bartók’s
highly perceptive, personal musical setting of it that we may recognize the strongest
metaphor for this Nietzschean precept.8 But for Nietzsche, the struggle is intensified
at the same time by an inherent polarity, which he reveals to us by way of Zarathus-
tra’s reply to a youth leaning against a tree, wearily observing the valley below: “But
it is with man as it is with the tree. The more he aspires to the height and light, the
more strongly do his roots strive earthward, downward, into the dark, the deep — into
evil.”9 The fifth door of the opera, which now reveals the expansive world of Blue-
beard, appears to be a symbolic manifestation of Bartók’s own personal struggle
toward the heights he had spoken of in his letters. At the same time, the pull toward
evil is imminent as blood mars Bluebeard’s domain, the woman’s (Judith’s) relentless
inquiry exposing the bloody scene as she has attempted to let light shine into the
castle— into the man’s soul.10 In the first four door scenes of the opera, the struggle
for control between the man and the woman leads to a gradual change in their rela-
tionship. As Bluebeard’s Domain is revealed at the opening of the fifth door, extreme
contrast is manifested in a complete reversal not only of the emotional states of the
two characters but also their personalities, as Judith is awed by the vastness of Blue-
beard’s domain.
table 11-1. Door V (Bluebeard’s Domain), no. 74, m. 19ff, overall extended binary
form of the scene, projection of quaternary folksong structure into several formal levels
with increasing irregularity
Section A1: a1 a2 a3 a4
Phrases: 3+1 3+1 4+1 1
Bl Ju Bl Ju Bl Ju Ju
Text: allusions to light (“Moon and stars”) “Blood”
tonalities: C maj. F maj.-G maj. Ab maj.-E maj. F min.
Independence is for the very few; it is a privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts
it even with the best right but without inner constraint proves that he is probably not
only strong, but also daring to the point of recklessness. He enters into a labyrinth,
he multiplies a thousandfold the dangers which life brings with it in any case, not the
least of which is that no one can see how and where he loses his way, becomes lonely,
and is torn piecemeal by some minotaur of conscience. Supposing one like that
comes to grief, this happens so far from the comprehension of men that they neither
feel it nor sympathize. And he cannot go back any longer. Nor can he go back to the
pity of men.13
This quote from Nietzsche resonates entirely with the basic psychological and
philosophical issues surrounding the characters, especially Bluebeard. Bartók’s espousal
of Nietzsche in the years prior to his creation of the opera in 1911 came from an inner
spiritual need, but his philosophical knowledge was not acquired in isolation. Similar
philosophical notions surfaced around the same time in the writings of intellectuals
such as György Lukács, Béla Balázs, and Endre Ady.14 According to Frigyesi, the works
of Nietzsche and Ady “were among the most widely read and discussed literature of
the modern-minded intelligentsia.” Because Bartók’s friends provided him with copies
of these writings, one can assume that Nietzsche’s philosophical thought was a signif-
icant part of their intellectual discussions. It was through Emma Gruber and Zoltán
Kodály that Bartók first came to know many of these musical and literary personages,
among them Balázs, who in turn brought Bartók into contact with the learned mem-
bers of the Sunday circle that centered around Lukács. Thus, such evidence that
Balázs must have had a working knowledge of Nietzsche’s ideas supports the con-
tention that Nietzschean philosophical precepts inform the dramatic conception of
Balázs’s mystery play. Nietzsche’s writings may thus be considered a viable source for
philosophical interpretation of the opera. This assumption is all the more plausible
given Bartók’s own insightful musical “interpretation” of the Balázs libretto. That is
to say, Bartók’s highly original musical setting further contributes to our perception of
the Nietzschean elements, which are confirmed by Bartók’s own stated Nietzschean
convictions that lie behind the composer’s musical thought.
Bartók’s musical processes are indispensable to the full realization of Balázs’s dra-
matic conception based on the Nietzschean symbolic message. The question arises as
to how the composer was able to transform his philosophical view of life to the more
abstract structural principles of his opera. Frigyesi suggests that “Nietzsche’s text
alone might have given him the idea for the structural design of his mature pieces. In
the Nietzschean worldview, distinct aspects of reality were not linear events in a tem-
poral sequence but existed as contrasts and variants laid out without hierarchy in a
metaphysical entity.”15 Frigyesi asserts, then, that “Bartók experienced life in this
manner and began to transmit this idea to art around 1907.” The following analysis
shows how the composer realizes the dramatic conception by means of musical sym-
bolism in the fifth door scene. Judith’s music has moved from her earlier whole-tone
context to a pentatonic one, but the reversal of pitch-set associations between the
two characters is also implicit in the opening chordal accompaniment of this climac-
tic scene, where the whole-tone sphere (originally associated with Judith, at no. 3)
conversely begins to intrude into the voice-leading of the triadic progressions that ac-
company Bluebeard’s opening three C-based pentatonic phrases (ex. 11-1). The key
example 11-1. Door V (Bluebeard’s Domain), no. 74, mm. 19–24, intrusion of whole-
tone sphere into lower voice-leading of modally mixed parallel major triads
of C major is established by the linear content and shape of the outer voices as
well as by the prominent metric placement of the tonic triad, while the overall triadic
progression itself has little to do with traditional tonal functions. Instead, the parallel
harmonic motion produces a series of major triads resulting in modal mixture and the
intrusion of tones foreign to the basic key of C major. The content of the two upper
lines of these triads is exclusively “white-key” diatonic, the two lower lines of the first
seven chords exclusively unfolding five of the six notes of the primary whole-tone
scale, C – D– E– F # – G #. The latter shifts in the two lower lines of the next two chords
(G–B – D and A – C # –E) to a four-note segment (G– A – B – C # ) of the secondary
whole-tone scale.
The relationship between the first two triads (C–E–G and E – G # – B) of this har-
monic progression is most significant in connection with both Bluebeard’s transfor-
mation from diatonic to whole-tone spheres and the intrusion of the semitonal
“Blood” symbol. These two chords together (C–E–G –G # – B) imply the presence of
the C augmented triad (C–E–G #), a whole-tone-related construction originally as-
sociated with Judith (see no. 3). By the end of the scene (no. 89, mm. 21 – 22), Blue-
beard takes over Judith’s opening whole-tone/pentatonic theme, the transposition by
a major third (to A – F–D b –B b) as he urges Judith not to open it. This transposition
permits Judith’s original augmented triad (F–D b –A) to remain unchanged. The dif-
ference between the explicit tonic triad (C–E–G) and the implied augmented triad
(C –E–G #) in the opening chords of this scene is the half-step between their fifth de-
grees, G and G #, an interval that becomes increasingly prominent with the intrusion
of blood into Bluebeard’s domain.
This conflict between the diatonic (C–E–G) and whole-tone (implied C– E –
G #) spheres is also projected into the background-level tonal scheme of Section A1
of Bluebeard’s Domain. While subsection a1 establishes the priority of C major, the
first three phrases of subsection a2 (no. 76, mm. 1– 14) move from F major to G major
at the cadence (see table 11-1 earlier). Following the fourth phrase, which again re-
veals Judith’s quiet vocal tone in the contrasting “black-key” pentatonic area, G major
moves up a half-step to A b major at the opening of subsection a3 (no. 77). The sig-
nificance of these two keys, G and A b, that is, as tonal projections of G and G # of the
opening C major and E major triads, is confirmed by the shift from A b major to the
latter (E major) for the remainder of a3 (to no. 78). The local structure of 3 + 1
phrases of subsections a1 and a2 and 4 + 1 phrases of a3 — these proportions directly
underlie the contrast between Bluebeard’s power and Judith’s timidity — is paralleled
in the larger construction of section A1, as subsection a4 (no. 78, m. 3 ff.) shifts to a
dissonant, half-step bounded chord (F–A b –C–F #) in support of Judith’s first explicit
reference to blood in this scene. Furthermore, basic tritone C – F # emerges as a local
event in this chord, while Judith’s vocal line is a pentatonic transformation of her
original whole-tone/pentatonic theme (see no. 3).
Section A2 (no. 79) is a focal point for the most explicit manifestations of the basic
pitch-set interactions of the opera. At this point (ex. 11-2), subsection a1 recapitulates
the main key of C major, the chord progression alternating two triads (C major and E b
major) as a telescoping of Bluebeard’s initial C-based pentatonic tonality and Judith’s
E b – pentatonic tonality from the first and fourth phrases of this scene. This tonal jux-
taposition may perhaps be viewed as an adumbration of Door VII, Former Wives,
where Judith’s prying seals her doom—the Wives’ scene is in C minor, the tonic chord
fusing components of both the C and E b tonalities. Bluebeard’s vocal line (no. 79) also
fuses elements from C and E b, the “black keys” (E b and B b) intruding for the first time
into his “white-key” C-based pentatonic frame in anticipation of the inevitable loss
of Judith. Against Bluebeard’s vocal line, the original gapped whole-tone cell, C– E –
F # (symbol of “Fate”),16 which had appeared as the basic harmonic structure of the
“Foreboding” motif (m. 16 ff.; see ex. 9-2b) (that is, the first whole-tone intrusion into
the opening F # pentatonic sphere), now appears in its most prominent manifestation.
At this point, this primary whole-tone cell (C–E–F #) forms an ostinato pattern based
on alternations with its transposition, E b –G –A, from the secondary whole-tone col-
lection. Both transpositions had already appeared in the brief interlude following Ju-
dith’s first statement (see no. 3, mm. 3–6), where they were obscurely embedded in
the simultaneously ascending and descending instrumental lines. Ultimately, these
two cell transpositions represent a whole-tone transformation of Bluebeard’s “white-
key” pentatonic collection (C–E–G –A, or in Hungarian pentatonic form, A – C–
[ ] –E– G) that opened this scene, the addition of the two “black-keys” (F # and E b) in
this ostinato transforming these pentatonic “white keys” into the whole-tone sphere
(C – E– F # and E b – G – A). Both cells together form a six-note octatonic segment (C –
[ ]– E b – E– F # – G – A – [ ]), the B b from Bluebeard’s vocal line expanding the latter to
seven notes (C – [ ] – E b –E–F # – G – A – B b), thereby resulting in a more dissonant fu-
sion of whole-steps and half-steps in the interval ratio of 1:2 as well.
The large-scale form of the scene further reflects the proportions of the quater-
nary phrase structure of the subsections as well as the larger quaternary subsectional
structure within section A1 (see table 11-1 earlier). Section A2 also unfolds several
subsections analogous to A1. However, in place of an “expected” subsection a4, which
would have rounded out the quaternary form of section A2, we get a greatly expanded
subsection. Because of its extremely contrasting and developmental character, this
subsection may be more appropriately interpreted as section B (no. 85). As a macro-
scopic structural reflection of Judith’s reference to blood in the fourth phrase of the
Vivace B
= 80
Blaubart
3
4
Sieh, herr - lich er - strahlt die Son - ne
Nézd, tün - dö - köl oz én va - ram,
Vivace B
= 80
79
3
4
"
3
4
C Maj. E Maj.
C E F E
G A
WT-0 WT-1
example 11-2. Door V (Bluebeard’s Domain), section A2, no. 79, explicit manifesta-
tion of original gapped whole-tone cell (symbol of “Fate”) in two transpositions from
both whole-tone collections, and intrusion of “black keys” into Bluebeard’s “white-
key” C-based pentatonic frame
first (a1) subsection of section A1, section B is initiated by the most intensive un-
folding of the chromatic “Blood” motif (see ex. 11-3 later), which contrasts with the
whole-tone and diatonic interactions of the three subsections of section A2.
In anticipation of the “Blood” motif, the tritone transposition (F # – A b – [ ] – C) of
the basic whole-tone (fate) cell had intruded as a held chord against Bluebeard’s di-
atonic line in subsection a3 of section A2 (no. 82, m. 11 ff.). Against this WT-0 chord
(ex. 11-3), Judith’s original quasi-WT-1 theme (see ex. 9-3 earlier: F – D b – A/G b) is re-
called in a contour inversion initiated by the same augmented triad from the WT-1
collection, in enharmonic spelling, A–C # –F/B b (no. 83, mm. 5 – 8), as she demanded
that the other doors be opened. Both whole-tone segments (F # – A b – C, winds, and
A – C # – F, voice) together produce three semitones, F– F #, A b – A, and C – C # . Fur-
thermore, the sustained WT-0 wind chord (F # –A b –C) and the violin II ostinato
(B–E b – F/D), the first three notes (B–E b –F) containing a transposed inversion of the
sustained chord (F # – A b –C), together form a seven-note octatonic segment, F # – A b –
[ ]– B– C – D– E b – F. The first note (A) from Judith’s augmented (WT-1) triad (A –
C # –F) completes the octatonic collection (F # –A b –A–B – C– D – E b – F). The latter
extends the number of semitones within the still larger nine-note chromatic collec-
tion (F # – [ ] – A b – A– [ ]–B–C–C # –D–E b –[ ]–F), which comprehends the content
of all of these final passages of Section A2 (no. 83, m. 5 to no. 85). Each of the three
missing notes (G, B b, and E) is added at a prominent structural point within these pas-
sages (see ex. 11-3): the note B b, which appears only once, serves as a disrupter of
Judith’s initial WT-1 vocal segment (no. 83, m. 8); G functions as the first WT-1 ex-
pander in violin II (at no. 84); and E articulates the cadence of the entire A2 section
A2 a3
4
4
WT-0 cell (F –A
–C)
Meno vivo B
= 76
84 Blaubart
! ! !
3 !
4
!
Woll - test du nicht, daß sich’s lich -
Azt a - kar - tad, fel de - rül - jön;
WT-1: B–[ ]–E
–F–G–A
3
4
3
4
Andante B = 76
!
24
Bl.
te? Sieh, licht - er leuch - tet
Nézd, tän - dö - köl már
24
24
.
example 11-3. Door V (Bluebeard’s Domain), section A2, subsection a3, no. 83, mm. 5–8,
contour inversion (A–C #–F/B b) of Judith’s original WT-1 motif (F–D b–A/G b), both initiated by
same augmented triad from WT-1 collection, against sustained WT-0 chord (F #–A b–C), both
whole-tone segments (F #–A b–C, winds, and A–C #–F, voice) together producing three semi-
tones, F–F #, A b–A, and C–C #; nos. 84–85, further extension of WT-1 collection in violin II to
B–[C #]–E b–F–G–A
85
(breve) B b1
, , Agitato molto ( = 160
44
Bl.
harrt mein Haus.
a vá - ram. “Blood” motif (G–A
–A–B
)
, ,4
4
,
4
> 4
example 11-3 (continued)
as the final note of Bluebeard’s vocal line (no. 84, m. 12). This note (E) is anticipated
five measures earlier as the single disrupter of WT-1 in violin II. It appeared three
measures before that in Bluebeard’s vocal line, where it was similarly juxtaposed with
the WT-1 element (A) of violin II.
Thus, chromatic conflict is increased in two ways in the final passages of section
A2 in anticipation of the more dense linear chromatic “Blood” motif that opens sec-
tion B: (1) by the combination of Judith’s ascending whole-tone vocal segment and
sustained whole-tone wind chord; and (2) by the combination of the two whole-tone
segments of the orchestra to produce the complete octatonic-0 collection. At the
same time, Judith’s vocal ascent and the violin-II ostinato extend the cyclic-interval
content of Judith’s original WT-1 motif (see no. 3) to an impure five-note WT-1 seg-
ment (A – B – C # – [D] –E b –F) in precisely the original registral ordering of the col-
lection (see ex. 9-3 earlier). The boundary interval of the present passage is the chro-
matic dyad, F – F # (enharmonic spelling of F–G b), which supports the connection
with Judith’s original thematic statement (F–D b –A-G b). The WT-1 content is then
extended (in violin II, no. 83, m. 11, to no. 85) to the complete WT-1 cycle, B – [ ] –
E b –F-G – A, the C # supplied by Judith’s vocal motif, A– C # – F (at no. 83, m. 6).
Toward the end of section B (nos. 87– 89), both vocal parts unfold mutually ex-
clusive segments from the respective whole-tone scales, the juxtapositions producing
more general chromatic relations. Against Judith’s descending seventh-chord outline
(A – F # – D # – B), Bluebeard sings a descending WT-0 tetrachord, D – C– B b – A b, as he
asks her, “Why do you want to? Why do you want to?, Judith, Judith!” while Judith
follows with a modified WT-1 version (A–G –E b –B) of her original whole-tone/pen-
tatonic theme (see ex. 9-3 earlier), at her words (no. 87, mm. 5 – 6), “Open them,
open them!” This modified form is an incomplete inversion of the Violin II figure (B–
E b –F– G – A) from the final measures of Section A2 (see ex. 11-3 earlier). The sym-
bolic significance of these pitch-set interactions is revealed by the accelerated fff in-
trusions of Judith’s “Danger” motif (no. 88 ff.) in alternation with the whole-tone/
diatonic orchestral figurations as Judith insists upon opening the next door.
Our awareness of Balázs’s own personal view of women, as expressed in one of his
diary entries, sharpens one’s sense of the dramatic dissonance that results from Judith’s
actions, that is, Judith’s increasingly assertive behavior in the opera brings her into
conflict with Balázs’s real-life belief as to how women should act. Balázs saw himself
as intellectually and emotionally superior to women and assumed the role as a guide to-
ward their understanding of life’s meaning: “They come to me, into the life-observing
tower to look around a little bit ... and to seek advice and encouragement. . . . They
regard me as their general. It is not as though I knew the path but because my faith is
stronger and I see things more clearly.”17 Balázs’s superior attitude toward women
often led to their antagonism. Although Bartók’s own view of women differed in basic
ways from that of Balázs, there was enough common ground between their perspec-
tives regarding gender issues that drew Bartók to Balázs’s Bluebeard text.
with her first (at no. 87), is part of a complete octosyllabic construction (4 + 4). On
the other hand, her second four-note segment, because of its separation from her first,
also begins a new octosyllabic construction, which is continued as such by the fol-
lowing statements of the two-note “Danger” motif (no. 88, mm. 1 and 3, etc.). As a
parallel to Bluebeard’s incomplete (4 + 4 + 2 + 2 + [ ]) pairing of octosyllabic con-
structions, Judith’s two separate four-note phrases are also extended by successive
two-note fragments (“Danger” motif, at no. 88). The latter have the same structural
function as Bluebeard’s “Judit! Judit!,” so Judith’s two vocal phrases and the first two
orchestral statements of the “Danger” motif suggest a similar 4 + 4 + 2 + 2 pattern.
In turn, the “Danger” motif begins a succession of syllabic groupings of 2 + 8 notes
with the following eighth-note figure, this juxtaposition implying a reversal of Blue-
beard’s initial vocal construction of 8 + 2 + 2, which produces a sense of rounding
out the scene as it approaches the cadential (transitional) passage (no. 89 ff.).
the “Danger” motif, respectively, which are built on the same tritone elements (A b
and D) of Bluebeard’s two “Judit!” declamations, together extend the WT-0 tetra-
chord (D – C– B b – A b) of Bluebeard’s phrase to the complete WT-0 collection. At the
same time, the successive eighth-note scalar figurations, which alternate with the
“Danger” motif, unfold ascending whole-tone tetrachords that complete the WT-1
collection of Judith’s second phrase: after the initial tetrachordal ascent, D – E – F # –
G # (no. 88, m. 2), which forms the tritone complement of Bluebeard’s WT-0 tetra-
chord, A b – B b – C– D, the following four tetrachordal ascents (A – B – C # – D #, F – G –
A – B, B – C # – D # – E #, and G –A –B –C # ) outline the complete WT-1 collection.
Thus, the basic whole-tone quality of the “Danger” motif, the expanded harmonic
projection of it as augmented triads that belong in turn to the larger funereal form of
the “Stefi” seventh chord, and the implied presence of the entire chromatic collec-
tion by the combination or juxtaposition of both whole-tone collections throughout
the passage, provide the relevant musical characteristics that symbolize Judith’s fatal-
istic intrusion and the continual expectation of the appearance of blood in Blue-
beard’s soul (castle).
The symbolic significance of the octosyllabic interactions that form subsection b3
(nos. 87 – 89) is elucidated by the more regular octosyllabic constructions of the or-
chestral figurations, which first accompany the vocal phrases and then alternate with
the “Danger” motif. The descending tetrachords and the two-note “Judit!” declama-
tions of Bluebeard’s opening phrase are all drawn into the octosyllabic interpretation
by the contrapuntal figuration of the orchestra. Then, each of the two-note segments
of Judith’s descending four-note phrase is also interpreted by the orchestral counter-
point as part of an octosyllabic construction. The only disruption of the octosyllabic
pattern is introduced by the two-note statements of the “Danger” motif, which other-
wise appear in alternation with the regular octosyllabic orchestral figuration. The
latter is soon reduced to four-note segments, while the “Danger” motif is reduced to
one note at the beginning of the transition. These single-note representations of the
“Danger” motif unfold, then, as part of an octosyllabic pattern in “tre battute.”
Echoes of the octosyllabic interactions comprise the remainder of the transition,
in which the sequence of one- or two-note segments add up to two separate octosyl-
labic patterns surrounding the final two octosyllabic vocal statements of Bluebeard.
The second orchestral grouping unfolds seven articulations plus one more after Blue-
beard’s second vocal statement, the latter now revealing the reversal of characteriza-
tions as Bluebeard sings Judith’s original descending motif (F – D b – A – G b) at the
major third transposition (A–F–D b –B b). This transposition permits Judith’s original
augmented triad (F – D b –A) to be retained. Although the original seventh-chord
boundary (F – G b) of Judith’s original statement (no. 3) is replaced here by a new
boundary (A – B b), the two preceding glissandi, which are reminiscent of Judith’s
“Danger” motif, permit her original motivic boundary (F – G b) to be heard in this sig-
nificant passage of character transformation. Another aphorism of Nietzsche on in-
dependence points to yet another aspect of the dilemma in the characters’ relation-
ship, in this case, especially on the part of Judith:
Not to remain stuck to a person—not even the most loved—every person is a
prison, also a nook. . . . Not to remain stuck to some pity—not even for higher men
into whose rare torture and helplessness some accident allowed us to look. Not to re-
main stuck to a science—even if it should lure us with the most precious finds that
seem to have been saved up precisely for us. Not to remain stuck to one’s own de-
tachment, to that voluptuous remoteness and strangeness of the bird who flees ever
higher to see ever more below him—the danger of the flier. Not to remain stuck to
our own virtues and become as a whole the victim of some detail in us . . . which is
the danger of dangers for superior and rich souls who spend themselves lavishly, al-
most indifferently, and exaggerate the virtue of generosity into a vice.20
248
Holofernes by Judith, the self-sacrificing woman in the book of the Old Testament, is
in fulfillment of God’s interest in saving his people. In the nineteenth century, Heb-
bel’s dramatic transformation of Judith into the tragic figure of the young virgin mo-
tivated by anger and personal revenge served as a bridge between romantic and more
modern conceptions of the woman. Her seductive power as a symbol of danger to men
acquired a more fundamental, evil significance in the early twentieth century,2 this
negative conception of the woman foreshadowed in such realistic writings as Gustave
Flaubert’s Madame Bovary or, more directly, in connection with the Salome of his
Hérodias. Although Béla Balázs himself was well-versed in the dramas of Hebbel,3 the
woman in Balázs’s libretto is presented as a somewhat more abstract, personally non-
descript figure, a characterization tempered by the influence of Maeterlinck’s sym-
bolist dramaturgy. Balázs’s Judith does retain the nineteenth-century literary image of
the dangerous woman, but she is devoid of any sense of revenge, explicit evil attri-
butes, or the overt sexual enticement she exudes in Klimt’s paintings and other con-
temporary works.
Conversely to Judith, the figure of Bluebeard has been portrayed as the embodi-
ment of evil — the cruel wife killer—from the early literary sources, which stem from
Charles Perrault’s “Barbe bleue” tale, in Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé, avec des
Moralités (published in 1697).4 Nineteenth-century historical studies have traced the
figure of the wife-killer even further back to folklore, for instance, to the Hungarian
tale of Márton Ajgó, who is decapitated by the woman, Anna Molnár, whom the man
had lured to the tree from which he hanged his former lovers. Other stories, as Kroó
informs us, are based on “contrasted notions of Darkness and Light. . . . [t]he figure
of Bluebeard stand[ing] for the dark and sinful Night, which slays its betrothed.”5 Of
the various literary and musical manifestations of Bluebeard in the nineteenth and
early twentieth century,6 including Offenbach’s comic opera (1866), Maeterlinck’s
Ariane et Barbe-bleue (1902), H. Eulenberg’s three-act drama Ritter Blaubart (1905),
Dukas’s opera after Maeterlinck’s Ariane et Barbe-bleue (1907), Anatole France’s
short story Les sept femmes de la Barbe-bleue (1909), Balázs’s mystery play A kékszakállú
herceg vára (1910 – 1911), and E. Reznicek’s three-act opera after Eulenberg’s Ritter
Blaubart (1920), the Symbolist influence has tended to diffuse, even transform the
evil quality of the character in certain cases, especially in Bartók’s musical setting.
Throughout the opera, Bluebeard’s words and gestures indicate love, devotion, and
remorse. Despite the shield of his impenetrable reserve and the grim reality of the plot
itself, he expresses his wish to share his love, wealth, and vast domain with his beloved
forever.
The final musical transformation of the characters in Bartók’s opera occurs in the
transition between the fifth and sixth doors (no. 90, mm. 11 – 12), where Bluebeard
takes over Judith’s (Stefi’s) original whole-tone/pentatonic theme a major third
higher, A – F– D b – B b. Then, the diatonic, whole-tone, and chromatic pitch-set inter-
actions implied in the opening chord progression of the fifth door scene are mani-
fested more explicitly in the repeated arpeggiations at the opening of Door VI (Lake
of Tears) (no. 91). This throbbing A pentatonic figuration adds the note G # at its
apex, A – C – [ ] – E– G –G # (ex. 12-1) to reveal a more exclusive foreground connec-
tion between this note (G #) and Bluebeard’s C major triad at the opening of the pre-
ceding scene. In these arpeggiations, G # forms a half-step relation not only with the
adjacent fifth degree (G) of the C major triad, but also with the lowest note (A), im-
plying the presence of the dissonant interval-ratio 1:1 cell, G – G # – A – [ ]; an isolated
semitone, E – D #, punctuates this first set of arpeggiations. The outline of the config-
uration is the “Stefi” motif, A–C –E–G #, which serves once again as the source for
the musical symbolism.
Judith’s vocal statements (no. 92, m. 4 ff.) in the opening sections of the Lake of
Tears, like the initial arpeggiations, acquire an ostinato-like quality as she reiterates
the A minor seventh construction (A–C–E–G) derived from the more complex
arpeggiations (A – C– E –G –G #). These static vocal repetitions of A – C– E – G, which
now contract the original major seventh boundary of Judith’s basic pentatonic/
whole-tone motif (A – C–E–G #) to a minor seventh, reflect the more depressed, life-
less quality expressed by Judith’s words (no. 92, m. 4– no. 93): “I see a silent white
lake, A motionless white lake.” The larger pentatonic significance of her vocal con-
tent, as opposed to its whole-tone connection in the arpeggiations of the “Stefi” motif
([ ]– C – E – G #), is confirmed by the underlying string harmony in section b’ (no. 92,
m. 4 ff.), voice and accompaniment together outlining A–C–D–E–G, then E–G–A–
B –D (ex. 12-2). The pentatonic quality of her vocal line serves, at the same time, as
the point of departure for transformation into whole-tone and more chromatic color-
ing. The accompanying pentatonic bass line, G–B b –C– D– [ ] (no. 93, m. 2 ff.) is
partially transformed, then, into a hybrid pentatonic/whole-tone collection (G – B b –
C–D– E) by the sustained E, which is drawn into a chromatic/octatonic figure (E – F–
F # –F–E/E–D–C # – B – B b) at the cadence just before the reiteration of Judith’s A
pentatonic phrase, C – G –A –E (i.e., A–C–[ ]–E–G) at no. 94. The latter begins a
repeat of the same trend of compression, which cadences on the complete form of the
“Blood” motif tetrachord (E–F–F # –F–E–E b) before the return at section a2 (at
no. 95) to the hybrid A pentatonic/whole-tone arpeggiation. Thus, these local pro-
gressions toward intervallic compression represents, again, a microscopic reflection of
the basic overall tendency toward fate and blood in each scene.
Adagio ( = 80 G G semitone
(Arpa. Klar. Fl.)
DE DE
(Kb. Vlc. trem.)
molto
(;) A–C–E–[G]–G
(“Stefi” major-7th motif)
example 12-1. Door VI (Lake of Tears), no. 91, fusion of pentatonic/diatonic, whole-
tone (augmented triad), and chromatic in arpeggiations
example 12-2. Door VI (Lake of Tears), no. 92, m. 4ff., pentatonic significance of Ju-
dith’s vocal content, confirmed by underlying string harmony, both voice and accom-
paniment together outlining A–C–D–E–G, then E–G–A–B–D
of the Maeterlinck-Debussy opera, the connection between fate and the unconscious
is prominently manifested in Mélisande’s shocking utterance, “All the better!” as the
fallen castle chains seal the lovers’ doom. In the penultimate scene of the Balázs-
Bartók opera, similarly, the connection between fate and unconscious motivation is
manifested in Judith’s demand that the last door be opened, in spite of her knowledge
that the source of blood lay within. Bartók’s attraction to a subject imbued by the
death wish may be interpreted as a projection of his own psycho-social background,
especially during the period 1908–1911. As Dorothy Lamb Crawford explains:
In Hungary, the Nietzsche-influenced poet Endre Ady provoked young Budapest
radicals to expose and transcend the moral vacuum of their times [Arpad Kadarkay,
Georg Lukács: Life, Thought, and Politics (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1991), p. 58].
The example of Ady’s adult life, much of it lived in relative sexual freedom in Paris,
was emulated—frequently with suicidal results—by members of Bartók’s intellectual
circle in Budapest. With great intensity they debated the “woman question,” and no-
tions of sexual polarity derived from the Viennese writer Otto Weininger, who him-
self had committed suicide after the publication of his widely read book, Sex and
Character. . . .
Bartók’s expressionism occurs in works born of seemingly bottomless despair
and manifests itself in two phases: first in the emotionally obsessive 1908–11 period,
which culminated in his opera, Duke Bluebeard’s Castle, and second in the 1915–19
period, which culminated in the bizarre eroticism of the first version of The Miracu-
lous Mandarin.9
Bartók’s works of the first period are pervaded by transformations of the “Stefi”
motif, a persistent musical manifestation of “a diary-like preoccupation with changing
views and moods in regard to the pain of love. Suicide,” according to Crawford, “was
apparently on Bartók’s mind.”10 His letter of September 1907 to Stefi Geyer is explicit:
I do not see why you should condemn suicide as such a cowardly act! It’s quite the
contrary. . . . As long as my mother is alive, and as long as I have some interest in the
world, I will not commit suicide. But beyond that? Once I have no responsibility to-
wards any living person, once I live all by myself (never “wavering” even then)—why
should suicide be a cowardly act? It’s true, of course, that it would not be a deed of
great daring, but it could not be dismissed as an act of cowardly indifference . . .11
Regarding the general notion of suicide, Alexander Grinstein explains that “[t]here
are a number of themes commonly present in the dreams of patients contemplating
suicide. There is often some reference to desperation, to ‘no exit or ‘no way out,’ that
they have come to a ‘dead end’ in a trip.”12 In the opera, this sense of finitude is evi-
dent as Judith forces Bluebeard to unlock the seventh door. Indeed, a sense of closure
was present from the outset as Judith had unlocked the very first door. As Bluebeard
relinquishes the last key, he seems now to accept his death as he identifies each of the
four wives symbolically with a different phase of man’s life cycle. Judith is recognized
as the last — ephemeral—wife who came at midnight, thereby pointing, again, to her
association with relentless time and ultimate fate. More specifically, Bartók’s personal
belief that men and women are essentially different in mind and body and that his
own spiritual loneliness was to be his destiny—“I look about me in search of the ideal
companion, and yet I am fully aware that it is a vain quest”13 — provides a still deeper
insight. The notion that irreconcilable differences exist between the sexes supports
the premise that fate and unconscious motivation are equivalent in the sense that
they are different conceptualizations of the same force. In the opera, the woman’s
“passionate” (unconscious) urge to probe into the deepest levels of the man’s soul to
achieve union with him will bring the two characters into direct conflict. Because the
man would sacrifice love to maintain his own private world, he abandons Judith as
she is inevitably drawn into the chamber of his former wives.
Thus, the irreconcilable relation between the sexes is essential to the theme of
ultimate fate (death) in the opera. The man himself cannot escape his eternal loneli-
ness (in “endless darkness”), this metaphor for Bluebeard’s death reflected in Bartók’s
letter to Stefi Geyer, after her rejection of him, about his “funeral dirge.” In the
Lengyel-Bartók ballet pantomime, The Miraculous Mandarin (1919), composed one
year after the first performance of the opera, sexual union between the man and
the woman leads inevitably to the man’s death. The Mandarin is lured by a girl into the
den of three tramps who proceed to rob him. Their attacks cannot subdue this virtu-
ally invincible wealthy Chinese, who dies only after the girl satisfies his desire. In the
opera, the demise of both the man and the woman is brought about by the woman’s
unconscious motivation (death wish, according to evidence in the libretto itself ) to
fulfill her ultimate fate. In the ballet, the demise of the man is conversely brought
about by his “passionate” urge. It is the man rather than the woman who is lured into
the room in the latter case, and it is the man who will meet his ultimate fate through
his desire for union with the woman. In the section of his book on “Death Symbols,”
Grinstein writes that “[b]ecause of the common association between death and sexu-
ality in people’s minds, either theme may be symbolized by the other. . . . If associations
lead to the topic of death when the material is sexual, the therapist should consider
the possibility that the patient is expressing his anxiety that the gratification of his
sexual wishes will result in his own demise or that of his sexual partner.”14
The composer’s own psychological (or quasi-autobiographical) projection seems
to be symbolized in several descending string arpeggiations (no. 120, m. 2ff.) just prior
to the opening of the seventh door (ex. 12-3). The first arpeggiation outlines the
“Stefi” major-seventh motif ([G b]–F–D b –B b –G b), which is identical in pitch con-
tent to Judith’s opening statement (no. 3), except for the replacement of the original
minor third (A) by the major third (B b); the presence of the latter (A) is implied by
the B bb neighbor in the cadential segment only. The major third replacement suggests
the dissolution of the whole-tone component of Judith’s motif in anticipation of the
final stage of the drama. In the last two descending statements, G b – E b – C b – A b – F b
(no. 120, mm. 4 and 7), the major seventh construction of the motif (F b – A b – C b – E b)
is elided with a transposition (A b –C b –E b –G b) of the pentatonic minor seventh
chord. This is an adumbration of the return at the end of the opera to Bluebeard’s
original, unaltered pentatonic construction, a slightly compressed transformation of
both the major seventh and whole-tone-related forms of the “Stefi” harmonic con-
struction. Momentarily, however, at the opening of Door VII (Former Wives), as Ju-
dith expects to find the murdered wives, the quasi-whole-tone implication of the
“Stefi” seventh chord is reasserted by the expansion of the basic C minor tonic triad
(at no. 121) to the funereal form of the seventh chord, C – E b – G – B (at no. 121, m.
8), by the addition of the major seventh degree, B.
43 F
espr.
4
4 F
23
F
4
4
4
3 F 3 F
4
4
4
F 2
F
4
4
4
34 F 23
F
44
4
F
4 FF
più
dim.
44 F
F
example 12-3. Transition to seventh door (Former Wives), no. 120, m. 2ff., descend-
ing string arpeggiations outlining “Stefi” major-seventh motif, [G b]–F–D b–B b–G b
(identical in pitch content to Judith’s opening statement at No. 3), except for re-
placement of original minor third (A) by major third (B b); presence of A implied by
B bb neighbor in cadential segment
The full significance of the latter chord, C–E b –G – B, which is the tritone trans-
position of Judith’s very opening vocal construction, G b – A – D b – F (see ex. 9-3 ear-
lier), and a representation, furthermore, of the quasi-whole-tone transformation (A –
D b –F) of the initial “Castle” theme’s minor-seventh harmonic substructure (i.e., F # –
A – C # – E is transformed into F # – A – C # –E #, in enharmonic spelling, G b – A – D b – F),
may be surmised as follows. Judith’s opening statement, G b – A – D b – F (no. 3), con-
tains three notes (A – D b –F) of the primary WT-1 collection, the tritone transposi-
tion (C – E b – G – B) at the opening of Door VII containing the remaining three notes
(E b –G – B) of the same whole-tone collection. This long-range complementary pitch-
set relation between Judith’s initial entry into the castle and her last entry into the
seventh chamber to join the former wives provides a sense of completion of the main
fatalistic musical symbol of the opera. It is striking that while the two respective aug-
mented triads (A – D b –F and E b –G –B) imply the presence of a long-range intercala-
tion (A – [B] – D b – [E b] –F–[G]) of the complete WT-1 cycle, the remaining WT-0
notes (G b and C) from these two transpositions (G b/A–D b – F and C/E b – G – B) of the
“Stefi” funereal form reflect the two basic polarized tonalities of the opera.
Although one may argue that these complementary pitch-set relations occur pri-
marily over the long span of the opera, transposition C – E b – G – B (no. 121, m. 7 ff.)
of Door VII was already partially manifested at Judith’s opening vocal statement (see
ex. 9-3 earlier) by the vocal grace-note, E b, sustained orchestral B, and neighbor-note
C, the remaining harmonic content providing only pitch-class duplications of the
vocal line. Thus, the final, complementary transposition (C – E b – G – B), which con-
tains the remaining elements (E b –G –B) of the WT-1 collection, is already maximally
represented (by C, E b, and B) in the harmonic content that accompanies Judith’s first
appearance. Conversely, transposition G b – A – D b –F of Judith’s opening statement is
manifested (ex. 12-4) in the harmonic content of Door VII (at no. 121, mm. 4 – no.
122, m. 3), which infuses the seventh chord on C (C–E b – G – B) with the combined
4
44 3
4
5
4
cresc. calando
5 44
43 45
dim.
4
a tempo ( = 60–63
Blaubart
poco rit.
5
4 43
44
Schau, die früh - ern Frau - en al - le, sie, die ich vor dir be - ses - sen.
Lásd a ré - gi asz - szo - nyo - kat, Lásd, a - ki - ket én sze - ret - tem.
poco rit.
5
43
44
4
5
43
44
4
F–A–D –[E–F] =
example 12-4. Door VII, no. 121, m. 7 to no. 122, m. 3, harmonic content infusing
seventh chord on C (C–E b–G–B) with combined “Stefi” and “Castle” forms of sev-
enth chord (F #–A–D b–E–F) on G b in the english horn
“Stefi” and “Castle” forms of the seventh chord (F # – A – D b – E/F) on G b in the English
horn.15 These pitch-set relations tell us, symbolically, that, on Judith’s entry into the
castle, her ultimate fate is imminent, and that, on her entry into the last chamber, it
is fulfilled, her death wish serving as a prime mover of her fate. Judith’s motivation
may be further elucidated by means of certain basic psychoanalytical concepts, which
were increasingly understood by many early twentieth-century dramatists (such as
those in Bartók’s literary circle). According to Peter Giovacchini’s summary of Freud’s
hypothesis,16
[Instincts] try to restore earlier states, and in the case of the living organism, instincts
attempt to restore the inanimate state. . . . Rather than being concerned with the
preservation of life, [the] real aim [of self-preservative instincts] is to permit the or-
ganism to seek death in its own fashion. Freud identified this as the death instinct. The
sexual instincts, however, are in opposition to such forces. They are part of the germ
plasm that strives toward unification and life.
Whereas Bluebeard’s words just prior to the seventh door evoke the notion of the
sexual instinct — he wishes to be unified with Judith (no. 109) — “Judith, love me, ask
me nothing,” she offers a conflicting, ambiguous message that signifies both the sex-
ual and death instincts: her quest for love (no. 101, mm. 7 – 8), “Bluebeard . . . love
me,” shifts to defiance of her internal sense of danger as she stands on the threshold
of the seventh door. Judith’s entry into the last chamber symbolizes her destructive
tendency, but the sexual instinct is simultaneously indicated, hence the common as-
sociation between death and sexuality.17
However, according to Freud, “some symbols have more connection with the
uterus than with the [external] female genitals: thus, cupboards, stoves and, more es-
pecially, rooms. Here room-symbolism touches on house-symbolism. . . .”18 We are ac-
quainted already with rooms as symbol. The representation can be carried further, for
windows, and doors in and out of rooms, take over the meaning of orifices in the body.
In this connection interest in whether the room is open or locked is easily intelli-
gible.”19 Freud also asserts that “a dream of going through a suite of rooms is a brothel
or harem dream. But, as Sachs (1914) has shown by some neat examples, it can also
be used (by antithesis) to represent marriage.”20 Beyond that, such dreams in which
a person travels through a number of rooms may be interpreted as multiple sexual
affairs, in this case invoking symbolic significance in connection with Bluebeard’s
wives.21 All of these interpretations bear directly on our understanding of the sexual
instinct in all of its symbolic meanings in the Balázs libretto. Such interpretations ac-
quire even greater significance in view of the new interests in psychological motiva-
tion during an era of increasing awareness of the unconscious and the irrational, es-
pecially as reflected in Freud’s publications of the time.
For Nietzsche, “it is man who creates for himself the image of woman, and woman
forms herself according to this image.”23 Nietzsche’s precept resonates, with slight
modification, with Balázs’s own assessment regarding the meaning of the Hungarian
ballad about Duke Bluebeard’s Castle. Balázs tells us that Judith “doesn’t shudder in
horror until [Bluebeard] begins to beautify her, to adorn her with jewels. ‘Ah, Blue-
beard, you are not dreaming, I am your poor, living wife.’ But the man covers her with
glittering ornaments, and Judith gradually grows numb with death. The man’s dream
kills her, the very dream she herself conjured up in him. And the dreaming man re-
mains alone once more, his castle again locked and dark.”24
As she comes to full realization of the main cause of her forebodings, which had
begun with the bloody evidence of Bluebeard’s murdered wives behind each of the
first six doors, Judith falters before Door VII. But then, astonished, she encounters
the final unexpected secret (no. 122, mm. 4 –5): “They live, they live! — They are
alive here!” The allegorical depiction of these women— living, beautiful, and splen-
didly adorned in the only scene of the opera without textual reference to blood —
introduces yet another symbolic dimension to the opera, one that would evoke strong
reaction from the modern feminist movement. This thwarting of expectations, that
is, as a sort of deus ex machina, which contradicts the evidence for the source of blood,
practically suggests absolution of the man, even to the point of reversing the evil his-
torical image of the wife murderer in the ancient Perrault novel. We are almost duped
into perceiving Bluebeard now as a benevolent figure, a lover of beauty who desires
to share his love, riches, and entire being. This image is further enhanced by the more
immediate dramatic message of humility, in which Bluebeard, like Judith who stands
humbly in line with the other wives (no. 126, mm. 10–11), “Alas, I am wretched and
shabby,” sinks to his knees with open arms before his three former wives.
Nevertheless, in spite of this twist, in which Bluebeard’s former wives are ex-
pected to be found murdered but are found living instead, in beautiful adornments no
less, the deep-level meaning cannot in the final analysis escape the ultimate conclu-
sion of death. Other symbols support this assumption and provide a degree of realis-
tic continuity in the events of the opera, which are driven by unconscious forces and
permit logical consistency in their meaning. As Grinstein explains:
Beautiful dreams are often dreams of death (Grotjahn, 1980). . . . One patient, for
example, dreamed of being in a large, peaceful, grassy area where many daisies and
other flowers were blooming. Her associations led to the slang expression “pushing
daisies,” which means death. When images of sunsets accompany these scenic
dreams [we may invoke the final scene of Debussy’s opera, where Mélisande’s death
occurs while she watches the sun set into the sea] —such phrases as “going off into
the sunset” or the “sunset years” of one’s life (referring to thoughts about aging and
death) are frequently given as associations.25
This door scene of the former wives directly precedes the ending of the opera, the
chronological progression of these scenes permitting sharp contrast between the glit-
tering adornments — jewels, crown of diamonds, and starlit mantle — and the final
darkness. Grinstein further suggests that “Dreams in which the color black appears,
where there is reference to emptiness [and] darkness . . . may also symbolize death.”26
Even Bluebeard’s music acquires a more melodious quality, exclusively based on his
original D pentatonic construction as the scene moves toward its conclusion (no. 135
ff.), “You are beautiful, you are beautiful, a hundred times beautiful.” The opening of
the scene continues the musical trend of the preceding measures. The opening har-
mony as well as Bluebeard’s initial vocal statement in the introduction of this scene
are reduced essentially to a C minor triad. This softening of the earlier C major har-
mony of Bluebeard’s vast domain was already suggested by the infusion of Judith’s in-
timidated E b tonality in that scene (see no. 75, m. 10). A segment of the latter, for
which another level of musical meaning was suggested in connection with the fusion
of the basic seventh chords (see ex. 12-4 earlier), is reiterated here in the English
horn, F # – E b – D b – E b (in enharmonic spelling, G b –E b –D b – E b).
The simple tonic triad (C–E b –G) of Door VII suggests a reduction of both Blue-
beard’s pentatonic construction and Judith’s (Stefi’s) “Fate” chord (see ex. 12-4 ear-
lier), a simultaneous reflection of the dramatic decrescendo of their characterizations.
The momentary orchestral expansion of the triad into the funereal (minor-modal) form
of the “Stefi” seventh chord, C–E b –G –B (no. 121, m. 7), partially supports this in-
terpretation of the minor triad as a musical symbolization of Judith (Stefi). At Judith’s
fragmented, quiet vocal entry on the notes E–E b (no. 122, mm. 4 – 5), the significance
of the C minor triad as the common element in the fusion concept is further con-
firmed. While the E b belongs to the held C minor triad (C – E b – [ ]), the E simultane-
ously invokes Bluebeard’s C major form from Door V. At the same time, the sextuplet
figure adds two new notes, B implying the presence of both the major and minor forms
of the “Stefi” motif, C –E b –[ ]–B and C–E–[ ]–B, A # (in enharmonic spelling, B b)
Bluebeard’s basic minor seventh (pentatonic) form, C– E b – [ ] – B b.
The “Wives” music, which first appears in part 1 of this scene (at no. 124, mm. 8–
10), outlines the major-modal form of the “Stefi” motif (G – B – D– F #) in association
with Bluebeard’s description of his former wives as lovely visions who live in unforgotten
beauty.27 This major-modal thematic form serves, in the remainder of the scene, to
punctuate Bluebeard’s successive references to the three wives, the rhythmic struc-
ture of the theme gradually revealing (by no. 126, mm. 4 – 10) its connection with (or
reminiscence of ) Judith’s “Danger” motif. While some chromatic shifts are intro-
duced in the orchestra, both vocal parts remain relatively reserved and diatonic. The
last prominent statement of the C minor modal form of the “Stefi” motif, C – D # – Fx–
B (i.e., C – E b – G – B), linearly occurs (at no. 124, mm. 1 – 3) in juxtaposition with its
impure tritone transposition, F # –A–C # –[D #]–E # (ex. 12-5). The latter recalls Judith’s
opening vocal line (G b –A–D b –F) and foreshadows the return (no. 138) of Bluebeard’s
Andante ( = 100
C–D–F –[A]–B (= C–E
–G–[A]–B)
124
schön - heit - strah -
száz - szor szé -
F –A–C–[D]–E
example 12-5. Door VII, no. 124, mm. 1–3, last prominent statement of C-minor-
modal form of “Stefi” motif, C–D #–Fx-B (i.e., C–E b–G–B) in juxtaposition with its im-
pure tritone transposition, F #–A–C #–[D #]–E #
F # pentatonic “Castle” (“Darkness”) theme before the final darkness. The WT-1 (fa-
talistic) implications of the augmented triads contained within this tritone-related
pairing (C/E b – G – B and F #/A–C # –E #) are expressly outlined in Bluebeard’s vocal
line, D # – C # – B – A – G (no. 126, mm. 2–6), which unfolds above the expanded state-
ments of the “Wives” theme as he acknowledges the power they have brought him
and how his domain and being belong to them.
The interpretation of Judith as an instrument of fate, ultimate darkness and,
therefore, of Bluebeard’s death, is supported not only by her WT-1 symbolization as
unfolded in her opening vocal statement (F–D b –A/G b), but by the F # (G b) tonality
of the larger “Stefi” motif. This tonality emerges more explicitly in connection with
Bluebeard’s allusion to darkness (no. 131, mm. 2– 4), “I found the fourth at night,
Starry, black night.” Judith’s declamatory statement on dyad F # – F (no. 131, m. 7 ff.),
“Quiet, quiet. I am still here!” further establishes this fatalistic symbolism, as this two-
note boundary (F # – F) of her original motif (F–D b – A – G b, or F – D b – A – F #) is
articulated by her final life assertion in the face of her death and, consequently, the
symbolic death of Bluebeard.
dence with the text, the opera ends with a return (at nos. 138 – 139) to the “Fore-
boding” motif and a segment of Bluebeard’s original D pentatonic Recitative (no. 2,
mm. 7 – 9), now in enharmonic spelling, E # –A –G –D. The adjacency of the first three
notes (E # – A – G) echoes the whole-tone collection of Judith’s initial theme. This is
supported by Judith’s (Stefi’s) original augmented triad (F – D b – A, in enharmonic
spelling, F – A – C #), which is heard as a faint reminiscence in the initial chord of the
underlying “Foreboding” motif. Bluebeard’s last words, “Night . . . night . . . ,” bring a
brief return to tritone F # –C of the original whole-tone scale, that is, that which first
intruded into the F # pentatonic sphere (m. 16 ff.). This tritone — and with it the
whole-tone collection —dissolves as the note C is replaced by the final pentatonic C #
at the incomplete cadence of the basic F # pentatonic “Darkness” theme. The Woman
who came at nightfall has vanished and Bluebeard’s destiny is realized.
The final manifestation of the F # pentatonic “Darkness” theme (in the form of
the minor seventh construction, F # – A – C # –E) at the end of the opera suggests a sig-
nificant symbolic reference to Stefi Geyer (ex. 12-6). This is manifested as the fu-
nereal minor-modal variant, F # – A – C # –E #, of Stefi’s leitmotif (no. 140, mm. 6 – 11).29
The latter hybrid (pentatonic/whole-tone) construction (F # – A – C # – E #, with added
B #, in enharmonic spelling, C) belongs to the final conflict between WT-0 (repre-
sented by F # – C) and WT-1 (represented by E # –C # –A, which was first manifested in
Judith’s opening vocal statement as F–D b –A/G b). At the final cadence, the latter
(E # – C # – A) appears as part of the WT-1-infused “Darkness” (“Castle”) theme of
Bluebeard’s soul, in which the pentatonic minor-seventh form (F # – A – C # – E) is
Più tranquillo ( = 72
44
(Clar.)
23
43
%
%
4 3
perdendost
43
(Vc., Cb.)
4 2
example 12-6. End of opera, no. 140, mm. 6–11, final manifestation of F #–pentatonic
“Darkness” theme, manifested as funereal minor-modal variant, F #–A–C #–E #, of
Stefi’s leitmotif; hybrid (pentatonic/whole-tone) construction (F #–A–C #–E #, with
added B #, in enharmonic spelling, C) belongs to conflict between WT-0 (represented
by F #–C) and WT-1 (represented by E #–C #–A, from Judith’s opening vocal statement
transformed into the present version of Bartók’s “funereal” form (F # – A – C # – E #). The
juxtaposition of the pentatonic fifth degree (C #) with its whole-tone-related variant
(C) had produced one of the first half-step intrusions at the appearance of the “Fore-
boding” theme at the opening of the opera (mm. 17 –18).
In one respect, Bartók’s Judith in the Bluebeard opera is analogous to Nietzsche’s
dwarf in Zarathustra. Judith has already seen the horrors of Bluebeard’s chambers but
insists on opening the remaining doors. Once his vast domain is revealed, Bluebeard
is doomed to fall from the heights, lonely without the woman to love, weeping and re-
signed to eternal darkness. Beyond this analogy, we may further ask how one so
powerful could be so dependent upon the woman for his survival. The composer, too,
could not face what he saw as his own weakness in his relationship with Stefi Geyer:
“By the time I had finished reading your letter, I was almost in tears — and that, as you
can imagine, does not usually happen to me every day. Here is a case of human
frailty. . . . Why couldn’t I read your letter with cold indifference?”30
The notion of “mediocrity”—of Zarathustra’s dwarf — may be understood as the
acknowledgment of that part of the self that is vulnerable and can have feelings, at-
tributes that in the past have been assigned primarily to the domain of the woman.
Such labeling is a way of undervaluing or disavowing the emotional, vulnerable part
of the self. Bartók’s own philosophical assertion regarding his “struggle to rise above
all things” suggests this attitude: “How far I am yet from doing so . . . the further you
advance, the more intensely, it seems, you feel!”31 The character of Judith, as mani-
fested in Bartók’s opera, appears to symbolize the vulnerable side, that is to say, the
feeling side of the man’s spiritual being.
The ultimate contradiction of the Bluebeard condition lies in the significance of
this role of the woman. Although Bluebeard exhibits what seems to be extraordinary
power, he can never have the completeness for which he strives. That completeness
requires reciprocation by revealing and sharing his entire self with his loved one. Yet,
he asks Judith to love him but ask him nothing. For Bluebeard, as for Bartók himself,
that self contains the weakness that he must deny to attain ultimate power. The man’s
dilemma is embodied in Judith’s own position, “I demand the truth before me.” Para-
doxically, it is in that position that the man’s potential strength exists, if only he could
acknowledge it. Hence, true power lies not at the lonely peak that towers above the
rest of humankind, hovering in a questionable autonomy but, rather, in the com-
pleteness found in the human relationship that Bluebeard — or Bartók himself — feels
he must resist to remain secure in his power. Thus the power for which the man strives
is more apparent than real, a premise that we may assert is the ultimate meaning of
Bartók’s opera.
262
ducing his version of the Elektra play in 1903. These psychoanalytic influences obvi-
ously led Hofmannsthal to his more intense and powerful version of the original
Sophocles model.
In conjunction with these developments in literature and psychology, composers
sought new technical means to express the more profound psychological states under-
lying emotions. The ultrachromaticism of Wagner, Bruckner, and Mahler reached its
most intensive stage in the dissonant chromatic tonality of Elektra, a landmark in
Strauss’s operatic development that epitomizes late Romantic music on the threshold
of the new chromatic idiom. While the expressionistic quality as well as certain “non-
tonal” aspects of Elektra predate the free-atonality of Schoenberg’s Erwartung (1909)
and Berg’s Wozzeck (1914–1922), Strauss never crossed that threshold. After Elektra,
in his operas Der Rosenkavalier and Ariadne auf Naxos (1911 – 1912), he reverted to
classical techniques and forms. Elektra foreshadowed certain characteristics of the
new idiom, especially in its overall tonal organization based on a specific scheme of
chromatic relations. The trend toward equalization of the twelve semitones of the
chromatic scale and the dissolution of traditional tonal functions in the compositions
of the Vienna Schoenberg circle were already suggested in Elektra, where traditional
triadic roots are symmetrically distributed around the central tonality of D.4 In Clas-
sical harmonic progressions, the derivation of triads from common or closely related
diatonic scales permits maximal intersection of triadic content, whereas in Strauss’s
opera the symmetrical organization of triadic roots produces maximal chromatic rela-
tions between the triadic constructions themselves. Also, the new means by which ex-
treme dissonance is produced within this symmetrical scheme go far beyond Wagner
and other German late Romantic composers. Strauss’s approach to harmonic progres-
sion, dissonance, and the overall symmetrical tonal scheme in Elektra represents a rad-
ical departure from nineteenth-century chromaticism, the new musical principles pro-
viding expanded possibilities for expressing the psychological symbolization of drama.
In his letters to Hofmannsthal, Strauss revealed his intentions of intensifying and
concentrating the musico-dramatic structure.5 He mentioned his keenness on the
idea of setting Elektra and how he had already cut the play down a good deal for his
own private use.6 Hofmannsthal’s responses reveal his agreement with Strauss re-
garding certain abridgments. One of Strauss’s more significant requests to condense
the dramatic materials is pivotal:
write me a drama that’s full of action and contrasts, with few mass scenes, but two or
three good rich parts. As for our recent conversation about Elektra, I believe we can’t
leave out Aegisthus altogether. He is definitely part of the plot and must be killed
with the rest. . . . [However,] it’s not a good plan to have all the women come run-
ning on-stage after the murder of Klytemnestra, then disappear again, and then, fol-
lowing the murder of Aegisthus, return once more with Chrysothemis. This breaks
the line too much. . . . Couldn’t we let Aegisthus come home immediately after
Orestes has entered the house? And perform the murders in quick succession one
after the other?7
These correspondences between composer and librettist also provide evidence of
Strauss’s concern for textual material that could provide the means for maximal mu-
sical intensification: “Eight, sixteen, twenty lines, as many as you can, and all in the
same ecstatic mood, rising all the time towards a climax.”8
tonal (simultaneous) key relations. Each key is established locally as a point of depar-
ture or convergence for the tonally ambiguous contrapuntal lines. The opening tonal-
ity of D minor serves as axis for the overall series of tonalities associated with the seven
main character presentations of the opera. In the Introduction, the opening statement
of the central “Agamemnon” motif establishes the priority of D minor. At the point
(no. 1, mm. 2 – 5) at which “Elektra darts back, like an animal to its lair, one arm held
before her face,” her motif alternates two first-inversion minor triads, on B (D – F #/B)
and F (A b – C//F), a tritone apart. This triadic root relation precludes any common
tones between the two triads, so maximal harmonic (chromatic) conflict is produced.
This local harmonic progression based on B and F offers the first suggestion of a sym-
metrical root relation to the axial tonality of D minor (B–D–F). In Elektra’s first mono-
logue, B b is associated with Agamemnon (no. 36, m. 6), while F # (in section 3, espe-
cially at no. 130, m. 3 ff.) is associated with Klytemnestra. The tonalities (B b and F #)
of the two parents are symmetrically polarized on either side of the B – F motif of the
child (Elektra) and, ultimately, the D axis. At the first words of Orestes (no. 123a),
“here must I tarry,” these two tonalities (B b and F #, in enharmonic spelling, G b) are lo-
cally juxtaposed with D as the roots of three solemn chords. The recognition scene
(section 6, no. 148a, m. 9ff.) is exclusively in A b major, the latter being the tritone of
the original D tonality and therefore representing the dual axis of the symmetrical
tonal scheme. The opera ends in C major, the tonality of Elektra’s triumph. We may
consider the sudden and prominent appearance (last four measures) of the major third
degree (E) of the C major tonic triad as part of an implied frame (C – E) for the D axis.
PART I PART II
Intro.
(No. 132,
with intro) (No. 123a) No. 148a) Triumph
Klytemnestra Orestes recognition
tonality tarries Ending
(6)
A (No. 259a) (G)
(3) (5)
F G
f (f ) E
(4) (7)
(Eb)
d d
(Chrysothemis (Vengeance
and Elektra) No. 181a) (b) C
b (No. la)
B B
(1) A
Elektra
motive
Agamemnon
(mm. 12-
tonality
15)
(No. 34,
m. 12)
(2)
E
Chrysothemis
(No. 75)
On the local level of the opera, symmetrical root progressions are also basic for
producing an entirely chromatic set of tonal and harmonic relations. Here, we find
that a single chord may represent an entire key, each expanded into a tonal area most
prominently by its augmented sixth chord, which appears as both a melodic and har-
monic (leitmotivic) representation of Elektra’s “Hate.” In the Introduction (ex. 13-1),
one of Elektra’s two minor triads (on B and F) is expanded into a local tonal area by
the first occurrence of the “Hate” motif: the F minor triad (no. 1, m. 5) is abruptly fol-
“Elektra” motif
(Elektra springt zurüek wie ein Tier im seinen Schlupfwinkel, den einen Arm vor dem Gesicht.)
(Elektra darts back, like an animal to its lair, one arm held before her face.)
'
1
'
z ff z z
'
b min. f min. b f b
&
43 G
Habt ihr ge - sehn, wie sie uns an - sah?
Did you not see what looks she gave us?
&
&
43
'
G
"
& 43 G
0 /////
V7 /A A (Aug. 6th/G)
example 13-1. Strauss, Elektra, Introduction, nos. 1–5, expansion of one of Elektra’s
two minor triads (on B and F) into local tonal area by first occurrence of “Hate” motif,
augmented-sixth chord (B–D b–F–A b) of F
G
3
4
G 3
2
Gif - tig, wie ei - ne wil - de Kat - ze.
Sure - ly poi - son - ous, Like a wild cat’s.
Dritte Magd. (3rd Maid Servant)
G 3 G
23
4
Neu - lich lag sie
Yes - ter - day she
43
' G
23
G
ff
G
43 G
23
0 /////////
A (Aug. 6th/G) b f V2 /d
G 23 G
M/m mixture V9 /d (mixture)
G
34
Sie hält’s nicht aus, wenn
Dritte Magd. (3rd Maid Servant) It mad - dens her To
34
G
&
gin - gen wir zu zwei und ka - men ihr zu nah
then we went, we two, Ap - proach- ing her too near
0
& '
' 34
G
"
34
G
D major d vs. D
43 &
3
2 G
man sie an - sieht.
know we watch her.
Dritte Magd. (3rd Maid Servant)
3 3
&
G
4 2
Ja, wir ka - men ihr zu nah: da
Yes, too close - ly we Ap - proached: she
3
4
23 G
"
3
4
23
G
5
G 23
G
“Fort, Flie - gen,” schrie sie, “fort!”
wieder schneller. “Hence, foul flies,” cried she, “hence!”
più mosso
G 23 G
pfauch - te sie wie ei - ne Kat - ze uns an.
spat at us just like a cat At a dog.
3
G 2
G
" z z
"
23
G
G
43
G
G
“Sitzt nicht auf mein - en Wun - den!” und
Vierte Magd. (4th Maid Servant) “Feed not on my sore pla - ces!”And
G 43 G
“Schmeiß - flie - gen, fort!”
“Four, horse - flies, hence!”
lowed by its augmented sixth chord, D b –F–A b –B, over a dissonant E pedal. This
pedal then appears (at no. 2) as the root of the V7 of the A dominant, which resolves
to A at the 3/4 measure. This resolution to the fifth of the basic key produces an asym-
metrical imbalance in the chordal scheme around the D tonal-axis (A – F– D– B –[ ]).
Symmetrization then occurs as follows: the resolution to A is immediately disrupted
by what appears to be an E b –dominant seventh construction, which seems to have no
functional significance in this multitonal context. Following a return to D major/
minor (from no. 3, m. 3 to no. 4, m. 3), which is embellished by local major/minor A
dominant seventh statements of the “Agamemnon” motif, the only other tonality to
unfold thus far is G major, established by a vii2–1 progression (no. 4, mm. 4 – 5). The
earlier E b dominant seventh construction thereby seems, in retrospect, to serve as an
isolated augmented sixth chord anticipation (in enharmonic spelling, E b – G – B b – C #)
of the G tonality. The latter, a fifth below the basic D tonic, provides a long-range
symmetrical balance with the A-dominant (m. 7 ff. and no. 2, m. 3 ff.), a fifth above
the D tonic. All these tonalities form symmetrical root relations to D (A– F– D– B –
G). At the return to Elektra’s B–F motif (no. 4, m. 6), a cycle is completed: the orig-
inal elaboration of the F minor triad by its augmented sixth chord (D b –F–A b – B) is
balanced by a reinterpretation of the new G tonic as the root of the augmented sixth
chord (no. 4, m. 5: G – B –D–F, in enharmonic spelling, G – B – D– E #, with added dis-
sonances) of Elektra’s other minor triad (on B).
In Elektra’s monologue (no. 34, m. 12, ex. 13-2), which is introduced by the basic
tonality of D in the preceding orchestral interlude, Elektra’s declamatory statements
expressing her loneliness as she stands over her father’s grave unfold over a prolonged
occurrence of her “Hate” motif—the augmented sixth chord of F (D b –F–A b –B, with
dissonant E pedal). After a brief disruption of this chord at the first cadence (no. 36,
mm. 3 – 4), a resolution to F is suggested at the 6/4 measure. However, F is interpreted
as the root of an F dominant seventh chord instead, resolving to Agamemnon’s key
of B b minor. The subsequent symmetrical polarization of B b by Klytemnestra’s F #
tonality (introduction to section 3, especially beginning at no. 130) around the basic
D axis is already suggested at this cadential disruption of Elektra’s D b – augmented
sixth chord in her monologue (see ex. 13-2 later). At Elektra’s words, “My father gone
to dwell affrighted in the tomb’s chill darkness,” we get a harmonic shift, on “Klüfte,”
to the augmented sixth chord of F #, this chord — D – F # – A – C (or D – F # – A – B #) —
resolved simultaneously (that is, polytonally) at this point in the F # “Agamemnon”
motif (in enharmonic spelling, G b major/minor). With more explicit references to the
Queen (no. 39 ff.), we get increasing intrusions of the “Hate” motif belonging to the
tonal sphere of F # in connection with Elektra’s other minor triad, on B. Thus, a direct
polarization of the parents keys (B b and F #) is based on their symmetrical organization
around the tritone-related chords of the child (B b/F –B/F #).
In the intense chromatic idiom of this opera, the symmetrical relationship of the
triadic roots is fundamental for producing maximal distinction between triadic con-
tent and for contributing to the sense of dissonance. However, dissonances most often
occur as a result of the contrapuntal motion of the lines, sometimes simply to produce
shock, as with, for instance, the piling up of minor seconds at the point of vengeance.
Strauss ventured into new areas of contrapuntal writing in this way and achieved a
texture of almost continuous dissonance by the use of suspensions, appoggiaturas, and
altered notes. These techniques are particularly pronounced at the midpoint of the
Elek.
granz al - lein Der Va - ter fort, hin - ab
Quite a - lone! My fa - ther gone to dwell
molto espr.
(Aug. 6th/f)
36 G
tonic (= F )
64
Elek.
ge-scheucht in sei - ne kal - ten Klüf - te.
a’ - ffright - ted in the tomb’s chill dark - ness.
z
6
4
espr.
64
(Aug. 6th/f) (Aug. 6th/f )
example 13-2. Strauss, Elektra, section 1: Elektra’s Monologue, no. 34, m. 12ff., aug-
mented-sixth chord (B–D b–F–A b) of F prolonged and resolved to F as dominant of B b
(Agamemnon), after disruption of augmented-sixth of F # (Klytemnestra) to prepare
for symmetrized polarity moving from B b to F # in reference to Queen
( = 58
Noch langsamer
ancor più lento
6
4
4
4
4
molto dim.
6
4
4
V7/b b minor
opera (no. 1a, ex. 13-3), where Chrysothemis cries out that “Orestes is dead.” A spe-
cial technique suggests the proper resolution of nonchordal tones, but the other
voices move out from under the resolution, so there is in effect no resolution. The re-
sultant chords produce pseudo-polytonality in an otherwise traditional triadic idiom.
The opening of this section is entirely in Chrysothemis’s key of E b, the one tonality
not complemented explicitly (by C #) in the symmetrical scheme around the D axis
tonality.12 This E b section is introduced by the dominant seventh chord (G b – B b –
[ ]–F b) of C b. Resolution to the latter tone (C b) occurs over the remote E b minor tonic
triad, which is prolonged by a series of chromatic passing chords. The Neapolitan
sixth is stated simultaneously against the held tonic E b (no. 1a, last beat of m. 4 ff.). Dis-
sonance is produced further as the seventh degree (C b) of the vii43 of E b (no. 2a, m.
4, beat 2) becomes a suspension over the tonic triad (no. 3a). Here, it resolves to the
fifth degree (B b) of the tonic triad, a tone that is itself dissonant above the new E b –
A – D b – G harmony. On “tot,” the dominant seventh of E b (upbeat to no. 4a) is unex-
pectedly reinterpreted as the augmented sixth chord of D minor, the basic key of the
opera. The orchestra then plays the writhing motif of the “children of Agamemnon”
over the held D minor triad, which represents the central tonality of the opera.13
A striking development in the process of symmetrically completing the chromat-
ically related tonal areas begins prior to the appearance of Orestes, when Elektra digs
for the murder axe (especially from no. 116a). Against the shrill stream of dissonances
that unfold in the chromatically descending violins, we get an irregularly descending
series of keys, moving from F # minor downward. Elektra’s first declamatory statement
that questions the intentions of the disguised Orestes (no. 121a) further contributes
to the already agitated tonalities in the linear unfolding. At Orestes’s first words (no.
123a, and again at no. 124a, mm. 7–9, ex. 13-4a), “here must I tarry,” we begin to get the
first symmetrization of tonalities around the D center in this section. His three chords
(on B b, D, and G b) serve as the focus for the fulfillment of this symmetrical process.
In connection with Elektra’s psychological motivation, in which her hate serves
as the dramatic catalyst for the move toward vengeance and triumph, the augmented
sixth chord (“Hate” motif ) serves as the basic pivot to the final C major sphere, which
represents “Triumph.” This trend begins (at no. 110a) when Elektra’s brooding turns
to action as she realizes she must dig up the murder axe and carry out the act of re-
venge herself. The augmented sixth “Hate motif” (D b –F–A b – B) of the F chord in
1a
C
resolution
(suspension)
43
ff H z
43
V7/C
e
minor
Neap. 6th
passing
(wounded beast)
2a
z
e
ii2 (e
) (g
) (b
) V7/IV
susp.
3a
accel.
cresc. "
cresc.
vii 43 /e
pass. V 7/IV unresolved
app.
Chrysothemis (schreiend)
(Elektra markt ihr ab __alf.)
O - rest! O - rest ist tot! noch schneller B
= 69
O - rest - tes! O - res - tes is dead! encor più mosso
'
'
ff @
example 13-3. Strauss, Elektra, section 4: Chrysothemis and Elektra, no. 1a, mm.
1–14, turning point of binary form, dissonant quasi-polytonal embellishment of E b
minor of Chrysothemis as she refers to death of Orestes; moves to D and “Children”
motif
a. 124a Elektra
Ja, ich die - ne hier im Haus.
Yea, I serve this ro - yal house.
dim.
g minor vii 2
Elek.
Du a - ber hast hier nichts zu schaff - en,
But thou hast no - thing to seek here.
cresc.
i6 vii 6 5 /a
Elek.
freu - dich und geh!
Pros - per, and go! Orest.
Ich sag - te dir:
I said to thee:
"
dim.
D major V7 d B
example 13-4. Strauss, Elektra, section 5: Appearance of Orestes; (a) no. 124a,
“Orestes” motif based on symmetrical triadic root motion around D axis (G b–D–B b),
tonalities referring to parents; (b) no. 127a, further symmetrization by balance of A
and G around D
G
b. 127a
Orest.
Ich war so
I was as
espressivo
f (c ) (f )
Elektra
Elek.
43
Mu - ßich
Must I
Orest.
43
alt wie er und sein Ge - fähr - te bei Tag und Nacht.
old as he and his com - pa - nion by day and night.
etwas bewegter ( = 72
un poco più mosso
43
dimin. z
43
(c ) V7 /A A vii 6 5 /f
4
Elek.
4
dich noch sehn? Schleppst du dich hier her, in mei - nen trau - ri - gen
see Thee still? Why dost drag thy steps To this, my de - so - late
44
z z z
44
f vii 2/b b vii 6 5 /g g (vii 2/c
z
4
4
espr.
c ) V7 /d d (e )
Elek.
aus - trom-pe - ten dort,
Un - to o - thers, there
Elektra’s B–F motif has invariably been accompanied by a dissonant E pedal, which is
now for the first time expanded into the key of E minor. As we move toward triumph
at the end of the opera, the note E is absorbed into the tonal spectrum of C major.
The C tonality already begins to emerge prior to the murder of Klytemnestra and her
lover Aegisthus (at the climax of section 7, no. l86a, m. 11, ex. 13-5), and it is in this
passage (two measures before no. 186a) that the “Hate motif” (augmented sixth
chord) begins to serve as the tonal pivot. As Elektra paces back and forth in anxious
anticipation, having forgotten to give Orestes the axe that had been used to murder
her father, the B minor triad from her F–B motif is elaborated by its augmented-sixth
chord, G – B – D– E # (in enharmonic spelling, G–B –D– F). The latter is interpreted
simultaneously as the dominant seventh chord of C, the key suddenly appearing over
a B tremolo. The scales alternate, then, between C minor and B minor.
At Elektra’s final dance of triumph (no. 259a, ex. 13-6), a pivot from the B minor
triad of her B – F motif to the triumphal C is produced by the musical catalyst (the
augmented sixth chord) that has been equated throughout with the psycho-dramatic
catalyst — the “Hate” motif. Here, Elektra’s F and B tonalities are each established by
their respective augmented-sixth chords (D b –F–A b –B and G–B–D–E #, at no. 260a,
mm. 1 – 2), the one belonging to the B tonality (again in enharmonic spelling, G – B –
D– F) serving simultaneously as the dominant of C minor and C major (no. 259a),
these modes on C alternately occurring with the last statements of her B chord. But
Elektra’s triumphal dance ends in her own death, which might be interpreted psy-
(bows low to the strangers; makes a sign to them to follow. Orestes and the Tutor go within. Orestes closes his eyes
a moment, as though fastens the torch to an iron ring in the doorpost.)
186a
ruhig (tranquille)
G
G
giddy, the Tutor is close behind him. They exchange rapid glances. The door closes behind them.)
%
(dissonant f ) (b pedal)
(Elektra alone in horrible excitement. She runs to and fro in front of the door, with bowed head, like a captive beast
in a cage.)
)
c b c b etc.
G
94
Elek.
- gen une tan - zen. . . .
naught, and dance on. . . .
94
94
V7/b
94
ff
.
9
4
V7/c (= Aug. 6th/b) c minor
64
ff
64
64
C major
example 13-6. Strauss, Elektra, Elektra’s final Victory Dance, no. 259a, final pivot
from the B chord of her B–F motif to the triumphal C effected by augmented-sixth
chord catalyst
260a
6 3
4
2
) accelerando
B = B
ofdes
9
the 4
64
23
44
@
6
3 4
4
2 4
choanalytically as the result of her inability to resolve her love-hate feelings for her
mother. That is, in conspiring toward her mother’s death, Elektra must finally punish
herself. She cannot triumph without bringing on her own destruction.
With the musical language of Elektra, Strauss had gone as far as he ever would
from traditional tonality. Progression in this work is determined almost entirely by a
single chord function, in which the augmented sixth (“Hate”) motif serves as both a
modulator and key expander. This anticipates the twentieth-century pitch-set con-
cept of equal linear and harmonic exploitation of a collection. We find the same his-
torical anticipation of the pitch-set premise in Schoenberg’s use of the minor seventh
chord in his early, still tonal Gurre-Lieder. However, it was primarily with the disap-
pearance of the triad itself, when Schoenberg subsequently turned to free-atonality in
1909, that any suggestion of traditional harmonic functions of pervasively occurring
“cellular-type” chords were to be entirely dissolved. Nevertheless, Strauss’s exploita-
tion of symmetrical root relations in Elektra, a work still anchored in vertical triadic
construction, prompted the direction toward dissolution of traditional tonal functions
and the establishment of a new musical sound world based on equalization of the twelve
semitones. This development by Strauss and Schoenberg in particular appears to have
inextricably transformed German late Romanticism, creating a new realm of expres-
sionistic intensity. Ethan Mordden places Elektra in proper perspective: “a monumen-
tal nexus of revenge tragedy, psychological study, and classical reinvestment — the re-
generation of old themes via modern interrogation . . . the heroine’s monologue, a
case for Freud not merely in word-pictures, but in sounds as well, insatiable natter-
ings, outbursts, screaming; Elektra’s confrontations with her sister and her mother,
the latter scene presaging the expressionism of atonal opera.”14
Pieces, op.16 (1909); the operas Erwartung, op. 17 (1909), and Die Glückliche Hand,
op. 18 (1910 – 1913); the Sechs kleine Klavierstücke, op. 19 (1911); Herzgewächse for
soprano, celesta, harmonium, and harp, op. 20 (1911); Pierrot Lunaire, op. 21 (1912);
and the Four Orchestral Songs, op. 22 (1913–1916). Erwartung, a monodrama in four
continuous scenes on a text by Marie Pappenheim, represents Schoenberg’s first major
breakthrough in transforming the chromatic idiom of Wagner’s Tristan into an ex-
pressionistic and atonal musical language.15 In the Vienna of Freud, writers and artists
turned with greater awareness to the unconscious and the irrational. Schoenberg’s
monodrama includes one character in an extreme of convulsive expression.16 The
Woman enters the forest to keep a rendezvous with her lover, but the lover has been
murdered, and in the dark she stumbles over his corpse. All of nature seems to reflect
her anxiety and absorb her innermost feelings. The work is highly symbolic, meta-
phoric, and ambiguous in that we do not know whether what we see on the stage is
supposed to be a representation of a series of events or of a dream. And if a dream,
whose dream?
Erwartung is unified by means of related sonorities. Most of the chords have six
notes, which generally combine two three-note chords each encompassed by a major
seventh.17 For instance, the symmetrical construction G b – C– F/B – E – B b alternates
tritones and perfect-fourths, which pervade the texture in various transpositions, per-
mutations, transformations, and combinations. However, the work is entirely athe-
matic (i.e., without motivic development, repetition, or transformation) to produce
an amorphous stream of consciousness. This is because of the dissociation of the
sonorities from any recognizably consistent rhythms, thematic contours, or registers,
and the result is an ever-changing contrapuntal fabric that supports the relentless un-
folding of psychological drama. The opera lasts half an hour, but its singular mood in
a context of perpetually developing variation (Schoenberg’s term) induces a sense of ex-
treme psychological condensation of the entire action into a single moment or, stated
in reverse, a single moment based on an anxiety or state of mind expanded to half an
hour. There is no real sense of past, present, or future, because psychological time re-
lies, of necessity, on our perception of the temporal ordering of distinguishable events.
Schoenberg has concealed the sectional premise of traditional operatic construction,
stating that Erwartung represents “in slow motion everything that occurs during a
single second of maximal spiritual excitement.”18
Büchner’s drama, although written in the first half of the nineteenth century,
anticipated the morbid reality of Berg’s own era. Wozzeck can be considered real
twentieth-century drama, imbued further by Berg’s musical setting of a highly ex-
pressionistic quality, in which the emotional and psychological state of the protago-
nist seems to be projected into every external object, action, and musical fiber. The
work has not only become one of the cornerstones of expressionism but also is an his-
torical document of the war years, and a highly personal, autobiographical expression
of the composer. Wozzeck, who is a symbol of the oppressed man, refers to himself as
“wir arme Leut.” He is a poor soldier who is exploited by his superiors and “tormented
by all the world.”19 Driven by unconscious forces, he eventually murders his unfaith-
ful mistress and drowns himself. In his preoccupation with Wozzeck during a short
leave in 1918 from his own military duties, Berg wrote a letter to his wife (dated 7 Au-
gust), in which he revealed his sense of identity with Büchner’s character:
There is a bit of me in his character . . . since I have been spending these war years
just as dependent on people I hate, have been in chains, sick, captive, resigned, in
fact, humiliated. Without this military service I should be as healthy as before. . . .
Still, perhaps but for this the musical expression (for Wozzeck) would not have oc-
curred to me.20
One of Berg’s main concerns in composing Wozzeck was the means by which both
local and large-scale structural unity could be achieved in the atonal idiom. He could
neither rely on the Büchner text for such coherence because of its fragmentary nature
nor on the organizational principles of tonal form and development. In part, Berg’s so-
lution lay in the use of a series of diverse but coherent traditional forms, which were
to “correspond to the diversity in the character of the individual scenes.”21 For the li-
bretto, Berg first reduced Büchner’s twenty-five scenes (based on the Franzos-Landau
edition of twenty-six scenes of the text) to fifteen, then organized them in three acts
of five scenes each. Each scene has a “rounded off” and individual character, yet con-
tributes to the overall unity. While the musical forms are classical and clearly defined,
Berg’s main accomplishment lay in his ability to draw audience attention away from
the “various fugues, inventions, suites, sonata movements, variations, and passa-
caglias,” to the “vast social implications of the work which by far transcend the per-
sonal destiny of Wozzeck.”22 Furthermore, in place of traditional tonal relations for
support of the structure and psycho-dramatic currents, Berg provided a complex set
of musical interrelationships and transformations based on recurrent motifs as well as
referential pitch collections, all unfolding in a varied orchestration.
Berg suggested an outline of the scenes based on the main dramatic and musical
events.23 The large three-act form is determined by the dramatic structure and based
on a corresponding temporal symmetry in the musical architecture: the three acts
form an arch, in which the longer and more complex middle section (act 2) forms a
bridge between the symmetrically balanced outer sections (acts 1 and 3). According
to Willi Reich’s outline of Berg’s chart, act 1 (“Wozzeck in his relation to the world
around him”) is a dramatic exposition of the main characters and their relationship to
the protagonist. These different character sketches are represented by a series of older
musical forms of distinctly different styles. The dramatic “development” of the plot,
however, which begins at the end of act 1 (where Marie is embraced by the Drum
Major), actually unfolds in act 2, where the succession of scenes represents Wozzeck’s
gradual realization of Marie’s infidelity. Here, a closed symphonic shape of five move-
ments (scenes) is the developmental as well as unifying musical structure. The “ca-
tastrophe” and final outcome of the plot are the basis of act 3. The scenes of act 3 are
now individual situational sketches (each in the form of an invention on a single mu-
sical idea) that balance the character sketches of act 1. Regarding these abstract and
clearly organized musical forms, George Perle points out that:
The musical coherence that the opera has, independently of the staged events, re-
flects an objective order whose irrelevance to the subjective fate of Wozzeck
poignantly emphasizes his total isolation in an indifferent universe . . . this is not to
say that the assignment of a specific “absolute” musical form to a given scene is made
without reference to specific dramaturgical considerations.24
The “Passacaglia” (act 1, scene 4), as one instance, provides a rigid musical structure,
which can be seen as reflecting the strict diet that the Doctor has forced on Wozzeck,
in his use of him as a “guinea pig” for his medical experiments. The opera is pervaded
by musical details of structural or local textual significance, such details having either
leitmotivic or nonleitmotivic functions.25
The opera generally belongs to the atonal idiom, but there seems to be no single
system to which all the pitch relations and harmonic constructions are accountable.
Whereas traditional tonal works are based on a priori functional associations of the
major-minor scale system, with the triad as the single harmonic referent, in Wozzeck
we find a diversity of constructions that are given both musical and literary signifi-
cance primarily by the immediate musical context within which they occur. Differing
views regarding this question of the existence of a large-scale, unified system of pitch
relations in Wozzeck are expressed in several major studies, most significantly by Doug-
las Jarman, George Perle, and Janet Schmalfeldt.26 With reference to traditional func-
tional relationships, Perle states that “no comparable generalizations regarding the
musical language of Wozzeck are offered here, but a first attempt is made to describe
certain means of integration and differentiation that are characteristic features of that
language.”27 In dealing with those elements of pitch organization that are basic to the
context in which themes and motifs unfold, Perle includes detailed discussions of tone
centers, vertical sets, chord series, scale segments, and other such recurrent phenom-
ena. Jarman’s view is similar to Perle’s, in which he refers to an “immense variety of pro-
cedures employed [in ‘free’ atonal music] and the difficulty in classifying these pro-
cedures according to neat, self-contained categories. The techniques employed . . .
cannot be referred to any generally accepted or understood criteria . . . as can those
of tonal music, nor can they be referred to a set of theoretical propositions of the kind
upon which twelve-note music is based.”28 Jarman, however, does show how certain
motifs in Wozzeck are related to isolated larger pitch collections that play a role in
large-scale structural unity. In contrast, Schmalfeldt attempts to establish those pitch
structures that “serve as fundamental components of the harmonic language”29 and
to demonstrate that motifs are related to, and perhaps may even generate, large-scale
pitch structures. She states that “essential yet hitherto unexplored aspects of Berg’s
harmonic procedure in Wozzeck can be uncovered by means of the pitch-class set-an-
alytical method.”30
Certain pitch constructions, in any case, do seem to have a referential function
in the overall working out of the material. In the “Murder scene” (act 3, scene 2),
which is one of the primary dramatic focal points in the opera, Wozzeck’s obsession is
reflected by an insistent “Invention on a Tone B.” At the same time, reminiscences of
the earlier musical ideas associated with Marie seem to flash through her mind as she
is about to die. Underlying these reminiscences, tone B occurs in various temporal,
registral, and timbral positions. It is introduced at the end of the preceding scene
(no. 71 ff.), where it occurs as a “dissonant” pedal against the bitonal combination of
major triads on D and E b. At Marie’s first words in the “Murder Scene,” the sustained
notes (no. 73, m. 1) harmonically extend the B pedal to a whole-tone tetrachord, B –
C # – E b – F, encompassed by tritone B–F. The upper boundary tone of this collection
(F, in the horn) is also marked by Marie’s entry pitch. The first two phrasal segments
of Wozzeck’s entry, based on F–G –A – ] –C # (no. 75), together with the B pedal, pro-
vide the remaining notes of this whole-tone collection. Again, the vocal entry pitch
is F, the tritone of B. This whole-tone cycle is completed by the C # – D # of Violin I,
while the ending of Wozzeck’s line secondarily unfolds a segment (F # – ] – B b – C– D)
of the other whole-tone collection. The basic tritone, B – F, which emerges more
prominently in the double bass (at m. 84), is further manifested as a primary struc-
tural element in subsequent passages approaching the murder.
Cyclic-interval fillings of the main tritone, B–F, establish an essential principle of
musical progression and dramatic association in the earlier sections of the opera. In
the Praeludium of the opening Suite, the cadential tone (D b) of the Captain’s leitmo-
tif (mm. 4 – 6) overlaps his statement, “Easy, Wozzeck, easy” as Wozzeck shaves his su-
perior officer (ex. 13-7). In correspondence with the Captain’s apparent need for con-
trol, the reiterated D b moves from a “dissonant” (or odd-note) position against
whole-tone segment C–D–E (no. 5) to a “consonant” position within a gapped seg-
ment B –[ ] – E b – F of the other whole-tone collection. This completes the basic
whole-tone tetrachord B–D b –E b –F. While the two whole-tone segments are distinct
in the linear partitioning, the entire pitch content of the voice and English horn forms
a semitonal filling of tritone B–F (B–C–D b –D–E b –E– F); this basic tritone appears
as a cadential focal point. The Captain’s theme itself opens with two juxtaposed
whole-tone segments, F # –G # and C # –B–F (m. 4), the latter (B–C # –[ ]–F) foreshad-
owing the basic whole-tone tetrachord B–D b –E b –F immediately.
At the reprise of the Praeludium (A, m. 24 ff.), these musico-dramatic relations
are more explicit. While the Captain’s thematic material from the very opening of
the Praeludium returns slightly varied in the winds at this point, D b is reiterated as the
basis of both Wozzeck’s first explicit “Jawohl” statement and, as before, as the caden-
tial tone of the Captain’s theme (mm. 28–30). Whereas D b was absorbed into the
whole-tone tetrachord B–D b –E b –F in the original statement of the Captain’s theme
(mm. 5–6), it is now part of an expanded whole-tone segment (D b –E b –F–[ ]–A–B),
which is sustained in the winds in the final measures of the Praeludium (mm. 27 – 29).
This collection is anticipated (at m. 26) in the combined “Jawohl” statement and
pizzicato chord (D b – E b –F–[ ]–A –B, with one odd note, C). Thus, priority is given
to one of the whole-tone cycles (i.e., that which contains the main tetrachord, B –
D b –E b – F), as it pervades, and then ends the reprise exclusively.
The Pavane begins with the Captain’s words (no. 30 ff.), “It makes me afraid for
the world to think of eternity,” further revealing an obsessive fear of his inability to
control the objective world. In this connection, the section is based on a more com-
captain’s theme
a tempo 5
I
1. Ob.
W.T.
obligat
'
Englh.
dim.
1. Kl.
in B J W.T.
W.T. W.T.
' '
Hptm.
Capt.
Lang-sam, Woz-zeck, lang - sam_!
Ea - sy, Woz -zeck, ea - sy!
(C [D
] D E) (B D
E
F)
whole-tone whole-tone
with tetrachord
diss. D
with cons. D
total content: B C D D E E F
example 13-7. Berg, Wozzeck, act 1, scene 1, mm. 4–6, Captain’s need for control
symbolized by reiterated D b that moves from “dissonant” (or odd-note) position
against whole-tone segment C–D–E (No. 5) to “consonant” position within gapped
segment B–[ ]–E b–F of other whole-tone collection to complete basic whole-tone
tetrachord, B–D b–E b–F
plex interaction of the interval cycles (ex. 13-8). The first six triplets of the Captain’s
transformed leitmotif repeat the whole-tone pitch content of the cadence, the odd
note (C) this time being expanded to a tritone (G b –C) from the other whole-tone
cycle. While the prevailing interval-class of this thematic segment (D b – E b – [ ] –
G–A – B) and the accompanying triplet figure (D b –E b) in the harp and horn is whole
tone (no. 30), the sustained chord of the winds reinterprets the whole-tone dyad D b –
E b as part of a four-note segment of the cycle of fourths, or fifths (D b – A b – E b – B b); the
entire accompaniment in this measure is based on the larger cyclic segment, G b – D b –
A b –E b – B b. Whereas the earlier combination of whole-tone segments, C – D– E and
B – D b – E b – F, at the cadence of the Captain’s theme, mm. 5 – 6 (see ex. 13-7 earlier),
implied the content of a semitonal cyclic segment, B–C– D b –D–E b – E – F, the com-
bination of whole-tone elements in this passage outlines a segment of the cycle of
fourths/fifths. Then (at mm. 33–34), a long descent of fourths, F – C– G – D– A – E –
B – F # – C #, appears to symbolize “eternity.” On another level, increased complexity
can also be noted in the absorption of Wozzeck’s “Jawohl” rhythm into the Captain’s
vocal line, at the words “as I think of eternity. ‘Eternal, that’s ‘eternal.’”
Strictness, and an obsessive need for control, is manifested even more obviously
in the megalomaniacal character of the Doctor, who uses Wozzeck for his medical ex-
periments. Scene 4 is appropriately based on a strict ostinato pattern in the form of a
WT-0
interval-5/7 G
–D
–A
–E
–B
cyclic segment
WT-1 dyad (harp/horn)
30
Dieselben mäßigen Viertel ( ( = 56–60)
I 3
1. Ob.
4
(b)
3
4
Englh.
%
3
obligat
1. Kl.
' 4
in B
Bkl.
' 34
in B
34
1. Fg.
J '
I
3
1 Hr.
in F o. D J 4
poco cresc.
0 ////////////////////////////////////
0 ////////////
//////////
//// 34
3 Pk
////////////////////////////////////
0 0 ////
vom Takt 30–50
34
obligat
gr. Tr.
34
Hfe - poco cresc.
34
D
–E –[ ]–G–A–B G
–C - WT-0
WT-1 -
3
4
Hptm.
Capt.
I 35
3 2
1 Hr.
in F o. D. 4 4
3 24
o D. J 4
Btb.
////////////////////
43
gr. Tr.
24
3 2
4 4
Hfe
3 24
4
)
3 2 L
'
(parlando )
4 4 '
Hptm.
Capt.
wig - keit denk! “E - wig,” das ist e - wig! (das sieht Er ein.)
ni - ty. “E- ter- nal” that’s “e - ter - nal” (you un - der - stand.)
I
35
3 2
Vlc.
4 4
3 24 K
get. am Steg
J 4 K K
Kb.
F–C–G–D–A–E–B–F –C
get.
linear
whole-tone
cyclic segments
pizz.
Alle 2. Vl.
pizz.
get.
pizz.
M
Alle Vln
get.
pizz.
M
pizz.
Vlc.
J
six-part canon vertical
(entries at major 3rds) perfect-4th
cyclic segments
example 13-9. Berg, Wozzeck, act 1, scene 4, “Passacaglia,” m. 620ff., five-note seg-
ment of whole-tone cycle supported by six-part canon based on array of interlocking
cyclic collections
on an array of linearly and vertically intersecting cyclic collections. While each string
line unfolds both whole-tone cycles in tetrachordal segments as well as complete scales,
all the strings are contrapuntally aligned in such a way as to permit a harmonic se-
quence of perfect-fourth cyclic segments. Furthermore, the sequence of canonic entry
pitches outlines the major-third cycle, F # –A # –D–F # – [F] – B b – D. Overlapping this
canon, the winds unfold a series of chords (at mm. 623– 637), the outer voices of the
winds (piccolo 1 and bass tuba) expanding in inversional motion in connection with
the Doctor’s most grandiose exclamations, “Oh my fame! I shall be immortal! Im-
mortal! Immortal!” These chords, most built on fourths, lead to the chorale-like final
variation (marked fortissimo) and the Doctor’s last cry for immortality.
These final variations, with their systematic and strict presentation of the inter-
val cycles, are a focus for earlier cyclic-interval development in connection with the
trend of the drama. The structure of the twelve-tone Passacaglia theme itself serves
as an essential unifying link in this development. The row can be partitioned into al-
ternating segments of the two whole-tone collections: E b –B–G-C #/C-F # –E–B b/A–F/
A b –D. However, the concluding three-note segment (F – A b – D), which forms an in-
complete cycle of minor thirds, often functions as a refrain element, a connecting link
between variations, and as a disruption of unfolding whole-tone successions. The
scene opens (m. 488 ff.) with a cello recitative statement of the Passacaglia theme,
which is obscured by the lengthy pitch reiterations in rubato style. This accompanies
the Doctor’s irregular speechlike vocal line, in which he scolds Wozzeck. The refrain
element (F – A b – D) is first brought out at the Doctor’s declamatory “Eh, Eh, Eh!”
which refers to his having caught Wozzeck coughing. A recognizable structure within
the otherwise irregular phrases is the “Jawohl” rhythm at Wozzeck’s “What sir? What,
Doctor?” and at the Doctor’s words, “you howled like a dog.” Then, the Doctor’s con-
ceit begins to be revealed in his statement, “You do not get paid every day for such an-
tics, Wozzeck!” which, in contrast to the preceding statements, is based on the first sys-
tematic occurrence of descending whole-tone tetrachords (G–F–E b –D b and B–A–
G –F). These are interlocked by a perfect-fourth cyclic segment (D b – G b – B). In the
remainder of the Doctor’s moralizing statements (to m. 495), vocal pitch adjacencies
form whole-tone extensions of the corresponding cyclic segments in the Passacaglia
theme, for example, B –A –G –F of the voice cyclically extends G – C #, then G # – F # –
D extends C – F # – E– B b to form the entire whole-tone collection, B b –C–D–E-F # –
G #, at the words, “This is bad! The world is bad, so bad!” Wozzeck’s reference to his
own lack of control, “When forced to that [coughing] by nature!” is then punctuated
by the disruptive cadential tones of the row in the cello (F – A b – D). The latter asso-
ciation is established further by the recurrence of this refrain figure in the viola (mm.
496 and 497), where the Doctor refers to “your nature!” and “ridiculus superstition.”
The Doctor then proceeds to the first of his explicitly grandiose statements (in
the second half of variation 1, m. 498 ff.), “Have I not proved quite clearly that the
muscles are subject to the human will?” This obvious reference to the need for strict-
ness and control is manifested in the accompanying stretto of whole-tone tetrachords
(ex. 13-10). The tritone G–C # of the Doctor’s vocal line is cyclically extended by one
of these tetrachords, D b –C b –B bb –G (bassoon), which is bounded by the same tritone.
The next stretto of whole-tone tetrachords (mm. 500–502) is then disrupted by the
cadential figure, F – A b –D, as the Doctor scolds Wozzeck for coughing. As the Doc-
tor shifts to a more “scientific” attitude toward the dietary experiments (Variations 2 –
3), the more “learned” character of the text is reflected in the voice. Here begins what
Perle refers to as “Berg’s secret art,” in which linear symmetries pervade the entire
vocal line.32
In connection with the Doctor’s growing conceit and his obsession with his strict
medical experiments, which reach a peak in the final variations, cyclic and symmet-
rical collections emerge from unobtrusive positions in irregularly organized contexts
to being more systematic, local, foreground events. The most prominent of these is
the whole-tone cycle, especially its derivative tetrachordal segments. As discussed
earlier, the basic transpositional level of the whole-tone tetrachord (B – D b – E b – F) is
significantly manifested in the “Murder” scene in connection with Wozzeck’s obses-
sion, or idee fixe.
( ( = ca 72)
I
3. Picc.
'
'
2. Fl.
1. Ob.
W.T. (F E
D
B)
Englh.
(4. Ob)
(W.T. cycle extended further)
1. Kl.
in B
W.T. (D
C
BF B)
1 Fg.
J
N
1. Hr. in F
O. D
" tritone (G C )
'
Dekt.
glau - be! Hab’ ich nicht nach - ge - wie - sen, daß das
sti - tion! Have I not proved quite clear - ly that the
( ( = ca 72)
I
Vla.
M '
Vlc.
()
Kb. J
example 13-10. Berg, Wozzeck, act 1, scene 4, “Passacaglia,” second half of Variation
1, m. 498ff., need for strictness and control manifested in stretto of whole-tone tetra-
chords, tritone G–C # of Doctor’s vocal line cyclically extended by tetrachord
D b–C b–B bb–G (bassoon), bounded by same tritone, next stretto of whole-tone tetra-
chords (mm. 500–502) disrupted by cadential figure, F–A b–D, as Doctor scolds
Wozzeck for coughing
The foregoing discussion of Berg’s opera is intended, on the one hand, to outline
only some of the dramatic functions of the formal organization and several represen-
tative thematic constructions. On the other hand, the detailed discussion of one as-
pect of pitch organization and progression (albeit an essential one) in connection with
the psychological development of certain characters is intended to provide some basic
insights into Berg’s musical thinking. It should be made clear that this work is based
on a multiplicity of melodic and harmonic pitch constructions, rhythms, and styles,
( ( = ca 80)
I
3. Picc.
2. Fl.
1. Ob.
Englh.
(4. Ob)
1. Kl.
in B
F
1 Fg.
J
N N
1. Hr. in F
O. D
" " wieder auffshrewd
flaring up again
'
Dekt.
Zwerch - fell dem Wil - len un - ter - wor - fen ist? Die Na -
mus - cles are sub - ject to the lai - man will? Nat - ure’s
( ( = ca 80)
I
Vla.
M
Vlc.
Kb.
J
"
example 13-10 (continued)
which defy any single approach to Berg’s idiom. While unity is provided by pervasive
use of leitmotif, strictly organized forms, and prominent interactions of certain cyclic-
interval formations (especially whole-tone formations), the work also includes such
contrasting features as mixed-interval and triadic constructions, atonal and tonal pas-
sages (though without the hierarchy of functions found in the major-minor scale sys-
tem), juxtaposition of Sprechtstimme and lyric vocal lines (e.g., as in Marie’s Bible-
reading scene), parlando and arioso vocal styles, instrumental writing in both chamber
and large orchestral textures, irregular, atonally organized phrasal constructions in
contrast to folklike symmetrical phraseology, and traditional classical forms that are
often mathematically strict in proportions, and in contrast to freely organized pas-
sages and sections.
Epilogue
he new musical language that emerged in the early twentieth century seems to
Thave been motivated, at least in part, by the need to reflect — even express — the
new literary, psychological, and philosophical principles that surfaced in the new art-
form of these symbolist operas. In my book on Bartók’s music, I explored the notion of
a generalized systematic approach to tonality and progression in his musical language,
and I also broached the subject in that of Debussy and other contemporary composers:
Part of the problem that has existed in determining the basic means of pitch organi-
zation in Bartók’s music is that there has been no theory, comparable to that of the
traditional tonal system, to draw together all pitch formations in his music under one
unified set of principles. Yet one senses in Bartók’s total output an all-encompassing
system of pitch relations.1
291
Preface
1. Igor Stravinsky, Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1936; New York: Nor-
ton, 1962), p. 52.
2. Letter (dated 18 April 1909) from Debussy to Edwin Evans, published for the first time
in Roger Nichols and Richard Langham Smith, Claude Debussy: “Pelléas et Mélisande” (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 184–186, appendix.
3. Marcel Schneider, “Symbolist Movement,” trans. Edouard Roditi, in The Symbolist
Movement in the Literature of European Languages: A Comparative History of Literatures in Euro-
pean Languages, ed. Anna Balakian (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1982; rev. ed. 1984), p. 473.
4. In psychology, synesthesia is “a process in which one type of stimulus produces a sec-
ondary, subjective sensation, as when a specific color evokes a specific smell sensation.” See
Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language, college ed.
5. Lawrence Gilman, in Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande”: A Guide to the Opera (New York:
G. Schirmer, 1907), p. 50, discusses this initial reception and controversy. Gilman also lists
(p. 47) the next several performances of Pelléas: the first took place outside of Paris at the
Théâtre de la Monnaie, Brussels (9 January 1907), the second at Frankfort (19 April 1907),
and the third was to be given at the Manhattan Opera House in New York shortly thereafter.
The original Paris cast included M. Jean Périer as Pelléas, Miss Mary Garden as Mélisande,
M. Vieuille as Arkel, M. Dufranne as Golaud, Mlle. Gerville-Réache as Geneviève, M. Blondin
as Le petit Yniold, and M. Viguié as Un Médicin, with M. André Messager as conductor, all
under M. Albert Carré as director of the Opéra-Comique.
6. See Gilman, Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande,” pp. 3– 4.
7. See Jann Pasler, “Pelléas and Power: Forces Behind the Reception of Debussy’s Opera,”
Nineteenth Century Music 10/3 (Spring 1987); repr. in Music at the Turn of the Century (Berke-
ley: University of California Press, 1990), p. 130.
8. See ibid. See also Romain Rolland, Musiciens d’Aujourd’hui, 17th ed. (Paris: Librairie
Hatchette, 1949), pp. 197–206, and Gilman, Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande,” p. 47.
9. See Léon Vallas, Claude Debussy: His Life and Works, trans. Maire and Grace O’Brien
(New York: Dover, 1973; orig. New York: Oxford University Press, 1933), pp. 125– 126.
10. See Elliott Antokoletz and George Perle, “Erwartung and Bluebeard,” Program Note
in Stagebill, for the performance by the New York Metropolitan Opera (16 January 1989).
295
11. Of the few studies devoted to Bartók’s opera, theoretic-analytical discussion of the
musical language itself has remained peripheral to dramaturgical considerations. Studies that
are based primarily on the theoretic-analytical approach include to some extent Sándor Veress,
“Bluebeard’s Castle,” Tempo (London) 13 (1949): 32– 38; reprinted in Béla Bartók: A Memor-
ial Review (New York: Boosey & Hawkes,1950), pp. 36–53, which addresses motivic- and
harmonic-symbolism, tonalities characterizing the door-scenes, musical expression, harmonic
construction, melodic style, and musical form; and Antokoletz, “Bartók’s Bluebeard: The
Sources of Its ‘Modernism,’” College Music Symposium 30/1 (Spring 1990): 75–95, which ex-
plores more intensively the fusion of impressionist musical techniques with the modal struc-
tures of Hungarian folk music, transformation of the latter into more abstract, symmetrical
(e.g., whole-tone) pitch relations, and the interaction of discrete pitch collections as the basis
for symbolic representation. Analysis focuses primarily on the new musical language itself, its
relation to the larger structure and design of the scenes, and how Bartók exploited the musical
principles to reflect the new dramatic symbolism. Studies focusing on history, dramaturgy, or
compositional process include György Kroó, “Duke Bluebeard’s Castle,” Studia Musicologica 1
(1961): 251 – 340, “Monothematik und Dramaturgie in Bartóks Bühnenwerken,” Studia Musi-
cologica 5/1 – 4 (1963): 449–467, “Adatok ‘A kekszakállú herceg vára’ keletkezéstörténetéhez”
[Some data on the genesis of Duke Bluebeard’s Castle]. Magyar zenetörténeti tanulmányok:
Szabolcsi Bence 70. születésnapjára (1969): 333 ff. (English translation in Studia Musicologica 23
[1981]: 79 – 123), “Opera: Duke Bluebeard’s Castle,” in The Bartók Companion, ed. Malcolm
Gillies (London: Faber and Faber, 1993; Portland, Ore.: Amadeus Press, 1994), pp. 349–359,
based on symbolic and dramaturgical interpretations as well as an account of the tonalities of
the scenes, harmonic construction derived from various folk- and art-music sources, motivic re-
currence and development as a significant source of the opera’s “symphonic” organic unity, and
discussion of the orchestral and vocal styles; and Carl S. Leafstedt, “Bluebeard as Theater: The
Influence of Maeterlinck and Hebbel on Balázs’s Bluebeard Drama,” in Bartók and His World,
ed. Peter Laki (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), pp. 119–148, and Inside
Bluebeard’s Castle: Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera (New York: Oxford University Press,
1999). All of these draw together a wide array of historical data that provide insight into the dra-
maturgical thought. Other such studies of the opera are found in The Stage Works of Béla Bartók,
ed. Nicholas John (New York: Riverrun; London: Calder, 1991), including Paul Banks, “Images
of the Self: Duke Bluebeard’s Castle”; Simon Broughton, “Bartók and World Music”; Keith
Bosley and Peter Sherwood, translators, “Annie Miller [The Ballad of Anna Molnár]”; Julian
Grant, “A Foot in Bluebeard’s Door”; Mike Ashman, “Around the Bluebeard Myth”; Thematic
Guide [to A kékszakállú herceg vára (Duke Bluebeard’s Castle)]; “‘A kékszakállú herceg vára’ li-
bretto by Béla Balázs”; and “‘Duke Bluebeard’s Castle’ translation by John Lloyd Davies.”
whelming Experience on Mind, Body, and Society, ed. Bessel A. Van der Kolk, Alexander C. Mac-
Farlane, and Lars Weisaeth (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), pp. 214– 241.
6. Maeterlinck, “On Women,” in The Treasure of the Humble, trans. Alfred Sutro (New
York: Dodd, Mead; London: George Allen, Ruskin House, 1902), pp. 77– 94. Originally pub-
lished in French as Le Trésor des Humbles (1897).
7. Judit Frigyesi, in Béla Bartók and Turn-of-the-Century Budapest (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1998), p. 196 ff., discusses the attitudes of these Hungarian artists in this era,
especially of men toward women, asserting that most men could not accept women as their
equals emotionally or intellectually. However, man’s stereotypic depictions of women in litera-
ture as despotic, demonic, destructive, or naive and childlike “did not necessarily guide his
everyday relation to women.”
8. See chap. 3, on trauma.
9. According to Marilyn Charles, “The Language of the Body: Allusions to Self-Experience
in Women’s Poetry,” Psychoanalytic Psychology 18/2 (Spring 2001): 346, “Art provides a means for
translating primary awareness into pattern form that can be used as a way of finding oneself.”
10. Van der Kolk, Traumatic Stress, pp. 227– 232.
11. See Herman Oppenheim, Die traumatische Neurosen (Berlin: Hirschwald, 1889), and
Eric J. Erichsen, On Railway and Other Injuries of the Nervous System (London: Walton and
Moberley, 1866) and On Concussion of the Spine, Nervous Shock, And Other Obscure Injuries to
the Nervous System in Their Clinical and Medico-Legal Aspects (New York: William Wood, 1886),
both referred to by van der Kolk, in Traumatic Stress, p. 48.
12. See H. Page, “Injuries of the Spine and Spinal Cord,” in Post-Traumatic Neuroses: From
Railroad Spine to Whiplash, ed. M. R. Trimble (London: J. Churchill, 1885), p. 29.
13. See van der Kolk, in Traumatic Stress, p. 48.
14. Comte’s third (Positivist) stage is particularly relevant to Charcot’s thought, in con-
trast to the second (metaphysical) stage. See n. 24.
15. Christopher G. Goetz, Michel Bonduelle, and Toby Gelfand, Charcot: Constructing
Neurology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 183.
16. Judith Herman, Workshop on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, New England Institute
(Summer 1990).
17. Goetz, Charcot, p. 184.
18. Ellenberger, “Pierre Janet and Psychological Analysis,” in The Discovery of the Uncon-
scious, p. 339.
19. Ellenberger, “Pierre Janet,” p. 364.
20. In Sigmund Freud and Josef Breuer, Studies on Hysteria, trans. and ed. James Strachey
(New York: Avon, 1966), pp. 37–52.
21. Ibid, p. 43.
22. Ibid, pp. xii – xiii, n. 2.
23. Philip Reiff, The Feeling Intellect: Selected Writings, ed. Jonathan B. Imber (Chicago:
Chicago University Press, 1990), p. 4.
24. Some insight into this development may be gleaned from a study of Auguste Comte’s
philosophical thought. In his discourse on social evolution, as presented in his Cours de philoso-
phie positive (Paris: La Société Positiviste, 1892– 1896; 1830– 1842); Eng. trans., The Course of
Positive Philosophy (New York: W. Gowans, 1868; 1853), Comte’s theory of intellectual devel-
opment is presented in what is described as the “Law of the Three Stages”: (1) theological, in
which cause is ascribed to supernatural forces; (2) metaphysical, in which cause is understood
in terms of metaphysical abstraction, or symbol (an object standing for something abstract);
and (3) positive, in which phenomena are understood by means of empirical data and the sci-
entific method (based on observation, hypotheses, and experimentation), that is, physical
nature and historical background based on that which can be measured. The reaction of sym-
bolist poets against the basic tenets of realism may be seen as a reversion from the third (posi-
tivist) stage to the second (metaphysical) stage of Comte’s Law. The Symbolist poets under the
influence of Baudelaire rebelled against the writings of those influenced by the Positivism of
Comte, whose objective and calculated approach to reality was replaced in literature by sym-
bolic representation. Moods and impressions were now simply suggested by the sounds and
rhythms of the poetic language. The new aesthetics of Mallarmé, Verlaine, and Rimbaud were
further developed in the poetry of LaForgue, Moreas, Regnier, and the dramas of Maeterlinck,
as well as in the writings of later symbolists, including Claudel, Valéry, Jammes, and Fort. This
symbolist trend in France, which was further developed in the discursive style of Proust, also
led to similar developments in all the arts.
25. Ibsen’s late plays together with the Wagnerian conception of music drama were the
first influences on the Symbolists in the theater.
26. Marcel Schneider, “Symbolist Movement,” trans. Edouard Roditi, in The Symbolist
Movement in the Literature of European Languages: A Comparative History of Literatures in Euro-
pean Languages, ed. Anna Balakian (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1982; rev. ed. 1984), p. 473.
27. See Balázs, Theory of the film, p. 151, cited by Joseph Zsuffa, in Béla Balázs, The Man
and the Artist (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), chap. 1, n. 5.
28. Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams, new trans. Joyce Crick (New York: Ox-
ford Univesity press, 1999).
29. Marie-Jean-Leon Hervey de Saint-Denis, Les Rèves et les moyens de les diriger (Paris:
Amyot, 1867), as cited by Ellenberger in The Discovery of the Unconscious, pp. 306– 308.
30. Ellenberger, “On the Threshold of a New Dynamic Psychiatry,” The Discovery of the
Unconscious, p. 306.
31. Frederik Van Eeden, De Nachtbruid (1909), Eng. [Link] von Auw, The Bride of
Dreams (New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1913), as cited by Ellenberger in The Discovery of the
Unconscious, p. 306.
32. Ibid., p. 783. Ellenberger provides documentation showing that Freud’s Interpretation
of Dreams was, upon publication, widely reviewed and well known on an international scale in
medical, psychiatric, psychological, and generally educated circles.
33. Sigmund Freud, “The Taboo of Virginity,” in Sexuality and the Psychology of Love, trans.
Joan Riviere (New York: Collier Books, 1963; Sammlung, Vierte Folge, 1918), pp. 84–85.
34. Herbert Bauer, Hebbel Frigyes pántragizmusa, mint a romantikus világnézlet eredménye
(Friedrich Hebbel’s Pan-Tragicness, as the Result of the Romantic Worldview) (Budapest:
Franklin Társulat, 1909).
35. György Lukács, “The Metaphysics of Tragedy,” in Soul and Form, trans. Anna Bostock
(London: Merlin, 1978), p. 156.
36. Lukács, “Esztétikay Kultura” (Aesthetic culture), in Ifjkuri művek (1902–1918)
[Youthful Works], ed. Arpad Timar (Budapest: Magvető, 1977), pp. 434– 435, cited by Frigyesi,
Béla Bartók, p.164.
37. Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle: Music and Drama in Bartók’s Opera (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 19–20.
38. Schneider, “Symbolist Movement,” p. 471.
39. “Pelléas and Gil Blas: Claudine and Monsieur Croche,” Debussy on Music: The Criti-
cal Writings of the Great French Composer, collected and introduced by François Lesure, trans.
and ed. Richard Langham Smith (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1977), p. 67.
40. Daniel N. Stern, The Interpersonal World of the Infant: A View from Psychoanalysis and
Developmental Psychology (New York: Basic Books, 1985), p. 155.
41. As Debussy reacted against the aesthetics of his colleagues at the Conservatoire, he
sought other artistic ties by entering into the orbit of the Symbolist poets and Impressionist
painters who met at Stéphane Mallarmé’s and frequented the cafés. Those who constituted De-
bussy’s new circle of friends were Paul Verlaine, Henri de Regnier, Maurice Vaucaire, Pierre
Louÿs, André Gide, James Whistler, Claude Monet, Pierre Auguste Renoir, Alfred Sisley,
Camille Pissarro, Édouard Manet, Edgar Dégas, and Jacques-Emile Blanche.
42. See “Richard Wagner, Revery of a French Poet,” Revue Wagnérienne (Geneve: Slatkine
Reprints, 1968), as cited by Arthur B. Wenk, Claude Debussy and Twentieth-Century Music
(Boston: Twayne, 1983), pp. 35–36.
43. Wenk, Claude Debussy, p. 36.
44. As quoted in Léon Vallas, Claude Debussy: His Life and Works, trans. Maire and Grace
O’Brien (New York: Dover Publications, 1973; original publication, New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1933), p. 52.
45. See the interview by Robert de Flers, “Pelléas et Mélisande: A Reply to the Critics,” Le
Figaro (16 May 1902), in Debussy on Music, p. 80.
46. This general term has been applied to French operas that do not readily fit into the
categories of opéra comique or grand opéra.
47. An interval cycle is a series based on a single recurrent interval (e.g., as in the whole-
tone cycle, cycle of fifths, etc.), the sequence being completed by the return of the initial pitch
at the octave. The entire set of uni-intervallic cycles is outlined in Elliott Antokoletz, The
Music of Béla Bartók: A Study of Tonality and Progression in Twentieth-Century Music (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1984), p. 68.
48. Schneider, “Symbolist Movement,” p. 474. Insight into Debussy’s position with regard
to Wagner and the new aesthetic developments in France is also provided by Erik Satie’s claim,
in one of his lectures, that “he explained to Debussy the need a Frenchman has to free himself
from the Wagnerian venture, which didn’t respond to our natural aspirations. . . . Why could
we not use the means that Claude Monet, Cezanne, Toulouse-Lautrec and others had made
known? Why could we not transpose these means into music?” While there is no evidence that
Debussy was affected consciously by the Impressionist painters, Satie’s statement does draw our
attention to Debussy’s “Wagnerian venture” as well as his reaction against the German late-
Romantic tradition in general.
49. Debussy, “Pelléas et Mélisande: A Reply to the Critics,” pp. 80– 81. By belittling Wag-
ner’s use of the leitmotif as the “calling card” type, Debussy was in reality oversimplifying
Wagner’s complexities. It is, paradoxically, in this more complex conception of Wagner’s music
dramas that Debussy’s own approach to the leitmotif technique in Pelléas finds its most direct
reference.
50. Edward Lockspeiser, Debussy (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1936; rev. J. M. Dent, 1963),
p. 209.
51. Anna Balakian, Literary Origins of Surrealism: A New Mysticism in French Poetry (New
York: New York University Press, 1947; rev. ed. 1966), p. 97, as cited in René Wellek, “What
is Symbolism?” in The Symbolist Movement in the Literature of European Languages, pp. 26–27.
52. Péter Pór, “The Symbolist Turn in Endre Ady’s Poetry,” in The Symbolist Movement in
the Literature of European Languages, p. 366.
53. André Beaunier, Le poésie nouvelle (Paris, 1920), p. 14.
54. Richard Langham Smith, “Tonalities of Darkness and Light,” in Roger Nichols and
Richard Langham Smith, Claude Debussy: Pelléas et Mélisande (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1989), p. 108.
55. Henri de Régnier, “Poètes d’aujourd’hui et poèsie de demain,” in Mercure de France,
35 (1900): 342. “Un symbole est, en effet, une comparaison et une identité de l’abstrait au con-
cret, comparaison dont l’un des termes reste sous-entendu.”
56. Jan Mukaŕovsky, Kapitoly z ceské poetiky (Prague, 1948), vol. 2, p. 220.
57. René Wellek, “What is Symbolism?” in The Symbolist Movement in the Literature of Eu-
ropean Languages, p. 26.
58. These two types of signs have been described as follows: “Those [signs] are natural
which, without any desire or intention of signifying, make us aware of something beyond them-
selves, like smoke which signifies fire,” whereas “conventional signs are those which living crea-
tures show to one another for the purpose of conveying, in so far as they are able, the motion
of their spirits or something which they have sensed or understood.” St. Augustine, in On
Christian Doctrine, trans. D.W. Robertson, Jr. (Indianapolis and New York: Bobbs-Merrill,
1958), p. 34.
59. Matte Blanco’s concept of the unconscious as infinite sets offers a plausible explana-
tion for this association. See my discussion in chap. 4 of how Matte Blanco’s concept is helpful
in understanding Debussy’s depiction of the polarities of fate versus human, unconscious ver-
sus conscious. See Ignacio Matte Blanco, The Unconscious as Infinite Sets: An Essay in Bi-Logic
(London: Duckworth, 1975), p. 106.
60. Theodor W. Adorno, Philosophy of Modern Music, trans. Anne G. Mitchell and Wes-
ley V. Blomster (New York: Seabury, 1973), pp. 155– 156.
61. Ibid., p. 156.
62. Paulin Limayrac, “La Poèsie symboliste et socialiste,” Revue des Deux Mondes, N.S. 5
(1844): 669 – 682. See also Judit Frigyesi, Béla Bartók and Turn-of-the-Century Budapest, p. 98,
who cites Balázs’s devotion to the Communist Party, these activities, like those of the other
Hungarian modernists, leading him away from his immediate environment and profession, as
did Bartók’s and Kodály’s turn toward folk-music investigation.
24. These intervallic indications have no relation to Ernő Lendvai’s terminology for his
interval “Models,” since he infers Golden Section significance, while I interpret these interval-
lic relations exclusively in terms of the interval cycles.
25. Bartók, “Harvard Lectures,” pp. 379–381.
26. The major seventh chord, with either minor third or major third, has special leitmo-
tivic significance in Bartók’s opera, as will be discussed in later chapters.
27. See János Kárpáti, “Alternatív struktúrák Bartók Kontrasztok című művében” [Alter-
native structures in Bartók’s Contrasts], Zeneelmélet, stíluselemzés (Budapest: Zeneműkiadó,
1977), pp. 103 – 108; also published in English in Studia Musicologica 23 (1981): 201– 207. See
also Kárpáti, “Tonal Divergences of Melody and Harmony,” Studia Musicologica 24 (1982):
373 –374, for further discussion based on the “chain of thirds” phenomenon.
28. In a more recent study, Alicja Usarek, in “The Genesis and Fate of Béla Bartók’s 1907
Violin Concerto” (D.M.A. diss., the University of Texas at Austin, 2000), pp. 85– 94, suggests
that the “chain of thirds” is employed as a nonfunctional vehicle for leitmotivic progression.
29. See Kárpáti, Bartók’s String Quartets, trans. Fred Macnicol (Budapest: Corvina Press,
1975), p. 233; revised and enlarged as Bartók’s Chamber Music, trans. Fred Macnicol and Mária
Steiner, trans. rev. Paul Merrick (Stuyvesant, N.Y.: Pendragon Press, 1994), p. 376.
30. Kárpáti, in “Tonal Divergences,” p. 374, presents the notion of “dual degrees” as a
source for such conflicts.
31. See Antokoletz, “Bartók’s Bluebeard: The Sources of Its Modernism,” College Music
Symposium 30/1 (Spring 1990): 79–80 and 83.
32. See Zoltán Kodály, “Béla Bartók,” La Revue Musicale 2, no. 5 (March 1921): 213.
33. See n. 3 earlier.
34. Debussy, “Pelléas et Mélisande: A Reply to the Critics (Interview by Robert de Flers),”
Le Figaro (16 May 1902); originally in Monsieur Croche et autres écrits (Paris: Editions Gallimard,
1971; see the translation, Debussy on Music: The Critical Writings of the Great Composer, ed.
François Lesure, trans. and ed. Richard Langham Smith (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1977;
Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1977), p. 80.
4. Rainer Maria Rilke, “Maurice Maeterlinck,” in Oeuvres en prose, recits et essais, ed.
Claude David (Paris: Gallimard, 1993), p. 717.
5. Maeterlinck, “Preface au theâtre de 1901,” in Oeuvres, ed. P. Gorceix t.I (Bruxelles:
Complexe, 1899), p. 495.
6. Social discontent was reflected in the grumblings of the anarchist movement, the or-
ganization of workers, and the women’s demands for universal suffrage. Steven Huebner, in
French Opera at the Fin de Siècle: Wagnerism, Nationalism, and Style (New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1999), p. 454, discusses Charpentier’s use of an anarchist theme in his opera, Louise.
7. Both Janet and Freud had extensive training in philosophy and the classics as this was
part of the graduate education of the time. Their theories about what they observed in their pa-
tients was informed by their knowledge in these areas. See Henri F. Ellenberger, The Discovery
of the Unconscious: The History and Evolution of Dynamic Psychiatry (New York: Basic Books,
1970), pp. 209 and 337.
8. See Susan Youens, “An Unseen Player: Destiny in Pelléas et Mélisande,” in Arthur Groos
and Roger Parker, Reading Opera (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 60–
66 and 88. See also Carl Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1999), p. 48.
9. It is interesting that Jeremy Tambling, in Opera and the Culture of Fascism (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1996), p. 3, see also pp. 1–24, sees the nineteenth century as a primeval land-
scape for “fascism,” which he says is “to revert out of fear of the critical self-consciousness into
pure, spontaneous action.” For Tambling, fascism (spelled with a lowercase “f”) is not confined
to the specific historical period traditionally from 1923 to 1945 in which Fascism (with an
uppercase “F”) threatened to conquer the world. “Fascism” (uppercase “F”) was the epitomy of
narcissistic pathology developed into its most pathological extremes.
10. The stories teach us, in synchrony with current developments in psychoanalysis, that
the therapeutic task remains incomplete if it only assists the patient in becoming aware of his
primitive and archaic sexual lust or unprocessed traumatic memories. It is also necessary to
help the patient understand and modify the primitive psychological defenses developed as a re-
sponse to trauma.
11. Loosely organized private armies of former German imperial soldiers, anticommu-
nists, and other groups that existed in Germany after World War I; see Anson Rabinbach and
Jessica Benjamin, foreword to Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies, vol. 2 (Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press, 1989), pp. xiv–xv.
12. See ibid., pp. xix and xx.
13. Jessica Benjamin, The Bonds of Love: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and the Problem of Dom-
ination (New York: Pantheon Books, 1988), pp.187– 189. See also Lynne Layton, “Trauma,
Gender Identity, and Sexuality: Discourses in Fragmentation,” in Peter L. Rudnytsky and An-
drew M. Gordon, eds., Psychoanalyses/Feminisms (Albany: State University of New York Press,
2000), p. 219.
14. Benjamin, The Bonds of Love, p. 224.
15. Nancy J. Chodorow, Feminism and Psychoanalytic Theory (New Haven, Conn.: Yale
University Press, 1989), pp. 23 –44.
16. See Layton, “Trauma,” p. 216, and David Lisak, “Sexual Aggression, Masculinity, and
Fathers,” Signs 16/2 (Winter 1991): 238– 262, and “Gender Development and Sexual Abuse in
lives of Men,” unpublished paper presented at the conference on Trauma and its Sociocultural
Context, the University of Massachusetts (1992).
17. Layton, “Trauma,” p. 216.
18. Judit Frigyesi, in “In Search of Meaning in Context: Bartók’s Duke Bluebeard’s Castle,”
Current Musicology 70 (Fall 2000): 27, argues that Bluebeard ends in “beautiful loneliness.” I
will offer an alternative view in my analysis of Bluebeard.
19. Daniel D. Stern, The Interpersonal World of the Infant: A view from Psychoanalysis and
Developmental Psychology (New York: Basic Books, 1985), p. 11.
20. See ibid., p. 54. Stern’s description of these states of being that coexist with the ver-
bal self and have nonverbal means of encoding and expressing experiences seems to validate
the notion that music (probably more akin to the emergent self, which experiences rhythm and
vitality) has its own syntax that is parallel to, but not identical to, language syntax. It is signifi-
cant that Debussy’s composition of Pelléas was a statement against Wagner’s desire to integrate
music and words in a common language.
21. See Maeterlinck, “Silence,” in The Treasure of the Humble, trans. Alfred Sutro, with
introduction by A.B. Walkley (New York: Dodd, Mead; London: George Allen, Ruskin House,
1902), p. 15.
22. Bessel A. van der Kolk, “Trauma and Memory,” eds. Bessel A. van der Kolk, Alexan-
der C. McFarlane, Lars Weisaeth (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), pp 293–296.
23. Daniel Stern, Beatrice Beebe, Joseph Jaffe, and Stephen Bennett, “The Infant’s stim-
ulus World During Social Interaction: A Study of Caregiver Behaviors with Particular Refer-
ence to Repetition and Timing,” in H. R. Schaffer, ed., Studies in Mother-Infant Interaction (Lon-
don: Academic Press, 1977), pp. 177–193.
24. Daniel N. Stern, The Interpersonal World of the Infant (New York: Basic Books, 1985),
pp. 174– 182.
25. From the point of view of society at large, language also may be used to enforce soci-
etal norms. Censorship of free speech is one of the first steps that occur in totalitarian regimes.
In more subtle ways, society rules are encoded in the “politically correct” unwritten norms for
what and how opinions may be expressed. This is true in formal situations as well as in the area
of intimate relationships. For example, Herbert Marcuse, as quoted in the introduction to
Theodor W. Adorno, Essays on Music, ed. Richard Leppert, trans. Susan H. Gillespie (Berke-
ley: University of California Press, 2002), p. 67, suggests that Adorno’s difficult prose may be
his resistance to social oppression: “Ordinary language, ordinary prose . . . expresses so much of
the control and manipulation over the individual by the power structure, that in order to coun-
teract this process you have to indicate already in the language your use of the necessary rup-
ture with conformity.”
26. Letter to L’Art moderne (29 November 1981), p. 380, cited by W. D. Halls, in Maurice
Maeterlinck (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960), p. 31.
27. Georges Rodenbach, Le Rouet des brumes (Paris: Sâeguier, 1900), p. 210.
28. Maeterlinck, Bulles Bleues (souvenirs heureux) (Monaco: Éditions du Rocher, 1948),
p. 128.
29. Halls, Maeterlinck, p. 9. Halls also discusses (p. 6) how, as a child, he went through
successive tutors because his mother dismissed many of them as result of his father’s amorous
advances to them. This was bound to create tension for the young Maeterlinck.
30. Maeterlinck, “On Women,” in The Treasure of the Humble, p. 92. See also Adorno, Es-
says on Music, pp. 64 – 65: “The splinter in your eye is the best magnifying glass. . . . Seeing now
is not a matter of optical mechanics but insight, the driving force behind which in this instance
is pain.”
31. See chap. 4, n. 16.
32. See Maeterlinck, “On Women,” pp. 83 –84.
33. See discussion later of the possible meaning of women “not falling from grace.” Ben-
jamin, in The Bonds of Love, p. 246, n. 4, indicates that Wilhelm Reich in his writings on fas-
cism viewed society as repressing instinct, and so, defended instinct against culture. See Reich,
The Mass Psychology of Fascism (1933) (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1970) and “What Is
Class Consciousness?” in Sex-Pol: Essays, 1929–1934.
that Debussy briefly considered a woman for Pelléas’s role (See Lockspeiser, Debussy, p. 85) and
that Sarah Bernhardt acted the role of Pelléas in Maeterlinck’s play in London, in 1904 (see
Smith, Pelléas et Mélisande, p. 5).
55. Nichols, “Synopsis,” in Nichols and Smith, Pelléas et Mélisande, p. 75.
56. Pelléas as well as the reader, already has evidence that Mélisande was capable of mak-
ing up stories to avoid telling the truth, as when she fabricated in detail the story about how
she lost her ring.
57. The difficulties of Melisande’s character to experience real human closeness and
openness to intimacy may have been accurately expressed by Mary Garden’s interpretation of
the role. A review of her portrayal of Melisande published in Le Figaro read: “Miss Garden
makes the best of the role of Melisande. Her voice is very attractive, and if her personality ap-
pears a little cold, it is because the part demands it.” See Michael Turnbull, “Mary Garden”
(Portland, Ore.: Amadeus Press, 1997), p. 34; Le Figaro, 1 May 1902.
58. Joseph Zsuffa, Béla Balázs: The Man and the Artist (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1987), p. 32.
59. Ibid., p. 27. Balázs wanted his diary to reflect his developing self and to dissect his view
of life. Zsuffa, Balázs’s biographer, indicates that “the anguished cry, ‘I must find myself’,”
echoes through his diary. At age twenty-six, Balázs had completed a doctorate in German phil-
ology with aesthetics and philosophy as minors (completed in German in 1908), was working
actively in developing a career as a writer, and many of his poems and essays had been published
in a new liberal literary review, Nyugat (West), highly respected in literary circles.
60. See Zsuffa, Béla Balázs, p.31.
61. Ibid., p. 32.
62. Ibid., p. 42.
63. Magyar Zenetörténeti Tanulmónyok 4. Kodály Zoltán Emlékére, ed. Ferenc Bónis (Bu-
dapest: Zeneműkiadó, 1977), p. 33, as cited by Zsuffa, Béla Balázs, p. 36.
64. Included in the first volume of Balázs’s collected poems, The Wanderer Sings, pub-
lished in 1911. See Zsuffa, Béla Balázs, p. 37.
65. See Diary, MS 5023/16,13–14, as cited by Judit Frigyesi, in Béla Bartók and Turn-of-
the-Century Budapest (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), p. 197.
66. Balázs’s involvement in activities that challenged the social system created problems
throughout his life (e.g., he lost one of his best friends during early adolescence because he sup-
ported an opposing political candidate rather than his friends; he created community turmoil
when he warned workers of a reprisal by employers in his home town of Szeged). His activities
also caused his later exile from his native Hungary. When he had to leave Vienna to escape
Nazi persecution, he chose to go to war-threatened Russia, where he would continue to pursue
his socialist ideals rather than the more stable shelter in the United States. The choice of a con-
ventional versus a challenging life was also illustrated in his works; for example, Dr. Margit
Szélpál, the heroine of one of his plays written in Berlin around 1906, is torn between follow-
ing her vocation in science or pursuing a conventional, monotonous life. See Zsuffa, Béla
Balázs, p. 33.
67. See “Duke Bluebeard’s Castle, Notes on the Text by Béla Balázs, Circa 1915,” Eng.
trans. Carl Leafstedt from the Hungarian translation (for inclusion in Balázs, Balázs Béla:
Válogatott cikkek, 34 – 37) of the original German, in Carl Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle:
Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 202.
68. Balázs’s actual family name was Bauer.
69. Zsuffa, Béla Balázs, p. 12.
70. Ibid., p. 3. The legendary story of his father’s unknown roots—allegedly, his great-
grandfather had been found as a baby, swaddled in “fine linen with a silver taler under his shirt,”
92. Susan McClary, in Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality (Minneapolis: Uni-
versity of Minnesota Press, 1991), p. 3, suggests that the conflict between Judith and Bluebeard
is fueled by Bluebeard’s self-serving patriarchal demands and Judith’s inability to submit to them.
93. Claire Kahane, “The Woman with a Knife and a Chicken without a Head: Fantasms
of Rage and Emptiness,” in Psychoanalyses/Feminisms, ed. Peter L. Rudnytsky and Andrew M.
Gordon (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000), p. 184. For Irigaray, see The Specu-
lum of the Other Woman, trans. Gillian C. Gill (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), p. 42.
94. J. Whitebook, “Reflections on the Autonomous Individual and Decentered Subject,”
American Imago 49 (1992): 97–116.
95. See Otto Kernberg, Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism (New York: Jason
Aronson, 1975), p. 282.
96. Benjamin, in The Bonds of Love, p. 221, suggests that the notion of an autonomous
person denies the mutual dependency between men and women. Acknowledgment of mutual
dependency and recognition suggests an alternative to either submission or domination in gen-
der relationships.
97. Lukács, “Diaries, 27–28 April 1910,” in Mary Gluck, Georg Lukács and His Genera-
tion, 1900 – 1918 (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1985), p. 126.
98. Letter from Lukács to Irma Seidler (22 March 1910), in Gluck, Georg Lukács, p. 127.
Kadarkay notes that Lukács sent Irma an inscribed copy of Soul and Form and a copy of a book
celebrating erotic love through Balázs who visited Lukács in Florence in April 1911, one month
prior to Irma’s suicide. Kadarkay suggests that Lukács’s gifts were “a prelude to tragedy” because
they may have inadvertently led to Balázs’s involvement with Irma and to her suicide (p. 118).
99. See Agnes Heller, Lukács Revalued (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1983), p. 30.
100. See Balázs, “Baratsag,” in Csend (Budapest: Magvető, 1985), p. 223, cited by
Kadarkay, in Georg Lukács, Life, Thought and Politics, p. 127.
101. Zsuffa, Béla Balázs, p. 44. Kadarkay refers to the close association of the protago-
nists of the play to Lukács, Balázs and Seidler. He also refers to Lukács’s indictment of Balázs’s
responsibility for Irma’s death in Lukács’s essay, “The Judgment”; see Kadarkay, Georg Lukács,
p. 122.
102. Kadarkay, Georg Lukács, p. 132.
103. See ibid., p.131 (Béla Balázs to Lukács, 21 June 1915, LAK [Philosophical Institute
of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Lukács Archive and Library], Budapest). Although the
incident that is alluded to in this letter as well as Irma’s suicide occurred after Balázs wrote the
Bluebeard play, his pattern of casual and reckless involvement with women preceded the writ-
ing of the play.
104. Kadarkay refers to Lukács’s use of the Hungarian folk-ballad, Kőműves Kelemen, in
which the masons entomb a woman alive in a castle they are building because they believe
human blood is stronger than cement (p. 129).
105. See Kahane, “The Woman with a Knife,” p. 183.
106. Ernest Wolf, Treating the Self (New York: Guilford Press, 1988), p. 185.
107. See Jeremy Tambling, Opera and the Culture of Fascism (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1996), p. 23. Tambling suggests that this dark side of modernism has been credited with the
arousal of fascism. The liberal bourgeois was willing to give up the rational values of the En-
lightenment for national unity. Accordingly, fascism is viewed as a refusal to accept the con-
tradictions and uncertainties of modernity, which may be expressed in a sense of entitlement
for spontaneous action without regard for established norms of human behavior.
108. Heinz Kohut, How does Analysis cure? ed. Arnold Goldberg (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1984), pp. 65– 66.
109. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans. Leon Roudiez (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1982), pp. 1–9.
11. Jules Emile van Ackere, “Pelléas et Mélisande” ou la rencontre miraculeuse d’une poésie
et d’une musique (Bruxelles: Les Editions de la Librairie Encyclopedique, 1952), p. 22. One may
perhaps agree with Ackere (p. 44) that, because of these musical characteristics, it is difficult
to assign precise meanings to the leitmotifs in Pelléas. Such ambiguity has led to different in-
terpretations by scholars in their analyses of the opera. These divergences in interpretation will
be cited and evaluated at the appropriate points in this study.
12. See Debussy, “Why I Wrote Pelléas,” in Debussy on Music, p. 74.
13. See Richard Langham Smith, “Motives and Symbols,” in Claude Debussy: “Pelléas et
Mélisande,” p. 85.
14. Maurice Maeterlinck, “On Women,” The Treasure of the Humble, trans. Alfred Sutro
(New York: Dodd, Mead; London: George Allen, Ruskin House, 1902), p. 85.
15. For these and other convincing assignments of the basic motifs of the opera, see
Lawrence Gilman, Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande”: A Guide to the Opera (New York: Schirmer,
1907). Gilman’s motivic designations are adhered to throughout the present study. Other de-
tailed surveys of Debussy’s motifs are given, for instance, by Emmanuel, in Pelléas et Mélisande,
pp. 95–210, and Mary Jeanne van Appledorn, “A Stylistic Study of Claude Debussy’s Opera
Pelléas et Mélisande” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Rochester, Eastman School of Music,
1966), pp. 407 – 434.
16. Cited page and measure numbers in the present study refer to the reprint edition
(New York: Edwin F. Kalmus, n.d.) of the 1907 publication of the piano-vocal score, which is
used for practical reasons of availability. One should also keep on hand the orchestral-vocal
score of the opera (New York: Dover Publications, 1985) to facilitate the analytical references
to instrumentation. David Grayson points out, in The Genesis of Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande”
(Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1986), p. 199 ff., that “the opera’s complex publication his-
tory has considerably complicated the task of determining which score is the most authorita-
tive source for the vocal parts. . . . The question is crucial here in order simply to determine for
any given passage which of two divergent readings represents the original and which, the revi-
sion. The issue cannot just be settled by the chronology of publication dates.” One might add
that this question extends beyond the vocal parts of the various publications. Comparison of
the various published editions of the vocal score (1902, 1905 rev., and 1907) and the full orches-
tral score (1904) reveals differences in the area of enharmonic pitch spellings, among others.
17. See Gilman, Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande”: A Guide to the Opera, p. 58.
18. Emmanuel, Pelléas et Mélisande, pp. 135– 136, in which this motif is associated with
both Fate and Golaud, whereas Arthur B. Wenk, in Claude Debussy and Twentieth-Century
Music (Boston: Twayne, 1983), pp. 38–39 (especially example 10), identifies the motif with
Golaud, its altered form with the wedding ring that Golaud will give to Mélisande.
19. Grayson, The Genesis of Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande,” pp. 235–236; see also his exx.
2b and 3, the original and the new “Golaud” motifs, respectively.
20. Smith, “Motives and Symbols,” p. 95.
21. The English translation of the opera’s French libretto, which is based on the original
Maeterlinck play, is that of Jean-Claude Poyet, translation Decca 1991 (Orchestre sympho-
nique de Montréal, directed by Charles Dutoit). This literal translation is used in this study
more for purposes of music-text analysis than for its poetic value. In contrast, the English trans-
lation given in the Kalmus piano-vocal score edition, cited above, is not used here because it
does not provide a direct literal translation of the Maeterlinck text, but rather a more poetic
approach designed to capture the atmosphere if not the precise meaning of Maeterlinck’s lines.
This “singing” translation is also designed to facilitate vocal performance.
22. See Perle’s statement regarding symmetrical formations, in Serial Composition and
Atonality, in n. 1.
23. René Terrasson, “Pelléas et Mélisande,” ou l’initiation (Paris, 1982), p. 25.
20. Whole-tone transformations of complete dominant ninths in this crucial scene will
be discussed later in more depth.
21. Mélisande’s hair becomes the primary object of act 3, scene 1 (p. 127 ff.), which is the
most seductive, sensual scene of the opera.
22. See Wenk, Claude Debussy, p. 44.
23. Maeterlinck, “On Women,” The Treasure of the Humble, p. 84.
24. We also learn from the next scene (p. 77) that Golaud had fallen from his horse at
noon, precisely the moment that Mélisande’s ring had fallen into the well. The beast that Go-
laud was hunting was thus set free by Golaud’s accident.
25. See Ignacio Matte-Blanco, The Unconscious as Infinite Sets: An Essay in Bi-Logic (Lon-
don: Duckworth, 1975), pp. 160–61.
26. Maeterlinck, “On Women,” p. 82.
27. Ibid., pp. 83 – 84.
28. We know this from Maeterlinck’s Ariane et Barbe-bleue.
29. Maurice Denis, Henri Lerolle et ses amis (Paris, 1932), p. 32.
30. Maeterlinck, “The Star,” p. 128.
31. Debussy Letters, eds. François Lesure and Roger Nichols, trans. Roger Nichols (Cam-
bridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1987), p. 62; originally published as Claude Debussy:
Lettres, 1884 – 1918 (Paris: Hermann, 1980).
32. Maeterlinck, “The Deeper Life,” pp. 195–196.
33. Maeterlinck, “On Women,” p. 78.
34. Maeterlinck, “The Pre-Destined,” p. 51.
35. It is also significant that this reiterated note (D) is the opening tonic note of the
opera.
36. According to Debussy’s close friend, G. Jean-Aubry, the musical ideas of the Symbol-
ist Jules Laforgue, poet of Pan et la Syrinx, were considered essential to Debussy’s aesthetics. See
Debussy on Music: The Critical Writings of the Great Composer, ed. François Lesure, trans. and
ed. Richard Langham Smith (New York: Knopf, 1977; Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press,
1977) pp. 97 – 98, n. 1.
37. It is striking that in the legends of Pan and Mélusine, both creatures are half-human
and half-animal. By means of symbolical association with these legends, one could assume that
physical consummation of the love between Pelléas and Mélisande does not occur.
38. Giovacchini, in A Narrative Textbook, p. 17, refers to the laws of the unconscious (as
opposed to the laws that govern coherent, rational thought), according to which everything
has a purpose.
39. Lawrence Kramer, Music as Cultural Practice, 1800– 1900 (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1990), p. 22 ff. See also Smith, “Tonalities of Darkness and Light,” chap. 5.
40. Kramer, Music as Cultural Practice, p. 30.
“As a result, the motive appears in the opera without its dramatic raison d’être: the reverbera-
tion of a sentiment that has been left unexpressed. Once again, the key to unlocking the mys-
tery has been shrouded in silence.” Thus, the compositional “accident” itself evokes a symbolic
meaning for the motif which, incidentally, “was not part of the original draft but was added,
both within the scene and in the interlude, as a revision.” In any case, the final form of the
opera is, to use a truism, the composer’s final decision, so that all elements become part of
the symbolic message as they stand and must be considered as such.
3. Maurice Maeterlinck, “Cross Correspondence,” in Our Eternity, trans. Alexander Tei-
xeira de Mattos (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1913), p. 142.
4. Ibid., p. 135.
5. According to Sir William Crookes, in his article in the Quarterly Journal of Science
(1874), as quoted by Maeterlinck, “Cross Correspondence,” p. 142, “The difference between
the advocates of Psychic Force and the Spiritualists consists in this —we contend that there is
as yet insufficient proof of any other directing agent than the Intelligence of the Medium, and
no proof whatever of the agency of Spirits of the Dead. . . . Thus the controversy resolves itself
into a pure question of fact, only to be determined by a laborious and long-continued series of
experiments and an extensive collection of psychological facts.”
6. Maeterlinck, “Cross Correspondence,” p. 144– 145.
7. Arthur B. Wenk, in Claude Debussy and Twentieth-Century Music (Boston: Twayne,
1983), p. 42, asserts that “The harmonic blankness of the whole-tone scale renders it particu-
larly appropriate to represent fear, confusion, dread, all of which convey a certain paralysis and
immobility.” Wenk demonstrates that Debussy’s use of pedal points plays a similar role in cre-
ating a sense of staticism in connection with appropriate situations. Pedal points are used to re-
flect entrapment or a sense of imprisonment: Golaud pinned beneath his horse (act 2), Méli-
sande’s hair caught in the branches (act 3), Yniold’s complaint about the immovable rock (act
4), symbolization of the stagnant water in the castle vaults, and so on. Wenk also significantly
identifies Debussy’s use of pedal in connection with the “immobility of waiting,” as when Arkel
refers to fate (act 1), when Pelléas and Mélisande wait for Golaud’s fatal attack on them (act
4), and when the characters face the immobility of death—tremolo pedal at Pelléas’s violent
death (act 4) and quiet pedal at Mélisande’s peaceful death (act 5).
8. Béla Bartók, “Harvard Lectures,” in Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Benjamin Suchoff (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976), pp. 379–381.
9. Although D moves up to D # at these two cadential points in the arabesque, the D #,
which is prominent in the “Night” motif and its cadence, is replaced in the recitative by the
pentatonic note D, so a descent is suggested on the more background level. In the dotted-quarter
ostinato of the ritournelle that punctuates Pelléas’s appearance (p. 117, mm. 6–7), we get a
foreground-level manifestation of these relations (in enharmonic spelling, D # –Cx–C #).
10. Wenk, Claude Debussy, p. 41.
11. Wenk, Claude Debussy , pp. 41– 42.
12. Smith, “Tonalities of Darkness and light,” p. 112.
13. Maurice Maeterlinck, “The Deeper Life,” in The Treasure of the Humble, trans. Alfred
Sutro (New York: Dodd, Mead; London: George Allen, Ruskin House, 1902), p. 180.
14. Debussy, “Why I wrote Pelléas,” (April 1902), originally in Monsieur Croche et autres
écrits (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1971; see the translation, Lesure, ed., Debussy on Music, p. 75.
15. Debussy, “Pelléas et Mélisande: A Reply to the Critics (Interview by Robert de Flers),”
Le Figaro (May 16, 1902); in Debussy on Music, pp. 79 –80.
16. See Kramer’s conception of “expressive doublings,” in Music as Cultural Practice
1800– 1900 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p. 22 ff., as discussed in chap. 5.
17. Wenk, Claude Debussy, p. 42.
15. Such attempts are exemplified in the rhetorical symbolism of the German late
Baroque aesthetic theory known as the Affektenlehre, or in the more ambiguous associations
found in program music of the nineteenth century.
16. Wenk, Claude Debussy and the Poets (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976),
p. 274.
17. Ibid., p. 275.
1. Theodor W. Adorno, Philosophy of Modern Music, trans. Anne G. Mitchell and Wesley
V. Blomster (New York: Seabury Press, 1973), pp. 155–156, and the corresponding discussion
in chap. 1.
2. The English translation of the original Hungarian text used in this study is that of Carl
S. Leafstedt, “Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera Duke Bluebeard’s Castle” (Ph.D. disser-
tation, Harvard University, 1994), pp. 313–329. This translation is intended only for purposes
of music-text analysis, and does not serve a poetic function. As pointed out by Leafstedt, p. 313,
“Of the available published translations by Kallman, Davies, and others, none provides a di-
rect, literal translation of the Bluebeard text. Theirs are more poetic translations, designed to
capture the atmosphere if not the precise meaning of Balázs’s portentous lines, and also to be
sung to the eight-syllable rhythmic patterns of the Hungarian original.”
The new Dover edition, first published in 2001, is an unabridged republication of Herzog
Blaubarts Burg (A kékszakállú herceg vára) / Oper in einem Akt von Béla Balázs / Musik von Béla
Bartók, Op. 11 / Deutsche Übertragung von Wilhelm Ziegler, originally published by Universal Edi-
tion A. G., Vienna, 1921. The piano-vocal score published by Universal Edition, 1921, re-
newed by Boosey and Hawkes, 1949, and the orchestral-vocal score published by Universal
Edition, 1925, are both used as the basis of the musical discussions in the present study. In
1912, Kodály’s wife, Emma Gruber, prepared the German translation of the Hungarian text in
the piano-vocal score edition which, according to György Kroó, “Opera: Duke Bluebeard’s
Castle,” The Bartók Companion, ed. Malcolm Gillies (London: Faber and Faber, 1993), p. 351,
“was written into Bartók’s autograph draft largely by Zoltán Kodály himself.” The German
translation of the orchestral-vocal score is by Wilhelm Ziegler. Rehearsal numbers are identical
in these editions.
3. Judit Frigyesi, Béla Bartók and Turn-of-the-Century Budapest (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1998), pp. 227–228.
4. Joseph Zsuffa, Béla Balázs: The Man and the Artist (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1987), p. 13.
5. Ibid.
6. Zsuffa, in ibid., refers to Balázs’s own diary notes as an important source for this per-
sonal information.
7. Béla Bartók Jr., “The Private Man,” The Bartók Companion, ed. Malcolm Gillies (Lon-
don: Faber and Faber, 1993): 18. A similar first-witness account is given by the composer/mu-
sicologist Paul A. Pisk, in Elliott Antokoletz, “A Survivor of the Vienna Schoenberg Circle: An
Interview with Paul A. Pisk,” Tempo 154 (September 1985): 20.
8. For a well-documented introduction to such a characterological study, see Bertalan
Pethő, “Béla Bartók’s Personality,” Studia Musicologica 23 (1981): 443– 458.
9. See Béla Bartók: Briefe an Stefi Geyer, 1907– 1908, ed. Paul Sacher, German trans. Lajos
Nyikos (Basle: Privatdruck Ltd., 1979), for the most extensive documentation of this relation-
ship and of Bartók’s innermost feelings and philosophical ideas (including his espousal of athe-
ism and the principles of Nietzsche). In addition to the facsimiles of Bartók’s letters and post-
cards, there is a poem, which appeared on the first page of the First Violin Concerto, op. posth.
(begun in Jászberény, 1 July 1907, and completed in Budapest, 5 February 1908), entitled “My
Confession for Stefi.”
10. In ibid., introduction, p. 10, Lajos Nyikos refers to certain pessimistic notions of
Bartók that were common to the era. These letters address, along with many other themes,
Bartók’s turn away from the Catholic Church and his criticism of the established morals of
Hungarian bourgeois society in general.
11. Pethő, “Béla Bartók’s Personality,” p. 443.
12. Zoltán Kodály, Visszatekintés: Összegyűjtött írások, beszédek, nyilatkozatok I–II [Retro-
spection: collection of writings, speeches, statements], ed. Ferenc Bónis (Budapest: Zeneműki-
adó, 1964), vol. 2, p. 443.
13. Pethő, “Béla Bartók’s Personality,” pp. 443–445.
14. Pál Gergely, Bartók-emlékeim a Magyar Tudományos Akadémiáról. [My Bartók Memories
from the Hungarian Academy of the Sciences]. A Hungarológiai Intézet Tudományos Közle-
ményei VI/19–20, Forum, Újvidék, 1974, pp. 257–264, See Kodály, Visszatekintés, vol. 2, p. 462.
15. Bartók Béla levelei IV: Új dokumentumok [Béla Bartók’s Correspondence IV: new doc-
uments], ed. János Demény (Budapest: Zeneműkiadó Vállalat, 1971), p. 63.
16. Bartók Béla levelei II: Magyar és külföldi dokumentumok (Az utolsó két év gyűjtése) [Béla
Bartók’s Correspondence II: Hungarian and foreign documents (material collected during the
last two years)], ed. János Demény (Budapest: Művelt Nép Könyvkiadó, 1951), p. 174.
17. B. Horváth, Dürer “Melankólia” című metszetérol [About Dürer’s engraving “Melan-
choly”]. Művészet vol. 3 (1962), no. 11, pp. 4 –8, vol. 4 (1963), no. 7, pp. 7 –12, vol. 5 (1964),
No. 3, pp. 6 – 10.
18. Bartók Béla levelei II (1951), p. 170.
19. Béla Bartók Letters, ed. János Demény (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1971), trans.
Peter Balabán and István Farkas. Trans. rev. Elizabeth West and Colin Mason (London: Faber
& Faber; Budapest: Corvina Press, 1971), p. 83.
20. Pethő points out, in “Béla Bartók’s Personality,” p. 445, that “Psychologically, the image
of the melancholic type is completed by thriftiness and mania for collection. Both characteris-
tics were very conspicuous in Bartók’s mentality. Kodály wrote about Bartók as a folklorist that
‘his mania for collection had reached such a high pitch that if it had aimed at money, he would
have been a multi-millionaire long since” [Kodály, Visszatekintés, vol. 2, pp. 445–446]. He en-
thusiastically continued to enrich his collection of plants, beetles, butterflies and stones even at
his adult age, he collected peasant embroidery, carvings, jugs, bowls, mis-directed envelopes and
his interest in linguistics was also characterized by his being a collector.”
21. Peter L. Giovacchini, M.D., A Narrative Textbook of Psychoanalysis (Northvale, N.J.:
Jason Aronson, 1987), p. 323.
22. For systematic identification and description of the basic musical motifs of the opera,
see Sándor Veress, “Bluebeard’s Castle,” in Béla Bartók: A Memorial Review (New York: Boosey
and Hawkes, 1950): 45 – 49.
23. Veress, “Bluebeard’s Castle,” p. 53.
24. See n. 62 of this chapter.
25. Julian Grant, “A Foot in Bluebeard’s Door,” in The Stage Works of Béla Bartók, ed.
Nicholas John (London: John Calder; New York: Riverrun Press, 1991), p. 26.
26. Grant, “A Foot in Bluebeard’s Door,” pp. 29 –30.
27. Ibid., pp. 27 – 28.
28. Paul Banks, “Images of the Self: ‘Duke Bluebeard’s Castle,’” in The Stage Works of Béla
Bartók, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder; New York: Riverrun Press, 1991), p. 10– 11.
29. Veress, “Bluebeard’s Castle,” p. 38. For Frigyesi, in Béla Bartók, p. 228 (in accord with
Veress’s interpretation), the man’s ambivalence toward his own secrets seeks its resolution in
Judith, whose “intrusion answers his need to be seen, and it is her blessed capacity to be able
to see. As Bluebeard says to her, after having placed the first key into her hand: ‘Blessed are thy
hands, Judith’.”
30. A thorough historical investigation of the name of Judith in both literary and artistic
traditions is provided by Carl S. Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle: Music and Drama in Béla
Bartók’s Opera (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), esp. chap. 7, “Judith: The Signifi-
cance of a Name”; see also Leafstedt, “Music and Drama” (Ph.D. diss.), chap. 3, “The figure of
Judith in Early Twentieth-Century Art and Culture: The Significance of a Name.” Several of
the more salient points of his investigation are mentioned later.
31. Adorno, Philosophy of Modern Music, p. 156, describes “the overpoweringly intensified
proportion in modern industrialism between the body of the individual and the things and
forces in technical civilization.”
32. Carl S. Leafstedt, “Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera: Duke Bluebeard’s Castle”
(Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 1994), p. 102.
33. Otto Weininger, Geschlecht und Charakter [Sex and Character] (London: William
Heinemann, 1906), p. 236.
34. As the basis for understanding the characters’ relation to the social structure, one
may invoke certain principles relevant to Hegelian and Marxist dialectical concepts regarding
the relative state of objects, for instance, as pertaining to the question of who we are and what we
do as people. Do we change completely, partially, or not at all within a changing environment?
See the discussion on Hegelian and Marxist dialectics by Michael Payne and M. A. R. Habbib
in the introduction to Terry Eagleton, The Significance of Theory (Oxford: Blackwell, 1990),
pp. 10– 13. According to Debussy himself (see David Grayson, The Genesis of Debussy’s “Pelléas
et Mélisande” [Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1986, 1983], p. 231), Mélisande retains cer-
tain immutable qualities (e.g., her own unique feelings as a woman) within the changing envi-
ronment, and this seems to be true also for Judith, the relentless woman in the Bartók opera.
These dialectical concepts are reconciled with the new awareness of the internal human level
based on psychological motivation, that is, as interpreted in conjunction with the principles of
Freudian psychoanalytical theory.
35. Frigyesi, Béla Bartók, p. 196.
36. Critical studies of the opera have been devoted almost entirely to the Bluebeard char-
acter, with little or no systematic attention given to that of Judith. A thorough historical
investigation of the name of Judith in both literary and artistic traditions is provided by
Leafstedt, in “Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera,” esp. chap. 3, “The figure of Judith in
Early Twentieth-Century Art and Culture: The Significance of a Name.” Several of the more
salient points of his investigation are mentioned later. See also Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s
Castle: Music and Drama in Béla Bartók’s Opera (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999),
pp. 185– 199.
37. Leafstedt points out that, even today, the 1909 painting sometimes appears under
the title of Salome, as in Carl Schorske’s Fin-de-Siècle Vienna: Politics and Culture (New York:
Vintage Books, 1981), p. 226, where it is referred to as “Salome (Judith II).” For a basic survey
of the various Judith representations in art and literature before 1900, see Nadine Sine, “Cases
of Mistaken Identity: Salome and Judith at the Turn of the Century,” German Studies Review
11/1 (February 1988): 9 –29. For a listing of other studies on Judith in nineteenth- and early
twentieth-century paintings, see Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle, p. 222, n. 2.
38. The mysterious role of the woman in Schoenberg’s monodrama may be understood
best by means of an autobiographical interpretation. Carl Schorske suggests, in Fin-de-Siècle Vi-
enna, p. 226, a possible connection between Schoenberg’s experience—his wife’s affair with
the young expressionist painter, Richard Gerstl, and Gerstl’s suicide—and Erwartung.
39. See Bartók’s letter of 15 August 1905 to Irmy Jurkovics, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed.
Demény, p. 50.
40. See Bartók’s letter of September 1907 to Stefi Geyer, Béla Bartók Letters, p. 83.
41. Frigyesi, Béla Bartók, p. 197.
42. Angelica Bäumer, Gustav Klimt: Women (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1986): 13.
43. These interactions are based almost exclusively on diatonic, whole-tone, and chro-
matic pitch-sets and their derivative subcollections or intervallic cells.
44. In the Hungarian folk music sources, the pentatonic scale always occurs in its (sym-
metrical) minor-mode form, as opposed to those permutations found, for instance, in Russian
and Chinese sources; see Béla Bartók, The Hungarian Folk Song, ed. Benjamin Suchoff, trans.
M. D. Calvocoressi (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1981), pp. 17– 18.
45. Part of the following discussion of the relation between the semitonal “Blood” motif
and the diatonic sphere is derived from Elliott Antokoletz, The Music of Béla Bartók: A Study
of Tonality and Progression in Twentieth-Century Music (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1984), pp. 89 – 93, and also “Bartók’s Bluebeard: The Sources of Its ‘Modernism,’” College Music
Symposium 30/1 (Spring 1990): 79 ff.
46. The first number refers to the two semitones that form the primary interval couple,
G # –A and A # – B, the second number to the interval of their adjacency, in this case, semitone
A /A #).
47. Halsey Stevens, The Life and Music of Béla Bartók (London: Oxford University Press,
1953; 2nd ed. 1964; 3rd ed., ed. Malcolm Gillies, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), p. 286.
48. Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Benjamin Suchoff (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976), p. 386.
As a primary manifestation of the French reaction to the Wagner Tristan idiom, Pelléas resulted
in part from Debussy’s interest in the French Baroque approach to recitative, in which the mu-
sical setting was geared to the precise and realistic declamation of the French text. In Pelléas,
the recitative style is always sensitive to the rhythm and meaning of the text. Typical single-
note repetitions and a constrained vocal range together form a vehicle primarily for the ex-
pression of the characters’ intentions, the main melodic phrase remaining in the orchestra to
express the musical emotion.
49. Bartók, The Hungarian Folk Song, p. 14.
50. Ibid.
51. The connection between this theme in several of Wagner’s operas and the Bluebeard
subject is posed by Ethan Mordden, in Opera in the Twentieth Century: Sacred, Profane, Godot
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. 38.
52. I will refer to the initial whole-tone collection, WT-0, C–D–E–F # –G # –A # (or its en-
harmonic form, C–D–E–G b –A b –B b), as “primary,” the other whole-tone collection, WT-1, C # –
D # –F–G – A – B (or its enharmonic form, D b –E b –F–G –A –B), as “secondary.”
53. See Bartók’s letter to Stefi Geyer, dated Wednesday, middle of September (1907), in
Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény, pp. 86 –87. Example 9-4 will be discussed later, in connection
with a different set of motivic associations relevant to the opening F # pentatonic theme.
54. János Kárpáti, in Bartók’s String Quartets, trans. Fred Macnicol (Budapest: Corvina
Press, 1975), p. 173, informs us that a manuscript in the Budapest Bartók Archívum contains
three themes from the Violin Concerto sketched on one side and four theme sketches from the
First Quartet on the other.
55. The Concerto was published posthumously by Boosey and Hawkes (London) in 1958.
56. Letter to Stefi Geyer, dated Wednesday, middle of September (1907), in Béla Bartók
Letters, ed. Demény, p. 87.
57. Letter to Stefi Geyer, dated 6 September 1907, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény,
p. 76ff.
58. As pointed out by Kenneth Chalmers, in Béla Bartók (London: Phaedon Press, 1995),
p. 68, Bartók’s atheistic philosophy was quite common among the more educated classes
around the turn of the century in Hungary. His explication of his philosophical perspective in
his letter to Stefi Geyer seems to have been intended not only for the two of them but also to
address it as a broader issue within the Hungarian cultural context at large.
59. Letter to Irmy Jurkovics, dated 15 August 1905, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény,
p. 50.
60. Letter to his mother, dated 10 September 1905, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény, p. 53.
61. Denijs Dille, “Angaben zum Violinkonzert, 1907, den Deux Portraits, dem Quartett
op. 7 und den Zwei Rumänischen Tänzen,” in Documenta Bartókiana, vol. 2, ed. Denijs Dille
(Mainz: Schott, 1965), p. 92. See also János Kárpáti, Bartók vonósnégyesei [Bartók’s string quar-
tets] (Budapest: Zeneműkiadó, 1967; English trans. Fred Macnicol, Bartók’s String Quartets,
Budapest: Corvina Press, 1975), p. 173.
62. Benjamin Suchoff, in “Program Notes for the Concerto for Orchestra,” Béla Bartók:
A Celebration (New York: Book-of-the-Month Records, 1981), p. 7, also points to thematic
transformations of this “darkness music” in Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra (1943), in which the
cyclical appearances of this music suggest that “the first and perhaps most important of the
composer’s extra-musical intentions [that is, in the Bluebeard opera] is thus made apparent.”
We may provide support for Suchoff’s perceptive observation by pointing to Bartók’s use of a
funereal lament as the Concerto’s third (central) movement: “Elegia.”
63. Letter to his mother, dated 10 September 1905, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény,
p. 53.
64. Letter to Stefi Geyer, dated 6 September 1907, in ibid, p. 77.
65. Letter to Stefi, in ibid., p. 83.
66. Letter to Stefi, in ibid., p. 81.
67. Malcolm Gillies, “Portraits, Pictures, and Pieces,” The Bartók Companion, p. 479.
68. Banks, “Images of the Self,” p. 12.
69. “Octatonic” refers to an eight-note symmetrical scale that alternates whole-steps and
half-steps or half-steps and whole-steps.
70. See Béla Bartók, Rumanian Folk Music, vol. 4, ed. Benjamin Suchoff, trans. E. C. Teo-
dorescu et al. (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1975), p. 19. See also Bartók, The Hungarian Folk
Song, p. 18.
71. Frigyesi points out, in Béla Bartók and Turn-of-the-Century Budapest, p. 242, that “the
ostinato halts when [Bluebeard] speaks, the tempo slows down, and there is a return to a dry
and unemotional flow of even eighth notes.”
72. For an outline of these occurrences, see Veress, “Bluebeard’s Castle,” pp. 45 –49.
73. This structural outline of the scene occurs as follows: introduction (no. 30), a1 (no. 33),
b (no. 34), a2 (no. 36), b2 (no. 37, m. 4), introduction (no. 40, m. 5).
1
“Stefi’” seventh chord leitmotif to the chromatic cellular representation of “blood,” has been
discussed by Elliott Antokoletz, in The Music of Béla Bartók: A Study of Tonality and Progression
in Twentieth-Century Music (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), pp. 89– 93, and
more extensively in “Bartók’s Bluebeard: The Sources of Its ‘Modernism’,” College Music Sym-
posium 30/1 (Spring 1990): 79–84.
5. Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Benjamin Suchoff (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976), pp. 382–
383.
6. Béla Bartók Letters, ed. János Demény (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1971), English
trans. Peter Balabán and István Farkas. Trans. rev. Elizabeth West and Colin Mason (London:
Faber & Faber; Budapest: Corvina Press, 1971), p. 87 (letter originally in Hungarian).
7. Béla Bartók Letters, ed. János Demény, p. 83.
8. According to János Kárpáti, Bartók’s String Quartets, trans. Fred Macnicol (Budapest:
Corvina Press, 1975; original Hungarian edition, Budapest: Zeneműkiadó, 1967), p. 173, this
information, which appears in Bartók’s last letter to Stefi Geyer, was obtained from the violin-
ist herself. See also Documenta bartókiana 2 (Budapest, 1965), p. 92, where Bartók, in his letter
to Stefi Geyer, identifies the transformed “funeral-dirge” theme of the First Quartet with the
opening theme of movement 2 of the Violin Concerto.
9. Gunter Weiss-Aigner, “The ‘Lost’ Violin Concerto,” in The Bartók Companion, ed. Mal-
colm Gillies (London: Faber and Faber, 1993; Portland, Ore.: Amadeus Press, 1994), p. 469.
10. See Alicja Usarek, “Béla Bartók’s 1907 Violin Concerto: In the spirit of Tristan,” In-
ternational Journal of Musicology, 7 (1998), p. 311.
11. János Kárpáti, “Early String Quartets,” The Bartók Companion, pp. 226–227.
12. Frigyesi, Béla Bartók, pp. 264–265.
13. Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény, p. 87.
14. See this “polar-axis” principle of Ernő Lendvai, in Béla Bartók: An Analysis of His
Music (London: Kahn and Averill, 1971), pp. 1 –15, for an explanation of the three traditional
tonal functions — subdominant, tonic, dominant—in Bartók’s music, each function suppos-
edly established by a series of four minor third–related or tritone-related tonalities, respec-
tively. This system assumes that any of the four nodes of the dominant axis can function as the
dominant of any one of the four nodes of the tonic axis, a theoretical notion that is controver-
sial at best.
15. Documenta Bartókiana 2, p. 92 ff.
16. Leafstedt, “Music and Drama” (diss.), p. 124
17. Béla Bartók, Briefe an Stefi Geyer, 1907– 1908, ed. Paul Sacher, German trans. Lajos
Nyikos, foreword and preface Paul Sacher, afterword Lajos Nyikos (Basle: Privatdruck, 1979),
January and February, 1908.
18. György Kroó, “Duke Bluebeard’s Castle,” Studia Musicologica 1 (1961): 303–304,
and 337.
19. In 1907, when Stefi Geyer was nineteen, Bartók was twenty-six. In 1910, when his
new wife Márta Ziegler was sixteen, he was twenty-nine. In 1915, when Klára Gombossy (poet
for three of the songs from his op. 15) was fourteen, he was thirty-five. These factors, together
with several others, lead us to assume that the woman in the opera, who has just left her fam-
ily and her betrothed to follow Bluebeard, is much younger than the man: Bluebeard, having
acquired great wealth and power, has had three wives who came to him at the morning, noon,
and evening phases of his life, while Judith, who has never been married, came to him at the
midnight phase.
20. Bertalan Pethő, “Béla Bartók’s Personality,” Studia Musicologica 23 (1981): 456–457.
21. The source is Bartók Béla levelei II, ed. János Demény (Budapest: Művelt Nép Könyv-
kiadó, 1951), p. 80.
22. Ibid., p. 188.
23. Because we do not have Stefi’s side of the correspondence, there is some question as
to how much of an active role Bartók actually played in the demise of his relationship with Stefi.
24. The opera is pervaded by rhythms from Hungarian folk music, but Bartók informs us,
in his “Harvard Lectures” (Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Suchoff, p. 384), that this long-short rhythm
occurs very rarely in the genuine Hungarian folk music sources and is actually an “anti-
Hungarian” pattern. According to Bartók, “This statement, again, does not mean that we never
use such a pattern in our original works.” Although it would appear that Bartók is more con-
cerned with the symbolic imagery that the rhythm invokes rather than the strict adherence to
the authentic folk music qualities per se, he goes on to say that “I must lay stress on the fact
that these ‘dotted’ rhythm patterns originate in the metrical peculiarities and the accentuation
of the Hungarian language.”
25. See Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Suchoff, pp. 381–383.
26. This permutation of the pentatonic scale (that is, in its minor-modal or symmetrical
position), which is the basis of the opening “Castle” motif of the opera (F # – A – B – C # –E), is
characteristic of the Hungarian folk tunes, in contrast to the nonsymmetrical permutations
found in Russian and Chinese folk music. See Bartók, Essays, p. 61, and The Hungarian Folk
Song, ed. Benjamin Suchoff, trans. M. D. Calvocoressi (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1981), p. 17. Expansion of the symmetrical Hungarian pentatonic scale into larger poly-
modal chromatic symmetries in these early Bartók songs is shown in Antokoletz, The Music of
Béla Bartók, pp. 32 – 50.
27. This vocal statement of Judith is bounded registrally by the same major-seventh, F # –
F, of her opening theme (No. 3) based on the “Stefi” seventh chord, G b – A – D b –F (in enhar-
monic spelling, F # – A – C # –E #), which seems to provide further support for the association of
fate and blood to the composer’s own unrequited love for Stefi Geyer.
28. János Kárpáti, “Alternative Structures in Bartók’s ‘Contrasts’,” Studia Musicologica 23
(1981): 207.
29. In spite of the role played by the dual (major-minor) third in the transformation of the
modal-diatonic sphere into the chromatic sphere, the individual modal identities that consti-
tute a bimodal or polymodal combination are retained, as Bartók himself claimed: “bimodality
led toward the use of diatonic scales or scale portions filled out with chromaticized degrees
which have a totally new function. They are not altered degrees of a certain chord leading to a
degree of a following chord. They can only be interpreted as the ingredients of the various
modes used simultaneously and at a given time, a certain number of the seemingly chromati-
cized degrees belonging to one mode, other degrees to another mode. These degrees have ab-
solutely no chordal function. This circumstance is clearly shown if the degrees are picked out
and grouped into the modes to which they belong.” See “Harvard Lectures,” in Béla Bartók Es-
says, ed. Suchoff, p. 376; see also John Vinton, “Bartók on His Own Music,” Journal of the Amer-
ican Musicological Society 19 (1966): 230. This view contrasts with that posed by Edwin von der
Nüll, in Béla Bartók: Ein Beitrag zur Morphologie der neuen Musik (Halle: Mitteldeutsche Verlags
A. G., 1930), p. 74, in which von der Nüll assumed that the simultaneous presence of both
major and minor (modal) thirds produces sonic neutrality and the absence of mode. The sig-
nificance of Bartók’s contrasting assertion is seen in the maximal distinction between the po-
larized dramatic spheres of light and blood, the distinction of one (light) permitted by the clear
modal identities within a polymodal construction (i.e., the distinct modal identities of the sev-
enth chord diatonic variants in connection with Judith, who desires to bring light into the
Castle), the distinction of the other (blood) produced by the abstraction of pure chromatic ele-
ments from the polymodal combinations as Bluebeard’s wounds (castle doors) are opened.
30. See Kárpáti, Bartók’s String Quartets, p. 233, for reference to this phenomenon in the
Fifth String Quartet.
31. See János Kárpáti, “Tonal Divergences of Melody and Harmony: A Characteristic
Device in Bartók’s Musical Language,” Studia Musicologica 24 (1982): 376.
32. Kárpáti, “Tonal Divergences,” p. 376.
33. See n. 8 earlier.
34. Retention only of the sustained fifth degree (C #) at this point leaves the structure un-
resolved. This modification of the Armory’s opening F # tonality appears to be a microcosmic
reflection of the large-scale tonal structure of the opera. At the return of the original F # pen-
tatonic “Castle” theme at the end of the opera, the fifth degree (C #) is left unresolved as Blue-
beard faces “endless darkness.” Judith’s momentary hesitation is not due to fear, as she claims,
but rather to the obscurity of the lock in the “shadow.” The latter may be interpreted as a sym-
bolic adumbration of their ultimate fate, as expressed by Bluebeard’s final words in this scene.
35. The piling up of half-step dissonances in connection with Judith’s reference to Blue-
beard’s “bloody” treasures recalls Richard Strauss’s similar use of the half-step as the basis for
the “Vengeance” motif when Orestes kills Klytemnestra.
36. Leafstedt, Inside Bluebeard’s Castle, p. 106.
12. For an alternative structural interpretation of this scene, see Carl Leafstedt, “Struc-
ture in the Fifth Door Scene of Bartrók’s Duke Bluebeard’s Castle: An Alternative Viewpoint,”
College Music Symposium 30/1 (Spring 1990): 96– 102.
13. See Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, pp. 231–232, aphorism 29.
14. These circumstances are discussed in detail by Frigyesi, in Béla Bartók, p. 157.
15. Ibid..
16. As discussed earlier, the gapped whole-tone cell serves the same symbology in De-
bussy’s opera.
17. Béla Balázs Diary, MS 5023/12, 14–15, Manuscript Department, National Széchenyi
Library. Frigyesi, in Béla Bartók, p. 325, informs us that “the text preceding this entry is found
in Béla Balázs, Napló [Diary], vol. 1 (Budapest: Magvető, 1982), p. 344.
18. Béla Bartók, “La musique populaire hongroise” [Hungarian folk music], La revue mu-
sicale 2/1 (November 1921): 8–22. See also Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Benjamin Suchoff (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976), pp. 61–62.
19. Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, p. 277, aphorism 131.
20. Ibid., pp. 241 – 242, aphorism 41.
13. See letter to his mother dated 10 September 1905, in Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény,
p. 53.
14. See Grinstein, Freud’s Rules, p. 140.
15. One note, D (confined to no. 121, mm. 9 –10), is the only element in the entire pas-
sage that falls outside the otherwise exclusive pitch content of these tritone-related seventh
chords, on C and G b. The D–C figure suggests an echo of Judith’s “Danger” motif.
16. See Peter Giovacchini, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle,” in A Clinician’s Guide to
Reading Freud (New York: Aronson, 1982), pp. 150–151.
17. See Grinstein, Freud’s Rules, p. 143.
18. See Sigmund Freud, Introductory Lectures on Psycho-Analysis (London: Hogarth Press,
1963), p. 156, as quoted in Grinstein, Freud’s Rules, p. 101.
19. Freud, Introductory Lectures, p. 158; see also Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams (1900;
London: Hogarth Press, 1953), p. 354.
20. Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams (1900), p. 354.
21. See Grinstein, Freud’s Rules, p. 102.
22. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage
Books, 1974), pp. 318 – 319, no. 363.
23. Ibid., p. 126, no. 68.
24. See n. 7 earlier.
25. Grinstein, Freud’s Rules, p. 141.
26. Ibid.
27. In the first movement of the 1907 Violin Concerto and the first of the Two Portraits for
Orchestra, this form of the seventh chord represents Stefi the “ideal,” in contrast with the minor-
modal funereal form of the First String Quartet or the “grotesque” form of the second Portrait.
28. According to Judit Frigyesi’s interpretation, in Béla Bartók and Turn-of-the-Century
Budapest (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998, pp. 200–201, Bluebeard himself, how-
ever, was not aware of the mysteries within his soul. Frigyesi quotes Paula Hermann, who be-
longed to the small circle of Balázs, Kodály, and Aranka Bauer, who wrote on 20 July 1906, in
Napló, p. 325, that “We tell everything, even what only we know about ourselves, we open the
most inner doors. . . . All this is an effort to bring someone close to ourselves or grow close to
someone. But we pour out the many inner images in vain— we are alone. We might as well
have stolen each other’s diary from the drawer. We remain strangers.”
29. See Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény, p. 87.
30. See Béla Bartók Letters, ed. Demény, p. 83.
31. Letter to Irmy Jurkovics, dated 15 August 1905, in Béla Bartók Letters, pp. 50–51.
George Perle, Erwartung and Bluebeard, program note for the performance by the New York
Metropolitan Opera (16 January 1989).
16. Theodor Adorno, Philosophy of Modern Music, trans. Anne G. Mitchell and Wesley V.
Blomster (New York: Seabury Press, 1973), pp. 155– 156; see chap. 1, and Adorno’s notion of
“shock” in modern music.
17. Charles Rosen, Arnold Schoenberg (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1975),
p. 41 ff.
18. Arnold Schoenberg, “New Music, My Music,” Style and Idea: Selected Writings of
Arnold Schoenberg, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black (London: Faber and Faber, 1975; Los An-
geles: Belmont Music Publishers, 1975; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), p. 105.
19. Letter from Berg to Webern, dated 19 August 1918. See Redlich, Alban Berg: Versuch
einer Würdigung (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1957); Eng. trans. abridged as Alban Berg: The
Man and His Music (London: John Calder; New York: Abelard-Schumann, 1957), p. 365, n. 205.
See also Reich, Alban Berg (Zürich: Atlantis Verlag AG, 1963); trans. Cornelius Cardew (New
York: Vienna House, 1974), pp. 43 and 45.
20. Karen Monson, Alban Berg: A Modern Biography of the Composer of Wozzeck and Lulu
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1979), p. 157.
21. See n. 19.
22. See “Postscript by Alban Berg, 1931,” in Reich’s Wozzeck: A Guide to the Text and
Music of the Opera (New York: G. Schirmer, reprinted from the monograph originally published
by the League of Composers, Modern Music, 1927, 1931, 1952), p. 22.
23. Reich, Alban Berg, pp. 120–121; see also Perle’s discussion of “The Text and Formal
Design,” in The Operas of Alban Berg, vol. 1: Wozzeck (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1980), p. 38 ff.
24. George Perle, “Representation and Symbol in the Music of Wozzeck,” Music Review
33/4 (November 1971): 281; see also Perle, Wozzeck, p. 93.
25. For a systematic outline and description of the main associative themes, motifs, and
figures, see Reich, Wozzeck, pp. 8–21; see also Perle, Wozzeck, p. 94 ff.
26. See Jarman, The Music of Alban Berg (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979),
Perle, Wozzeck, and Schmalfeldt, Berg’s Wozzeck: Harmonic Language and Dramatic Design (New
Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1983).
27. Perle, Wozzeck, p. 130.
28. Jarman, The Music of Alban Berg, p. 22.
29. Schmalfeldt, Berg’s Wozzeck, preface.
30. Ibid., pp. ix – x. See Allen Forte’s The Structure of Atonal Music (New Haven, Conn.:
Yale University Press, 1973), as the basis of Schmalfeldt’s method of harmonic analysis.
31. The significance of this cyclic interlocking is established more prominently in con-
nection with the six-part canon that begins Variation 20 (mm. 620–623).
32. Perle, “Representation and Symbol,” p. 304.
33. Reich, Wozzeck, p. 21.
Epilogue
1. Elliott Antokoletz, The Music of Béla Bartók: A Study of Tonality and Progression in
Twentieth-Century Music (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), p. xi–xii.
2. Ignacio Matte Blanco, The Unconscious as Infinite Sets: An Essay in Bi-Logic (London:
Duckworth, 1975).
3. Sigmund Freud, “The Interpretation of Dreams,” Standard Edition 5 (London: Hogarth
Press, 1953), p. 509.
4. See, for instance, my discussion in chapter 4, especially the discussion related to table
4-1, of how the interaction between contrasting diatonic and symmetrical pitch collections
symbolizes the intrusion of the unconscious into the conscious realm in Debussy’s musical set-
ting of the timeless Kingdom of Allemonde and the tragic lives of the inhabitants.
5. See Georgette Leblanc, Souvenirs, p. 94.
6. See Adorno, Essays on Music, p.162.
7. Heinz Kohut, letter to Erich Heller, 1 December 1976, in Selected Writings of Heinz
Kohut: 1950–1978, ed. Paul H. Ornstein (New York: International University Press, 1978), p. 908.
8. Balázs’s Bluebeard play resonates with autobiographical references to the contrasting
personalities of the intellectual, impenetrable Lukás and the passionate Balázs. Arpad Kadar-
kay alluded to the similarities between Balázs, Bluebeard, and Lukács’s personality. See Kadar-
kay, Georg Lukács: Life, Thought, and Politics (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1991), p. 132.
9. György Lukács, “My Socratic Mask,” in The Lukács Reader, ed. Arpad Kadarkay (Ox-
ford: Blackwell, 1995), pp. 58 and 61.
331
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Bäumer, Angelica, 190 conscious (mind), 57, 80, 94, 95, 126, 149,
Beaunier, André, 11 330n4
Beethoven, Ludwig van, use of “expressive consciousness, 89, 91, 173, 213
doubling” in Scherzi of Fifth Symphony altered states of, 313n11
and String Quartet, op. 74 (“Harp”), 115 Crawford, Dorothy Lamb, on Bartók’s view of
Bellini, Vincenzo, Norma, 15 suicide, 252
Benjamin, Jessica, 32, 48, 54 Cross, Anthony, 15
Berg, Alban, 15, 280 crucifixion, symbol of, 147, 150, 152, 153,
Lulu, 181 154, 156, 316n7
Three Orchestral Pieces, op. 14, 279 cycles, interval. See interval cycle[s]
Wozzeck, 181, 263, 279 –290
Berlioz, Hector, 16 Dalmatia, 210
Francs-Juges Overture, 312n2 Darwin, Charles, 3
Bismarck, Otto Edouard Leopold von, 60 theory of evolution of, 3
Blake, William, use of “expressive doubling” in death wish. See instinct, death
Songs of Innocence and Experience, 115 Debussy, Claude, 4, 15, 20, 22, 31, 58, 61, 291
Brahms, Johannes, 262 cathédral engloutie, La, 125
Breuer, Josef, 3, 6, 46 Images I and II, 14
Bruckner, Anton, 262, 263 L’isle joyeux, 14
Büchner, Georg, Woyzeck, 279, 280 Nocturnes, 17, 68
Budapest Bartók Archívum, Bartók’s personal Pelléas et Mélisande, 4, 8, 9, 16, 24, 68,
library in, 14 55– 181, 182, 188, 190, 192
Pour le piano, 14
Capellen, Georg, 312n1 Prélude à l’aprés midi d’un faune, 68
Carré, Albert. See Paris, Opéra-Comique Préludes I, 14
cell[s], pitch- or intervallic, 22 – 23, 29, 122, String Quartet, 14, 68
138 Syrinx, 105
definition of, 301n17 on women, 37 –38
inversionally related, 22– 23 developing variation, 279
chain of thirds, 24 – 27, 221– 223 diatonic extension in range, of chromatic
characterization, final musical transformation themes or constructions, 24, 121, 167,
of, 248– 250 210, 223, 234. See also chromatic
Charcot, Jean-Martin, 5, 6, 46, 88, 327n1 compression of diatonic themes or
Chausson, Ernest, 101 constructions
Chekhov, Anton, 7 diatonic saturation, 124. See also Wenk,
Chodorow, Nancy, 32 Arthur B.
Chopin, Frédérik, 16 dodecaphonic series, 24, 218. See also twelve-
chromatic compression tone language
of diatonic themes or constructions, 24, dominant-ninth chord, 18, 19, 84– 116
121, 131, 200, 204 –205, 209, 210, 214, drame lyrique, 9
223– 224, 250, 323n4 Dreyfus, Alfred, 60
of whole-tone to octatonic or chromatic, movement, 302n3
222, 131 – 133, 165 –168, 201, 227 (see Dukas, Paul, 9, 187
also diatonic extension in range of Ariane et Barbe-Bleue, 187, 188, 190, 249
chromatic themes)
chromatic saturation, 124, 220. See also Emmanuel, Maurice, 56
Wenk, Arthur B. equal-division system, 17
composers, French, Russian, and Hungarian, Eulenberg, H., Ritter Blaubart, 249
17, 18 Euripedes, 264, 328n11
Comte, Auguste, 5 Elektra, 328n11
Positivist philosophy of, 5, 297n24, 327n1 Eve’s nature, passion of, 248
Exposition Universelle (1889). See Paris, Grayson, David, 179, 180, 181, 314n2
Exposition Universelle Grinstein, Alexander
Expressionism, 278 –279, 290 on patients contemplating suicide in
expressive doubling, definition of, 115, 128 dreams, 252
on “Death Symbols,” 253, 257 – 258
fate, 3, 7, 23, 30, 38, 56, 62, 64–65, 67, 74, Gruber, Emma, 43, 238
76, 84, 94, 100, 104, 129, 135, 147– 148, Guiraud, Ernest, 56
152, 159 – 160, 173, 180
circle of light as symbol of, 101 Halls, W. D., 40
circuity of, 173 – 181 Hebbel, Friedrich, 8, 48
Maeterlinck’s view of, 64–65, 95 Judith, 8, 47, 52, 189, 249
notion of (equivalent to unconscious), Heller, Agnes, 51
313n16 Hlaváček, Karel, 11
submission to, 104, 169, 207 Hoffmann, E. T. A., use of expressive
Fauré, Gabriel, 10, 55 – 83 doubling by in The Golden Pot, 115
feminist view, 48 – 52, 187 Hofmannsthal, Hugo von, 7, 262, 263, 264
movement, 188 Howat, Roy, on Debussy’s use of Golden
femme fatale, 230. See also siren of destruction Section proportions, 157 – 158
Flaubert, Gustave Hungarian linguistic syntax, archaic,
Hérodias, 249 191 –193, 194 –195, 244– 245
Madame Bovary, 249 isometric stanzaic structure, 244
folk modalities, pentatonic-diatonic, 15, 16, 17 octosyllabic phrase construction, 221,
folk-music sources, from borderlands of 244– 246
Western culture, 15 quaternary stanzaic structure of, 236
Fourcaud, M., 9, 126 hysteria, 5, 6
France, Anatole, Les sept femmes de la
Barbe-Bleue, 249 Ibsen, Henryk, 7
Franco-Prussian War (1871), 60 Impressionism, 4
free-atonality, 278 aesthetics of, 68
Freikorps, 31, 32 French Impressionist painting, 67
French Impressionists, 18 instinct
Freud, Sigmund, 3, 6, 7, 31, 36, 46, 88, 89, death, 89, 251– 256, 259
256, 278, 279, 292, 327n1 definition of, 313n16
Interpretation of Dreams, 8 sexual, 251, 256
Studien über Hysterie, 262 instrumental timbre, as signifier, 56, 61,
theory of psychoanalysis, 262, 303n7, 326n8 71– 72, 86– 88, 120, 121, 135, 137, 141,
Vienna of, 262 152– 153, 161. See also Wenk, Arthur B.
Frigyesi, Judit, 46, 47, 182, 208, 211, 212, 238 interval cycle[s], 17, 18 – 21, 23 –27, 57, 124,
138, 282 –287, 289, 301n20
Gesamtkunstwerk, 9 definition of, 299n47
Geyer, Stefi, 46, 47, 184, 185, 196 –199, 208, total complex of, 23, 301n21
210, 211, 212, 213, 234, 253, 258, 260, interval-ratio, 24– 27, 66, 191, 200 – 202, 203,
261, 322n58, 323n8, 323n19, 324n23 214, 240, 250
Gilman, Lawrence, 59 definition of, 301n23
“Fate” motif of, 58 Irigaray, Luce, 48
Giovacchini, Peter L., 185, 256 isometric stanzaic structure. See Hungarian
summary of Freud’s hypothesis by, 256 linguistic syntax, archaic
Glinka, Mikhail, 16, 312n2
Golden Section proportions, 157– 158, 236, Janet, Pierre, 3, 6, 31, 46, 327n1
316n12, 325n11 development of “psychological analysis,” 6
Grant, Julian, 187 Jarman, Douglas, on Wozzeck, 281