<h2><SPAN name="IV" id="IV"></SPAN>IV</h2>
<h2><i>The Modern Orchestra</i></h2>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The orchestra as an instrument.<br/>
What may be heard from a band.</i></div>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> most eloquent, potent, and capable instrument of music in the
world is the modern orchestra. It is the instrument whose employment
by the classical composers and the geniuses of the Romantic School in
the middle of our century marks the high tide of the musical art. It
is an instrument, moreover, which is never played upon without giving
a great object-lesson in musical analysis, without inviting the eye to
help the ear to discern the cause of the sounds which ravish our
senses and stir up pleasurable emotions. Yet the popular knowledge of
its constituent parts, of the individual value and mission of the
factors which go to make up its sum, is scarcely greater than the
popular knowledge of the structure of a sym<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></SPAN></span>phony or sonata. All this
is the more deplorable since at least a rudimentary knowledge of these
things might easily be gained, and in gaining it the student would
find a unique intellectual enjoyment, and have his ears unconsciously
opened to a thousand beauties in the music never perceived before. He
would learn, for instance, to distinguish the characteristic timbre of
each of the instruments in the band; and after that to the delight
found in what may be called the primary colors he would add that which
comes from analyzing the vast number of tints which are the products
of combination. Noting the capacity of the various instruments and the
manner in which they are employed, he would get glimpses into the
mental workshop of the composer. He would discover that there are
conventional means of expression in his art analogous to those in the
other arts; and collating his methods with the effects produced, he
would learn something of the creative artist's purposes. He would find
that while his merely sensuous enjoyment would be left unimpaired, and
the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></SPAN></span> emotional excitement which is a legitimate fruit of musical
performance unchecked, these pleasures would have others consorted
with them. His intellectual faculties would be agreeably excited, and
he would enjoy the pleasures of memory, which are exemplified in music
more delightfully and more frequently than in any other art, because
of the rôle which repetition of parts plays in musical composition.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Familiar instruments.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The instrumental choirs.</i></div>
<p>The argument is as valid in the study of musical forms as in the study
of the orchestra, but it is the latter that is our particular business
in this chapter. Everybody listening to an orchestral concert
recognizes the physical forms of the violins, flutes, cornets, and big
drum; but even of these familiar instruments the voices are not always
recognized. As for the rest of the harmonious fraternity, few give
heed to them, even while enjoying the music which they produce; yet
with a few words of direction anybody can study the instruments of the
band at an orchestral concert. Let him first recognize the fact that
to the mind of a composer an<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></SPAN></span> orchestra always presents itself as a
combination of four groups of instruments—choirs, let us call them,
with unwilling apology to the lexicographers. These choirs are: first,
the viols of four sorts—violins, violas, violoncellos, and
double-basses, spoken of collectively as the "string quartet;" second,
the wind instruments of wood (the "wood-winds" in the musician's
jargon)—flutes, oboes, clarinets, and bassoons; third, the wind
instruments of brass (the "brass")—trumpets, horns, trombones, and
bass tuba. In all of these subdivisions there are numerous variations
which need not detain us now. A further subdivision might be made in
each with reference to the harmony voices (showing an analogy with the
four voices of a vocal choir—soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass);
but to go into this might make the exposition confusing. The fourth
"choir" (here the apology to the lexicographers must be repeated with
much humility and earnestness) consists of the instruments of
percussion—the kettle-drums, big drum, cymbals, triangle, bell chime,
etc. (sometimes spoken of collectively in the United States as "the
battery").</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></SPAN></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center">
<ANTIMG src="images/image01.png" alt="SEATING PLAN OF THE NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY" width-obs="600" height-obs="343" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center"><b>SEATING PLAN OF THE NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY.</b></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>How orchestras are seated.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Plan of the New York Philharmonic.</i></div>
<p>The disposition of these instruments in our orchestras is largely a
matter of individual taste and judgment in the conductor, though the
general rule is exemplified in the plan given herewith, showing how
Mr. Anton Seidl has arranged the desks for the concerts of the
Philharmonic Society of New York. Mr. Theodore Thomas's arrangement
differed very little from that of Mr. Seidl, the most noticeable
difference being that he placed the viola-players beside the second
violinists, where Mr. Seidl has the violoncellists. Mr. Seidl's
purpose in making the change was to gain an increase in sonority for
the viola part, the position to the right of the stage (the left of
the audience) enabling the viola-players to hold their instruments
with the F-holes toward the listeners instead of away from them. The
relative positions of the harmonious battalions, as a rule, are as
shown in the diagram. In the foreground, the violins, violas, and
'cellos; in the middle distance, the wood-winds; in the back<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></SPAN></span>ground,
the brass and the battery; the double-basses flanking the whole body.
This distribution of forces is dictated by considerations of sonority,
the most assertive instruments—the brass and drums—being placed
farthest from the hearers, and the instruments of the viol tribe,
which are the real backbone of the band and make their effect by a
massing of voices in each part, having the place of honor and greatest
advantage. Of course it is understood that I am speaking of a concert
orchestra. In the case of theatrical or operatic bands the arrangement
of the forces is dependent largely upon the exigencies of space.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Solo instruments.</i></div>
<p>Outside the strings the instruments are treated by composers as solo
instruments, a single flute, oboe, clarinet, or other wind instrument
sometimes doing the same work in the development of the composition as
the entire body of first violins. As a rule, the wood-winds are used
in pairs, the purpose of this being either to fill the harmony when
what I may call the principal thought of the composition is consigned
to a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></SPAN></span> particular choir, or to strengthen a voice by permitting two
instruments to play in unison.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Groupings for harmony effects.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Wagner's instrumental characterization.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>An instrumental language.</i></div>
<p>Each choir, except the percussion instruments, is capable of playing
in full harmony; and this effect is frequently used by composers. In
"Lohengrin," which for that reason affords to the amateur an admirable
opportunity for orchestral study, Wagner resorts to this device in
some instances for the sake of dramatic characterization. <i>Elsa</i>, a
dreamy, melancholy maiden, crushed under the weight of wrongful
accusation, and sustained only by the vision of a seraphic champion
sent by Heaven to espouse her cause, is accompanied on her entrance
and sustained all through her scene of trial by the dulcet tones of
the wood-winds, the oboe most often carrying the melody. <i>Lohengrin's</i>
superterrestrial character as a Knight of the Holy Grail is prefigured
in the harmonies which seem to stream from the violins, and in the
prelude tell of the bringing of the sacred vessel of Christ's passion
to Monsalvat; but in his chivalric character he is greeted by the
mili<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></SPAN></span>tant trumpets in a strain of brilliant puissance and rhythmic
energy. Composers have studied the voices of the instruments so long
and well, and have noted the kind of melodies and harmonies in which
the voices are most effective, that they have formulated what might
almost be called an instrumental language. Though the effective
capacity of each instrument is restricted not only by its mechanics,
but also by the quality of its tones—a melody conceived for one
instrument sometimes becoming utterly inexpressive and unbeautiful by
transferrence to another—the range of effects is extended almost to
infinity by means of combination, or, as a painter might say, by
mixing the colors. The art of writing effectively for instruments in
combination is the art of instrumentation or orchestration, in which
Berlioz and Wagner were Past Grand Masters.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Number of instruments.</i></div>
<p>The number of instruments of each kind in an orchestra may also be
said to depend measurably upon the music, or the use to which the band
is to be put. Neither in instruments nor in numbers<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></SPAN></span> is there absolute
identity between a dramatic and a symphonic orchestra. The apparatus
of the former is generally much more varied and complex, because of
the vast development of variety in dramatic expression stimulated by
Wagner.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Symphony and dramatic orchestras.</i></div>
<p>The modern symphony, especially the symphonic poem, shows the
influence of this dramatic tendency, but not in the same degree. A
comparison between model bands in each department will disclose what
is called the normal orchestral organization. For the comparison (see
page <SPAN href="#Page_82">82</SPAN>), I select the bands of the first Wagner Festival held in
Bayreuth in 1876, the Philharmonic Society of New York, the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Instruments rarely used.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Orchestras compared.</i></div>
<p>Instruments like the corno di bassetto, bass trumpet, tenor tuba,
contra-bass tuba, and contra-bass trombone are so seldom called for in
the music played by concert orchestras that they have no place in
their regular lists. They are employed when needed, however, and the
horns and other instruments are<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></SPAN></span> multiplied when desirable effects are
to be obtained by such means.</p>
<p> </p>
<table border="1" summary="Orchestras Compared" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="100%" id="AutoNumber5">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><b>Instruments</b></td>
<td><b>Bayreuth.</b></td>
<td><b>New York Philharmonic.</b></td>
<td><b>Boston.</b></td>
<td><b>Chicago.</b></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>First violins</td>
<td>16</td>
<td>18</td>
<td>16</td>
<td>16</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Second violins</td>
<td>16</td>
<td>18</td>
<td>14</td>
<td>16</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Violas</td>
<td>12</td>
<td>14</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Violoncellos</td>
<td>12</td>
<td>14</td>
<td> 8</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Double-basses</td>
<td> 8</td>
<td>14</td>
<td> 8</td>
<td> 9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Flutes</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Oboes</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>English horn</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Clarinets</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Basset-horn</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bassoons</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Trumpets or cornets</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 4</td>
<td> 4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Horns</td>
<td> 8</td>
<td> 4</td>
<td> 4</td>
<td> 4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Trombones</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
<td> 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bass trumpet</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tenor tubas</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bass tubas</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Contra-bass tuba</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Contra-bass trombone</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 0</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tympani (pairs)</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 2</td>
<td> 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bass drum</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cymbals (pairs)</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Harps<br/>
</td>
<td> 6</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 1</td>
<td> 2</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p> </p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The string quartet.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Old laws against instrumentalists.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Early instrumentation.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Handel's orchestra.</i></div>
<p>The string quartet, it will be seen, makes up nearly three-fourths of
a well-balanced orchestra. It is the only choir which has numerous
representation of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></SPAN></span> its constituent units. This was not always so, but
is the fruit of development in the art of instrumentation which is the
newest department in music. Vocal music had reached its highest point
before instrumental music made a beginning as an art. The former was
the pampered child of the Church, the latter was long an outlaw. As
late as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries instrumentalists were
vagabonds in law, like strolling players. They had none of the rights
of citizenship; the religious sacraments were denied them; their
children were not permitted to inherit property or learn an honourable
trade; and after death the property for which they had toiled
escheated to the crown. After the instruments had achieved the
privilege of artistic utterance, they were for a long time mere
slavish imitators of the human voice. Bach treated them with an
insight into their possibilities which was far in advance of his time,
for which reason he is the most modern composer of the first half of
the eighteenth century; but even in Handel's case the rule was to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></SPAN></span>
treat them chiefly as supports for the voices. He multiplied them just
as he did the voices in his choruses, consorting a choir of oboes and
bassoons, and another of trumpets of almost equal numbers with his
violins.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The modern band.</i></div>
<p>The so-called purists in England talk a great deal about restoring
Handel's orchestra in performances of his oratorios, utterly unmindful
of the fact that to our ears, accustomed to the myriad-hued orchestra
of to-day, the effect would seem opaque, heavy, unbalanced, and
without charm were a band of oboes to play in unison with the violins,
another of bassoons to double the 'cellos, and half a dozen trumpets
to come flaring and crashing into the musical mass at intervals. Gluck
in the opera, and Haydn and Mozart in the symphony, first disclosed
the charm of the modern orchestra with the wind instruments
apportioned to the strings so as to obtain the multitude of tonal
tints which we admire to-day. On the lines which they marked out the
progress has been exceedingly rapid and far-reaching.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Capacity of the orchestra.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The extremes of range.</i></div>
<p>In the hands of the latter-day Romantic composers, and with the help
of the instrument-makers, who have marvellously increased the capacity
of the wind instruments, and remedied the deficiencies which
embarrassed the Classical writers, the orchestra has developed into an
instrument such as never entered the mind of the wildest dreamer of
the last century. Its range of expression is almost infinite. It can
strike like a thunder-bolt, or murmur like a zephyr. Its voices are
multitudinous. Its register is coextensive in theory with that of the
modern pianoforte, reaching from the space immediately below the sixth
added line under the bass staff to the ninth added line above the
treble staff. These two extremes, which belong respectively to the
bass tuba and piccolo flute, are not at the command of every player,
but they are within the capacity of the instruments, and mark the
orchestra's boundaries in respect of pitch. The gravest note is almost
as deep as any in which the ordinary human ear can detect pitch, and
the acutest reaches the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></SPAN></span> same extremity in the opposite direction.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The viols.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The violin.</i></div>
<p>With all the changes that have come over the orchestra in the course
of the last two hundred years, the string quartet has remained its
chief factor. Its voice cannot grow monotonous or cloying, for,
besides its innate qualities, it commands a more varied manner of
expression than all the other instruments combined. The viol, which
term I shall use generically to indicate all the instruments of the
quartet, is the only instrument in the band, except the harp, that can
play harmony as well as melody. Its range is the most extensive; it is
more responsive to changes in manipulation; it is endowed more richly
than any other instrument with varieties of timbre; it has an
incomparable facility of execution, and answers more quickly and more
eloquently than any of its companions to the feelings of the player. A
great advantage which the viol possesses over wind instruments is
that, not being dependent on the breath of the player, there is
practically no limit to its ability to sustain tones.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></SPAN></span> It is because
of this long list of good qualities that it is relied on to provide
the staff of life to instrumental music. The strings as commonly used
show four members of the viol family, distinguished among themselves
by their size, and the quality in the changes of tone which grows out
of the differences in size. The violins (<SPAN href="#PLATES">Appendix</SPAN>, <SPAN href="#PLATE_I">Plate I</SPAN>.) are the
smallest members of the family. Historically they are the culmination
of a development toward diminutiveness, for in their early days viols
were larger than they are now. When the violin of to-day entered the
orchestra (in the score of Monteverde's opera "Orfeo") it was
specifically described as a "little French violin." Its voice, Berlioz
says, is the "true female voice of the orchestra." Generally the
violin part of an orchestral score is two-voiced, but the two groups
may be split into a great number. In one passage in "Tristan und
Isolde" Wagner divides his first and second violins into sixteen
groups. Such divisions, especially in the higher regions, are
productive of entrancing effects.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Violin effects.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Pizzicato.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>"Col legno dall'arco."</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Harmonics.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Vibrato.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>"Con sordino."</i></div>
<p>The halo of sound which streams from the beginning and end of the
"Lohengrin" prelude is produced by this device. High and close
harmonies from divided violins always sound ethereal. Besides their
native tone quality (that resulting from a string stretched over a
sounding shell set to vibrating by friction), the violins have a
number of modified qualities resulting from changes in manipulation.
Sometimes the strings are plucked (<i>pizzicato</i>), when the result is a
short tone something like that of a banjo with the metallic clang
omitted; very dainty effects can thus be produced, and though it
always seems like a degradation of the instrument so pre-eminently
suited to a broad singing style, no less significant a symphonist than
Tschaikowsky has written a Scherzo in which the violins are played
<i>pizzicato</i> throughout the movement. Ballet composers frequently
resort to the piquant effect, but in the larger and more serious forms
of composition, the device is sparingly used. Differences in quality
and expressiveness of tone are also produced by varied<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></SPAN></span> methods of
applying the bow to the strings: with stronger or lighter pressure;
near the bridge, which renders the tone hard and brilliant, and over
the end of the finger-board, which softens it; in a continuous manner
(<i>legato</i>), or detached (<i>staccato</i>). Weird effects in dramatic music
are sometimes produced by striking the strings with the wood of the
bow, Wagner resorting to this means to delineate the wicked glee of
his dwarf <i>Mime</i>, and Meyerbeer to heighten the uncanniness of
<i>Nelusko's</i> wild song in the third act of "L'Africaine." Another class
of effects results from the manner in which the strings are "stopped"
by the fingers of the left hand. When they are not pressed firmly
against the finger-board but touched lightly at certain places called
nodes by the acousticians, so that the segments below the finger are
permitted to vibrate along with the upper portion, those peculiar
tones of a flute-like quality called harmonics or flageolet tones are
produced. These are oftener heard in dramatic music than in
symphonies; but Berlioz, desiring to put<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></SPAN></span> Shakespeare's description of
Queen Mab,</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Her wagon-spokes made of long spinner's legs;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The traces, of the smallest spider's web;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams—"</span></div>
</div>
<p>into music in his dramatic symphony, "Romeo and Juliet," achieved a
marvellously filmy effect by dividing his violins, and permitting some
of them to play harmonics. Yet so little was his ingenious purpose
suspected when he first brought the symphony forward in Paris, that
one of the critics spoke contemptuously of this effect as sounding
"like an ill-greased syringe." A quivering motion imparted to the
fingers of the left hand in stopping the strings produces a
tremulousness of tone akin to the <i>vibrato</i> of a singer; and, like the
vocal <i>vibrato</i>, when not carried to excess, this effect is a potent
expression of sentimental feeling. But it is much abused by solo
players. Another modification of tone is caused by placing a tiny
instrument called a sordino, or mute, upon the bridge. This clamps<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></SPAN></span>
the bridge, makes it heavier, and checks the vibrations, so that the
tone is muted or muffled, and at times sounds mysterious.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Pizzicato on the basses.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Tremolo.</i></div>
<p>These devices, though as a rule they have their maximum of
effectiveness in the violins, are possible also on the violas,
violoncellos, and double-basses, which, as I have already intimated,
are but violins of a larger growth. The <i>pizzicato</i> is, indeed,
oftenest heard from the double-basses, where it has a much greater
eloquence than on the violins. In music of a sombre cast, the short,
deep tones given out by the plucked strings of the contra-bass
sometimes have the awfulness of gigantic heart-throbs. The difficulty
of producing the other effects grows with the increase of difficulty
in handling the instruments, this being due to the growing thickness
of the strings and the wideness of the points at which they must be
stopped. One effect peculiar to them all—the most used of all
effects, indeed, in dramatic music—is the <i>tremolo</i>, produced by
dividing a tone into many quickly reiterated short tones by a rapid
motion<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></SPAN></span> of the bow. This device came into use with one of the earliest
pieces of dramatic music. It is two centuries old, and was first used
to help in the musical delineation of a combat. With scarcely an
exception, the varied means which I have described can be detected by
those to whom they are not already familiar by watching the players
while listening to the music.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The viola.</i></div>
<p>The viola is next in size to the violin, and is tuned at the interval
of a fifth lower. Its highest string is A, which is the second string
of the violin, and its lowest C. Its tone, which sometimes contains a
comical suggestion of a boy's voice in mutation, is lacking in
incisiveness and brilliancy, but for this it compensates by a
wonderful richness and filling quality, and a pathetic and inimitable
mournfulness in melancholy music. It blends beautifully with the
violoncello, and is often made to double that instrument's part for
the sake of color effect—as, to cite a familiar instance, in the
principal subject of the Andante in Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The violoncello.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Violoncello effects.</i></div>
<p>The strings of the violoncello (<SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93" href="#PLATE_II"></SPAN>) are tuned like those of
the viola, but an octave lower. It is the knee-fiddle (<i>viola da
gamba</i>) of the last century, as the viola is the arm-fiddle (<i>viola da
braccio</i>), and got its old name from the position in which it is held
by the player. The 'cello's voice is a bass—it might be called the
barytone of the choir—and in the olden time of simple writing, little
else was done with it than to double the bass part one octave higher.
But modern composers, appreciating its marvellous capacity for
expression, which is next to that of the violin, have treated it with
great freedom and independence as a solo instrument. Its tone is full
of voluptuous languor. It is the sighing lover of the instrumental
company, and can speak the language of tender passion more feelingly
than any of its fellows. The ravishing effect of a multiplication of
its voice is tellingly exemplified in the opening of the overture to
"William Tell," which is written for five solo 'celli, though it is
oftenest heard in an arrangement which gives two of the middle parts
to violas. When Beethoven wished to produce the emo<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></SPAN></span>tional impression
of a peacefully rippling brook in his "Pastoral" symphony, he gave a
murmuring figure to the divided violoncellos, and Wagner uses the
passionate accents of four of these instruments playing in harmony to
support <i>Siegmund</i> when he is pouring out the ecstasy of his love in
the first act of "Die Walküre." In the love scene of Berlioz's "Romeo
and Juliet" symphony it is the violoncello which personifies the
lover, and holds converse with the modest oboe.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The double-bass.</i></div>
<p>The patriarchal double-bass is known to all, and also its mission of
providing the foundation for the harmonic structure of orchestral
music. It sounds an octave lower than the music written for it, being
what is called a transposing instrument of sixteen-foot tone. Solos
are seldom written for this instrument in orchestral music, though
Beethoven, with his daring recitatives in the Ninth Symphony, makes it
a mediator between the instrumental and vocal forces. Dragonetti and
Bottesini, two Italians, the latter of whom is still alive, won great
fame as solo players on the unwieldy<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></SPAN></span> instrument. The latter uses a
small bass viol, and strings it with harp strings; but Dragonetti
played a full double-bass, on which he could execute the most
difficult passages written for the violoncello.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The wood-winds.</i></div>
<p>Since the instruments of the wood-wind choir are frequently used in
solos, their acquaintance can easily be made by an observing amateur.
To this division of the orchestra belong the gentle accents in the
instrumental language. Violent expression is not its province, and
generally when the band is discoursing in heroic style or giving voice
to brave or angry emotion the wood-winds are either silent or are used
to give weight to the body of tone rather than color. Each of the
instruments has a strongly characteristic voice, which adapts itself
best to a certain style of music; but by use of different registers
and by combinations among them, or with the instruments of the other
choirs, a wide range of expression within the limits suggested has
been won for the wood-winds.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The flute.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The piccolo flute.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Janizary music.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The story of the flute.</i></div>
<p>The flute, which requires no descrip<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></SPAN></span>tion, is, for instance, an
essentially soulless instrument; but its marvellous agility and the
effectiveness with which its tones can be blended with others make it
one of the most useful instruments in the band. Its native character,
heard in the compositions written for it as a solo instrument, has
prevented it from being looked upon with dignity. As a rule,
brilliancy is all that is expected from it. It is a sort of <i>soprano
leggiero</i> with a small range of superficial feelings. It can
sentimentalize, and, as Dryden says, be "soft, complaining," but when
we hear it pour forth a veritable ecstasy of jubilation, as it does in
the dramatic climax of Beethoven's overture "Leonore No. 3," we marvel
at the transformation effected by the composer. Advantage has also
been taken of the difference between its high and low tones, and now
in some romantic music, as in Raff's "Lenore" symphony, or the prayer
of <i>Agathe</i> in "Der Freischütz," the hollowness of the low tones
produces a mysterious effect that is exceedingly striking. Still the
fact remains that the native voice of the in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></SPAN></span>strument, though sweet,
is expressionless compared with that of the oboe or clarinet. Modern
composers sometimes write for three flutes; but in the older writers,
when a third flute is used, it is generally an octave flute, or
piccolo flute (<SPAN href="#PLATE_III">Plate III.</SPAN>)—a tiny instrument whose aggressiveness of
voice is out of all proportion to its diminutiveness of body. This is
the instrument which shrieks and whistles when the band is playing at
storm-making, to imitate the noise of the wind. It sounds an octave
higher than is indicated by the notes in its part, and so is what is
called a transposing instrument of four-foot tone. It revels in
military music, which is proper, for it is an own cousin to the
ear-piercing fife, which annually makes up for its long silence in the
noisy days before political elections. When you hear a composition in
march time, with bass and snare drum, cymbals and triangle, such as
the Germans call "Turkish" or "Janizary" music, you may be sure to
hear also the piccolo flute. The flute is doubtless one of the oldest
instruments in the world. The<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></SPAN></span> primitive cave-dwellers made flutes of
the leg-bones of birds and other animals, an origin of which a record
is preserved in the Latin name <i>tibia</i>. The first wooden flutes were
doubtless the Pandean pipes, in which the tone was produced by blowing
across the open ends of hollow reeds. The present method, already
known to the ancient Egyptians, of closing the upper end, and creating
the tone by blowing across a hole cut in the side, is only a
modification of the method pursued, according to classic tradition, by
Pan when he breathed out his dejection at the loss of the nymph
Syrinx, by blowing across the tuneful reeds which were that nymph in
her metamorphosed state.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Reed instruments.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Double reeds.</i></div>
<p>The flute or pipe of the Greeks and Romans was only distantly related
to the true flute, but was the ancestor of its orchestral companions,
the oboe and clarinet. These instruments are sounded by being blown in
at the end, and the tone is created by vibrating reeds, whereas in the
flute it is the result of the impinging of the air on the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></SPAN></span> edge of the
hole called the embouchure, and the consequent stirring of the column
of air in the flue of the instrument. The reeds are thin slips or
blades of cane. The size and bore of the instruments and the
difference between these reeds are the causes of the differences in
tone quality between these relatives. The oboe or hautboy, English
horn, and the bassoon have what are called double reeds. Two narrow
blades of cane are fitted closely together, and fastened with silk on
a small metal tube extending from the upper end of the instrument in
the case of the oboe and English horn, from the side in the case of
the bassoon. The reeds are pinched more or less tightly between the
lips, and are set to vibrating by the breath.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The oboe.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The English horn.</i></div>
<p>The oboe (<SPAN href="#PLATE_IV">Plate IV.</SPAN>) is naturally associated with music of a pastoral
character. It is pre-eminently a melody instrument, and though its
voice comes forth shrinkingly, its uniqueness of tone makes it easily
heard. It is a most lovable instrument. "Candor, artless grace, soft
joy, or the grief of a fragile being<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></SPAN></span> suits the oboe's accents," says
Berlioz. The peculiarity of its mouth-piece gives its tone a reedy or
vibrating quality totally unlike the clarinet's. Its natural alto is
the English horn (<SPAN href="#PLATE_V">Plate V.</SPAN>), which is an oboe of larger growth, with
curved tube for convenience of manipulation. The tone of the English
horn is fuller, nobler, and is very attractive in melancholy or dreamy
music. There are few players on the English horn in this country, and
it might be set down as a rule that outside of New York, Boston, and
Chicago, the English horn parts are played by the oboe in America. No
melody displays the true character of the English horn better than the
<i>Ranz des Vaches</i> in the overture to Rossini's "William Tell"—that
lovely Alpine song which the flute embroiders with exquisite ornament.
One of the noblest utterances of the oboe is the melody of the funeral
march in Beethoven's "Heroic" symphony, in which its tenderness has
beautiful play. It is sometimes used effectively in imitative music.
In Haydn's "Seasons," and also in that grotesque tone poem by<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></SPAN></span>
Saint-Saëns, the "Danse Macabre," it gives the cock crow. It is the
timid oboe that sounds the A for the orchestra to tune by.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The bassoon.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>An orchestral humorist.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Supernatural effects.</i></div>
<p>The grave voice of the oboe is heard from the bassoon (<SPAN href="#PLATE_VI">Plate VI.</SPAN>),
where, without becoming assertive, it gains a quality entirely unknown
to the oboe and English horn. It is this quality that makes the
bassoon the humorist <i>par excellence</i> of the orchestra. It is a reedy
bass, very apt to recall to those who have had a country education the
squalling tone of the homely instrument which the farmer's boy
fashions out of the stems of the pumpkin-vine. The humor of the
bassoon is an unconscious humor, and results from the use made of its
abysmally solemn voice. This solemnity in quality is paired with
astonishing flexibility of utterance, so that its gambols are always
grotesque. Brahms permits the bassoon to intone the <i>Fuchslied</i> of the
German students in his "Academic" overture. Beethoven achieves a
decidedly comical effect by a stubborn reiteration of key-note, fifth,
and octave by the bassoon under a rus<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></SPAN></span>tic dance intoned by the oboe in
the scherzo of his "Pastoral" symphony; and nearly every modern
composer has taken advantage of the instrument's grotesqueness.
Mendelssohn introduces the clowns in his "Midsummer-Night's-Dream"
music by a droll dance for two bassoons over a sustained bass note
from the violoncellos; but when Meyerbeer wanted a very different
effect, a ghastly one indeed, in the scene of the resuscitation of the
nuns in his "Robert le Diable," he got it by taking two bassoons as
solo instruments and using their weak middle tones, which, Berlioz
says, have "a pale, cold, cadaverous sound." Singularly enough, Handel
resorted to a similar device in his "Saul," to accompany the vision of
the Witch of Endor.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The double bassoon.</i></div>
<p>In all these cases a great deal depends upon the relation between the
character of the melody and the nature of the instrument to which it
is set. A swelling martial fanfare may be made absurd by changing it
from trumpets to a weak-voiced wood-wind. It is only the string
quartet that speaks all the musical<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></SPAN></span> languages of passion and emotion.
The double-bassoon is so large an instrument that it has to be bent on
itself to bring it under the control of the player. It sounds an
octave lower than the written notes. It is not brought often into the
orchestra, but speaks very much to the purpose in Brahms's beautiful
variations on a theme by Haydn, and the glorious finale of Beethoven's
Fifth Symphony.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The clarinet.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The bass clarinet.</i></div>
<p>The clarinet (<SPAN href="#PLATE_VII">Plate VII.</SPAN>) is the most eloquent member of the wood-wind
choir, and, except some of its own modifications or the modifications
of the oboe and bassoon, the latest arrival in the harmonious company.
It is only a little more than a century old. It has the widest range
of expression of the wood-winds, and its chief structural difference
is in its mouth-piece. It has a single flat reed, which is much wider
than that of the oboe or bassoon, and is fastened by a metallic band
and screw to the flattened side of the mouth-piece, whose other side
is cut down, chisel shape, for convenience. Its voice is rich, mellow,
less reedy, and much fuller and more limpid than the voice of the
oboe,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></SPAN></span> which Berlioz tries to describe by analogy as "sweet-sour." It
is very flexible, too, and has a range of over three and a half
octaves. Its high tones are sometimes shrieky, however, and the full
beauty of the instrument is only disclosed when it sings in the middle
register. Every symphony and overture contains passages for the
clarinet which serve to display its characteristics. Clarinets are
made of different sizes for different keys, the smallest being that in
E-flat, with an unpleasantly piercing tone, whose use is confined to
military bands. There is also an alto clarinet and a bass clarinet
(<SPAN href="#PLATE_VIII">Plate VIII.</SPAN>). The bell of the latter instrument is bent upward, pipe
fashion, and its voice is peculiarly impressive and noble. It is a
favorite solo instrument in Liszt's symphonic poems.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Lips and reeds.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The brass instruments.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Improvements in brass instruments.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Valves and slides.</i></div>
<p>The fundamental principle of the instruments last described is the
production of tone by vibrating reeds. In the instruments of the brass
choir, the duty of the reeds is performed by the lips of the player.
Variety of tone in respect of quality is produced by variations in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></SPAN></span>
size, shape, and modifications in parts like the bell and mouth-piece.
The <i>forte</i> of the orchestra receives the bulk of its puissance from
the brass instruments, which, nevertheless, can give voice to an
extensive gamut of sentiments and feelings. There is nothing more
cheery and jocund than the flourishes of the horns, but also nothing
more mild and soothing than the songs which sometimes they sing. There
is nothing more solemn and religious than the harmony of the
trombones, while "the trumpet's loud clangor" is the very voice of a
war-like spirit. All of these instruments have undergone important
changes within the last few score years. The classical composers,
almost down to our own time, were restricted in the use of them
because they were merely natural tubes, and their notes were limited
to the notes which inflexible tubes can produce. Within this century,
however, they have all been transformed from imperfect diatonic
instruments to perfect chromatic instruments; that is to say, every
brass instrument which is in use now can give out all the semitones
within its<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></SPAN></span> compass. This has been accomplished through the agency of
valves, by means of which differing lengths of the sonorous tube are
brought within the command of the players. In the case of the
trombones an exceedingly venerable means of accomplishing the same end
is applied. The tube is in part made double, one part sliding over the
other. By moving his arm, the player lengthens or shortens the tube,
and thus changing the key of the instrument, acquires all the tones
which can be obtained from so many tubes of different lengths. The
mouth-pieces of the trumpet, trombone, and tuba are cup-shaped, and
larger than the mouth-piece of the horn, which is little else than a
flare of the slender tube, sufficiently wide to receive enough of the
player's lips to form the embouchure, or human reed, as it might here
be named.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The French horn.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Manipulation of the French horn.</i></div>
<p>The French horn (<SPAN href="#PLATE_IX">Plate IX.</SPAN>), as it is called in the orchestra, is the
sweetest and mellowest of all the wind instruments. In Beethoven's
time it was but little else than the old hunting-horn, which, for the
convenience of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></SPAN></span> mounted hunter, was arranged in spiral
convolutions that it might be slipped over the head and carried
resting on one shoulder and under the opposite arm. The Germans still
call it the <i>Waldhorn</i>, <i>i.e.</i>, "forest horn;" the old French name was
<i>cor de chasse</i>, the Italian <i>corno di caccia</i>. In this instrument
formerly the tones which were not the natural resonances of the
harmonic division of the tube were helped out by partly closing the
bell with the right hand, it having been discovered accidentally that
by putting the hand into the lower end of the tube—the flaring part
called the bell—the pitch of a tone was raised. Players still make
use of this method for convenience, and sometimes because a composer
wishes to employ the slightly muffled effect of these tones; but since
valves have been added to the instrument, it is possible to play a
chromatic scale in what are called the unstopped or open tones.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Kinds of horns.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The trumpet.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The cornet.</i></div>
<p>Formerly it was necessary to use horns of different pitch, and
composers still respect this tradition, and designate the key of the
horns which they wish to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></SPAN></span> have employed; but so skilful have the
players become that, as a rule, they use horns whose fundamental tone
is F for all keys, and achieve the old purpose by simply transposing
the music as they read it. If these most graceful instruments were
straightened out they would be seventeen feet long. The convolutions
of the horn and the many turns of the trumpet are all the fruit of
necessity; they could not be manipulated to produce the tones that are
asked of them if they were not bent and curved. The trumpet, when its
tube is lengthened by the addition of crooks for its lowest key, is
eight feet long; the tuba, sixteen. In most orchestras (in all of
those in the United States, in fact, except the Boston and Chicago
Orchestras and the Symphony Society of New York) the word trumpet is
merely a euphemism for cornet, the familiar leading instrument of the
brass band, which, while it falls short of the trumpet in the quality
of its tone, in the upper registers especially, is a more easily
manipulated instrument than the trumpet, and is preferable in the
lower tones.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The trombone.</i></div>
<p>Mendelssohn is quoted as saying that the trombones (<SPAN href="#PLATE_X">Plate X.</SPAN>) "are too
sacred to use often." They have, indeed, a majesty and nobility all
their own, and the lowest use to which they can be put is to furnish a
flaring and noisy harmony in an orchestral <i>tutti</i>. They are
marvellously expressive instruments, and without a peer in the whole
instrumental company when a solemn and spiritually uplifting effect is
to be attained. They can also be made to sound menacing and
lugubrious, devout and mocking, pompously heroic, majestic, and lofty.
They are often the heralds of the orchestra, and make sonorous
proclamations.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Trombone effects.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The tuba.</i></div>
<p>The classic composers always seemed to approach the trombones with
marked respect, but nowadays it requires a very big blue pencil in the
hands of a very uncompromising conservatory professor to prevent a
student engaged on his <i>Opus 1</i> from keeping his trombones going half
the time at least. It is an old story how Mozart keeps the instruments
silent through three-fourths of his immortal "Don Giovanni," so that
they may<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></SPAN></span> enter with overwhelming impressiveness along with the
ghostly visitor of the concluding scene. As a rule, there are three
trombones in the modern orchestra—two tenors and a bass. Formerly
there were four kinds, bearing the names of the voices to which they
were supposed to be nearest in tone-quality and compass—soprano,
alto, tenor, and bass. Full four-part harmony is now performed by the
three trombones and the tuba (<SPAN href="#PLATE_XI">Plate XI.</SPAN>). The latter instrument,
which, despite its gigantic size, is exceedingly tractable can "roar
you as gently as any sucking dove." Far-away and strangely mysterious
tones are got out of the brass instruments, chiefly the cornet and
horn, by almost wholly closing the bell.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Instruments of percussion.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The xylophone.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Kettle-drums.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Pfund's tuning device.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Pitch of the drums.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Qualifications of a drummer.</i></div>
<p>The percussion apparatus of the modern orchestra includes a multitude
of instruments scarcely deserving of description. Several varieties of
drums, cymbals, triangle, tambourine, steel bars (<i>Glockenspiel</i>),
gongs, bells, and many other things which we are now inclined to look
upon as toys, rather than as musical instruments, are brought into<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></SPAN></span>
play for reasons more or less fantastic. Saint-Saëns has even utilized
the barbarous xylophone, whose proper place is the variety hall, in
his "Danse Macabre." There his purpose was a fantastic one, and the
effect is capital. The pictorial conceit at the bottom of the poem
which the music illustrates is Death, as a skeleton, seated on a
tombstone, playing the viol, and gleefully cracking his bony heels
against the marble. To produce this effect, the composer uses the
xylophone with capital results. But of all the ordinary instruments of
percussion, the only one that is really musical and deserving of
comment is the kettle-drum. This instrument is more musical than the
others because it has pitch. Its voice is not mere noise, but musical
noise. Kettle-drums, or tympani, are generally used in pairs, though
the vast multiplication of effects by modern composers has resulted
also in the extension of this department of the band. It is seldom
that more than two pairs are used, a good player with a quick ear
being able to accomplish all that Wagner asks of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></SPAN></span> six drums by his
deftness in changing the pitch of the instruments. This work of tuning
is still performed generally in what seems a rudimentary way, though a
German drum-builder named Pfund invented a contrivance by which the
player, by simply pressing on a balanced pedal and watching an
indicator affixed to the side of the drums, can change the pitch to
any desired semitone within the range of an octave.</p>
<p>The tympani are hemispherical brass or copper vessels, kettles in
short, covered with vellum heads. The pitch of the instrument depends
on the tension of the head, which is applied generally by key-screws
working through the iron ring which holds the vellum. There is a
difference in the size of the drums to place at the command of the
player the octave from F in the first space below the bass staff to F
on the fourth line of the same staff. Formerly the purpose of the
drums was simply to give emphasis, and they were then uniformly tuned
to the key-note and fifth of the key in which a composition was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></SPAN></span> set.
Now they are tuned in many ways, not only to allow for the frequent
change of keys, but also so that they may be used as harmony
instruments. Berlioz did more to develop the drums than any composer
who has ever lived, though Beethoven already manifested appreciation
of their independent musical value. In the last movement of his Eighth
Symphony and the scherzo of his Ninth, he tunes them in octaves, his
purpose in the latter case being to give the opening figure, an octave
leap, of the scherzo melody to the drums solo. The most extravagant
use ever made of the drums, however, was by Berlioz in his "Messe des
Morts," where he called in eight pairs of drums and ten players to
help him to paint his tonal picture of the terrors of the last
judgment. The post of drummer is one of the most difficult to fill in
a symphonic orchestra. He is required to have not only a perfect sense
of time and rhythm, but also a keen sense of pitch, for often the
composer asks him to change the pitch of one or both of his drums in
the space of a very few seconds. He must then<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></SPAN></span> be able to shut all
other sounds out of his mind, and bring his drums into a new key while
the orchestra is playing—an extremely nice task.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The bass drum.</i></div>
<p>The development of modern orchestral music has given dignity also to
the bass drum, which, though definite pitch is denied to it, is now
manipulated in a variety of ways productive of striking effects. Rolls
are played on it with the sticks of the kettle-drums, and it has been
emancipated measurably from the cymbals, which in vulgar brass-band
music are its inseparable companions.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The conductor.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Time-beaters and interpreters.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The conductor a necessity.</i></div>
<p>In the full sense of the term the orchestral conductor is a product of
the latter half of the present century. Of course, ever since
concerted music began, there has been a musical leader of some kind.
Mural paintings and carvings fashioned in Egypt long before Apollo
sang his magic song and</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers,"</span></div>
</div>
<p>show the conductor standing before his band beating time by clapping
his hands; and if we are to credit what we have been told about Hebrew
music,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></SPAN></span> Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun, when they stood before their
multitudinous choirs in the temple at Jerusalem, promoted synchronism
in the performance by stamping upon the floor with lead-shodden feet.
Before the era which developed what I might call "star" conductors,
these leaders were but captains of tens and captains of hundreds who
accomplished all that was expected of them if they made the performers
keep musical step together. They were time-beaters merely—human
metronomes. The modern conductor is, in a sense not dreamed of a
century ago, a mediator between the composer and the audience. He is a
virtuoso who plays upon men instead of a key-board, upon a hundred
instruments instead of one. Music differs from her sister arts in many
respects, but in none more than in her dependence on the intermediary
who stands between her and the people for whose sake she exists. It is
this intermediary who wakens her into life.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Are sweeter,"</span>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></SPAN></span></div>
</div>
<p>is a pretty bit of hyperbole which involves a contradiction in terms.
An unheard melody is no melody at all, and as soon as we have music in
which a number of singers or instrumentalists are employed, the taste,
feeling, and judgment of an individual are essential to its
intelligent and effective publication. In the gentle days of the long
ago, when suavity and loveliness of utterance and a recognition of
formal symmetry were the "be-all and end-all" of the art, a
time-beater sufficed to this end; but now the contents of music are
greater, the vessel has been wondrously widened, the language is
become curiously complex and ingenious, and no composer of to-day can
write down universally intelligible signs for all that he wishes to
say. Someone must grasp the whole, expound it to the individual
factors which make up the performing sum and provide what is called an
interpretation to the public.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>"Star" conductors.</i></div>
<p>That someone, of course, is the conductor, and considering the
progress that music is continually making it is not at all to be
wondered at that he has<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></SPAN></span> become a person of stupendous power in the
culture of to-day. The one singularity is that he should be so rare.
This rarity has had its natural consequence, and the conductor who can
conduct, in contradistinction to the conductor who can only beat time,
is now a "star." At present we see him going from place to place in
Europe giving concerts in which he figures as the principal
attraction. The critics discuss his "readings" just as they do the
performances of great pianists and singers. A hundred blowers of
brass, scrapers of strings, and tootlers on windy wood, labor beneath
him transmuting the composer's mysterious symbols into living sound,
and when it is all over we frequently find that it seems all to have
been done for the greater glory of the conductor instead of the glory
of art. That, however, is a digression which it is not necessary to
pursue.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Mistaken popular notions.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>What the conductor does.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Rests and cues.</i></div>
<p>Questions and remarks have frequently been addressed to me indicative
of the fact that there is a widespread popular conviction that the
mission of a conductor is chiefly orna<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></SPAN></span>mental at an orchestral
concert. That is a sad misconception, and grows out of the old notion
that a conductor is only a time-beater. Assuming that the men of the
band have played sufficiently together, it is thought that eventually
they might keep time without the help of the conductor. It is true
that the greater part of the conductor's work is done at rehearsal, at
which he enforces upon his men his wishes concerning the speed of the
music, expression, and the balance of tone between the different
instruments. But all the injunctions given at rehearsal by word of
mouth are reiterated by means of a system of signs and signals during
the concert performance. Time and rhythm are indicated by the
movements of the bâton, the former by the speed of the beats, the
latter by the direction, the tones upon which the principal stress is
to fall being indicated by the down-beat of the bâton. The amplitude
of the movements also serves to indicate the conductor's wishes
concerning dynamic variations, while the left hand is ordinarily used
in pantomimic gestures to control indi<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></SPAN></span>vidual players or groups.
Glances and a play of facial expression also assist in the guidance of
the instrumental body. Every musician is expected to count the rests
which occur in his part, but when they are of long duration (and
sometimes they amount to a hundred measures or more) it is customary
for the conductor to indicate the entrance of an instrument by a
glance at the player. From this mere outline of the communications
which pass between the conductor and his band it will be seen how
indispensable he is if music is to have a consistent and vital
interpretation.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Personal magnetism.</i></div>
<p>The layman will perhaps also be enabled, by observing the actions of a
conductor with a little understanding of their purposes, to appreciate
what critics mean when they speak of the "magnetism" of a leader. He
will understand that among other things it means the aptitude or
capacity for creating a sympathetic relationship between himself and
his men which enables him the better by various devices, some
arbitrary, some technical and conventional, to imbue them with his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></SPAN></span>
thoughts and feelings relative to a composition, and through them to
body them forth to the audience.</p>
<div class="sidenote"><i>The score.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Its arrangement.</i></div>
<div class="sidenote"><i>Score reading.</i></div>
<p>What it is that the conductor has to guide him while giving his mute
commands to his forces may be seen in the reproduction, in the
<SPAN href="#PLATES">Appendix</SPAN>, of a page from an orchestral score (<SPAN href="#PLATE_XII">Plate XII</SPAN>). A score, it
will be observed, is a reproduction of all the parts of a composition
as they lie upon the desks of the players. The ordering of these parts
in the score has not always been as now, but the plan which has the
widest and longest approval is that illustrated in our example. The
wood-winds are grouped together on the uppermost six staves, the brass
in the middle with the tympani separating the horns and trumpets from
the trombones, the strings on the lowermost five staves. The example
has been chosen because it shows all the instruments of the band
employed at once (it is the famous opening <i>tutti</i> of the triumphal
march of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony), and is easy of comprehension by
musical amateurs for the reason that none of the parts requires
transpo<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></SPAN></span>sition except it be an octave up in the case of the piccolo,
an instrument of four-foot tone, and an octave down in the case of the
double-basses, which are of sixteen-foot tone. All the other parts are
to be read as printed, proper attention being given to the alto and
tenor clefs used in the parts of the trombones and violas. The ability
to "read score" is one of the most essential attributes of a
conductor, who, if he have the proper training, can bring all the
parts together and reproduce them on the pianoforte, transposing those
which do not sound as written and reading the different clefs at sight
as he goes along.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p style="text-align: center">
<ANTIMG src="images/deco06.png" alt="Decoration" width-obs="300" height-obs="67" /></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></SPAN></span></p>
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