bizarre sensation of eating a pink bonbon stuffed with snow;" Saint-Saëns's Henry VIII is "a grand historical opera." All this is witty and some of it is sound. However, according to J. G. Prod'homme, Debussy did not write everything he signed. This critic ascribes an article entitled Effin Seuls! which appeared in 1915 in S.I.M. under Debussy's name, to a disciple, and he also informs us that the score for d'Annunzio's Martyre de Saint Sébastien was only finished on the day agreed upon by the collaboration of other disciples, very familiar with the Debussy manner.
On these four men[1] any case for musicians as writers of prose must be rested. Berlioz, it must be admitted, stands the test. Schumann and Liszt as authors would be completely forgotten (are, indeed, more or less forgotten) were it not for their music. Debussy's criticisms have not even been collected in book form, although doubtless they will be.[2]
- ↑ The appearance in 1919 of Ethel Smyth's Impressions That Remained, and a year or so later of her Streaks of Life, makes it almost imperative to put this Englishwoman at the head of the list of the musician-writers. I have never heard any of her music, but as a composer she is not generally awarded an important position.
- ↑ In 1921, after Debussy's death, under the title of Monsieur Croche, Antidilettante, certain of his papers, completely denuded of their malice, were collected and published by Dorbon-Ainé.
