Grasp the Horn firmly with the right hand about six inches from the
mouthpiece, holding it out straight and in a line with the mouth, so as
not to cause the body to assume a stooping position. Then press the
mouthpiece about the centre of the mouth, a shade more on the top lip
than on the lower. Then almost close the lips, but draw them tightly
across the teeth as if in the act of spitting something unpleasant out
of the mouth. Then, as it were, spit into the mouthpiece, but without
discharging more saliva than can possibly be helped; thus blowing
sharply into the Horn, being, at the same time, careful _not to puff out
the cheeks_. Try to produce the sound “tpff” with the tip of the tongue,
drawing it back again quickly, so as to be ready, as it were, for
another note.
The sound at first will probably be but a short one, but after a little
practice it can be prolonged by degrees. After doing this repeatedly,
try then to hold or prolong the note, and not let it break or
involuntarily subside into another sound.
Practise the same note repeatedly at first without trying to sound
different ones; remembering that, before attempting to run it is
necessary to know how to walk properly.
Beginners will find their top lip become swollen and numbed, after
blowing a little time, in which case I would advise them to leave off
entirely for at least half-an-hour, for it is of no use harassing the
lip; and it is as futile to try to blow with a numbed lip as to try to
win a race with a tired horse.
Five good, clear and natural notes can be produced on the Coach-horn,
viz.,
[Illustration]
which, for the benefit of my non-musical readers, I have marked C, G*,
C, E, and top G.
Upon the Post-horn four notes are about all that can be sounded with
ease and comfort; indeed, it is seldom that more than the first three
notes are used.
Nine persons out of ten will produce the note G* first, then, after a
little practice, the upper notes will come by compressing the lips a
_little_ more tightly, and blowing, as it were, rather more against the
top part of the interior or cup of the mouthpiece. A very little will do
this, in fact, the extra pressure is almost imperceptible. On the
contrary, to produce the bottom note C, the lowest note of all, it is
necessary to relax the lips so as to cause them to slacken a _very
little_, and then blow as straight and direct into the mouthpiece as
possible.
These are about all the instructions it is possible to give, and I
really believe that this is the first time the theory of Horn-blowing
has been so minutely described. I only hope that I have succeeded in
making myself intelligible, and, in conclusion, I can only urge my
readers, as I said before, to take the trouble and to practise.
I quite agree with them that it is not exactly a treat to hear a novice
trying to blow a Coach-horn in a house or in quiet lodgings, and
therefore I would recommend learners always to carry a mouthpiece in
their pockets. An ordinary cornet mouthpiece will do, and blowing on
this occasionally in the manner I have described, whenever they feel
inclined or have the opportunity, will harden the lip and accustom it to
the mouthpiece, whilst the noise produced will not even “wake the baby”
or cause any other more serious domestic disturbance.
A gallant Colonel, an eminent cornet player, whose name I am scarcely at
liberty to mention, told me of a capital hint to persons learning to
blow, which is to place a hair inside the mouth and then try to spit it
out cleanly. This strikes me as an excellent suggestion, for the action
of blowing a Horn is very similar and a hair is a very difficult thing
to spit out of the mouth _cleanly_, as I observed. It is important to
mention that when sounding a Horn on a coach, it is always advisable for
the performer to turn his head aside a little, so as to avoid blowing
right into the teeth of the wind. Attention to this little point will
make a great difference in the ease of blowing.
Again, when driving through London or any other large cities, the Horn
should be used only when necessary to clear the road of the innumerable
’buses and cabs, both “growlers” and “hansoms,” which block the way,
rendering it almost impossible to “tool a team” through the crowded
streets without the aid of a Coach-horn.
Most coachmen will admit that at present the sound of the Horn is always
promptly and civilly attended to by drivers of the above-mentioned
public conveyances; but this would not be the case if the “cry of wolf”
were made too common, and the Horn sounded without occasion.
On a country road the case is very different, for there the performer
can give vent to his wind and lungs to his heart’s content; his sounds,
if musical, tending to cheer the spirits and enliven the journey; whilst
if by chance discordant notes and queer noises are produced, the effect
will be the same, inasmuch as the risible faculties and sympathies of
his fellow-passengers are sure to be aroused.
I hope it will not be thought out of place for me here to acknowledge
the kindness and hospitality of the many proprietors of crack Coaches
travelling out of London in the season, who have so often offered me a
seat when they have had one to spare. Such little outings have always
afforded me much pleasure, tending, as they do, to grease the wheels of
life, and make the journey more pleasant; and, although my fare has
often been good-naturedly but positively refused, I have in such cases
always made it a rule not to forget the old-fashioned claims of the
“professional,” who is generally present, and the Guard attached to the
Coach, thus leaving those worthies even more deeply impressed with my
performance on the Coach-horn than perhaps they otherwise might have
been.
During these trips it has been my good fortune to meet with some
extraordinary fellow-passengers, and if I were free to narrate the
various scenes I have witnessed, this modest pamphlet would be increased
to a good sized volume.
One incident which happened to me as a pedestrian may, however, be told
without divulging any secrets of the road.
In the Autumn of 1875 I was spending my holidays at the very quiet
seaside village of Felixstowe, near Ipswich, where the Carabiniers were
at that time stationed. Strolling along the beach, watching the shipping
and the ever-restless waves, I heard a noise not unlike the distant
bellowing of a cow in the last stages of pulmonary consumption or
pleuro-pneumonia. Slightly alarmed, I cast my eyes along the high road
which runs parallel to the shore, where I saw an elegantly appointed
Coach, with four horses and grooms in livery, pulled up by the roadside
whilst a gentleman on the box seat was endeavouring to sound a
Coach-horn, and so to assemble the passengers who had alighted for
luncheon.
Having nothing whatever to do, I was seized with a sudden fit of
compassion for the gentleman who was blowing the Horn—for he was getting
black in the face, and it was a smoking hot day. I took the liberty to
address him, saying that, if he would allow me to make an attempt, I
thought I might be able to produce more musical sounds. With a “Ah, ah,
thank you, er,” he politely handed me the Horn. First glancing at the
maker’s name and Prize Medals which are conspicuously stamped on all
genuine Coach-horns, I remarked, “Ah, this is a good Horn, and no
mistake, for it came from the only man in London who knows how to make a
Coach-horn;” and then proceeding to blow it in my usual inimitable
style, I may say that I made “the welkin ring again.”
The company immediately made their appearance, and so delighted were
they that I was even offered a ride back to Ipswich, which a previous
appointment obliged me to decline with thanks, whilst the lady
passengers even applauded my performance by enthusiastically clapping
their hands.
This is not all, for I had almost forgotten the occurrence, when about a
month afterwards a gentleman walked into the shop of the maker of the
Coach-horn, whom I at once recognised as my acquaintance of the
Felixstowe Coach. “Fine weather,” remarked he. “Yes!” I replied, “just
the sort of day for a drive over to Felixstowe.” Staring at me for a
moment, he exclaimed, “By Jove, why you’re the fellow who blew that Horn
so well and praised the maker so highly. Dear me, what a capital joke.”
I modestly replied something to the effect that it was necessary in
these days to be able to sound one’s own trumpet, and that I seldom
missed the opportunity of doing so.
I believe this tale was told over the mess-table, and I should like to
have been present at the time.
Of course, there are Coach-horns and _Coach-horns_; some easy to blow
and of proper tone, others just the reverse, and the difference is to be
accounted for not only in the model, but also in the workmanship, gauge
of metal, and mode of their construction. With these particulars I will
not weary my readers, and it being an admitted fact that there is only
one firm of musical instrument makers in London—I may say in the
world—who know how to make really good Coach-horns, and that being the
one with which I happen to be connected, I hardly like mentioning their
name and address.
For very many years their old-fashioned workshop stood near Covent
Garden, but the exigencies of the times, to say nothing about the
increased rent of 50 per cent. demanded by the Ducal landlord at the
termination of the lease, rendered a removal to Victoria Street,
Westminster, advisable, if not compulsory(!) Circumstances further
compelled Messrs. KÖHLER & SON to move first to Ebury Street, S.W., and
then to Bromley, Kent. On taking over the concern in 1907, the present
proprietors, Messrs. SWAINE AND ADENEY, transferred the entire business
to their own premises at 185 Piccadilly, W., and to this establishment
gentlemen requiring good, easy-sounding Coach-horns, possessing the true
Coaching tones, are confidently recommended.