Letters from Inghelbrecht to d’Annunzio

We assume from the following two letters that Inghelbrecht had met d’Annunzio in 1911 during the rehearsals of Le Martyre de Saint Sébastien at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in May when he was the chorus master.

In June 1912, Inghelbrecht invites d’Annunzio to attend the rehearsals and concerts of the version of Le Martyre in the form of an oratorio that he had arranged with Debussy's approval and presumably also that of d’Annunzio.

The first rehearsal on Wednesday 12 June was to be prior to the first performance on Friday the 14th. The second rehearsal was to be on that same Friday for the final performance on Monday the 17th.

Letter I

Mon cher Maître,

Mes Camarades du Comité de la S.M.I. et moi serons très honorés si vous voulez bien assister à nos deux concerts d’orchestre; s’il vous était agréable d’assister aux dernières répétitions d’ensemble de Saint Sébastien j’en serai personnellement très heureux et très fier. Les deux dernières répétitions auront lieu à la Salle Gaveau—Mercredi 12 à 10 heures 30 et le Vendredi 14 à la même heure.

Veuillez recevoir, mon cher Maître, l’hommage respectueux de mon dévouement, de ma grande admiration.

2 - 6 - 12

[Lettre sur papier à en-tête: SOCIÉTÉ MUSICALE INDÉPENDANTE I-Gardone, Vittoriale, IX/3]

My dear Master,

My colleagues on the S.M.I. Board and I will be very honored if you will attend our two orchestral concerts; I myself would be personally be very happy and proud should you also wish to attend the last full rehearsals for Saint Sébastien. The two final rehearsals will take place at the Salle Gaveau— Wednesday the 12th at 10:30 and Friday the 14th at the same time.

Please accept, dear Master, this respectful expression of my devotion and great admiration.

2 - June - 12

[On the letterhead stationery of the Société Musicale Indépendante.]

Letter II

Mon cher Maître,

Votre si aimable lettre m’est remise seulement aujourd’hui, parce que recommandée, j’ai dû l’aller chercher à la poste car j’étais absent les deux jours qu’elle fut présentée chez moi; je m’excuse donc d’avoir tardé, involontairement, à vous répondre.

Nous répétons demain matin Mercredi à 10 heures 1/2 Salle Gaveau, j’espère le grand honneur, le plaisir de votre venue parmi nous.

Letter I

[22 mai 1912]

Mon cher Inghelbrecht,

Il me semble plus agréablement pratique que vous veniez Jeudi prochain vers 11h du matin. Étant donné que d’Annunzio ne veut rien savoir pour un “argument”, à cause, dit-il, de Mme I. Rubinstein, ça ne sera pas très facile de trouver une rédaction claire!

[22 May 1912]

My dear Inghelbrecht,

It seems to me more pleasantly practical were you to come next Thursday about 11 o’clock. Since d’Annunzio does not want to hear anything about a “plot,” because—he says—of Mme I. Rubinstein, it will not be very easy to come up with a clear version!

Letter II

2 Juin - 12

Mon cher Inghelbrecht

Voulez-vous être assez aimable pour laisser vos choristes (femmes) répéter les Sirènes Mardi matin. Nous n’avons guère que cette répétition là pour mettre les choses au point … ! Il paraît que cette année, le choriste est hors de prix et très demandé et le Concert Domergue a lieu Mercredi.

Comptant sur votre habituelle gentillesse je vous remercie à l’avance et suis en affectueuse cordialité votre

2 June - 12

My dear Inghelbrecht,

Would you be so good as to let your choristers (women) rehearse Sirènes on Tuesday morning. That is almost the only rehearsal we have to get things right … ! It seems that this year a chorister is extremely expensive and much in demand, and the Domergue concert is on Wednesday.

Relying on your usual kindness, I thank you in advance and am, with affectionate cordiality, your

Letter III

Mercredi soir 5 juin 1912

Mon cher Inghelbrecht,

Les destinées du Concert Domergue sont accomplies puisqu’il n’aura pas lieu. Excusez-moi d’avoir troublé l’ordre de vos répétitions et, avec mes remerciements tout de même, croyez à mon affectueuse cordialité.

Wednesday evening 5 June 1912

My dear Inghelbrecht,

The destinies of the Domergue concert have been accomplished, as it will not take place. Excuse me for having troubled the order of your rehearsals and, with many thanks nevertheless, believe in my affectionate cordiality.

Letters from Chouchou Debussy to D. E. Inghelbrecht

Letter I

Cher Monsieur,

Je vous remercie mille fois des jolies petites fleurs jaunes et blanches que vous m’avez envoyées. Mama adore les grands pavots rouges et vous en remercie.

Je vous envoie ainsi qu’à Madame Inghelbrecht mes meilleurs baisers.

[26 Mai 1913]

Dear Monsieur,

Thank you a thousand times for the pretty yellow and white flowers you sent me. Mother loves the big red poppies and thanks you for them.

I send my best kisses to you and Madame Inghelbrecht.

[26 May 1913]

Letter II

19 Janvier 1914

Cher Monsieur,

Je vous remercie beaucoup de votre aimable invitation. J’espère bien vous voir Vendredi et je vous embrasse de tout mon coeur ainsi que Madame Inghelbrecht.

19 January 1914

Cher Monsieur,

Thank you very much for your kind invitation. I will look forward to seeing you Friday and I embrace both you and Madame Inghelbrecht with all my heart.

The story of how I came to write this book and own these letters from Debussy to Inghelbrecht is the result of three chance encounters I had in Paris. The first came in 1925, when I spent the winter in school in Paris. There I had piano lessons with Henri Etlin, who, I later learned, had won a Premier Prix at the Conservatoire in 1907. He began my lessons with the usual Czerny et al. compositions and then started me on some of the Debussy Préludes. I liked these so much that I asked to study only Debussy that whole winter. He agreed and seemed quite happy at my request.

On returning home, I continued my piano lessons with a Russian teacher who encouraged me to work on Debussy. Then came marriage, two children, and a job as freelance copy-editor for a large publishing house, a position I held for thirty-two years. There was then no longer time for piano lessons. During my last five years of copy-editing, while working on a medical dictionary, I began to think that I would like to write a book myself. As my interest in Debussy had never waned, and I had learned about him and his music, especially his songs, I thought that this was an area that I could explore. I had always been interested in French poetry, so here was my link to Debussy. Therefore, I decided that I would go to Paris for my annual vacations and do some work on Debussy and his songs.

My first trip to Paris for this project was in 1967. I started my work in the Music Department of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, 2 rue Louvois. There I met François Lesure, who was the head of that department and was soon to become well known as a Debussy specialist. He helped me in my work and also encouraged me in my project of a possible book. I was also able to work in the beautiful reading room of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, 58 rue de Richelieu. There I found the editions of the books of poems that Debussy would have used and noted the changes he sometimes made in the texts of his early songs.

One day in late October 1968, when leaving the Music Department, I walked out with a woman who had also been working there.

Désiré Emile Inghelbrecht was born in Paris on 17 September 1880 and died there on 14 February 1965. His father was a viola player with the Paris Opéra. His mother, a piano teacher, gave him his first piano lessons at the age of four, when he had already started to play the violin. His parents soon discovered that he had perfect pitch.

When he was seven, he entered the Conservatoire, where he studied solfège and harmony and also audited a violin class. At the age of sixteen, he was expelled, allegedly because of “musical incompetence.” In fact, the real reason was that he was caught playing the violin in local cafés—a violation of the rules of the Conservatoire.

In 1896, Inghel, as he was known to his friends, was appointed second violinist at the Concerts de l’Opéra. There he was exposed to a large repertory, which would serve him well later on. At this time, his friend Pierre Monteux, then conductor of the Concerts Berlioz, occasionally asked Inghelbrecht to replace him, the pianist, the violinist, or the timpanist in his orchestra—all useful experiences. He already had dreams of being a conductor.

In 1902, Inghelbrecht first heard a work by Debussy. It was Pelléas et Mélisande, a work that was to leave a lasting impression on him. He was to conduct it throughout his life.

About 1905, he moved into a studio at 73 rue Caulaincourt. Colette Steinlen, the daughter of the artist Théophile Steinlen, lived in that same building with her father. She and Inghelbrecht soon met. They were married in 1910 and lived in the family apartment with her father, to whom Inghel became very much attached. Their marriage ended in a divorce in 1920.

In 1906, Inghelbrecht's first collaboration with Gabriel Astruc took place when he was asked to conduct the first and gala performance of the opera Le Clown, written by Astruc's friend Isaac de Camondo. It was a special evening, with Albert Carré, Jusseaume, and Geraldine Farrar participating. Le Tout-Paris was in the enthusiastic audience at the Théâtre Nouveau.

In 1908, we next hear of Inghelbrecht when he was asked by his friend Florent Schmitt to conduct the first performance of his ballet La Tragédie de Salomé at the Théâtre des Arts.

Inghelbrecht's Reply to Debussy's Letter

This letter is the only one known to have been written by Inghelbrecht to Debussy and is his answer to Debussy's last letter to him, that of July 1917 (Letter XXVII). That it contributes to our understanding of the relationship that Inghelbrecht had with Debussy—his senior by eighteen years and his mentor for seven years (from 1911 to 1918)—is clearly shown by his form of address: “Mon cher bon Maître” (My dear good Master). Here we learn not only that Inghelbrecht taught students in fields other than conducting or singing, but also that Debussy was still auditioning young artists as late as 1917.

Mon cher bon Maître

Ce n’est pas que j’aie la moindre illusion sur le prosélytisme. Non. Les occasions ne m’ont pas manqué de m’apercevoir qu’il servait, le plus souvent, à rapporter des désillusions et des inimitiés.

Bien des gens doivent ajouter à mes défauts—suffisamment nombreux, cependant—celui de vouloir coûte que coûte régenter tout ce qui souffle, pince, gratte, tape ou hurle. Et tandis que les gens enclos de toile peinte, sur une estrade consentent encore parfois à se laisser guider plus ou moins docilement, les “personnalités” sont rares qui pensent, après vous avoir quitté “qu’il en soit comme il l’a voulu.”

Le jeune Merkel qui, vraiment, joue du violon de façon à me raccommoder avec l’instrument de mon enfance, trop cher à MM. Capet, Touche, Brun et tant d’autres; le jeune Merkel semble vouloir faire autre chose que ces maîtres glorieux. Comme il désire jouer votre Sonate, il m’a prié de la lui faire travailler avant que de vous demander de l’entendre. C’est gentil.

La jeune demoiselle Speiser, enfant d’Helvétie, quittant le Conservatoire les bras encore bleus des horions de Dame Chesné, traversa ensuite le gymnase sonore—et combien—de la fille spirituelle (!) de Dieu. Le tout sans coup férir. Une dame qui s’intéresse à elle eut la singulière idée il y a bientôt deux ans, de l’engager à venir me demander avis sur ce qu’elle faisait. Pendant un an je lui ai fait travailler les Sonates de Mozart sur un vieil exemplaire égratigné de la mine de plomb irascible de son premier maître.