Debussy's 'The Blessed Damozel'

I like to return, from time to time, to pieces with a narrative subject, or something akin to narrative, in deference to the wish of many an honored listener in all parts of the Arab East. So tonight I present a piece entitled 'The Blessed Damozel' by the French composer Claude Debussy (C. Debussy), who died about a quarter of a century ago, after he had freed French music from every traditional fetter, and after there had grown up, before the eyes of the public, that violent campaign against Wagner and his music which we mentioned earlier.

As for the piece of which we now present new portions, entitled 'The Blessed Damozel,' he built it upon a poem by Rossetti, setting it for solo voice, a chorus of women singers, and orchestra. The gist of its story is that heaven chooses this beautiful maiden for its dwelling—a grace that sets her apart from all mankind—but before she enters heaven she leans upon its golden ramparts, three lilies in her hand and seven stars in her hair, awaiting the young man she loved on earth; as though heaven could not be dwelt in without love, or as though she preferred love to heaven and hoped to accompany her beloved to the wellsprings of light. But her prayers went in vain, and her beloved did not come. So she cast her arms upon the golden ramparts, laid her face between her hands, and gave herself over to weeping. Then despair drove her to a deed that lost her heaven and lost her every tie of attraction on earth.

In this piece the composer's rare taste shines forth—in the balancing of voices, the escape from fetters, and the creation of delicate, original melody. And if we keep this charming story in our memory, we can accompany the blessed damozel with understanding and delight.