The orchestra and its instruments

THE HORN

Look at the golden horn with its open bell gleaming like a big yellow flower!

First notice the large bell that spreads out to a diameter of about twelve inches. Then notice that there is a tube that holds the funnel-shaped mouthpiece. If this long brass tube were straightened out it would be over seven feet long!

This instrument is nothing but a long tube spirally coiled and ending in a bell.

The horn is very old. It is depicted in painting and sculpture in the monuments of Egypt, Assyria and India. It may even be the oldest of all instruments; for it was easier to blow through the horn, or the tusk, of an animal than to cut a reed, or stretch a string.

At any rate, the instrument is derived from the horn, or tusk, of an animal in the small end of which people soon had the idea of placing a mouthpiece for convenience. Even in the Middle Ages the “Olifant,” as it was called, was a recognized musical instrument. This was the tusk of an elephant; and it was often exquisitely carved. A few “Olifants” are in existence.

But even though the horn of an animal was used for many centuries people had imitated it in metal before the Christian Era. The Roman Bucina, or Buccina, or Cornu, for instance, was a brass tube of great length, curved spirally and worn around the performer’s body.

The Guilds and Corporations in the Middle Ages had horns which they blew upon to call the members to the meetings. Many of these exist in various museums of Europe.

Poetically we say wind the horn and sound the horn, and Tennyson in Locksley Hall writes “Sound upon the bugle horn.” More romantic is his line “The horns of Elfland faintly blowing,” in the exquisite lyric, beginning “The splendor falls on castle walls,” in The Princess.

Then there was the hunting-horn—the horn that figures in old ballad literature and romantic tales and legends.

This hunting-horn was a long tube which was passed over the player’s right arm, the bell projecting over his left shoulder. It was inconvenient; and so in the Seventeenth Century the tube was wrapped around and around itself and became a great spiral coil with a large bell. But it was still worn around the body so as to keep the hands free.

The hunting-horn was not an instrument, however, that was heard in drawing-rooms, or in the theatre, though it was very musical when echoing through the woods. There was an elaborate code of calls and signals and fanfares, which every huntsman well understood. About 1720 the horn was introduced into the Orchestra. Bach frequently scored for it. An early use of it is in Handel’s opera of Radimisto. It was used in France by Gossec, who had to write two airs especially for the début of the famous singer and actress, Sophie Arnould (one of the wittiest women of her time), and he actually introduced obbligato parts for two horns and two clarinets (which were also new instruments then).

But the horn was not liked: it was considered common, even vulgar. The idea of introducing an instrument from the hunting-field into the opera! Horrors!

After a time, however, people began to like the voice of the horn, though it only played fanfares and flourishes. But few, however, dreamed of writing music for this instrument, until Haydn and the great Mozart saw its possibilities and wrote beautifully for it; and they generally called for two horns in their scores. Mozart showed the world what he thought of this instrument by writing three Concertos for it with the Orchestra.

Cherubini called for four horns in his opera of Lodoiska.

Schubert opened his Symphony in C (No. 9) with a beautiful passage of eight bars for two horns in unison. Mendelssohn made a most poetic and dreamy use of it in the Nocturne in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Weber has an exquisite introduction for four horns, descriptive of the forest in the Overture to Der Freischütz.

“No other composer,” writes a critic, “has surpassed, or even equalled, Weber in his masterly use of this instrument. He evidently loved it above all other voices in the Orchestra. Besides abundant concerted music, the effective opening of the Overture to Oberon, the weird notes in that of Der Freischütz and the lovely obbligato in the mermaid’s song will rise into immediate remembrance. He fully appreciates its value, not only as a melodic instrument, but as a source, whether alone, or blended with other qualities of tone, of strange and new æsthetical effect.”[25]

In his opera of Preciosa Weber calls for eight horns.

“The horn,” says Berlioz, “is a noble and melancholy instrument. It blends easily with the general harmony; and the composer—even the least skilful—may if he choose, either make it play an important part, or a useful, or subordinate one. No master, in my opinion, has ever known how to avail himself of its powers more originally, more poetically, and, at the same time, more completely than Weber. In his three finest works—Oberon, Euryanthe and Freischütz—he causes the horn to speak a language as admirable as it is novel,—a language which Beethoven and Méhul alone seem to have comprehended before him.

“The horn is of all orchestral instruments the one which Gluck wrote least well for. We must, however, quote as a stroke of genius those three notes of the horn imitating the conch of Charon in the air of Alceste, ‘Charon now calls thee.’ They are middle C’s, given in unison by two horns in D-major; but the composer having conceived the idea of causing the bells of each to be closed, it follows that the two instruments serve mutually as a sordino; and the sounds, interclashing, assume a distant accent and a cavernous quality of tone of the most strange and dramatic effect.”

The horn that these composers called for in their scores was the hunting-horn to which crooks had been added to enable the performer to play in different keys—pitch. The horn in its natural, or simple, form was used until 1830. After that valves, or pistons, were added and the instrument was known as the chromatic horn.

Played with a mute (con sordino) made of cloth, the horn produces a dreamy effect. Walter Damrosch makes a poetic use of the horn, so muffled, in his opera, Cyrano.

The horn as we see it to-day consists of a tube bent into a spiral (for convenience of holding), comparatively narrow near the mouthpiece and gradually widening out towards the bell. It might, therefore, be described as a conical pipe. The air-stream blown in by the player runs all through the tube vibrating as it goes all through the coils and emptying out of the bell. There are no holes pierced in it anywhere. The horn has no reed. The lips of the performer have to do all the work.

By changing the pressure of the lips on the mouthpiece the performer can cut up the vibrations into shorter lengths (just as the finger of the player on a violin shortens the vibration of the string) and thus he is able to get the harmonics of the scale.

The “crooks” are moveable pieces of tubing. They are inserted into the coils to alter the pitch. There are “crooks” for all keys.

The natural, or open, tones of the horn are not produced by means of keys that close, or open, the finger-holes, like the clarinet, or oboe. They depend first on the length of the tube—the longer the tube, the deeper the tone. The length is varied by means of “crooks.” Secondly, they depend on the muscles of the lips and the increased pressure of breath—the greater the tension, the higher the tone.

This method of producing notes is called “over-blowing.” Thirdly, upon the valves, which, when pressed by the fingers, produce notes of lower and higher pitch.

The right hand of the player is always in the bell of his instrument to prevent harsh and loud sounds and to give the tone a smooth and veiled quality.

To play the horn bouché means to stop the horn with hand, or fist. To force its tone produces a loud, brassy and even wild effect.

Now the cor à piston, or French horn, is merely the horn that we have just been describing with the “crooks” permanently attached. The performer passes from one key to another by pressing his finger on one, two, or all three pistons. The French horn F is the one most frequently used. It has a complete chromatic scale of three octaves and six notes. The mouthpiece is a funnel-shaped tube of brass, or silver, ending in a rounded ring of metal for the convenience of the lips. The cavity is cone-shaped downward, and not cup-shaped; and it is supposed that this shape has something to do with the tone.

Some musicians think the older and simpler horn of Mozart, Gluck and Beethoven more poetic in quality of tone than the modern one.

“The timbre of the horn,” writes Lavignac, “may be utilized in many ways, but great skill is necessary to use it to advantage. It is heroic or rustic; savage or exquisitely poetic; and it is, perhaps, in the expression of tenderness and emotion that it best develops its mysterious qualities.”

The family of horns is complete; there are horns now in all keys. The music for them is generally written—whatever may be their key, or that of the Orchestra—without sharps or flats at the Clef.

In the Orchestra the horn is seldom played singly. A pair of horns, or four horns (two pairs), are usually employed.

It seems strange that such a primitive instrument should be capable of such poetic effects.

Wagner called for sixteen hunting-horns in the first act of Tannhäuser and made an effective use of the valve-horns in the Pilgrims’ Chorus in Tannhäuser. In the Siegfried Idyll he tried the effect of a shake on the horn. In the Flying Dutchman Overture he has four horns play in unison. Throughout the Meistersinger and the four dramas of the Nibelungen Ring, particularly in Siegfried, the horns have beautiful work to do. But Wagner outdid himself and everybody else in the music for his horns in the second act of Tristan. Here in the beautiful summer night King Mark is hunting; and we hear the faint far-away horns and their echoes ringing through the moonlight and mingling with the soft murmur of the Orchestra. Wagner produced this beautiful result by having six horns play behind the scenes and two in the Orchestra. It is a poetic, musical picture.

Since Wagner’s time six or eight horns often play in the Orchestra. Strauss uses them in a very peculiar way in Till Eulenspiegel, in which they play a four-part shake. They are also conspicuous in the Don Quixote Variations.

THE TRUMPET

As far back as the Eleventh Century there was a popular instrument called the claro, clarino, or clarion. It was a short, straight, cylindrical tube made of brass, with a cupped mouthpiece at one end and a bell at the other.

Towards the end of the Thirteenth Century this long tube was folded up and the sections were bound together by an ornamental cord. The word “clarion” was used to denote this new folded instrument and the word “trumpet” was kept for the old straight tube, which still continued in favor.

In the clarion, therefore, we have the ancestor of the modern trumpet. We cannot mistake its voice. Lavignac calls it “a stately and heraldic instrument.” That is a good characterization; for when we hear the sound of the trumpet, we picture processions, tournaments and pageants of historic and romantic times.

“To describe it in brief, we may say it is the soprano of the horn family. It has nearly the same harmonic scale, but moves in a region at once higher and more restricted. It differs from the horn in that it produces only the open sounds. Closed sounds are unknown to it; and if attempted would produce only an unpleasant effect.

“Like the horn, the trumpet is a transposing instrument. It has a number of crooks,[26] or lengthening pieces.

“Of great agility, the trumpet is admirably suited to rapid figures, arpeggios and especially to repetitions of notes. Besides noisy fanfares and strident calls, it is able to produce in piano, or pianissimo, effects either fantastic, or of extreme sweetness.”

Berlioz says: “The quality of the trumpet tone is noble and brilliant. It suits with warlike ideas, with cries of fury and vengeance, as with songs of triumph. It lends itself to the expression of all energetic and lofty and grand sentiments and to the majority of tragic accents. It may even figure in a jocund piece, provided the joy assume a character of pomp and grandeur.”

“The first improvement in the trumpet,” writes Carl Heinrich, “was made by Meyer of Hamburg in the Eighteenth Century. This was a practical mouthpiece. In 1780 Wogel added tubes by which the performer was enabled to play in tune with other instruments. Wiedenger, the court-trumpeter in Vienna (1801), added stops to the trumpet by means of which the player could reach two octaves in chromatic tones. Other improvements were made by German and French players; but it was not until the keys were applied that the trumpet began to approach its present condition. By the use of keys it became possible for the chromatic tones to equal the natural ones, and for the player to perform difficult passages with ease. The first trumpets with keys were manufactured by Sattler of Leipzig. Striegel, who played in the Gewandhaus Orchestra of Leipzig, introduced improvements in the bore and tubing.

“The scores of Bach and Handel often call for many trumpets. In their day it was necessary to use a number of trumpets of different size, because no one instrument could play all the notes required.”

THE TROMBONE

Contemporary with the clarion, or claro, was a similar instrument called the buysine; and, like the clarion, it was a straight brass tube with a cupped mouthpiece at one end and a bell at the other. The only difference appears to be that the buysine was enormously long.

This instrument changed in form; and as early as the Fourteenth Century it was actually supplied with a slide! Though it was called sackbut, it shows the beginning of our modern trombone.

The sackbut was made in several sizes. There was a whole band of these instruments. In the Sixteenth Century there was a bass sackbut almost identical with the trombone of to-day.

The trombone may be described as a slender brass tube bent twice upon itself and ending in a bell. In the middle section it is double, so that the two outer portions slide upon the inner ones. We always enjoy watching the performer on the trombone pulling out his instrument at different lengths; and we often wonder how he knows when to stop it at the right points.

There are seven positions for this slide and they have to be learned. There is no guide but the performer’s ear, which has to be as accurate as that of a violinist; and, indeed, we may say that the seven positions, in a certain sense, correspond with the positions on the violin. They are only acquired by constant practice; and when they are once acquired, the performer thinks no more about them but pulls his slide up and down with an air that seems to us almost indifferent.

These seven positions of the slide each give a fundamental tone and its harmonics.

According to an authority: “The slide, being entirely closed, that is to say, the tube reduced to its shortest dimension, the instrument produces (modifying with the breath and the pressure of the lips as in the horn) the harmonics. By pulling out the slide a little, which increases the length of the tube, we have the second position and its harmonics.” Pulling out the tube still farther makes the third position and its harmonics; and so on.

There are three varieties of this instrument: the alto, the tenor and the bass. Each is written in the proper key of the voice whose name it bears.

Trombones differ from all other brasswind instruments in that they are non-transposing, and, therefore, render the notes as they are written. The compass of the instrument is two octaves and a sixth.

“The timbre of the trombone,” writes Lavignac, “is majestic and imposing. It is sufficiently powerful to dominate a whole Orchestra. It produces above all things the impression of power, a power superhuman. For the loudest passages there is no instrument more stately, noble, imposing; but it can also become terrible, or, even terrific, if the composer has so decreed; and terrific also in the softest passages. It is mournful and full of dismay. Sometimes it has the serenity of the organ. It can, also, according to the shades of meaning, become fierce, or satanic; but still with undiminished grandeur and majesty. It is a superb instrument of lofty dramatic power, which should be reserved for great occasions; when properly introduced, its effect is overwhelming.”

Mozart understood this reserve. In Don Giovanni, for instance, he kept them out of the Orchestra until the scene with the statue. They come in, therefore, in a climax, a terrific and solemn voice from the lower regions calling Don Giovanni to his doom. Mozart also used them very impressively for the March of the priests and to accompany Sarastro, the high priest, in The Magic Flute.

Beethoven gave the trombones much to do in the Ninth Symphony, where they begin in the Trio of the Scherzo. Schubert uses them strikingly in his Symphony in C; and Schumann in the Finale of his First Symphony and also in his Manfred Overture.

Berlioz made a great use of this instrument. He said: “The trombone in my opinion is the true chief of that race of wind instruments which I distinguish as epic instruments. It possesses, in an eminent degree, both nobleness and grandeur. It has all the deep and powerful accents of high musical poetry from the religious accent, calm and imposing, to the wild clamors of the orgy. The composer can make it chant like a choir of priests, threaten, lament, ring a funeral knell, raise a hymn of glory, break forth into frantic cries, or sound a dread flourish to awaken the dead, or to doom the living.”

As a rule there are three tenor trombones in the Orchestra, but no alto, nor bass.

THE BASS TUBA

This huge instrument, with the enormous bell standing upright, with valves and horizontal mouthpiece and great coils of shining tubes, is over three feet long! We can never mistake it; for it is the biggest of all the brass instruments. It has the deepest notes in the entire Orchestra. Its compass is immense! Four octaves! Having pistons, it can give sharps and flats. Consequently, it is a chromatic instrument. The sound of its voice is solemn, mysterious and lugubrious. It is very rich in its deepest notes. If we do not try to listen for them we shall not be able to distinguish them from the other bass instruments of the Orchestra.

The tone of the bass tuba might be described as partaking of both the trombone and the organ. Many of the beautiful effects in Wagner’s Nibelungen Ring are due to this great tuba of five cylinders. Wagner uses it to describe the deep, dark caverns under the Rhine and to suggest the first heavy roll of the waves in Das Rheingold; and it is the instrument on which the dragon, Fafner, speaks in Siegfried. It is heavy and ponderous like Fafner’s own heavy coils; and it is dark and deep and mysterious, just as we imagine a dragon’s voice might sound in the forest, where his mutterings and threatenings are understood.

The bass tuba appealed very strongly to Wagner’s imagination; and the Rheingold, Walküre Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung are full of its impressive tones.

The tuba was invented by a German composer, W. F. Wieprecht (1802-1892), with the help of J. G. Moritz.

The bass tuba, like every other instrument, had a direct ancestor. In some families the new generations are nobler and more refined than their ancestors. This is the case with the tuba. As he belongs to the group of horns and trombones, with even a slight relationship to the organ in his deep rolling voice with more velvet in it than even the organ possesses, the tuba might not care to be reminded that his parent is the ophicleide and that he came down in a straight line of ancestry from the rather commonplace and blatant Cornet Family.

The cornet is nothing more nor less than a bugle, a development of the old post-horn. There is nothing elegant, nor distinguished about the cornet (the old zinke of Mediæval times). Quite the contrary. But several centuries ago it was used to play the upper part in the Sackbut group;[27] and as there was a bass sackbut, there was no need for a bass cornet.

After a time a French priest, named Guillaume, who was canon of Auxerre, invented the serpent. This was a huge wooden instrument covered with leather pierced with holes on the side and furnished with a big, cupped mouthpiece.

This serpent was the bass of the cornet family. It is now obsolete. It is hanging up in the wall in the instrument-maker’s workshop facing page 40.

The serpent’s place was taken by the ophicleide, which is said to have been invented in 1790, by Frichot, a French musician living in London; but Regibo of Lille had made some improvements in the serpent ten years earlier. Probably Frichot carried Regibo’s improvements a little farther. First, the new instrument was called the serpentcleide; afterwards by a combination of two Greek words, meaning “snake” and “key.” Its voice was coarse and the instrument lacked suppleness. Besides, it was difficult for the performer to play precisely in tune. Mendelssohn wrote for it. It goes down into the depths (sixteen-foot A) in Elijah and it is used in the Clown’s March in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.[28] Wagner uses it in Rienzi; Berlioz, in the Amen Chorus in the Damnation of Faust; and Bizet, in Carmen.

Taste became too refined for the ophicleide; and its place was taken by the double-bassoon until the bass tuba was brought to perfection. The sonorous, majestic, velvety roll of the bass tuba has very little resemblance to the race from which it came. To-day its plebeian origin is forgotten and the bass tuba might be classed as belonging to the trombone, or even to the horn family. It seems a little unkind to remind it of its coarse ancestor, the serpentcleide.

“Minds have been confused,” writes Cecil Forsyth, “partly by Wagner’s unfortunate misnomer Tuben for a family of instruments only one of which is a true tuba and partly by a number of inaccurate descriptions in which the distinction between the whole-tube and the half-tube groups of valve-brass have been overlooked.

“The orchestral godfather of all this group of instruments was Richard Wagner. His intention was to introduce a new tone-color into the orchestra akin to, but different from, that of the horns. The new instruments were to be (and actually were) modified horns. In particular they were to be strong and contrast with the trombones and trumpets and were to have an even compass of about four octaves. Wagner’s idea was to write eight horn parts and so arrange the parts for his new instruments that four of his horn-players could be turned over at any time to play them.

“The instruments were to have a bore slightly larger than that of the horns, but much less than that of the tubas. The instruments were to be arranged in two pairs—a small high-pitched pair and a large low-pitched pair. They are all modified horns, but Wagner called them tenor-tuben and bass-tuben. This group of the so-called Wagner tubas is made up of two distinct types of instruments—a quartet of two high and two low modified horns and one true tuba.”

This is the bass tuba described above.