use of the baton, and orchestras must necessarily become accustomed to
them in order that they may not be misled at critical moments. For it
does, indeed, happen sometimes at the public performances that things
go wrong, and then the conductor must contrive to set them straight;
and he must do it entirely by his pantomime, for the privilege of the
rehearsal, to stop the orchestra and begin again, is no longer his.
At the rehearsal he can tell what he desires, but in the concert he
must go on. It is at the rehearsal, however, that the real work of
the conductor is done. At the performance he must confine himself to
beating time, to indicating to those players who have rests when they
are to begin again, to a warning look here in case a part is played too
loudly, or to an encouraging nod there in case one is not played loudly
enough.
I have often heard persons not unfamiliar with concerts declare that a
conductor was of no use because the players never looked at him. This
is a rather large statement. The players do not look at the conductor
all the time, because they are obliged to occupy themselves chiefly
with reading music, but they look at him frequently, and they do so
invariably at essential places. Furthermore, they always see him out of
the corners of their eyes, as the saying goes, while they are reading
the pages before them.
The function of a conductor, as it stands to-day, can best be
understood by applying to him the definition given at the beginning
of this book. The orchestra is an instrument upon which he performs.
Hector Berlioz, the famous French composer, said that the only
instrument upon which he could play was the orchestra, and in that he
resembled Richard Wagner, who was an indifferent pianist, and Anton
Seidl, who was a very bad one. The conductor plays upon an orchestra,
not by waving a baton and magnetizing his men, but by carefully
instructing them at rehearsal as to what he desires them to do, and
by going over it and over it again till the execution of his design
is perfected. A conductor, then, must come to the rehearsal with a
completely prepared plan of interpretation. He must know the score
thoroughly. He must have analyzed every measure. He must be in the same
position as the skilled theatrical stage-manager who has planned every
bit of “stage business” for a new play before he goes to the first
rehearsal.
At the rehearsal he must explain his wishes to the men, and play
through each movement of a symphony piece-meal before he undertakes to
go through it without a stop. A judicious conductor makes no attempt to
put a poetic explanation before his orchestra. He works entirely on the
technics of the performance, and leaves the temperament and enthusiasm
of his men to do the rest. A conductor once went from another city to
Boston to conduct an orchestra at the first appearance in this country
of an eminent pianist, whose _pièce de resistance_ was to be Liszt’s E
flat concerto. At the beginning of the scherzo there are some lightly
tripping notes for the triangle, which the player struck too heavily
to please the conductor’s fancy. He rapped with his baton to stop the
orchestra.
“Sir,” he said, gravely, addressing the triangle player, “those notes
should sound like a blue-bell struck by a fairy.”
Whereupon the whole body of instrumentalists burst into uncontrollable
laughter. I told this story subsequently to a New York musician, a
member of Theodore Thomas’s orchestra, and he looked so amazed that I
said:
“But doesn’t Mr. Thomas talk to you at rehearsal?”
“Oh, yes! Oh, certainly!” was the reply.
“Well, what does he say?”
“He says ‘D----n!’”
Richard Wagner, who was nothing if not polemic, wrote a book on
conducting, in which there are some pregnant assertions, as there
are in all his writings. He says: “The whole duty of a conductor is
comprised in his ability always to indicate the right tempo. His choice
of tempi will show whether he understands the piece or not. With good
players again the true tempo induces correct phrasing and expression,
and conversely, with a conductor, the idea of appropriate phrasing
and expression will induce the conception of the true tempo.” There
is an essential truth in this statement, but its writer did not add
those corollaries which are necessary to constitute the whole truth,
especially for the amateur. The passage which immediately precedes
the above statement explains why Wagner looked upon the tempo as
the most important matter for the conductor to decide. He says: “In
the days of my youth orchestral pieces at the celebrated Leipsic
Gewandhaus concerts were not conducted at all; they were simply
played through under the leadership of Concertmeister Mathäi, like
overtures and entr’actes at a theatre.” Such performances annoyed and
discouraged Wagner; but in 1839 he got a valuable lesson from hearing
the Conservatoire orchestra of Paris rehearse a Beethoven symphony
under Habeneck. “The scales fell from my eyes,” he says; “I came to
understand the value of correct execution, and the secret of a good
performance. The orchestra had learned to look for Beethoven’s melody
in every bar--that melody which the worthy Leipsic musicians had
failed to discover; and the orchestra sang that melody. This was the
secret.” A little farther on he says: “The French idea of playing an
instrument well is to be able to _sing_ well upon it. And (as already
said) that superb orchestra sang the symphony. The possibility of its
being well sung implies that the true tempo had been found; and this
was the second point which impressed me at the time. Old Habeneck was
not the medium of any abstract æsthetical inspiration--he was devoid
of genius; but he found the right tempo while persistently fixing the
attention of his orchestra upon the Melos[1] of the symphony. The right
comprehension of the Melos is the sole guide to the true tempo.”
[1] Melody in all its aspects.
These words of Wagner’s are excellent, but they may convey an
exaggerated conception of the case to an amateur. It is beyond dispute
that if the tempo is incorrect, the performance must inevitably be weak
or utterly bad; but it does not follow that when the tempo is right,
all will be satisfactory. Nevertheless, it is true that the first and
most important duty of the conductor is to decide the tempo, and that
he can only do by a complete comprehension of the musical character of
the composition. In music written since Beethoven’s day the conductor
has something to guide him in the matter of tempo, as I shall presently
show; but in earlier compositions he will find only such general terms
as _allegro_, _adagio_, or _andante_. He will not even discover such
attempts at specification as _andante con moto_, _allegro pesante_, or
_presto ma non troppo_.
These directions are not sufficiently precise. Wagner himself tells
how he wrote “Mässig” (moderate) in the score of “Das Rheingold,” with
the result that the drama took three hours under the opera conductor.
“To match this,” he adds, “I have been informed that the overture to
‘Tannhäuser,’ which, when I conducted it at Dresden, used to last
12 minutes, now lasts 20.” Wagner notes that Sebastian Bach did not
customarily indicate the tempo at all, “which in a truly musical sense
is perhaps best.” But to leave all movements without tempo marks would
be to assume that all conductors were truly gifted. Since Beethoven’s
latter days it has been the custom of composers to indicate the correct
tempo by what is known as the metronome mark.
A metronome is an instrument which can be set to tick off with a
pendulum any number of beats from forty to two hundred and eight
a minute. A composer desiring to indicate a tempo uses a formula
like this: M. M. [music symbol: half note] = 78. The letters M. M.
mean Maelzel’s Metronome (the instrument). The note (in this case a
minim) means that the beats of the pendulum are to be regarded as
representing minims, crotchets, or quavers, as the case may be. The
figure indicates the number of beats per minute. In the above formula
the composition would probably be one written in two-fourth time, that
is, with one minim to a bar, and the metronome mark would indicate that
seventy-eight minims, and hence in this case seventy-eight bars, were
to be played each minute.
A metronome mark must not be understood as requiring a rigid adherence
to its prescription in every bar of a movement. It is simply a method
of expressing the general rate of progress. A conductor could not
count every bar by the metronome without abandoning all attempts at
accelerandi or ritardandi, and generally reducing his performance to a
mathematical state of rectangularity. All flexibility, elegance, and
nuance would disappear from such a rendering.
For dance-music played at a ball, strict adherence to the metronome
mark throughout a composition would be admissible; and it would be
really desirable in the case of a military march, in which the tactics
prescribe the cadence as one hundred and twenty steps a minute; but it
is not to be tolerated in artistic concert music. The metronome mark
establishes the general movement, and that is all.
Any music-lover who desires to find out the right tempo of a metronomed
composition can do so by using a watch with a second hand. If he times
the number of measures to be played in five or ten seconds, he can get
at the tempo. Similarly, he can “hold the watch” on a conductor in
the performance of any piece with an established tempo. Here again,
however, he must beware of exaggerated accuracy.
If the metronome mark, for example, is a dotted crotchet equal to
104, as in the allegro of the first movement of Beethoven’s Seventh
Symphony, and the conductor takes the tempo at 108 or 109, there is
no ground for serious complaint. But if he should take it at 134, as
I once heard it taken by an eminent conductor, the music-lover has
ground for a vigorous protest. The reader might amuse himself and get
an immense amount of suggestive information by playing some well-known
compositions at exaggerated tempi. He would speedily be convinced that
Wagner was right in believing that the chief duty of the conductor was
to ascertain the correct tempo.
But Wagner is not quite explicit enough when he says that this is the
conductor’s whole duty. The whole duty of the conductor is to regulate
every item of the orchestral performance. It must be done according to
his design. You may say that this prevents all individual warmth on
the part of the players, but it need not do so. The conductor is the
stage-manager; the instrumentalists are the actors. They play their
parts as the conductor tells them to play them; but that need not
prevent them from entering fully into the spirit of the work.
The conductor’s conception of a composition is to be revealed through
the performance by means of the distributions of light and shade,
the relative importance given to the outer and inner voices of the
score, by the placing of the climaxes of force and speed, and by the
detailed accentuation of every phrase. It is at the rehearsals that
the conductor imparts to the men of his orchestra his wishes in these
matters, and causes them to go over and over certain passages till
they are played to his satisfaction. He cannot do any of this at a
performance. There he can only beat time, and in doing so remind his
men, as I have already said, of what he told them at the rehearsals.
The conductor must see to it that significant passages allotted to
instruments not playing the leading melody are brought out. Many of the
most beautiful effects of orchestral compositions are contrapuntal,
and they are too often lost through the incapacity or negligence of
conductors. It requires close and sympathetic study of a score to find
these bits. Who can ever forget how eloquently they were all made to
speak in the Wagner dramas by Anton Seidl, and that, too, without ever
overbalancing the voices of the singers? The whole warp and woof of
the Wagner scores is polyphonic, the motives cross and recross one
another in a never-ceasing double, triple, or quadruple counterpoint;
and to give each its proper weight in the scale of force, requires, on
the part of a conductor, complete knowledge, perfect appreciation, and
absolute command of his forces.
In concluding the discussion of this topic let me add that the
conductor is responsible for the general excellence of the work of
his orchestra in its fundamental qualities. He must see that the
balance of tone is preserved, by preventing one choir from playing too
loudly to the detriment of another. He must insist upon proper bowing
by the strings and equally proper blowing by the wind. And he must
persistently drill his orchestra in precision and unanimity until these
things become automatic, like the attack of a good singer. He is one of
the princes in the kingdom of music, this man who turns his back upon
us all that he may play with his little stick upon this hundred-voiced
instrument; and if sometimes we lose ourselves in hysterical wonder at
the results which he produces, and come to think that the baton is a
magician’s wand, perhaps we are not so much to blame after all.
PART IV
How the Orchestra Grew
XIV
From Peri to Handel
The orchestra of to-day is the outcome of a long series of
developments. In a general manner it may be said that the first
combinations of instruments were without special purpose. The reader
should bear in mind that for several centuries the whole labor of
artistic composers was directed toward the production of unaccompanied
church music. The centuries preceding the seventeenth produced little,
if any, purely instrumental music. There were some compositions for
clavichord, one of the precursors of the piano, and many for the organ;
but these were wholly modelled on the great contrapuntal choral works
of the church. The style was similar, and the method of development of
musical ideas was the same.
When these old composers first wrote for small combinations of
instruments, they produced works which could be sung just as readily
as they could be played; and, indeed, it was not uncommon for them to
write over their compositions, “Da cantare e sonare”--“to sing or to
play.” When the thing was sung it was “cantata,” and when it was played
it was “sonata.” But these early “sonatas” were in no respect like
those of Beethoven.
The manner of composing for the orchestra naturally developed side by
side with an appreciation of the true functions and relations of the
various instruments. It is impossible to separate the two processes.
Consider that composers had for centuries written only for the human
voice heard in masses, and you will readily perceive that it must have
taken some time for them to discover that melodic ideas suitable for
singing were not always adapted to the utterance of instruments. After
the discovery of that fact there would necessarily follow a realization
that the method of developing musical ideas in compositions for voices
was not the best one for instrumental writing. And then would come also
a perception of the fact that certain melodic ideas were best suited to
certain instruments; that what a horn could utter most eloquently, was
enfeebled if intrusted to an oboe, and that a thought which was poetic
in the pallid, moonlight accents of the flute, became vulgar if pealed
out by a trombone.
Modern orchestration owes the kaleidoscopic glories of its instrumental
coloring to the mastery which composers have attained over the
characteristics of the various instruments. One effect of the long
series of experiments made by their predecessors was the establishment
of the constitution of the orchestra itself, as well as of the methods
of writing for it. As composers came to understand better the nature
of each individual instrument, they also acquired a certainty as to
the proper place of each in the general scheme. Those which were
unnecessary or feeble were set aside, and the inevitable selection and
survival of the fittest followed.
It is very difficult, indeed, to ascertain the dates at which the
various instruments made their appearance in the orchestra, or to
determine by whom each was introduced. Frequently an instrument was
employed in some now forgotten composition, and then laid aside for
a time before it came to be habitually used. The works of the great
composers do not afford safe guidance in this matter, for it was
often some obscure writer who first perceived the true value of an
instrument. Yet it is possible to trace the general growth of the
orchestra, and this is really the most important thing to do.
In the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries the forerunners
of many of the instruments of the modern orchestra were in use in
Europe. The early forms of the instruments of the viol family were
employed and the bassoon, schalmei (ancestor of the clarinet), horns,
trumpets, and kettle-drums are mentioned and illustrated in some of the
early books. The harp, of course, was known wherever the troubadour or
the gleeman travelled, and that was all over Europe. But there was no
system of combining these instruments in any manner that could possibly
be recognized as leading toward our orchestra. A troubadour used a harp
or a viol to accompany his song. The nobleman carried a hunting horn of
brass--the forerunner of the present French horn--and the noble lady
went to the chase with a silver horn of smaller size. Drummers and
trumpeters found occupation in military organizations, and the town
piper sounded the Christmas chorale from the church-tower. The banquets
of the nobles were enlivened by instrumental music, but of its artistic
nature we cannot form any satisfying conception. The instruments were
simply those that chanced to be at hand, and they must have played
together in a very rude and elementary style, for we know that prior to
the beginning of the seventeenth century no one wrote for an orchestra
of any kind.
The first compositions for groups of instruments resembled our chamber
music rather than our orchestral compositions. It is the desire of the
writer to adhere as closely as possible to the story of the orchestra
pure and simple, so nothing need be said here about the instruments
employed in these early works. The modern orchestra really began
to take shape toward the end of the sixteenth century in pieces of
dramatic form, the precursors of the modern opera. In 1565 Striggio
and Corteccia scored their intermezze (light plays with much music)
for 2 gravicembali (embryo pianos), 4 violins, half-a-dozen different
sizes of lutes and lyres, half-a-dozen flutes and flageolets, 3 violas
of different registers, 4 cornets, of different powers, 4 trombones,
and several minor instruments. The fatal defect of this orchestra was
its deficiency in stringed instruments played with a bow, and its
large force of brass. It must have been painfully weak in the bass and
extremely poor in sustaining power. But as no system of instrumentation
had begun to appear at this time, its playing must have been of the
most rudimentary kind. As an accompaniment for voices, if it was ever
used all at once, it was probably both thin and noisy.
Jacopo Peri, in his “Eurydice” (1600), the first opera performed in
public, employed an orchestra consisting of a harpsichord, a lute,
a theorbo (a kind of large lute), a large lyre, and three flutes.
But there was little, if anything, in his work which influenced his
successors. He used his instruments merely to supply the simplest kind
of chord accompaniment to a primitive species of dramatic recitative.
Emilio del Cavaliere in the same year produced his oratorio “La
Rappresentazione dell’ Anima e Corpo,” and his orchestra consisted
of a double lyre, a harpsichord, a bass lute, and two flutes. One
interesting fact about this orchestra is that it was concealed, like
that at Bayreuth. But the instruments were not used as a modern
composer would have employed even so simple an assembly. Cavaliere,
for instance, recommended that a violin should play in unison with the
soprano voice throughout the work.
The foundation of the modern orchestra may fairly be attributed to
Claudio Monteverde, born at Cremona, 1568, died in Venice, 1643. He
was distinctively an operatic writer, and it was in the search after
dramatic effects that he discovered the relative values of some of
the important instruments, and invented some of the most familiar
orchestral devices. In his “Orfeo,” produced in 1608, he employed the
following list of instruments: 2 harpsichords, 2 bass viols, 10 tenor
viols, 1 double harp, “2 little French violins,” 2 large guitars, 2
organs of wood, 2 viole di gamba, 1 regal, 4 trombones, 2 cornets, 1
octave flute, 1 clarion, and 3 trumpets with mutes.
The array of brass in this orchestra is formidable, but we must
remember that Monteverde did not use it as a modern writer would. The
system of combination which has been developed had hardly begun in his
day, and most of “Orfeo” is accompanied by a simple figured bass, so
that we are left to infer that the orchestral performers played very
much as they pleased through many pages of the work.
The “two little French violins” were undoubtedly such violins as
we know to-day, and this is generally regarded as their first
appearance in the orchestra; for the four violins enumerated in the
intermezzo orchestra of 1565 were most probably members of the old
viol family, and not such instruments as we now call violins. To be
sure, Monteverde’s violins played a very small part, but even that
master himself learned something from experience in their use, for
in later works we find him depending more and more upon his bowed
instruments. The title “French” should not be misleading. The first of
the famous violin makers was Gasparo di Salo (1542-1610), the founder
of the Brescian school. Brescia is in Lombardy, which province was
continually in the throes of French invasion. That may easily account
for the term “French” as applied to these violins.
It was in his “Tancredi e Clorinda,” produced in 1624, that Monteverde
introduced many novel effects, showing that he had begun to appreciate
the expressive powers of his instruments. One of these was the tremolo
for bowed instruments. It is said that this passage “so astonished
the performers that at first they refused to play it.” In the scene
of the combat in the opera, the composer, using three violas and a
double-bass, wrote a descriptive accompaniment to the recitative.
Rhythmic figures, syncopations, alternating scales, as well as the
tremolo and the pizzicato, were employed in this, the first independent
dramatic orchestration of which we have any record. The real
significance of the work lies in the fact that Monteverde here opened
up the realm of special instrumental effects, as distinguished from
vocal ones, and also indicated the fundamental value of the stringed
instruments played with bows.
This truth having been acquired, and the purely military value of
trumpets and drums being already known, it was inevitable that
composers should move gradually but slowly toward the establishment of
the string and brass choirs of the modern orchestra. The wood-wind came
to its position more slowly, chiefly because of the rude and difficult
system of fingering, which made the instruments troublesome to learn.
The value of their tonal differences was not perceived at an early
date, and indeed it was not until near the middle of the eighteenth
century that any direct attempts at tone-coloring were made.
The establishment of the string quartet was really the first vital
step toward the arrangement of the orchestra of to-day, and this step
was the direct result of Monteverde’s experiments. For a time there
was a tolerable system in which viols of various kinds were used. The
thorough-bass was played by the deeper-toned viols, and the harpsichord
filled out the harmonies. It must be remembered that at the end of the
sixteenth century and beginning of the seventeenth, there were two
kinds of viola, the viola da gamba (held between the knees), and the
viola da braccia (held at the shoulder), and there were a dozen or more
species of these two kinds. But the study of the special characters
of instruments led to the selection for permanent use of the best of
these. The bass viol became our double-bass; the tenor viola da gamba,
the violoncello; the tenor viola da braccia, the viola, and so on.
The violin began to make known its value, and after that progress was
steady.
In 1649 Cavalli, in his opera “Giasone,” wrote an accompaniment for
two violins and a bass in a style which endured for half a century.
Only a few years now elapsed before the modern string quartet, in its
primitive form, found its way into the orchestra. Alessandro Scarlatti,
born in 1659, was one of the great geniuses of Italy, and founded
that style of opera of which Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini were the
most popular modern exponents. He enlarged and improved almost every
department of operatic writing, and contributed much to the development
of the orchestral part.
In its general features his orchestra was not unlike that of to-day.
Violins, violas, and basses were its foundation, but their employment
was naturally crude. The ’celli always played in unison with the
basses, and so, for the most part, did the violas; but there were many
instances in which he used his violas independently and even in two
parts. The oboe was the principal wind-instrument, while the bassoons
were used to strengthen the bass and were seldom heard alone. Flutes
were introduced for their special character.[2] Scarlatti’s use of
violas independent of the basses and in real parts led him toward the
true distribution of the string quartet, and in several of his operas
we find him writing accompaniments for two violins, viola, and bass in
a style which has been employed frequently by all subsequent composers.
[2] The German flute, as it was called, was introduced into the
orchestra by Lully, in his “Isis,” 1677.
It is not possible to say that Scarlatti invented this style, for
it must have been the result of long experimenting; but he saw its
superiority and used it so systematically that it was copied by his
successors together with other salient features of his style. The
chief importance of this manner of writing was its establishment of
the proper distribution of the four notes of a chord among the four
instruments. The balance and solidity of tone thus gained was of
vital importance to the development of orchestral writing, and of the
orchestra itself. Scarlatti gave the treble part to the first violin,
the alto to the second, the tenor to the viola, and the bass to the
bass; and that is what composers have done ever since. About the same
time we find Alessandro Stradella writing, in a manner afterward
employed in their concerti grossi by Bach and Handel, for two solo
violins and a solo violoncello, with an accompaniment of violins,
violas, and basses.
In France the most important musician of the period was Jean Baptiste
Lully (1633-87), who was also a composer of operas. His orchestra was
less elastic than Scarlatti’s, yet it was of a type which survived
for many years. Its foundation was a body of strings, violins playing
the upper parts, and viols of different registers the middle and
lower parts. These were supported by a harpsichord, to which was
given a figured bass part. Trumpets, flutes, and oboes were employed
to increase the volume of tone and to produce certain obvious
color-effects. For example, trumpets were heard in martial passages
and oboes in pastoral scenes. Tympani came into the orchestra at this
time also. It cannot be said that Lully showed genius for orchestral
writing, and for that reason his orchestra is an excellent example of
the conventional arrangement of the day. The use of the harpsichord
goes to show that composers of that time did not know how to get a full
and sonorous harmony out of the purely orchestral instruments, and
their attempts to supply the deficiency with the tinkling percussive
notes of the keyed instrument were foredoomed to failure.
Giovanni Legrenzi, a famous Venetian composer (1625-90), employed what
looked like a fairly rational orchestra. It consisted of 19 violins,
2 violas, 2 viole di gamba, 4 large lutes, 2 cornets, 1 bassoon,
and 3 trombones. The chief shortcoming of this orchestra, aside from
its deficiency in wood-wind, is its want of stringed basses. A most
important contributor to the development of the orchestra at this
period was Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713). He was a great violinist,
and, in composing for the violin as a solo and chamber-music
instrument, he explored its resources and illustrated its relation to
other instruments. Some of his important works were: “Twelve Sonatas
for Two Violins and Violoncello, with Bass for the Organ” (Rome, 1683),
“Twelve Chamber Sonatas for Two Violins, Violoncello, and Violone, or
Cembalo” (Rome, 1685), and “Concerti Grossi,” for two solo violins and
solo violoncello, with accompaniment for additional instruments (1712).
In these works Corelli did much to point the way toward modern chamber
music and its forms, and in doing so contributed directly toward that
understanding of the relative powers and limits of the members of the
string quartet without which good orchestral writing is impossible.
We have now reached the beginning of the eighteenth century. The
typical orchestra of the time consisted of strings, distributed
in the fashion set by A. Scarlatti, but not always with a correct
adjustment of the number of each kind, two pairs of wind-instruments,
and the harpsichord as the impotent agent to fill out the harmonies.
It was at this period that two great composers arose and exerted an
influence which affected the entire subsequent development of music.
These composers were George Frederick Handel (1685-1759) and Johann
Sebastian Bach (1685-1750). Both of these writers made improvements in
the orchestra and in orchestral music. Something has already been said
about their methods of writing for the orchestra, but the reader will
pardon some repetition of facts which throw light on the constitution
of the orchestral body under these composers. Bach was essentially a
polyphonic writer, and he treated his orchestral instruments as if they
were voices. Each one had an essentially melodic part to sing, and the
beautiful interweaving of these voice-parts constitutes one of the
never-ending charms of the great master’s music. He contrasted with
this style passages of extreme simplicity, in which the strings and the
keyed instrument--organ or clavier--were used.
Handel, on the other hand, was chiefly a composer of operas and
oratorios, and his orchestral style was developed to a considerable
extent in the direction of building up huge climaxes by means of mass
effects. It may be said, therefore, with some reservation, yet with
general correctness, that Bach’s orchestral style has afforded later
composers a model for solo effects in the orchestra, while for solidity
and sonority of the entire instrumental body Handel has been mainly
followed. One of the forms in which Bach exercised his genius was the
Concerto Grosso, in which two or three solo instruments, instead of
one, are heard with orchestral accompaniment. In 1721 Bach wrote six
of these works, known as the Brandenburg Concertos. Only one of these,
the first, would be regarded as an orchestral work in our time. The
others belong rather to the department of chamber-music, though by
increasing the number of instruments in each part they may be made to
have an orchestral effect. The first concerto, however, was written for
the string quartet, aided by the double-bass and the violino piccolo (a
little violin with a high compass), two horns, two oboes, bassoon, and
harpsichord. These instruments were employed in three groups: horns,
wood, and strings; but one must remember that Bach’s polyphonic method
of using his wind-instruments was altogether different from the manner
in which the same instruments are now employed.
In his church music Bach combined the orchestra and the organ. As Dr.
Spitta points out in his biography of Bach, the organ in these works
occupied a position similar to that of the string quartet in the modern
orchestra. “Just as the wind-instruments group themselves round this as
a centre,” he says, “so all the instruments grouped themselves round
the organ. The relations were different, however, in this way: that
the organ remained always in the background, its effect being merely
that of power, and that on this background the other instruments were
seen not so much as solo instruments, but rather as choric groups.
One of these groups was the quartet of strings, another the oboes and
bassoon, a third the cornet and trombones, and a fourth the trumpets
(or sometimes horns) and the drums.” Bach’s method of writing for the
orchestra did not influence his immediate successors very greatly,
for the reason that his retired life and modest position prevented
his works from becoming generally known until long after his death.
Sir John Hawkins’s “History of Music,” published in England in 1776,
contains only half a page about Bach, communicated to the author by one
of Bach’s sons, a resident of London.
Handel, on the other hand, enjoyed a world-wide fame during his life,
and his works were studied by musicians far and near. Handel employed,
though very rarely all at once, all the instruments used in the modern
orchestra except the clarinet. He approached more nearly than Bach
to the modern methods of orchestral contrast in massive effects of
instrumental color, yet he did not reach the fundamental principles on
which the distribution of the instruments in the orchestra of to-day
rest. Perhaps the most important difference is to be found in the
large number of wind-instruments employed by Handel, who used them
frequently in masses simply to reinforce the strings. The number of
oboes and bassoons, for instance, was much larger in Handel’s orchestra
than in a modern band. This was due partly to the inferior power of
the instruments of his time, but equally to the different method of
his scoring. The brass instruments were used by both Bach and Handel
differently from the manner in which modern composers employ them. The
reader will recall that they wrote trumpet parts of such high compass
that players of to-day cannot perform them. In conclusion, as to Bach
and Handel it should be noted that their orchestration is rarely heard.
Most of their great works, such as the “St. Matthew Passion” and “The
Messiah,” are performed now with modern orchestral arrangements, not
according to the original scores.
XV
From Haydn to Wagner
The constitution of the orchestra in the early part of the eighteenth
century, then, had reached the basis on which it now rests, except for
the fact that the harpsichord was still used. There was, however, a
complete and well-organized body of strings, similar to that which we
have to-day. The violoncello alone had not attained its true position.
It was not always included, and generally when it was, it played in
unison with the double-basses. To the body of strings were added such
wind-instruments as the composer desired--two oboes, two bassoons, and
two horns being, perhaps, the most familiar assortment. Two trumpets
and a pair of kettle-drums were introduced when brilliant militant
passages were to be written. Trombones were not heard in symphonic
compositions, and the harp seemed to have fallen into oblivion. The
clarinet had not yet entered the orchestra. Flutes were used often.
The systematic use of wood-wind instruments in pairs was just
beginning. The delay in this vital matter was due to the hold which the
polyphonic style of composition still had. It was only when the musical
world gave up writing fugues and canons and turned its attention to
the harmonic style, in which a song-like melody is supported by an
accompaniment built on chords, that the value of the wind choir in
the formation of these chords was appreciated. That fact once known,
composers speedily established the balance of power between wind and
strings, and arranged a suitable list of wind-instruments.
The orchestral symphony came into existence about the middle of the
eighteenth century, and with its advent we find the orchestra of Bach
and Handel slightly modified and differently employed. Joseph Haydn
(1732-1809) is credited with being the father of the symphony, and he
established the real basis of the modern orchestra. Yet something was
due to the labors of two or three other men. Of these, I have already
mentioned one of the most important, Johann Karl Stamitz, a Bohemian,
who in 1745 became leading violin and director of the orchestra of
the Elector of Mannheim. He spared no efforts to teach his strings to
play with precision and refinement, to phrase beautifully, and to make
all the shades of piano and forte. His orchestra became the best in
Europe, and his methods survived him. Mozart heard at Mannheim for
the first time in his life artistic orchestral performance, and he was
deeply influenced by it.
Another, who has been mentioned and who exercised much influence on
the orchestra through his study of its capacities, was François Joseph
Gossec (1733-1829). He was a student of the orchestra in early life,
and his first symphony was performed five years before Haydn’s. How
much insight into orchestral effect Gossec possessed may be judged
from the fact that in his “Messe des Morts” (1760) he wrote the “Tuba
Mirum” for two groups of instruments, one of wind-instruments concealed
outside the church, and the other of strings inside, the latter
accompanying the former with a tremolo in the high register.
Haydn’s first symphony was written in 1759 for first and second
violins, violas, basses, two oboes and two horns. His last symphony
was composed in 1795, and by that time he had at his command the whole
symphonic orchestra as it stood when Beethoven took up the work of
orchestral development. Between the dates of Haydn’s first and last
symphony, Mozart had lived the whole of his wonderful life, and Haydn,
who at first had been his master, had in the end become his pupil.
It was from Mozart that Haydn learned the use of the clarinet, and we
find it employed in his last symphonies. The clarinet proper, which was
the successor of the schalmei or shawm, is said to have been invented
by Johann Denner, of Nuremberg, in 1690. The claim is doubtful,
yet the modern instrument probably originated about that time.
Many improvements have been made in it, the most notable being the
application to it by Klosé, in 1843, of the Boehm system of fingering.
Haydn’s familiar symphony in D, written in London in 1795, is scored
for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, kettle-drums,
violins, violas, ’cellos, and bassos. It is a fact that Haydn first
employed 2 clarinets and a bassoon as the wood-wind choir in his
first mass, written in 1751 or 1752, but it was Mozart who revealed
the real capacity of the clarinet and established its position in the
orchestra. Haydn, however, must be credited with immense advances in
the development of the orchestra, because in developing the symphonic
form, he was constantly experimenting and discovering the values of
the various instruments and their relations to one another. Some
of the symphonies composed after he had been a symphonic writer
for years, show great reticence in their scoring. For example, the
symphony known as the “Queen of France,” written for Paris in 1786,
is scored for 2 horns, 2 oboes, 1 flute, 2 bassoons, and string
quartet. The introduction to the “Creation,” one of the master’s latest
works, is scored for 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, a
contra-bassoon, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tympani, and the
usual strings. But when he was writing this oratorio Haydn needed
a large orchestra for his newly invented effects of instrumental
description. In the “Creation” and “The Seasons” he made the orchestra
paint chaos, winter storms, and spring peace. He naturally sought for
more instrumental voices, and employed the complete orchestra of his
time.
Much of Haydn’s success in developing the orchestra and the art of
writing for it was due to his long occupancy of the post of director
of music under Prince Esterhazy. Haydn was appointed to this post at
Eisenstadt in 1761, and retained it till 1790. He had at his disposal
a small company of singers, capable of performing opera or oratorio,
and a small orchestra. In 1766 this orchestra numbered 17 instruments:
6 violins and violas, 1 violoncello, 1 double-bass, 1 flute, 2 oboes,
2 bassoons, and 4 horns. It was subsequently enlarged to 22 and 24,
including trumpets and kettle-drums when needed. From 1776 to 1778
there were also clarinets. That this arrangement did not prevail
all over Europe even at that time is shown by the distribution of
instruments and seating plan of the orchestra at Dresden under Hasse,
near the close of the last century. This plan is reproduced from Jahn’s
“Life of Mozart.”
[Illustration:
1--Conductor’s harpsichord.
2--Second harpsichord.
3--Violoncelli.
4--Double-basses.
5--First Violins.
6--Second Violins.
7--Oboes.
8--Flutes.
a--Violas.
b--Bassoons.
c--Horns.
d--Trumpets and drums on platforms.]
The preponderance of bassoons in the Dresden orchestra was due to the
fact that it was an opera orchestra, and in it Handelian ideas still
prevailed. Haydn, meanwhile, was proceeding along the true symphonic
path, and an orchestra of 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons,
2 horns, 2 trumpets, tympani, and strings fairly represents the result
of his contributions to its development up to the time when Mozart took
up the work. It should be added that even Haydn was not sufficiently
trustful of his instrumental army to leave it without the weak support
of the harpsichord, and he frequently sat at this instrument during
the performance of his symphonies and played with the orchestra, with
extremely bad effect.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) applied his amazing genius to the
development of the orchestra, as well as to all other departments of
musical art. His work was rather that of exploring the capacities of
the instruments in use than adding new ones to the extant list. That
was in keeping with Mozart’s entire career. He was not a reformer; he
took what he found and put genuine life into it. He found clarinets,
for example, and he illustrated, to the conviction of all subsequent
composers, their true place in the orchestra.
Indeed, he made a complete revelation of the powers of wind-instrument
choirs in his suites and divertimenti for them, so that Haydn once
complained to Kalkenbrenner: “I have only learnt the proper use of
wind-instruments in my old age, and now I must pass away without
turning my knowledge to account.” Mozart’s three greatest symphonies
are those composed in the summer of 1788, the E flat major, G minor,
and C (“Jupiter”). The E flat is scored for 1 flute, 2 clarinets, 2
bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, tympani, and strings. The G minor is
written for 1 flute, 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, and strings, but
owing to Mozart’s insight into the effect of combinations, this small
orchestra sounds marvellously full and noble. Clarinets were afterward
added. The “Jupiter” symphony is scored for 1 flute, 2 oboes, 2
bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, tympani, and strings.
It will be seen from this that although Mozart established the place
of the clarinet, he did not invariably make use of it, while even up
to the date of these last symphonies, the trombone had not assumed a
position in the symphonic orchestra. Mozart was always moderate in his
use of this instrument. In his “Don Giovanni” he reserves his trombones
to accompany the ghost of the _Commendatore_. In “Die Zauberflöte” they
are used more freely, as, indeed, they always were in religious or
masonic music. In “Die Zauberflöte” Mozart also used basset-horns, the
tenor of the clarinet, now obsolete. In fact, at all times in the early
and classical periods, a larger array of instruments was called into
service in the operatic than in the symphonic orchestra. It is only
since the romantic composers began to paint in gorgeous tone-coloring,
rather than work out intellectual plans of thematic development, that
the symphonic band has equalled the operatic in the variety of its
component elements.
The development of the orchestra in the hands of the greatest of all
symphonic composers, Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), was of immense
importance. Beethoven did not add greatly to the array of instruments,
but he demonstrated the true relationships of the various bodies, and
he enlarged them and their scope according to his desire for greater
utterance. In the First Symphony, C major (1800), and the Second, D
major (1803), he employs the same orchestra: 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2
clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, tympani, first and second
violins, violas, and basses. It is worthy of note that the ’cello is
not specified. In the Third Symphony, “Eroica,” E flat major (1805),
he used the same orchestra, except that he added a third horn part and
wrote “violoncello e basso.”
It is believed that three horns were employed in the symphonic
orchestra for the first time in this work. Mozart used four in
“Idomeneo” (1781). The Fourth Symphony, B flat (1807), is a smaller
work, and its orchestra is the same as that of the First and Second,
except that only one flute is required and the ’cello is named. The
great Fifth Symphony, C minor (1808), is scored for 1 piccolo, 2
flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, contra-bassoon, 2 horns,
2 trumpets, 3 trombones, drums, and strings. Sir George Grove notes
that “the piccolo, trombones, and contra-fagotto are employed in the
finale only, and make their appearance here for the first time in the
symphonies. The contra-fagotto was first known to Beethoven in his
youth at Bonn, where the Elector’s orchestra contained one. He has
employed it also in ‘Fidelio,’ in the Ninth Symphony, and elsewhere.”
The Sixth Symphony, known as the “Pastoral” (1808), is scored for
1 piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2
trumpets, 2 trombones, drums, and strings. The piccolo and trombones
were used for special descriptive effects in this work, and when he
came to write the great Seventh Symphony (1813), Beethoven employed the
same array of instruments as he had in his First and Second symphonies.
The same orchestra sufficed for the Eighth Symphony (1814), but the
Titanic Ninth (1824) demanded a larger instrumental body. The score
calls for 1 piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 1
contra-bassoon, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tympani, triangle,
cymbals, bass drum, and strings. Four horns are here used for the first
time in the symphonic orchestra, and their introduction completed the
development of the classical body of instruments.
When the romantic writers began to advance along the path opened by
Beethoven and to seek for broader and more influential emotional
expression, they introduced one or two more instruments for special
effects. The English horn was known to Bach in its primitive
form of oboe da caccia. It was used by Gluck in his “Orfeo” and
“Telemacho,” but, as Berlioz notes, without apparent appreciation
of its tone-quality. In its modern form it was introduced into the
orchestra by Rossini in “William Tell” (1829), and Meyerbeer in
“Robert le Diable” (1831). Modern symphonic writers use it freely.
Its employment in their music is probably due to the demonstration of
its utility by the eminent French composer, Hector Berlioz (1803-69),
who had a truly wonderful insight into the powers of all orchestral
instruments, and who laid down the principles of the post-Beethovenian
style of orchestral writing. We find Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn,
and other immediate followers of Beethoven using precisely the same
orchestra, sometimes with two horns and sometimes with four, and seldom
without trombones, throughout an entire work. Berlioz, however, began
at once to give variety to the instrumental body. For instance, so
small a work as his arrangement for orchestra of Weber’s “Invitation
à la Valse” is scored for 1 piccolo, 1 flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets,
4 bassoons, 4 horns, 1 cornet, 1 trumpet, 3 trombones, 2 harps,
tympani, and strings. The harp, as we have noted, had been used in
the opera, but Berlioz was the first to explore its possibilities.
Many of Berlioz’s other advances in the use of orchestral instruments
were owing to the introduction, in 1832, of the system of boring
and keying wind-instruments invented by Theobald Boehm. This system
vastly increased the agility of these instruments and improved their
intonation.
[Illustration: _From a photograph by Reutlinger._
BERLIOZ.]
Naturally, some of Berlioz’s ideas were borrowed from the operatic
composers, who frequently employed unusual combinations for dramatic
effects. In the “Quorum hodie” of his “Requiem,” for instance, Berlioz
calls for 3 flutes, 8 tenor trombones, and strings to accompany a
chorus. The “Dies Iræ” of the same mass calls for 4 small brass
bands to be placed at the corners of the main instrumental body, and
for 14 kettle-drums tuned to different notes. But at present we are
more concerned with the direct development of the orchestra than
with special combinations. The bass clarinet was seldom used till
Adolph Sax, the famous instrument-maker, perfected its construction.
Meyerbeer, who was a great friend of Sax, introduced the instrument in
his opera scores. He gives to it a fine declamatory passage in “Les
Huguenots” (Act V.), and gives it a melodic part in the coronation
march in “Le Prophète.” It was Wagner, however, who fully illustrated
the capacity of this noble instrument, and by his employment of it,
both as a solo singer and a fundamental bass of the wood-wind, led
contemporaneous symphonic writers to employ it freely.
The brass choir has been enlarged since Beethoven’s day by the addition
of the bass tuba, an instrument which came into use only after Sax had
perfected its mechanism. Before that the ophicleide, a bass instrument
of the keyed bugle family, was occasionally employed. Mendelssohn calls
for it in the score of his “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and Berlioz has
four in the score of his “Requiem.” These parts are now played on
tubas. Additional trumpets are often used to strengthen the brass, and
Wagner even caused tenor tubas to be made to give certain tone-tints,
together with sonority, to the funeral march of “Götterdämmerung.”
All kinds of instruments of percussion are introduced when their
peculiarities are desired, and, as already said, bells, gongs,
triangles, and even the vulgar xylophone, find something to do in the
modern orchestra.
In the first opera, Peri’s “Eurydice,” as we have seen, the orchestra
consisted of a harpsichord, a large guitar, a viol, a large lute, and
three flutes. Two centuries and a half later, in 1850, the overture
to Wagner’s “Lohengrin” called for 3 flutes, 2 oboes, 1 English horn,
2 clarinets, 1 bass clarinet, 3 bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3
trombones, 1 bass tuba, kettle-drums, cymbals, and strings. In the
third act of “Die Walküre” the same composer calls for 2 piccolos,
2 flutes, 3 oboes, 1 English horn, 3 clarinets, 1 bass clarinet,
3 bassoons, 8 horns, 4 trumpets, 1 bass trumpet, 4 trombones, 1
contra-bass tuba, 4 kettle-drums, cymbals and bass drum, harp and
strings. How this enormous growth has been accomplished the author
has endeavored to outline. The reader will perceive, however, that
the fundamental arrangement of the orchestra, as left to us by Haydn
and Mozart, has not been altered, but simply extended. As I have
already noted, the aims of the romantic composers in the direction
of tone-coloring have led to this extension. Yet by means of modern
methods of instrumentation, glowing results can be obtained from the
symphonic orchestra employed by Beethoven. An excellent instance of
this is the “Symphonic Pathétique” of Tschaikowsky, which adds only
the bass tuba to Beethoven’s orchestra. Gounod, in his “Redemption,”
a richly orchestrated work, employs 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets,
2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tympani, bass drum and
cymbals, strings and organ in one of the most effective passages. On
the other hand, Jean Louis Nicode, in the “Phosphorescent Lights”
movement of his symphonic ode “The Sea”--a movement of purely
descriptive and imitative music--calls for a concealed brass band
consisting of 3 trumpets, 7 trombones, and a bass tuba, together with 1
piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 tenor
tubas, 1 bass tuba, 2 pairs of kettle-drums, 1 pair of cymbals, 1
triangle, 1 bass drum, 1 gong, 1 set of bells, 2 harps, and the usual
strings.
The proportion of power and the balance of tone in the orchestra are
preserved by having more stringed than wind instruments. It requires
many violins and basses to balance the wood and brass in a forte
passage, and, furthermore, the strings themselves lack solidity if
there are only a few. As an example of a well-balanced orchestra, we
may take the Boston Symphony, which is organized as follows: 16 first
violins, 14 second, 10 violas, 10 violoncellos, 8 double-basses, 3
flutes, 2 oboes, 1 English horn, 3 clarinets, 3 bassoons, 4 trumpets,
4 horns, 3 trombones, 2 tenor tubas, 2 bass tubas, 1 contra-bass
tuba, 2 pairs of tympani, 1 bass-drum, 1 pair of cymbals, 1 harp. The
additional wind-instruments are, of course, used only in compositions
which call for them. An excellent example of a great festival orchestra
was that conducted by Theodore Thomas at the New York Music Festival of
1882. It consisted of 50 first violins, 50 second violins, 36 violas,
36 violoncellos, 40 double-basses, 6 harps, 6 flutes, 2 piccolos, 7
oboes, 2 English horns, 6 clarinets, 2 bass clarinets, 6 bassoons, 2
contra-bassoons, 9 horns, 2 Sax horns, 11 cornets, 3 trumpets, 1 bass
trumpet, 9 trombones, 3 tubas, 4 pairs of kettle-drums, 2 bass-drums, 2
pairs of cymbals, 3 small drums, and 2 triangles.
PART V
How Orchestral Music Grew
XVI
From Bach to Haydn
A book on the orchestra might be regarded as complete without this
chapter, yet it seems to the author that a few suggestions as to the
nature and aims of the different kinds of orchestral music heard at
concerts may not be unwelcome to the reader. It is always desirable
to know what to listen for in a musical composition, because many
disappointments are thus avoided. A person who hopes to hear in a
Bach fugue the gorgeous masses of tone which are characteristic of a
contemporaneous orchestral piece, will certainly declare Bach to be a
dry and uninteresting composer. Equally he who hopes to discover in
Rimsky-Korsakow’s “Scheherezade” suite the intellectual development
of the Eighth Symphony, will assert that the talented Russian is no
composer at all.
The compositions of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) lie a little to
one side of the direct path of orchestral development, and many of
them were contemporaneous with works which are in form and treatment
of a more modern style. Nevertheless, Bach’s works mark the epoch from
which any review of orchestral music must start. During the Middle
Ages the artistic composers of music were almost wholly absorbed in
writing for the Roman Catholic Church. Their compositions were for
voices without accompaniment, and consisted of great Gothic structures
of polyphonic music. In this kind of music every voice was at the
same instant engaged in singing different parts of the same melody,
the melody being so cunningly made that these different phrases, when
heard together, would produce harmony. It was late in the sixteenth
century that instrumental music began to develop independently, and
the composers employed for it the same style as they had used in their
church masses. Early instrumental music is polyphonic, and the full and
final development of this style of composition is found in the fugues
and concerti grossi of Bach. Handel also wrote concerti grossi, and
they, too, partake of the polyphonic character.
The essential trait of this kind of music is the interweaving of the
various melodic voice-parts and the effects obtained by their working
against one another. Polyphonic writing is the most profound and
serious style of composition, and it is also that which best endures
the test of time. Modern composers have fully realized that fact
and have introduced a new polyphony into their works. It is what is
called free counterpoint, by which is meant the working together of
several voices which do not sing different parts of the same melody at
the same time, but only at points suitable to the composer’s purpose,
while at other points new melodic ideas may be introduced. But in the
early polyphonic music the listener will hear chiefly the interweaving
of voice-parts of the same melody, and he will miss all the beauty
and intellectual finish of these works if he seeks simply for the
sensuous sweetness of instrumental tints. Usually the orchestral color
is distinguished by sobriety, and the profoundly thoughtful nature
of contrapuntal music causes a general austerity of instrumental
diction. I have already mentioned the historical fact that orchestral
tone-coloring began with Mozart. But this was necessarily the case,
for the early contrapuntal writers were too wholly absorbed in the
development of form to study the resources of color. The operatic
writers were the first to seek for color-effects, just as they were
the first to use abrupt changes of rhythm and startling dissonances in
their search after dramatic expression.
The working out of formal perfection filled the early classic as well
as the late polyphonic period, but the form was different. With the
birth of opera there entered into modern music a new power, that of the
vocal solo with subordinate accompaniment; and composers at once sought
for a new form in which they could cast their melodic ideas so that
they would be interesting and artistic when sung by one voice instead
of several. The development of these monophonic forms occupied the
early classical composers. They obtained their most pregnant suggestion
from the operatic _aria da capo_. In this kind of song there are three
sections, the first and third being the same melody, and the middle one
being different and contrasting. This form suggested to instrumental
composers the cycle, which lies at the foundation of most instrumental
compositions of the classic period. The classic overture, for example,
consisted of three movements (without breaks), slow, fast, and slow,
or fast, slow, and fast. And it was customary to repeat in the last
one the principal melodic idea of the first. The first movement of a
symphony or a piano sonata (for a symphony is a sonata for orchestra)
is built on a similar plan. Certain melodic ideas, called themes or
subjects, are set forth in the first section. Then follows a middle
section called the free fantasia or “working-out,” and in this the
melodic subject-matter is literally worked out. It is submitted to
various processes of musical development, such as changes of harmony,
changes of rhythm, different instrumental treatments, polyphonic
expression, etc., till there is nothing more to say, and then the third
section restates the original matter in its first shape and adds a coda
(tail-piece), by which the movement is brought to a conclusion. The
development of this form was aided by the instrumental suite, a form
which consisted of series of dances of different kinds. These suites
helped the symphonic composers to perceive the value of alternating
different sorts of movements, so that symphonies began with an allegro,
constructed on the cyclical pattern just described, and continued with
an adagio, a minuet, and a finale.
The development of this form occupied the attention of instrumental
composers from, say the publication of Corelli’s first sonata
(so-called), in 1685, till the close of the seventeenth century. By
that time it was fully developed, and was ready for such modifications
as might be suggested by the entrance of a new purpose into the field
of instrumental composition. The symphonies of Haydn and Mozart and
the first two of Beethoven belong to this period of the development of
the symphonic form, which is also known as the Classic Period.
The lover of music who desires to listen with intelligence and to bring
the faculty of judgment to the guidance of his fancy, should study the
history of music, because from an acquaintance with that subject he
will acquire a correct point of view. It is impossible in the limits of
two short chapters in a volume of this size to do more than indicate
in the most general manner the salient points in the development of
orchestral music. Therefore, I must content myself with inviting the
reader to note that these two early periods of musical history, the
Polyphonic and the Classic, were occupied chiefly with the labors of
composers engaged in the establishment of methods. Two general classes
of forms, the polyphonic and the monophonic, were developed, and
the manner of elaborating musical ideas and of instrumental technic
suitable to each was fairly established. But it cannot be said that
the early classic composers advanced beyond the exclusively musical
limits of their art. The music-lover will look in vain for the note of
profound human emotion in the symphonies of Haydn and Mozart.
The dramatic power of unsupported instrumental music had not yet been
felt by composers, because they were engaged, not in studying the
capacity of their art for the symbolism of ideas extraneous to itself,
but in exploring its purely æsthetic resources. Music was still to
them an end, not a means. They sought only for beauty, and they aimed
at producing it by the employment of the technical details of forms
and idioms peculiar to their own art. While the polyphonic writers
had utilized the interweaving of different parts of the same melody,
the classic composers exercised their taste, ingenuity, and feeling
in developing melodic subjects in a vocal solo style, with a support
of harmonies built on chords, of which the melody was an inseparable
part. Their orchestral method differed from that of the polyphonic
school because their manner of composing compelled a change. Bach’s
way of using every instrument as a solo voice was no longer available.
The melodic subjects of a symphony must always predominate. Now they
flow to us from the strings, now from the wood, again from the brass;
but always with chord harmonies. Hence, we find the classic composers
using wind-instruments in pairs and making different combinations of
the various groups of instruments, so that simultaneously with the
process of thematic development and working-out (which is the drawing
of the symphonic tone-picture), there is a constant change of the
color-scheme, and thus the melodic and harmonic details are heightened
by a judicious use of the tonal qualities of the voices which sing
them to us. The skill of composers in using these tonal qualities and
the technical expertness of orchestral players grew so fast that in
the course of time, as we shall see, they came to a position of undue
prominence in orchestral music; but this state of affairs was largely
hastened by the employment of vivid color-effects by the romanticists
in their endeavors to obtain dramatic utterance from the orchestra.
The music-lover who listens to orchestral music of the classic period
must not expect anything but a clear and perspicuous presentation of
music for its own sake. Sunny transparency is the chief characteristic
of the instrumentation of Haydn and Mozart, while the technical
construction of their works makes it incumbent upon the listener to
follow the purely musical working-out of the subjects announced. The
instrumental color-scheme is neither wide nor brilliant, but it is
as admirably adapted to the subject-matter as the subdued greens of
Corot are to his peaceful bucolic scenes. To appreciate thoroughly the
works of Haydn and Mozart a music-lover should have the fundamental
principles of musical form at his fingers’ ends, and he should know the
voices of the instruments. The rest is child’s play. The knowledge of
musical form is indispensable to the right enjoyment of all music, but
it is peculiarly necessary in these classic works, in which pure beauty
of form was the ultimate object.
XVII
From Beethoven to Richard Strauss
Of the early classic writers only Haydn and Mozart have survived the
test of time, and neither of them figures frequently in contemporaneous
concert programmes. This is a pity, for their music would often serve
as a corrective to a taste which is inclined to clamor ceaselessly for
“ginger hot i’ the mouth.” But it is beyond dispute that the romantic
composers awaken more sympathetic chords in the modern bosom. Beethoven
is the connecting link between the classic and romantic schools.
His First and Second Symphonies belong to the former; the rest to the
latter. The modern romantic school of music sprang from Beethoven’s
“Eroica” symphony, his opera “Fidelio,” Schubert’s marvellous songs,
and Weber’s “Der Freischütz.” In so far as purely orchestral music
is concerned, however, Beethoven was the master of them all. It was
he who first showed musicians how to project emotion through the
orchestral melos. If Mendelssohn’s fanciful little piano pieces are
songs without words, then Beethoven’s Third, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh
symphonies are dramas without text.
In form and technical method these works follow the general plan of the
classic symphonies of Haydn and Mozart. Indeed, the C minor symphony of
Beethoven is the finest and most fully developed specimen of that form.
But Beethoven made certain changes which came from the nature of his
search after emotional expression. He modulated into foreign keys with
greater freedom than his predecessors, and he made wider gaps between
the keys of his successive movements. A complex and changeful harmonic
basis has always been associated with emotional expression in music.
Simple harmonies are restful, peaceful, and suggestive of serenity
of the soul; frequent modulations and unfinished cadences express
uneasiness of mind--largely because they create it.
In addition to this advance, Beethoven also found it possible to knit
the melodic structure of his works much more firmly. He introduced his
second subjects, for instance, by means of transitional passages made
out of some of the materials of his first subjects. His working-out
processes were infinitely broader and grander than those of his
predecessors, and they invariably led to strenuous and stimulating
climaxes, not found in the earlier symphonies. Beethoven substituted
for the old minuet movement the scherzo, which resembles the minuet
in form, but differs wholly from it in spirit. The word scherzo means
“jest,” and the movement was at first intended to be humorous or
playful; but Beethoven sometimes gave it the grim mystery of tragic
suspense, as in the Fifth Symphony.
Beethoven’s manner of instrumentation has already been discussed to
some extent. It is necessary only to add that it shows a profounder
insight into the special character of each instrument than that of any
writer who preceded him. This was the result of the composer’s search
after influential emotional expression, and of his complete dependence
for it upon his instruments. The advances of Beethoven in the treatment
of orchestral forms led the romantic composers to perceive that they
could make still larger changes without infringing the fundamental laws
upon which the artistic development of musical ideas proceeded.
Robert Schumann’s symphonies are notable examples of the methods
adopted by the romantic writers. His symphony in D minor is intended
to be played without any pauses between the consecutive movements,
and melodic material introduced in one movement is employed in the
development of another. Thus the principal theme of the first movement
recurs in a significantly modified form in the last, and an idea heard
in the introduction is repeated with much meaning in the scherzo.
These innovations were the direct result of attempts to give to music
a more definite emotional force, and they were brought about by
Beethoven’s convincing demonstration of the dramatic expressiveness
of orchestral music. The highly wrought overtures of Weber, as well
as those of Beethoven, had an additional value in showing later
composers how to utilize the suggestive power of a title in combination
with characteristic methods of instrumental utterance. Haydn, in his
“Creation,” had invented some of the now conventional figures of
orchestral utterance, such as the rolling of waves and the raging of
storms. Beethoven’s storm in the “Pastoral” symphony went farther,
and, mild as it sounds now, was a remarkable achievement in its day.
Spohr began to write symphonies with descriptive titles such as the
“Leonore” (founded on a poem by Burger) and “The Power of Sound.”
Mendelssohn wrote descriptive overtures such as “Fingal’s Cave,” and
in his “Midsummer Night’s Dream” music suggested how far the purely
illustrative powers of orchestral song might go.
It required very little experimenting in this kind of composition
to show musicians that the prescribed forms of the classic symphony
and overture were unsuited to it. It was quite impossible to embody
in music, developed strictly on lines designed for the exploitation
of pure musical beauty, a series of emotions which moved according
to wholly different laws. The famous pianist, Franz Liszt, to meet
the requirements of the new school, invented the symphonic poem, a
composition symphonic in style, but smaller in extent and without any
pause between the movements. These are welded together by connecting
matter which causes the passage from one to the other to be barely
perceptible. The movements themselves are distributed wholly according
to the sequence of the principal emotional moods of the story which is
to be illustrated. The fundamental laws of musical form are, of course,
observed; but conventional formulæ are not followed.
Liszt employed all the symphonic devices of thematic development in
his symphonic poems, and his immediate imitators followed his example.
But many later composers have abandoned almost the whole symphonic
scheme, so that the works of the first masters of the romantic school
belong to a period of transition between the late classicists and the
ultra-romanticists of our time.
The reader must not understand me as intending to say that the form of
the classic symphony has been universally abandoned. On the contrary,
one of the most agreeable of living composers, Antonin Dvořák, clings
to it, and there are many others who still find that they can say
all they wish to say through the medium used by Beethoven. Brahms
was the finest recent exponent of the classic symphony. But there is
undoubtedly a growing tendency among composers to make their orchestral
works vast color-pictures. The themes in these works are subjected to
little or no real musical development, but are brought forward again
and again in new instrumental garbs, and instead of reaching climaxes
by devices of melodic evolution, the composers aim at producing
dramatic effects by imposing or vivid instrumental coloring.
At the same time these composers employ a most complex polyphony, for
their scores teem with melodic utterance in all the principal voices.
Richard Strauss, of Munich, is the leading writer of this school of
orchestral colorists. His works show supreme mastery of the technics
of orchestration, the most intimate acquaintance with the special
characteristics of the various instruments, and a really remarkable
knowledge of the results to be gained by the mixture of tone-tints.
It is the opinion of the present writer that Strauss seeks to express
in music things which cannot, and some which ought not, to be so
expressed; but that is a matter which need not be discussed here. It
is undeniable that in form and treatment this composer’s works are in
the direct line of the general tendency of orchestral music in our day,
and it is equally undeniable that his mastery of the technics of the
present style of writing is greater than that of any other composer.
I have endeavored in this brief survey of orchestral music to show the
reader how it began with the most rigid and logical forms, in which
the laws of thematic evolution were applied with the intent to attain
purely musical beauty; and how, as the technics of instrumentation
became better understood, the employment of instrumental coloring led
composers away from rigorous thematic development toward a species of
composition in which dramatic effects were obtained by a more free
method of construction and a larger use of color-effects.
From this we appear at present to be passing into a period in which
these color-effects alone are to be called upon as the means of
orchestral expression.
It is quite impossible for us who are contemporaneous with this new
school to decide as to its value. It is enough for us to recognize its
tendencies and watch their evolution. What I have attempted to do in
this chapter is to point out briefly to the reader the salient traits
of the orchestral music of the different periods, to the end that in
listening he might endeavor to find his enjoyment where the composer
intended that he should find it, and not be disappointed from an unwise
attempt to find it somewhere else. The observant music-lover will find,
I think, that the development of orchestration has been perfectly
normal, and that the instrumentation of each period is perfectly fitted
to its music. A symphony of Mozart orchestrated in the Richard Strauss
style would be a tinted Venus; while a tone poem of Strauss scored à
la Mozart would be like one of Cropsey’s autumn landscapes reduced to
the dead level of a pen-and-ink drawing. It is largely because of this
organic union between music and its orchestral garb that the amateur
ought to strive to understand the nature and purpose of orchestration.
The addition to his enjoyment of all orchestral music will be far more
than sufficient to pay for the labor of the study.
INDEX
Abbreviations in scores, 47
Aria da capo, suggestion to orchestral composers, 220
Bach’s orchestra, 195
Balance of tone, 65;
how obtained, 115
Bass clarinet, compass and character, 28;
introduction of, 209
Bass drum, 111
Bassoon, compass and character, 24
Baton, use of, 148 _et seq._;
need of, 154
“Battery,” 108 _et seq._
Beethoven’s symphonies, 226 _et seq._
Bells, 111
Berlioz, 67, 68;
his orchestra, 208
Boston Symphony Orchestra, 50, 212
Bowing, 9;
marks for, 138
Brass, 4;
methods of using, 97 _et seq._;
Bach’s and Handel’s plans, 98;
Haydn’s, 99;
Mozart’s, 100;
employed unsupported, 105;
Wagner learns from Gluck and Mozart, 107
Carillon, 112
Castanets, 111
Clarinet, compass and character, 26;
how to read its music, 52;
methods of using, 86 _et seq._
Classic music, character of, 222
Classicists, modern, 231
Clefs, 55 _et seq._
Colorists, 231
Conductor, development of, 147 _et seq._;
interpreting, 156;
Wagner’s influence on, 161;
functions of, 164;
in detail, 167;
choice of tempo, 169;
work besides choice of tempo, 174
Conductors, famous, 158 _et seq._
Contra-bass clarinet, 96
Contra-bassoon, 95
Contrast, 65;
how obtained, 119
Cornet, 23
Cyclic forms, 220
Cymbals, 111
Directions, composers’, to be obeyed, 139
Double-bass, compass and character, 17
Drum, bass, 111;
snare, 111
English Horn, compass and character, 23
Flexibility in orchestral playing, 134
Flute, compass and character, 19;
uses of, 81 _et seq._;
introduction of, 190
Forms, development of musical, 220;
Beethoven’s innovations, 227;
Schumann’s, 228
Glissando, 41
Gong, 111
Gossec, developer of orchestral technics, 158
Habeneck, interpreting conductor, 160
Handel’s orchestra, 196
Harmonics, 7, 8
Harmony, dispersal of, 64
Harp, 39;
pedals, 40;
methods of using, 39 _et seq._
Harpsichord, used in conducting, 149 _et seq._;
method of use, 150;
used in symphonic conducting, 155
Haydn’s orchestra, 200
Horn, compass and character, 30;
how to read its music, 54;
methods of using, 97 _et seq._;
stopped tones, 100;
valves, 100;
Rossini’s horn style, 100;
in “Eroica” symphony, 101;
four horns, how used, 101, 102
Horn, English, 23;
introduction into orchestra, 208
Instrumentation, models, 68
Instruments, list of, in orchestra, 4;
names in four languages, 46
Leader of orchestra, 154
Legno, col, 10
Legrenzi’s orchestra, 192
Liszt, inventor of symphonic poem, 230
Lully’s orchestra, 192
Mendelssohn, model for string writing, 76
Metronome, 172
Meyerbeer, 39, 40, 41
Middle voices, 135
Monteverde, Claudio, founder of modern orchestra, 186
Mozart, tone-coloring, and string plan, 75, 76;
his orchestra, 204
Music, orchestral, development of, 217 _et seq._;
polyphonic, 218;
classic, 220;
character of, 222 _et seq._;
what to expect in classic, 224;
Beethoven’s, 226 _et seq._;
romantic, 228
Nicode, divided strings in “Das Meer,” 77
Oboe, compass and character, 20;
uses of, 81 _et seq._
Ophicleide, 210
Orchestra, defined, 3;
Beethoven’s, 4, 206;
instruments in, 4;
how used, 61;
compass, 61;
dynamic range, 62;
constitution of, 142;
development of, 181 _et seq._;
in Middle Ages, 183;
Peri’s and Cavaliere’s, 185, 186;
Monteverde’s, 186;
Scarlatti’s, 190;
Lully’s, 192;
Legrenzi’s, 192;
Bach’s, 195;
Handel’s, 196;
in early part of eighteenth century, 193, 198;
Gossec’s, 200;
Haydn’s, 200;
Dresden court orchestra, 203;
Mozart’s, 204;
Berlioz’s, 208;
Wagner’s, 210, 211;
Boston Symphony’s number, 212;
festival, 213
Orchestral music, development of, 217 _et seq._
Orchestras, famous, 140 _et seq._, 202
Orchestration, general principles of, 61;
requirements of, 63;
models in, 67, 68;
Bach’s polyphonic, 82;
qualities of good, 113 _et seq._;
pianists’ mistakes, 115;
Bach’s, 120;
effect of clarinet in, 120;
Handel’s, 121;
romantic, 122;
innovations of Monteverde, 188;
Corelli’s contributions to, 193
Overture, classic form, 200
Percussive instruments, parts for, 112
Performance, qualities of orchestral, 124 _et seq._;
requisites of, 125
Phrasing, 137
Piccolo, 95
Precision, 131, 132
Quality of tone, 125
Quartette, string, establishment of, 189, 190
Romantic music, 228 _et seq._
Saltato, 10
Score, described, 43 _et seq._;
abbreviations in, 47
Seating plan of orchestra, 49, 50, 203
Shading in orchestral playing, 134 _et seq._
Solidity, 64, 114;
how obtained, 115;
in performance, 126
Sonata, development of, 220
Sordines, 10
Stamitz, developer of orchestral technics, 158
Strauss, R., leader of orchestral colorists, 232
Strings, 5;
methods of using, 66 _et seq._;
test of methods, 72;
Beethoven’s plan, 72, 76;
innovations in use of, by romanticists, 72;
effects of different registers, 73;
Haydn’s plan, 75;
Mozart’s plan, 76;
Mendelssohn’s plan, 76;
introduction of various effects, 80;
proper proportion of, 127
Symphonic poem, 230
Symphony, form and development, 220 _et seq._
Tambourine, 111
Tempo, importance of, 169 _et seq._
Tone, balance of, 65, 126;
how obtained, 115;
qualities of, in orchestral performance, 125 _et seq._;
necessity of fine, 130
Transposing instruments, 51 _et seq._
Tremolo, 9;
invention of, 188
Trombone, kinds, compass and character, 34;
how used, 102;
introduction in symphony, 103;
Berlioz’s use of, 106;
Mozart’s and Gluck’s use of, 107
Trumpet, compass and character, 32;
how to read its music, 54;
methods of using, 98 _et seq._
Tuba, kinds and character, 35;
how used, 103;
introduction of, 210
Tympani, compass and character, 37;
how used, 108;
Beethoven’s innovations in use of, 109
Unanimity, 131, 132, 133
Variety, 65;
how obtained, 119
Viola, compass and character of, 13 _et seq._;
how used, 67 _et seq._
Violin, compass, bowing, etc., 6 _et seq._;
entrance into orchestra, 187
Violins, first and second, 5;
second, 11
Violoncello, compass and character, 16;
how used, 71
Wagner’s orchestra, 210
Wood-wind, enumerated, 4;
in detail, 19;
methods of using, 81 _et seq._;
Bach’s plan, 82;
Handel’s, 84;
Haydn’s, 85;
Mozart’s, 87;
Beethoven’s, 88;
Brahms’s, 89;
Beethoven’s innovations, 90;
Wagner’s, 91
Xylophone, 112