THE WOODWIND FAMILY
_The Woodwind; the reed; the flute; the piccolo; the oboe; the
cor anglais; the bassoon; the double-bassoon; the clarinet; the
basset-horn; the bass-clarinet._
The Woodwind Family consists of instruments that may be described as
wooden tubes, or pipes, through which the performer blows, stopping the
holes in these pipes with his fingers in order to get various notes.
Some of these are furnished with reeds and some are without. It is easy
for us to tell the difference when we look at the Orchestra. The flutes
are held _horizontally_ and have no reeds. All the reed instruments are
held by the player in a straight line, _perpendicularly_. The Reed Family
is divided into two groups: the oboe group, furnished with a double
reed; and the clarinet group, furnished with a single reed. This reed,
single or double, placed in the mouthpiece of the instrument, is the
“speaking” part. Without it, the instrument could not be played. The reed
corresponds to the sound-post of the violin.
The reed is made of the outer layer of a certain kind of grass that
grows in the south of Europe. Most of it is obtained from Fréjus on the
Mediterranean. The reed is very difficult to fit and the player is very
particular about it. If anything goes wrong with the reed, the instrument
makes a dreadful noise that is called the _couac_, or quack. It is even
worse than the wolf[19] on a stringed instrument.
In all woodwind instruments the _embouchure_ is important. The
_embouchure_ is a certain arrangement of the lips by which the performer
throws into the instrument all the breath that comes through the mouth
without losing any of it and without giving the slightest hissing sound.
THE FLUTE
If we listen attentively to any piece of orchestral music, we will notice
that the voice of the flute is rarely silent. Very often it doubles
the first violins in the melody, running along with them smoothly and
sweetly. Sometimes it plays an unobtrusive part of its own and every now
and then bursts out into a lovely and elaborate solo, when its clear,
silvery, liquid notes sound deliciously cool against the warm, vibrant
strings. The flute is one of the most agile and flexible instruments in
the whole Orchestra. The flute is the nightingale, the thrush, the lark,
the oriole, the mocking-bird of the Orchestra. It warbles.
The voice of the flute is gentle; it is ethereal; it is heavenly; it is
pure; it is sweet; and it is soothing. Therefore, composers make use of
it for poetic and tender sentiment; for scenes of a religious nature;
and to suggest beautiful dreams. It is both graceful and poetic and it
induces reverie.
“To most persons,” Lavignac writes, “as to myself, the ethereal, suave,
transparent timbre of the flute, with its placidity and its poetic charm,
produces an auditive sensation similar to the visual impression of the
color blue, a fine blue, pure and luminous as the azure of the sky.”
The flute is a long tube made in three pieces, or joints, as they are
called. The head is one-third the length of the tube; the body carries
the keys that produce the scale of D major; and, lastly, comes the foot
joint, or tail-joint. The flute is cylindrical and is made of wood or
silver. In the silver flute the head-joint alone is slightly conical. In
the side of the head there is a large opening, less than an inch below
the cork, and _across_ this opening the performer blows his breath. On
the lower part of the flute are six holes to be stopped at will by the
first three fingers of each hand; and three or four levers on the lowest
joint furnish additional notes below the regular scale of the instrument.
The performer holds the instrument transversely, sloping downward against
the lower lip with the hole, through, or across, which he is to blow
turned slightly outward, so that the stream of wind—the “air-stream” it
is called—shall strike against the outer edge of this hole. The left hand
takes the position nearest the player’s mouth. Four open keys are closed
by the first, second and third fingers and thumb placed at the back
of the instrument. The little finger touches an open key, G-sharp, or
A-flat. On the right hand joint are three open keys for the first, second
and third fingers, with the accessory, or “shake,” keys. The right little
finger takes the closed key of D-sharp and the two open keys of C-sharp
and C. The G-sharp key is open in some flutes, but generally G-sharp
closed key is used by flute-players.
[Illustration: FIRST FLUTE, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_George Barrère_]
The flute has no reed. Instead of a reed the “air-stream” from the
player’s lips, thrown against the sharp edge of the hole _obliquely_,
produces the sound-waves.
The principle is that each note comes independently out of a separate
hole and speaks independently, just as if the rest of the tube were cut
off. All keys are open with the exception of G-sharp, E-flat keys—and
also the two small trill-keys.
Formerly the flute had no keys, or levers. It merely had finger-holes;
but between the years 1832 and 1847 Theobald Boehm, a German, by
following some experiments made by Captain Gordon of Charles X’s Swiss
Guards, worked away until he developed a system of keys, manipulated by
means of levers. His invention was so successful that the player has now
command of more holes; and, by means of this system, it therefore became
possible to play in every key.
The flute stands in this one scale of D-major, so the only way to get
higher notes depends upon the breath and lips of the player. “This is
the eternal question,” says George Barrère, “playing upper octaves does
not require _mere blowing_ as we can play _forte_ in lower octave and
_pianissimo_ in the upper. The real means of playing upper is _lips_.
It is not a secret; but how many flute-players ignore it, making the
flute the most disagreeable instrument to hear!” A good _embouchure_, as
the whole manipulation of the mouth is called, is essential to artistic
flute-playing. Moreover, the fingers must be raised at equal heights—and
not too high.
The player takes a calm, firm, easy, and often graceful, attitude before
his desk. Good flute-players also learn a great proportion of their music
by heart.
_Staccato_ notes and ornamental passages are produced by “single
tonguing,” and “double tonguing,” and “triple tonguing.” For different
effects the player makes an effort to pronounce certain consonants, _k_
or _t_ for example; but instead of pronouncing them he blows them off his
tongue in a little kind of explosion. But all this is done quickly and
with ease by a virtuoso.
The tones of the first octave are rather faint; those of the second
octave, produced by exactly the same fingering as those of the first and
with a stronger blowing of the breath, are stronger; and those of the
third octave, also produced by the same fingering, are more penetrating.
Boehm’s explanation is worth quoting to help us understand the production
of tone. He says: “The open air-column in a flute’s tube is exactly
comparable to a stretched violin string. As the string is set into
vibration by the bow, the air-column in the flute is set into vibration
by the blowing of the performer’s breath and management of the lips. As
the clear quality of tone of a violin depends upon the proper handling
of the bow, so the pure quality of tone of a flute depends upon the
direction of the ‘air-stream’ blown against the edge of the mouth-hole.
“Each octave requires a different direction of the ‘air-stream’; and,
by increasing the force of the breath, the tone is increased. By
‘over-blowing,’ each tone can be made to break into higher tones.”
Older composers seem to have cared very little for the flute. They did
not have the modern improved Boehm flute. They found that the performer
often played out of tune. Cherubini said: “The only thing in the world
that is worse than one flute is _two_.” Many agreed with him. However,
Haydn wrote a trio for flutes in his oratorio of _The Creation_ and
Handel wrote a beautiful _obbligato_ for it in the aria, “_Sweet bird
that shun’st the noise of folly_,” in _Il Penseroso_, where it imitates
the bird. Bach wrote six Sonatas for the flute.
Handel’s aria, “_O ruddier than the Cherry_,” in _Acis and Galatea_, now
played on the piccolo, was originally written for the flute.
Mozart wrote two concertos for the flute and one for flute, harp and
orchestra. It is very evident in the _Magic Flute_.
A solo passage in Beethoven’s _Leonora Overture, No. 3_, is very famous.
In Beethoven’s _Pastoral Symphony_ it impersonates the nightingale.
Mendelssohn loved the flute dearly. It is very important in his
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_ music. It plays lovely sustained chords in
the Overture, a beautiful part in the Nocturne and the Scherzo contains
one of the most celebrated passages ever written. He also gave it an
exquisite _obbligato_ in the quartet _O Rest in the Lord_ in the oratorio
of _Elijah_.
Wagner has a fine part for the flute throughout the _Meistersinger_;
it is important in the _Largo_ of Dvořák’s _New World Symphony_, where
it plays with the oboe; Liszt made it conspicuous in his _Hungarian
Rhapsodie, No. 2_; and it sings in the _Morning_ of Grieg’s _Peer Gynt
Suite_.
Berlioz and Tschaikowsky both played the flute themselves and, naturally,
their works are full of beautiful melodies for this instrument. Berlioz
calls for two flutes and harp for the _Cris des Ismaëlits_ in _L’Enfance
du Christ_. Tschaikowsky’s symphonies are a delight to the flute-player.
An exceptionally striking use of the flute is in the _Danse des
Mirlitons_ and _Danse Chinoise_ in the _Nut-cracker Suite_.
Richard Strauss, who always goes a little farther than anybody else, has
in the “Windmill” number of the _Don Quixote Variations_ called for the
“flutter tongue,” a new way of rolling the tongue. The name describes it.
Last, but not least, we must recall Gluck. What could be more beautiful
than his use of the flute in _Armide_, unless it is to be found in the
music of _Orfeo_? All through that beautiful opera the plaintive, tender
voice of the flute is conspicuous. Not only does it play melodies for
the enchanting ballets and minuets, but its wailing notes tell us of
the grief of Orpheus for his adored Eurydice; and when we arrive in the
Elysian Fields with Orpheus its pure and ethereal voice, heard in a solo
of ravishing beauty, lifts us out of the everyday world we live in and
transports us into a realm of blissful peace and enchanting beauty.
[Illustration: FREDERICK THE GREAT PLAYING THE FLUTE
_With his Orchestra at Sans Souci_]
In early days the flute was played by holding it straight in front and
not horizontally as shown in the picture facing page 74. The German,
Quantz, did much to bring the horizontal flute into fashion. One of his
most enthusiastic pupils was Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, who
is shown in the picture facing this page playing a flute concerto with
his orchestra at _Sans Souci_, taken from an engraving by Chodowieki. The
King’s favorite greyhounds are the only listeners. Franz Benda is the
first violin and Christian Friedrich Fasch, who succeeded Philipp Emanuel
Bach (son of J. S. Bach), is playing the harpsichord.
Modern compositions usually call for two flutes and a piccolo.
THE PICCOLO
The piccolo is the little flute. Properly, it should be spoken of as the
piccolo flute, for just as we have seen in the case of the violoncello
the word ’cello means little or small, so the word piccolo is an
adjective and not a noun. However, people speak of it simply as the
piccolo. The piccolo plays the upper octave of the flute. It is less than
half the length of the flute and it lacks the “foot-joint.” Its compass
is over two octaves. Almost every piccolo player can play high B and
even C. The music for the piccolo is always written in the Treble Clef,
an octave below the real pitch, that is to say an octave below the real
sound of the notes. The fingering and technique are exactly the same as
for the flute, so anything that can be played on the flute can be played
on the piccolo.
It should be noted here that two-thirds of the compass of the flute
plays within the compass of a high soprano; now, the piccolo, on the
other hand, is nearly always playing in a register higher than that of
any human voice. It is the most acute and piercing of all instruments in
the orchestra; for even the corresponding notes produced by harmonics
on the violin are far less shrill and penetrating. The piccolo rarely
plays in its lower register. Its second octave is bright and joyous; but
in this we hardly distinguish it from the flute. What we do notice are
the piercing upper notes in quick runs, in chromatic passages and wild
screams. Sometimes too, the piccolo can be made to utter something of a
diabolical nature.
The piccolo is often used to brighten the upper notes of the other
members of the Woodwind Family in all kinds of combinations. This method
of using the piccolo might be likened to brightening up an article with
gold leaf. We might say that the piccolo sometimes adds a sort of gilt
edge to the melody.
Berlioz liked to use it in this way for additional ornamentation, so we
hear a great deal of this kind of piccolo gilt-edging, as we might call
it, in his works. Berlioz gave it a great deal of thought. “In pieces
of a joyous character,” he wrote, “the sounds of the second octave are
suitable in all their gradations; while the upper notes are excellent
_fortissimo_ for violent and tearing effects: in a storm, for instance,
or in a scene of fierce, or infernal, character. Thus the piccolo flute
figures incomparably in the fourth movement of Beethoven’s _Pastoral
Symphony_—now alone and displayed above the low tremolo of violins and
basses, imitating the whistlings of a tempest whose full force is not yet
unchained—now on the higher notes still, together with the entire mass of
the Orchestra. Gluck in the tempest of _Iphigénie en Tauride_ has known
how to make the high sounds of the piccolo flute in unison grate still
more roughly by writing them in a succession of sixths, a fourth above
the first violins. The sound of the piccolo flutes issuing out in the
upper octave, produces, therefore, a succession of elevenths with the
first violins, the harshness of which is here of the very best effect.
“In the chorus of the Scythians, in the same opera, the two piccolo
flutes double in the octave the little grouped passages of the violins.
These whistling notes mingled with the ravings of the savage troop, with
the measure and incessant din of the cymbals and tambourine make us
shiver.
“Everyone has remarked the diabolic sneer of the two piccolo flutes
in thirds in the drinking-song of _Freischütz_. It is one of Weber’s
happiest orchestral inventions.
“Spontini in his magnificent bacchanalian strain in the _Danaïdes_
(since become an orgy chorus in _Nurmahal_) first conceived the idea
of uniting a short piercing cry of the piccolo flutes to a stroke of
the cymbals. The singular sympathy, which is thus created between these
very dissimilar instruments, had not been thought of before. It cuts and
rends instantaneously, like the stab of a poignard. This effect is very
characteristic—even when employing only the two instruments mentioned;
but its force is augmented by an abrupt stroke of the kettledrums joined
to a brief chord of all the other instruments.
“Beethoven, Gluck, Weber and Spontini have thus made ingenious use—no
less original than rational—of the piccolo flute. But when I hear this
instrument employed in doubling in triple octave the air of a baritone,
or casting its squeaking voice into the midst of a religious harmony, or
strengthening and sharpening—for the sake of noise only—the high part of
the orchestra, I think it a stupid method of instrumentation.
“The piccolo flute may have a very happy effect in soft passages; and it
is mere prejudice to think that it should only be played loud. Sometimes
it serves to continue the scale of the large flute by following up the
latter and taking high notes beyond the flute’s command. The passing from
one instrument to the other may then be easily managed by the composer
in such a way as to make it appear that there is only one flute of
extraordinary compass.”
Handel used an instrument that corresponded in his day to the piccolo
in his wonderful accompaniment to the bass song, “_O ruddier than the
Cherry_,” in _Acis and Galatea_, where he gives it a pastoral character.
He also makes it play an _obbligato_ in the aria, “_Hush ye Pretty
Warbling Choir_,” in the same cantata. He does the same thing again in
the aria, _Auguelletti che cantate_, in _Rinaldo_. Meyerbeer gives it
much to do in his infernal waltz in _Robert le Diable_; and in Marcel’s
song “Piff Paff” in _Les Huguenots_ it adds brilliancy to the martial
effect. Beethoven has a striking place for the piccolo in the finale
of his _Egmont Overture_; Verdi makes it heard in Iago’s drinking-song
in _Otello_; it is conspicuous in the grotesque dances of the dolls in
the ballet of _Coppelia_ by Delibes; Wagner uses it in his storms, in
the _Ride of the Walküre_, and in all his fire-music in the _Nibelungen
Ring_; Strauss gives a peculiar trill for it in _Till Eulenspiegel_; and
Berlioz gives it full play in his _Carnaval Romain_, op. 9; and in the
Minuet of the “Will o’ the Whisps” of his _Damnation of Faust_ he calls
for _three_ piccolos.
Therefore, we might characterize the piccolo as the imp, or demon, of
the Orchestra, or the flash of lightning, or the darting flame, or the
whistling wind.
THE OBOE
The Oboe, like the violin, comes from a family of long ancestry. It goes
back to ancient Egypt, Assyria and Greece. In the Middle Ages this family
was known as the _Bombardo_, _Bombardino_, _Bombardi_, or _Chalumeau_.
The Germans called this family _Pommers_, which seems to be a corruption
of _Bombardi_.
“The Bombardo,” writes Carl Engel, “was made of various sizes and with a
greater or smaller number of finger-holes and keys. That which produced
the bass tones was sometimes of enormous length and was blown through
a bent tube like the bassoon, the invention of which it suggested. The
smallest instrument, called _chalumeau_ (from calamus, a reed) is still
occasionally to be found among the peasantry in the Tyrol and some other
parts of the Continent. The Germans call it _Schalmei_ and the Italians
_piffero pastorale_. In England it was formerly called _shawm_, or shalm.”
The type of these instruments was a _conical_ tube of wood with a bell
at one end and a bent metal tube at the other containing a double reed
mouthpiece. There was a quartet of them; and the oboe, or _hautbois_
(high-wood) was the treble. There was also an _oboe d’amore_[20] and an
_oboe di caccia_, hunting oboe (from which the _cor anglais_ is supposed
to have been derived), and there were many others. Old writers refer to
them as _chalumeau_ and _schalmey_ and _shawm_; and in such a general
and confused way that it is hard to know just which special instrument
they are talking about. These old oboes are called for in Bach’s scores;
but they began to drop out of use in his time. We know, however, that
_chalumeau_ was the instrument of the old reed band that always played
the melody and that from it sprang the oboe of to-day. The instrument
went through many changes before it reached its present condition;
but none of these affected the family voice—the penetrating, roughish
twang. The Bombardino-Schalmey voice still persists: it is like some
other famous family traits—the Bourbon nose and the Hapsburg lip for
instance—it is hard to suppress. However, it is this peculiar voice that
makes the oboe such a desirable member of the orchestra.
“The _timbre_ is thin and nasal, very piercing in its _forte_ passages,
of exquisite refinement in its _piano_ passages; harsh and of bad quality
in its very high and very low notes. The oboe is artless and rustic in
its expression; it is pastoral and melancholy; if it is gay, its gayety
is frank and almost excessive and exaggerated; but its natural tone is
of a _gentle sadness and a resigned endurance_. It is unrivalled in
depicting simple, rural sentiments of any kind, and on occasion can even
become pathetic.”[21]
[Illustration: FIRST OBOE, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_Henri De Busscher_]
The oboe is the most elaborate and complicated of all the reed
instruments. The mechanical changes are due to Apollon Marie Rose
Barret (1804-1879), a remarkable French oboe-player, aided by a French
instrument-maker named Triébert. Historically and musically the oboe
is the most important member of the reed band. It is first of all a
_melodic_ instrument; or, in other words, its tone quality is what it
is especially valued for and not for brilliant passages. It can call up
pastoral scenes and it can express innocence, grief, pathos and gentle
gayety.
The oboe is a wooden pipe, or tube, with conical bore widening out
gradually until it forms a small bell, shaped something like the flower
of a morning-glory, or convolvulus. At the opposite end it has a small
metal tube, or mouthpiece, called “staple,” to which the reed (consisting
of two blades of thin cane) is attached by means of silken threads. Along
the wooden pipe are two “speaker keys,” worked by metal rods called
“trackers.” This reed is the _speaking part_ of the instrument.
The oboe is made in three pieces,—the head-piece, bottom and bell-joints.
The player first screws the joints of his instrument together so that the
finger-holes are in a straight line, and then he puts the reed in the
head-piece. The first, second and third fingers of each hand are used to
cover the holes. The whole instrument rests on the thumb of the right
hand. The little fingers and the thumb of the left hand are used for the
keys. The fingers are always placed over the finger-holes ready to close
them when necessary. The fundamental scale is obtained by opening and
shutting the holes pierced laterally in the pipe and these are governed
by a mechanism called “speaker keys.”
The scale of the oboe begins on the middle C and is chromatic. The
instrument, being conical, “over-blows” an octave. It runs up to the
extreme treble G. But although it is a soprano, it is a “middle compass”
instrument. Music for it is written from F on the first space of the
Treble Clef to D in octave above.
The fingering resembles that of the flute; but, owing to the reed in his
mouth, the player can only use single tonguing.
The player puts the reed between his lips, taking care that his teeth
do not touch the mouthpiece. Then he places his tongue against the open
part of the reed, presses the reed with his lips, draws his tongue gently
backwards and blows a stream of air into the oboe, managing his breath as
if for singing. Sometimes he pronounces the syllable _doo_ and sometimes
that of _too_, according to the effect he wants to get.
The double reed in the player’s mouth is the sound-producer. The
air-column inside the pipe acts as a resonating medium, strengthening the
vibrations of the reed by vibrations of its own.
As the player is obliged to take his lips from the mouthpiece to exhale,
he cannot perform long sustained passages without pauses. While the oboe
does not require as much breath for blowing as some instruments do, the
difficulty is to _exhale_ and refill the lungs so as to go on with the
rest of the work.
The notes are produced by holes, some open, others closed by keys raised
by means of levers. The oboe, like the flute, is an octave instrument,
that is to say it “over-blows” the octave. The oboe possesses notes
sufficient for an octave, or more, with chromatic intervals. The next
octaves are obtained by means of cross-fingering and from the octave keys
which do not give out an independent note of their own but determine a
node in the column of air and so raise the pitch of any other note an
octave. The oboe is a “non-transposing instrument” and sounds the note
written.
“It is possible to play on this instrument chromatic scales and
_arpeggio_ passages; _legato_ and _staccato_; leaps; cantabile passages;
sustained notes; _diminuendo_ and _crescendo_; grace notes and shakes.”
“The oboe,” writes Berlioz, “is especially a melodic instrument. It has
a pastoral character full of tenderness,—indeed I might say timidity.
Candor, artless grace, soft joy, or the grief of a fragile being suits
the oboe’s accents: it expresses them admirably in its _cantabile_.
“A certain degree of agitation is also within its powers of expression;
but care should be taken not to urge it into utterance of passion—a
rash outburst of anger, threat, or even heroism; for then its small
_acid-sweet_ voice becomes uneffectual and absolutely grotesque.
“Gluck and Beethoven understood marvellously well the use of this
valuable instrument. To it they owe the profound emotions excited
by several of their finest pages. I have only to quote from Gluck’s
Agmemnon’s air in _Iphigénie en Aulide_ ‘Can the harsh Fates?’ These
complaints of an innocent voice, these continued supplications, ever
more and more appealing, what instrument could they suit so well as an
oboe? And the celebrated burden of the air of _Iphigénie en Tauride_, ‘O
Unhappy Iphigénie!’
“Beethoven has demanded more from the joyous accent of the oboe. Witness
the solo of the _Scherzo_ of the _Pastoral Symphony_ and also that of
the _Scherzo_ of the _Ninth Symphony_, also that in the first movement
of the _Symphony in B-flat_. But he has no less felicitously succeeded
in assigning them sad, or forlorn, passages. These may be seen in the
minor solo of the second return of the first movement of the Symphony
in A-major in the episodical _Andante_ of the finale to the _Eroica
Symphony_; and above all, in the air of _Fidelio_, where Florestan,
starving to death, believes himself, in his delirious agony, surrounded
by his weeping family and mingles his tears of anguish with the broken
sobs of the oboe.”
In Beethoven’s _Pastoral Symphony_ the oboe impersonates the quail and
in Haydn’s _Seasons_ it imitates the crowing of a cock in a long and
difficult passage. Perhaps the most beautiful use of the oboe in all
music is in Gluck’s opera of _Orfeo_, in which it plays an exquisite
minuet with the flute and a beautiful ballet with the violin. Schubert
uses it charmingly in the second movement of his _Symphony in C-major_.
COR ANGLAIS
The _cor anglais_, or English horn, differs slightly in appearance from
the oboe; but these differences help us to identify it. In the first
place, it ends in a kind of ball; and in the second place, there is a
bent crook at the other end that holds the mouthpiece containing the
double reed. It is supposed that the word _Anglais_ is a corruption of
the word _anglé_, meaning bent; for in olden times this instrument was
bent at an obtuse angle in the middle of the tube. It is, therefore, more
correct to call it _cor anglais_ than English horn. The English have had
nothing whatever to do with the development of the instrument.
The _cor anglais_ is nothing more or less than the alto, or tenor, oboe.
It has the same scale and compass as the oboe; but it stands in the key
of F, a fifth below that of the oboe. It is, however, unlike the oboe, a
“transposing instrument,” that is to say, the music does not represent
the real sounds. In the case of the _cor anglais_ the music is written in
a key a fifth above the real sounds. Any good oboe player can play the
_cor anglais_, because the technique and fingering are practically the
same.
“Its tone,” says Lavignac, “is essentially sad, melancholy, sorrowful.
The _cor anglais_ exactly suits the expression of mental suffering, which
is, therefore, especially characteristic of it.” “Its quality of tone,”
says Berlioz, “less piercing, more veiled and deeper than that of the
oboe, does not so well as the latter lend itself to the gayety of rustic
strains. Nor could it give utterance to anguished complainings. Accents
of keen grief are almost beyond its powers. It is a melancholy, dreamy,
and rather noble voice, of which the sonorousness has something vague
and remote about it which renders it superior to all others in exciting
regret and reviving images and sentiments of the past when the composer
desires to awaken the secret echo of tender memories. In compositions
where the prevailing impression is that of melancholy the frequent use of
the _cor anglais_ hidden in the midst of the great mass of instruments is
perfectly suited.”
The _cor anglais_ has been called “an oboe in mourning.” Perhaps that
will give the best idea of its sorrowful voice.
The _cor anglais_ came directly from the alto pommer of the
Schalmey-Pommer family.[22] Most probably the _oboe di caccia_, or
hunting oboe, was its immediate ancestor. A very good reason for thinking
this the case is because in Rossini’s Overture to _William Tell_ the
“_Ranz des vaches_” (calling the cows) was originally given to the _oboe
di caccia_, which was still in use in Rossini’s time; and when the _oboe
di caccia_ became obsolete, the part was taken by the newer _cor anglais_.
The _cor anglais_ and the oboe assumed their modern appearance about
the same time. Both instruments were much changed in construction and
mechanism during the last hundred years; but both instruments kept
the old family voice, which has a curious harsh quality combined with
plaintiveness.
Beethoven wrote a Trio for two oboes and _cor anglais_, op. 29. The
French composers made it popular. Meyerbeer has it play an _obbligato_ to
the aria “_Robert, toi que j’aime_,” in _Robert le Diable_; Berlioz made
it important in his _Symphonie Fantastique_; and it appears in Dvořák’s
_New World Symphony_, having a melody in the _Largo_ with accompaniment
of strings _con sordini_. Strauss gives it prominence in _Heldenleben_.
[Illustration: COR ANGLAIS, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_Attilio Bianco_]
Of its famous solos none is so haunting as the plaintive part in Act
III of _Tristan and Isolde_. Here the long, sad melody heard on the
Shepherd’s pipe is entrusted to the saddest voice in the orchestra,—the
_cor anglais_.
THE BASSOON
The bassoon is the bass of the oboe group, holding the same place in
this family that the violoncello does in the String Family. It is a
descendant of the old bass pommer, the bass of the Schalmey Family; but
in the various transformations that took place between 1550 and 1600 the
characteristic Schalmey family voice disappeared in the bassoon. The
tone-color of the bassoon is quite unlike that of the oboe and that of
the _cor anglais_, although it is played with a double reed.
The bassoon is a pipe, or tube, eight feet long conically bored and
turned back upon itself so as to reduce its length to about four feet.
The instrument consists of five pieces: (1) the bell; (2) the bass, or
long joint; (3) the double joint; (4) the wing; and (5) the crook, a
small curved tube of metal which holds the mouthpiece with the double
reed. The bottom of the instrument is stopped by a flattened oval cork.
The pipes meet at the double joint and turn upward. The holes are pierced
obliquely so as to bring them within reach of the player’s fingers. There
are three holes in the wing-joint and three others in the front of the
double joint, to be closed by the first three fingers of each hand. A
single hole on the back of the double joint is for the thumb of the right
hand. The little finger of the right hand touches two keys; and a series
of interlocking keys is on the bass, or long, joint producing the lowest
notes of the scale for the left thumb to work.
The player holds the instrument diagonally in the hollow of his two
hands, with the left hand uppermost at the level of his breast, and, of
course, nearest the bell of the bassoon. The right hand is placed below
and behind his right thigh. The double joint of the bassoon rests against
the player’s knee. The bell of the instrument points upward.
The bassoon stands in the key of G-major and plays an octave lower than
the oboe. Its compass is three octaves and a half, the lowest note being
B-flat. The music for it is written in the Bass Clef and in the Tenor
Clef for the highest notes. Like the flute and oboe, its deep notes
are its _fundamental_ tones; those of its middle register are second
harmonics; and those of its highest register are third, fourth and fifth
harmonics. The fingering is the same for all octaves. The higher notes
are produced by “over-blowing,” so that the air-column in the instrument
vibrates differently according to the way the player directs his breath.
“Its lowest tones,” writes Lavignac, “are solemn and pontifical, like an
organ pedal. Its medium register has a sweet sonority of some richness
but little strength; and its high register has the most expression, but
is painful, distressed and dejected. At the same time this instrument
has comic possibilities. In the medium, and lower registers certain
_staccato_ notes which have been often used have a certain grotesqueness
bordering on awkwardness.”
“The bassoon was first used,” says Dr. Stone, “in Cambert’s _Pomone_,
Paris, 1671; but it has gradually risen to the position of a tenor, or
even alto, frequently doubling the high notes of the violoncello, or
the lower register of the viola. The cause of the change is evidently
the greater use of bass instruments, such as trombones and ophicleides,
in modern orchestral scores on the one hand and the improvements in the
upper register of the bassoon itself on the other. There is a peculiar
sweetness and telling quality in these extreme sounds, which has led
to their being named ‘vox humana notes.’ We have good evidence even in
Haydn’s time that they were appreciated; for in the graceful _Minuet_ of
his _Military Symphony_ we find a melody reaching to the treble A. Haydn
uses it as one of the most prominent voices of his orchestra.”
Until Mozart’s time the bassoon was little else but an instrument for
doubling the bass of the Strings; but Mozart did great things with it.
He even went so far as to write a Concerto for it. It is important in
his operas, particularly _Don Giovanni_; in his _Requiem_; and in his
_Symphonies_.
After Mozart fixed its place in the Orchestra, Beethoven brought it
forward and made its part so conspicuous and so elaborate that the
performers had to set to work to improve their technique. “Beethoven
never failed to employ it largely, reinforcing it, in some cases, by the
double-bassoon. The _First Symphony_ is remarkable for the assignment
of subject, as well as counter-subject, in the slow movement to first
and second bassoons working independently; both afterwards joining with
the two clarinets in the curious dialogue of the trio between strings
and reeds. The _Second Symphony_ opens with a prominent passage for
the bassoon in unison with the bass strings; in the _Adagio_ of the
_Fourth Symphony_ is an effective figure exhibiting the great power
of _staccato_ playing possessed by the bassoon; in the first movement
of the _Eighth Symphony_, it is employed with exquisite humor and in
the _Minuet_ of the same _Symphony_ it is entrusted with a melody of
considerable length. Perhaps the most remarkable passage in Beethoven’s
writing for this instrument occurs in the opening of the _Finale_ of the
_Ninth_, or _Choral Symphony_, where the theme of the movement, played by
violoncellos and violins in unison is accompanied by the first bassoon in
a long independent melody of the greatest ingenuity and interest.”[23]
Cherubini gave the bassoon a solo in his opera of _Medea_; Gluck gave
it a solo in some of his dance music in _Orfeo_; Rossini opens his
_Stabat Mater_ with it; and Weber gave it much to do in his operas. Weber
wrote a _Concerto_ for it and also an _Andante and Hungarian Rondo_.
Mendelssohn also was fond of it. Dr. Stone has well summed up his use
of this instrument as follows: “Mendelssohn shows some peculiarity in
dealing with the bassoon. He was evidently struck not only with the power
of its lower register, a fact abundantly illustrated by his use of it
in the opening of the _Scotch Symphony_ and with the trombones in the
grand chords of the Overture to _Ruy Blas_, but he evidently felt with
Beethoven the comic and rustic character of its tone. This is abundantly
shown in the music to the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, where the two
bassoons lead the quaint Clown’s March in thirds and still farther on in
the Funeral March, which is obviously an imitation of a small country
band, consisting of clarinet and bassoon, the latter ending unexpectedly
and humorously on a solitary low C. In the Orchestra the bassoon also
suggests the braying of Bottom. It is worth notice how the acute ear of
the musician has caught the exact interval used by the animal without any
violation of artistic propriety.”
[Illustration: BASSOON, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_Ugo Savolini_]
Modern composers have delighted in exhibiting the telling qualities of
the bassoon. A notable example is in Tschaikowsky’s _Pathetic Symphony_
and in the waltz movement of his _Fifth Symphony_. In his _Marche Slave_
it is very effective in unison with the violas.
Brahms shows it off well in his _C-minor Symphony_; Strauss in his
_Heldenleben_, _Till Eulenspiegel_ and _Don Juan_; and Elgar in his _Pomp
and Circumstance March_ and Variations III and IX of the _Enigma_.
Wagner gets desolation and sorrow out of it; and, occasionally, humor;
and Humperdinck makes comic use of it in _Hänsel and Gretel_, where it
frequently comments on what is happening on the stage.
The bassoon gives long sustained notes, shakes and _staccato_ notes,
which are “dry” and grotesque. The English and French name _bassoon_ and
_basson_ refer to its pitch in the bass; but the Italians and Germans
call it _Fagotto_ and _Fagott_, because they think in shape it resembles
a bundle of sticks, or fagots.
To-day there are usually three bassoons in the Orchestra,—the first and
second bassoon and the double-bassoon.
THE DOUBLE-BASSOON
The double-bassoon is an octave below the bassoon. It doubles the bass of
the bassoon as the double-bass doubles the violoncello.
The double-bassoon is a conical wooden pipe of hard wood—often maple—more
than sixteen feet long and doubled back four times on itself. The crook,
or mouthpiece, into which the double reed is fastened, is much like that
of the bassoon; but the metal bell points downwards.
Though the instrument is not a transposing one, the music is written
an octave higher than it sounds to avoid the use of ledger lines. Its
compass is from the middle C to the deep sixteen-foot C.
The double-bassoon was used in the Orchestra in Handel’s time. Haydn
calls for it in _The Creation_; Brahms, in his _C-Minor Symphony_;
Mendelssohn, in his _Hebrides Overture_; and Beethoven reinforces the
march in the _Finale_ of his _Fifth Symphony_ with it. He assigns it a
leading part in the _Ninth Symphony_.
THE CLARINET
The clarinet is also a descendant of the Bombardino-Chalumeau Family of
which, as we have seen, there were so many members. The great difference
between the ancestor of the oboe and the ancestor of the clarinet was
that the oboe’s ancestor was _conical_ in bore and played with a _double
reed_ and the clarinet’s ancestor was _cylindrical_ in bore and played
with a _single reed_. That fact was the parting of the ways and was
destined to make all the difference in the world. It would seem at first
that the tone of the two old _chalumeaux_ (the one double-reeded and the
other single-reeded) was at first much alike; but as time went on and the
single-reeded _chalumeau_ developed into the modern clarinet, the old
rough, reedy voice disappeared for a rich, warbling voice that has more
of the bird in it than of the reed.
“The clarinet is one of the most beautiful voices in the orchestra,”
Lavignac thinks. “It is the richest in varied _timbres_ of all the wind
instruments. It possesses no less than four registers, perfectly defined;
the _chalumeau_, which contains the deepest notes and recalls the old
rustic instrument of that name; the _medium_, warm and expressive;
the _high_, brilliant and energetic; and the _very high_, biting and
strident. All these registers, thanks to the progress of manufacture, are
able to melt into one another in the happiest manner possible and furnish
a perfectly homogeneous scale. Almost as agile as the flute, as tender
as, and more passionate than, the oboe, the clarinet is infinitely more
energetic and richer in color.”
About 1690 Johann Christopher Denner of Nuremberg added the twelfth key.
He bored a small hole nearer the mouthpiece on a _chalumeau_ type of
instrument, and made a key to it to be manipulated by the thumb of the
left hand. By this he increased the compass of the instrument by more
than an octave. It may be said that from this date the clarinet came
into existence. From the crude instrument of two keys and seven holes
has evolved the present-day clarinet with seventeen keys and twenty-one
holes, of which seven are covered directly by the fingers and the others
by the keys.
The clarinet is a cylindrical piece of wood, or a tube, about two feet
long, ending in a bell. It is made in sections: (1) mouthpiece; (2)
barrel joint; (3) left-hand, or upper joint; (4) right-hand, or lower
joint; (5) bell. The lowest note is emitted through the bell. The
right-hand thumb supports the instrument.
The reed is flat and the mouthpiece is curved backwards to allow of
vibration.
The reed is carefully thinned at the point where it vibrates against
the curved table of the mouthpiece. The vibration is caused by the air
pressure against the reed, thus engendering sound. The air-column in the
instrument is shortened, or lengthened, by the opening, or closing, of
the holes and keys, emitting high, or low, sounds accordingly. The reed
vibrates through the action of the air. The lips of the player merely
encompass the reed and mouthpiece, slightly pressing the reed.
Again, to quote from Lavignac: “This instrument, the richest in compass
and in variety of timbre of all the wind instruments, is subject to a
very special and very curious law. Its tube is absolutely cylindrical
and open; and its column of air is set in vibration by a single,
flexible reed. Now a peculiarity in pipes of this construction is that
the vibrating segment forms, not at the middle point, but at the end
where the reed is, so the mode of subdivision of the air-column is the
same as if the pipe were stopped. The clarinet has, therefore, only the
harmonics of unequal numbers, which renders its fingering very different
from that of the flute, the oboe and the bassoon. It would seem that this
might place it below them. On the contrary, this instrument lends itself
with admirable suppleness to the expression of all sentiments which the
composer may wish to entrust to it.
[Illustration: CLARINET, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_Gustav Langenus_]
“Its compass, the greatest possessed by any wind-instrument
chromatically, has a great deal to do with giving it this richness of
expression; but the diversity of _timbre_ belonging to its lower, middle
and higher registers must be regarded as the real superiority of the
clarinet.”
Berlioz says: “The clarinet is little appropriate to the Idyl. It is
an _epic_ instrument, like horns, trumpets and trombones. The voice is
like that of heroic love. This beautiful soprano instrument, so ringing,
so rich in penetrating accents, when employed in masses, gains, when
employed as a solo instrument, in delicacy, evanescent shadowings and
mysterious tenderness what it loses in force and powerful brilliancy.
Nothing so virginal, so pure as the tint imparted to certain melodies
by the tone of a clarinet, played in the medium by a skilful performer.
It is the one of all the wind instruments which can best breathe forth,
swell, diminish and die away. Thence the precious faculty of producing
_distance_, echo, the echo of _echo_, and a _twilight_ sound. What
more admirable example could I quote of the application of some of
these shadowings than the dreamy phrase of the clarinet accompanied by
a _tremolo_ of stringed instruments in the midst of the _Allegro_ of
the Overture to _Freischütz_! Does it not depict the lonely maiden, the
forester’s fair betrothed, who, raising her eyes to heaven, mingles
her tender lament with the noise of the dark woods agitated by the
storm? O Weber! Beethoven, bearing in mind the melancholy and noble
character of the melody in A-major of the immortal _Andante_ in his
_Seventh Symphony_, and in order the better to render all that this
phrase contains at the same time of passionate regret, has not failed to
consign it to the medium of the clarinet. Gluck, for the _ritornello_ of
Alceste’s air, ‘_Ah, malgré moi_,’ had at first written it for the flute;
but perceiving that the quality of tone of this instrument was too weak
and lacked the nobility necessary to the delivery of a theme imbued with
so much desolation and mournful grandeur, gave it to the clarinet.
“Neither Sacchini, nor Gluck, nor any of the great masters of that time
availed themselves of the low notes of the instrument. I cannot guess
the reason. Mozart appears to be the first who brought them into use for
accompaniments of a serious character, such as that of the trio of masks
in Don Giovanni. It was reserved for Weber to discover all that there is
of the terrible in the quality of tone of these low sounds.”
Mozart was the first to appreciate the beauties and capabilities of the
clarinet. He wrote a Concerto for it with orchestra[24] and his _Symphony
in E-flat_ is so full of prominent work for it that it is often called
the “Clarinet Symphony.” Beethoven loved it also and developed music for
it far beyond Mozart’s ideas. It sings particularly lovely melodies in
the _Larghetto_ of the _Second Symphony_. In the _Pastoral Symphony_,
where the flute sings the nightingale and the oboe pipes for the quail,
the clarinet gives the cuckoo’s notes, or, rather, two clarinets together
say “cuckoo, cuckoo.”
Weber also wrote much chamber-music for the clarinet and gave it dreamy
melodies in the _Overture_ to _Oberon_ and also some difficult arpeggios
in company with the flute, known as “drops of water.”
Mendelssohn also used the clarinet for the idea of water. It is very
evident in the _Hebrides Overture_ and in the _Overture_ of _Melusine_
it suggests the rolling waves. It is conspicuous in Dvořák’s _New World
Symphony_ and it plays a solo in Tschaikowsky’s _Francesca da Rimini_.
And how Wagner enjoys it! Often he gives it a motive, or lets it
sympathize with what is taking place on the stage! And in the third scene
of Act I of _Die Götterdämmerung_, he has two clarinets play a duet for
thirty bars!
THE BASSET-HORN
The basset-horn is a tenor clarinet with two additional keys and a longer
bore than the clarinet. The last three notes are worked by the thumb of
the right hand. The basset-horn is not a horn. It takes its name from
a German maker named Horn, who made a little bass clarinet in 1770 and
called it little bass horn as a modest compliment to himself. Its part is
written a fifth higher than the actual sounds. Gevaert says its tone is
one of “unctuous sweetness”; and those adjectives certainly describe its
rich voice very accurately.
The basset-horn was new in Mozart’s time and he liked it very much, so
much indeed that he gave it an _obbligato_ to the aria _Non più di fiori_
in his opera of _Clemenza di Tito_. In his _Requiem_ he calls for two
basset-horns.
BASS-CLARINET
This instrument is made like the ordinary clarinet only the bell points
upward and outward something after the fashion of a big dipper. It is a
slow-speaking and hollow-toned instrument. Wagner uses it a great deal.
Liszt has a good part for it in his _Mazeppa_; and it is conspicuous in
the _Danse de la Fée Dragée_ in Tschaikowsky’s _Nut-cracker Suite_ and
also in the _Don Quixote Variations_ by Strauss.
The bass-clarinet is doubled by the contrabass clarinet.
The contrabass clarinet is an octave below the bass-clarinet. The tube is
partly conical and partly cylindrical. It is over ten feet long, and ends
in a big metal bell turned upward like that of the bass-clarinet. It has
thirteen keys and rings. It stands in the key of B-flat. The instrument
is also called pedal clarinet. Its middle and upper registers are reedy,
something like the ordinary clarinet tones, and the lower registers are
deep rumbles. It might be described as a rival to the double-bassoon.
[Illustration: DOUBLE-BASS CLARINET, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
_Richard Kohl_]