L’Isle joyeuse

One characteristic Chopin form which Debussy did not adopt was the ballade, though he did come near to it when he wrote his L’Isle joyeuse in 1904. It has certain structural similarities with the Chopin ballade and it has a narrative element too in that it relates to Watteau’s painting, L’Embarquement pour Cythère - or so it is generally understood, although the composer’s own passionate experience on the island of Jersey with Emma Bardac, who was about to become his second wife, is surely more to the point. Anyway, the technique derives from Liszt while the invocation at the beginning and the adventures experienced by the main themes have their parallels in Chopin, whose example inspired Debussy to construct one of his longest single movements. The first main theme, one of Debussy’s Mediterranean dances in dotted rhythm, becomes increasingly animated as the piece proceeds. The other, marked ondoyant et expressif and evidently representing the sea, grows gradually in strength. The climax of the work, a pagan celebration marked by heavy drum beats and bright fanfares, is perhaps the most exciting passage in all of Debussy’s piano music.

Replying to a pianist who had asked for advice on playing L’Isle joyeuse, Debussy referred him to Watteau’s L’Embarquement pour Cythère - the famous painting depicting couples dressed for a fête galante on the mythical island dedicated to the worship of Aphrodite. The composer might well have though of it in July 1904 when, escaping from his first marriage, he set off with Emma Bardac for the Grand Hotel at Saint-Hellier. But surely - as the English spelling “L’Isle” instead of “L’Île” seems to suggest - the joyous island he had in mind was a place as real as Jersey.

It could be that the first part of the works is indeed set in Watteau’s classical landscape. Opening with a virtuoso reed-pipe invocation in the Lydian mode, it involves the couples in a pastoral dance with a playful rhythm not unlike that of La Danse de Puck in the piano Preludes. This dance, however, is very much more purposeful in that it leads, by way of two other themes and an even more urgent reed-pipe invocation, to the sea - or so it would seem from the broadly swelling, richly harmonised A major episode which begins at this point. The voyage is also a development. The arrival is not only a recapitulation but also a pagan celebration driven by drumbeats and fanfares and culminating in a last, delirious invocation of the goddess of love.

“But, my God!” Debussy exclaimed to his publisher, “how difficult it is to play…This piece seems to me to put together all the different ways of attacking the piano.”

Debussy’s “joyous isle” was Jersey. It is traditionally identified as Cythera, the mythical island dedicated to the worship of Aphrodite, goddess of love, and so intriguingly pictured in Watteau’s painting L’Embarquement pour Cythère. Certainly, Debussy would have known the painting and he might well have though of it in July 1904 when, escaping from his first marriage, he set off with Emma Bardac for the Grand Hotel at Saint-Hellier. Although the composer himself said nothing of the source of inspiration of the piano piece he wrote there, he surely did leave a subtle clue by calling it L’Isle joyeuse (using the English spelling of “isle”) rather then L’Ile joyeuse.

It could be that the first part of the works is indeed set in Watteau’s classical landscape. Opening with a virtuoso reed-pipe invocation in the Lydian mode, it involves the couples in a pastoral dance with a playful rhythm not unlike that of The Little Shepherd in Children’s Corner. This dance, however, is very much more purposeful in that it leads, by way of two other themes and an even more urgent reed-pipe invocation, to the sea – or so it would seem from the broadly swelling, richly harmonised A major episode which begins at this point. The voyage is also a development. The arrival, which Watteau’s painting discreetly leaves to the imagination, is not only a recapitulation but also a pagan celebration driven by drumbeats and fanfares and culminating in a last, delirious invocation of the goddess of love.

“But, my God!” Debussy exclaimed to his publisher, “how difficult it is to play…This piece seems to me to put together all the different ways of attacking the piano, since it unites strength with grace… if I dare say so.”