have everlasting validity: "Pastoral Symphony; more expression of
feeling than painting." How seriously he thought on the subject we
know from his sketch-books, in which occur a number of notes, some of
which were evidently hints for superscriptions, some records of his
convictions on the subject of descriptive music. The notes are
reprinted in Nottebohm's "Zweite Beethoveniana," but I borrow Sir
George Grove's translation:
[Sidenote: _Beethoven's notes on descriptive music._]
"The hearers should be allowed to discover the situations."
"Sinfonia caracteristica, or a recollection of country
life."
"All painting in instrumental music, if pushed too far, is a
failure."
"Sinfonia pastorella. Anyone who has an idea of country life
can make out for himself the intentions of the author
without many titles."
"People will not require titles to recognize the general
intention to be more a matter of feeling than of painting in
sounds."
"Pastoral symphony: No picture, but something in which the
emotions are expressed which are aroused in men by the
pleasure of the country (or), in which some feelings of
country life are set forth."[C]
As to the relation of programme to music Schumann laid down an
admirable maxim when he said that while good music was not harmed by a
descriptive title it was a bad indication if a composition needed one.
[Sidenote: _Classic and Romantic._]
There are, among all the terms used in music, no words of vaguer
meaning than Classic and Romantic. The idea which they convey most
widely in conjunction is that of antithesis. When the Romantic School
of composers is discussed it is almost universally presented as
something opposed in character to the Classical School. There is
little harm in this if we but bear in mind that all the terms which
have come into use to describe different phases of musical development
are entirely artificial and arbitrary--that they do not stand for
anything absolute, but only serve as platforms of observation. If the
terms had a fixed meaning we ought to be able, since they have
established themselves in the language of history and criticism, to
describe unambiguously and define clearly the boundary which separates
them. This, however, is impossible. Each generation, nay, each
decade, fixes the meaning of the words for itself and decides what
works shall go into each category. It ought to be possible to discover
a principle, a touchstone, which shall emancipate us from the
mischievous and misleading notions that have so long prompted men to
make the partitions between the schools out of dates and names.
[Sidenote: _Trench's definition of "classical."_]
The terms were borrowed from literary criticism; but even there, in
the words of Archbishop Trench, "they either say nothing at all or say
something erroneous." Classical has more to defend it than Romantic,
because it has greater antiquity and, in one sense, has been used with
less arbitrariness.
"The term," says Trench, "is drawn from the political
economy of Rome. Such a man was rated as to his income in
the third class, such another in the fourth, and so on, and
he who was in the highest was emphatically said to be of the
class, _classicus_, a class man, without adding the number
as in that case superfluous; while all others were _infra
classem_. Hence by an obvious analogy the best authors were
rated as _classici_, or men of the highest class; just as in
English we say 'men of rank' absolutely for men who are in
the highest ranks of the State."
Thus Trench, and his historical definition, explains why in music also
there is something more than a lurking suggestion of excellence in the
conception of "classical;" but that fact does not put away the quarrel
which we feel exists between Classic and Romantic.
[Sidenote: _Romantic in literature._]
[Sidenote: _Schumann and Jean Paul._]
[Sidenote: _Weber's operas._]
[Sidenote: _Mendelssohn._]
As applied to literature Romantic was an adjective affected by certain
poets, first in Germany, then in France, who wished to introduce a
style of thought and expression different from that of those who
followed old models. Intrinsically, of course, the term does not imply
any such opposition but only bears witness to the source from which
the poets drew their inspiration. This was the imaginative literature
of the Middle Ages, the fantastical stories of chivalry and knighthood
written in the Romance, or Romanic languages, such as Italian,
Spanish, and Provençal. The principal elements of these stories were
the marvellous and the supernatural. The composers whose names first
spring into our minds when we think of the Romantic School are men
like Mendelssohn and Schumann, who drew much of their inspiration from
the young writers of their time who were making war on stilted
rhetoric and conventionalism of phrase. Schumann touches hands with
the Romantic poets in their strivings in two directions. His artistic
conduct, especially in his early years, is inexplicable if Jean Paul
be omitted from the equation. His music rebels against the formalism
which had held despotic sway over the art, and also seeks to disclose
the beauty which lies buried in the world of mystery in and around us,
and give expression to the multitude of emotions to which unyielding
formalism had refused adequate utterance. This, I think, is the chief
element of Romanticism. Another has more of an external nature and
genesis, and this we find in the works of such composers as Von Weber,
who is Romantic chiefly in his operas, because of the supernaturalism
and chivalry in their stories, and Mendelssohn, who, while distinctly
Romantic in many of his strivings, was yet so great a master of form,
and so attached to it, that the Romantic side of him was not fully
developed.
[Sidenote: _A definition of "Classical" in music._]
[Sidenote: _The creative and conservative principles._]
[Sidenote: _Musical laws of necessity progressive._]
[Sidenote: _Bach and Romanticism._]
[Sidenote: _Creation and conservation._]
If I were to attempt a definition it would be this: Classical
composers are those of the first rank (to this extent we yield to the
ancient Roman conception) who have developed music to the highest
pitch of perfection on its formal side and, in obedience to generally
accepted laws, preferring æsthetic beauty, pure and simple, over
emotional content, or, at any rate, refusing to sacrifice form to
characteristic expression. Romantic composers are those who have
sought their ideals in other regions and striven to give expression to
them irrespective of the restrictions and limitations of form and the
conventions of law--composers with whom, in brief, content outweighs
manner. This definition presents Classicism as the regulative and
conservative principle in the history of the art, and Romanticism as
the progressive, regenerative, and creative principle. It is easy to
see how the notion of contest between them grew up, and the only harm
which can come from such a notion will ensue only if we shut our eyes
to the fact that it is a contest between two elements whose very
opposition stimulates life, and whose union, perfect, peaceful,
mutually supplemental, is found in every really great art-work. No law
which fixes, and hence limits, form, can remain valid forever. Its end
is served when it enforces itself long enough to keep lawlessness in
check till the test of time has determined what is sound, sweet, and
wholesome in the innovations which are always crowding eagerly into
every creative activity in art and science. In art it is ever true, as
_Faust_ concludes, that "In the beginning was the deed." The laws of
composition are the products of compositions; and, being such, they
cannot remain unalterable so long as the impulse freshly to create
remains. All great men are ahead of their time, and in all great
music, no matter when written, you shall find instances of profounder
meaning and deeper or newer feeling than marked the generality of
contemporary compositions. So Bach frequently floods his formal
utterances with Romantic feeling, and the face of Beethoven, serving
at the altar in the temple of Beauty, is transfigured for us by divine
light. The principles of creation and conservation move onward
together, and what is Romantic to-day becomes Classic to-morrow.
Romanticism is fluid Classicism. It is the emotional stimulus
informing Romanticism which calls music into life, but no sooner is it
born, free, untrammelled, nature's child, than the regulative
principle places shackles upon it; but it is enslaved only that it may
become and remain art.
FOOTNOTES:
[B] "Studies in the Wagnerian Drama," p. 22.
[C] "Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies," by George Grove, C.B., 2d
ed., p. 191.
IV
_The Modern Orchestra_
[Sidenote: _The orchestra as an instrument._]
[Sidenote: _What may be heard from a band._]
The 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 symphony 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 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.
[Sidenote: _Familiar instruments._]
[Sidenote: _The instrumental choirs._]
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 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").
[Illustration: SEATING PLAN OF THE NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY.]
[Sidenote: _How orchestras are seated._]
[Sidenote: _Plan of the New York Philharmonic._]
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 background,
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.
[Sidenote: _Solo instruments._]
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 particular choir, or to strengthen a voice by permitting two
instruments to play in unison.
[Sidenote: _Groupings for harmony effects._]
[Sidenote: _Wagner's instrumental characterization._]
[Sidenote: _An instrumental language._]
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. _Elsa_, 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. _Lohengrin's_
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
militant 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.
[Sidenote: _Number of instruments._]
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 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.
[Sidenote: _Symphony and dramatic orchestras._]
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 82), 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.
[Sidenote: _Instruments rarely used._]
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 multiplied when desirable effects are
to be obtained by such means.
[Sidenote: _Orchestras compared._]
New York
Instruments Bayreuth. Philharmonic. Boston. Chicago.
First violins 16 18 16 16
Second violins 16 18 14 16
Violas 12 14 10 10
Violoncellos 12 14 8 10
Double-basses 8 14 8 9
Flutes 3 3 3 3
Oboes 3 3 2 3
English horn 1 1 1 1
Clarinets 3 3 3 3
Basset-horn 1 0 0 0
Bassoons 3 3 3 3
Trumpets or cornets 3 3 4 4
Horns 8 4 4 4
Trombones 3 3 3 3
Bass trumpet 1 0 0 1
Tenor tubas 2 0 2 4
Bass tubas 2 1 2 1
Contra-bass tuba 1 0 1 0
Contra-bass trombone 1 0 0 1
Tympani (pairs) 2 2 2 2
Bass drum 1 1 1 1
Cymbals (pairs) 1 1 1 1
Harps 6 1 1 2
[Sidenote: _The string quartet._]
[Sidenote: _Old laws against instrumentalists._]
[Sidenote: _Early instrumentation._]
[Sidenote: _Handel's orchestra._]
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 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
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.
[Sidenote: _The modern band._]
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.
[Sidenote: _Capacity of the orchestra._]
[Sidenote: _The extremes of range._]
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 same extremity in the opposite direction.
[Sidenote: _The viols._]
[Sidenote: _The violin._]