The orchestra and its instruments

There are two kinds of percussion instruments: those which produce musical notes; and those which only make noise.

These instruments have neither strings, nor holes, nor keys. They are simply beaten, or shaken.

In his definition of percussion instruments Gevaert subdivides them into two groups: Autophonic Instruments, and Membrane Instruments. Autophonic Instruments are those in which the tone is produced by the vibration of solid bodies (made of metal or wood), and which are of a nature sufficiently elastic to keep up the vibratory motion that has been given to them by the blow from the performer. These include instruments of definite pitch, such as bells, glockenspiel and celesta; and instruments of indefinite pitch, such as the triangle, cymbals, gong, castanets, etc.

Membrane Instruments are those that have a parchment, or skin, stretched, over them. These are the kettledrum, which has a definite pitch, and the bass drum, side drum and tambourine, which have indefinite pitch.

THE KETTLEDRUMS

The name of these instruments describes them precisely. We are perfectly familiar with these huge copper kettles that stand at the back of the Orchestra, adding no little to the picturesqueness of the stage.

The kettledrum is a big copper bowl, or basin, across which a piece of parchment is tightly stretched to make the “head.” By means of screws with T-heads, the parchment can be tightened, or loosened, and thus the drum is tuned to a musical note of definite pitch. On the bottom of the shell a hole is pierced so that the air may escape when a heavy blow is struck. Otherwise the skin would split when the performer comes down with a vigorous thwack upon the “head” with his stick. Calfskin is usually employed for the “head,” and it has to be selected and prepared with great care.

After being soaked in cold water until pliable, the “head” is tucked around the “flesh hoop,” and, upon drying, it holds as fast as if it were glued.

Before Beethoven’s day one drum played the tonic and the other the dominant (which is a perfect fourth lower). Beethoven did nothing to the kettledrums but change the way they were tuned; and that made all the difference in the world. Sometimes, as in the Scherzo of the Seventh Symphony he tuned them a minor sixth. For the Ninth Symphony he had the original idea of tuning them in octaves.

Kettledrums are made in about six different sizes because there are only four good tones to each drum. The drums, for instance, in the picture facing page 122, are: 30 × 20, with compass E-flat to A-flat; 28 × 18, with compass G to C; 26 × 17, with compass A to D; and 25 × 16, with compass C to F.

There are many different kinds of sticks besides the felt-padded. Wooden balls as large as a fifty-cent piece are used for certain effects; ordinary street drumsticks for very fine crisp rolls, as required by Elgar in his Variations; and the sponge sticks for delicate work. There is no end to experimenting with different sticks for different effects.

Mr. Walter Damrosch tells an amusing story about the beginning of the Scherzo of the Ninth Symphony. It seems that one day when Von Bülow was rehearsing his Orchestra in Florence, the kettledrum player could not get the rhythm crisp enough, nor properly accented. He tried again and again; and still it would not do. At last, Von Bülow called out: “Don’t you see? It is Tim-pani, Tim-pani.” And, indeed, the Italian name for these instruments—Timpani—gives exactly the right rhythm to this phrase of Beethoven’s. The player had no more trouble.

We notice that the performer very often leans over his kettledrums with the deepest concern and bends his ear over them, screwing his instruments up or down, and again bending low and listening as he rubs a finger over the parchment. He is altering the kettledrums so as to get notes that will soon be required; for ever since Beethoven raised the kettledrum to the rank of a solo instrument, composers have not hesitated to require many changes of tuning in the course of a composition, only they are careful to allow the player sufficient bars of rest, so that he may get ready for the new requirements.

The kettledrum can make detached notes, deep rolls, long crescendos, long diminuendos; and often it murmurs, or mutters, little, soft notes that simply melt into the orchestral effects.

Musicians usually speak of them as “the drums.” Kettledrums are of ancient origin. They come from the East. The Crusaders found them in Arabia and introduced them into Europe in the Thirteenth Century, when they were called “nakers” from their Arabian name, naggareh. Henry VIII used them in his cavalry regiment. One was placed on each side of the horse’s neck.

THE SIDE DRUM

The side drum, or “snare drum,” is the military drum. It is used, however, in the Orchestra for many rhythmic effects. The cylindrical “shell” is of brass; and at each end is a parchment “head,” held down by a small hoop, which is, in its turn, held in place by a still larger hoop. Cords with leather tags keep the “heads” taut.

The upper head, on which the drummer plays, is called the “batter head.” The lower one is called the “snare head.”

Across the “snare head” the “snares” are laid. These are thin strings of catgut, something like violin strings, and they are stretched back and forth from nuts to screws. They have to be screwed down rather tightly. There may be two or three “snares” only and there may be a dozen.

When the player hits the “batter head,” the vibrations start others in the air that is inside the shell. These internal vibrations excite the “snare head” and then the “snares” begin to rattle. Consequently, a great racket is set up, which might be described as a peculiar “crackling” tone.

The “side drum” is a very hard thing to play well. The technique is not founded on a single stroke, but on a double alternate stroke with each hand. It is played with a wooden drumstick in each hand.

In the roll, called the “Long Roll,” or “Daddy Mammy,” the drummer strikes the “batter head” left-left, right-right, left-left, right-right and so gets a kind of rebounding stroke.

In addition to the roll, there are two other strokes: the flam, a short note before a longer one; and the drag, a sort of roll preceding a note—buddledee DUM! buddledee DUM!

THE BASS DRUM

The bass drum is a large wooden shell, like a big cylinder over both ends (or “heads”) of which parchment (or skin) is stretched. This parchment is held down by hoops. The player loosens, or tightens, these “heads” by means of an arrangement of leather braces and tags working on a cord that is zigzagged around the cylinder.

The bass drum is struck with a stick ending in a soft, round knob. The bass drum may be used for noisy moments to imitate the firing of guns and the roll, or crash, of thunder and also to mark crescendos and climaxes. If played very softly, it is solemn and awe-inspiring.

The bass drum always stands sideways. The larger the drum, the more sonorous are the sounds.

THE TRIANGLE

The Triangle is a steel rod bent in a three-sided shape and left open at one angle. It is about seven inches each way and not quite an inch thick. It is hung by a string at the upper angle. This string the performer holds in his fingers so that the triangle hangs loosely. The performer hits the instrument with a small spindle-shaped bar of steel, called a “beater.”

The sound is clear as crystal. Sometimes it even seems silvery. It can play from the lightest pianissimo to the loudest fortissimo. The pitch is indefinite. Thus the triangle can be used in all keys and with all chords. In addition to simple notes, isolated notes and little groups of notes, the triangle can play the most complicated rhythms and even a tremolo.

Mixed with soft strings and woodwind instruments, the triangle is of charming effect.

Liszt made almost a solo part for this instrument in the accompaniment to his Concerto for the Pianoforte in E-flat.

Widor said: “At the climax of a crescendo, when the Orchestra would seem to have reached the height of intensity, the introduction of the Triangle converts red heat into white heat.”

Thus the Triangle seems to say the very last word.

THE CYMBALS

Like the triangle, cymbals are used to accentuate a climax, but more vigorously than that little instrument.

Cymbals are round thin plates, or disks, of copper, or brass, slightly concave in the centre. On the outer side of each plate a strap is attached for the convenience of the player. There are several ways of striking the cymbals. They may be clashed together with a kind of brushing movement, called the “two plate stroke,” which is the ordinary way of playing single notes; then there is a second way of rubbing the plates together; then there is the “two plate roll,” which can be done loudly or softly; and, finally, the player can hang up one cymbal and beat it with a stick as if it were a gong.

Cymbals were known to the ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans; but they were chiefly used by the dancing-girls. The ancient cymbals were much smaller than ours.

THE TAMBOURINE

The tambourine is at least two thousand years old!

It is a wide, wooden hoop, over which a parchment, or vellum, head is stretched, which can be tightened, or loosened, by means of small rods, or nuts. The other side is left open. The tambourine, therefore, looks not unlike an old-fashioned flour-sifter.

Around the hoop, at intervals, are hung several pairs of little metal disks, or plates. These jingle whenever the tambourine is struck or shaken. Hence, they are called “jingles,” or “bells.”

The tambourine can be played in three different ways: (1) by striking the head with the knuckles, which gives detached notes and simple rhythmical groups of notes; (2) by shaking the hoop, which gives a rolling noise to the “jingles”; and (3) by rubbing the head of the tambourine with the thumb, which produces a queer, hollow, rushing, swishing kind of noise accompanied by the roll, or tremolo, of the “jingles.”

The tambourine is used in the Orchestra to give “local color,” especially to folk-music of Spain and Italy; to “gypsy-music”; and to some kinds of dance-music. It is also called tambour de Basque.

THE TAMBOURIN

The tambourin is a long, narrow drum, which the performer beats with one stick, holding a flageolet with the other hand. It originated in Provence.

THE CASTANETS

Castanets are generally used to accent the rhythm of Spanish dance-music, or to give color to music of a Spanish character. They consist of two small hollow pieces of hard wood, usually of chestnut, castaño in Spanish, whence their name. They are shaped something like the bowl of a spoon, or a shell, and are held together by a cord, the ends of which pass over the thumb and first finger of the performer. The other three fingers clap the two halves of the castanets together. The sound is a deep, hollow click, which, although not a musical note, is not unpleasing when heard with its appropriate music.

The Spanish dancer holds a pair in each hand. The right hand plays the full rhythm of the dance which is known as the hembra, or female part, and the left, a simplified rhythm, on a larger pair of castanets, called the marcho, or male.

Wagner uses both castanets and tambourine in the delirious revels of the Tannhäuser Baccanale.

Saint-Saëns calls for castanets in his opera of Samson et Dalila.

THE CARILLON OR GLOCKENSPIEL

We sometimes hear what sounds like a chime of bells, or one little silvery bell, pealing forth now and then. We do not hear bells at all. The glockenspiel, or Carillon, is a series of small bars of steel, or bronze, that are struck by two small hammers. Some orchestras use a mechanical contrivance with a keyboard, which enables the player to produce arpeggios, trills and rapid passages that otherwise would be impossible.

A toy imitation of a chime of bells was used by Handel in his oratorio of Saul and by Mozart in the Magic Flute; but to-day steel bars are preferred. They are called, however, “bells,” or glockenspiel.

Wagner made an interesting use of them in the Waltz in Act III of Die Meistersinger and also in Siegfried and in the Walküre. In the latter work the glockenspiel is magical in helping to produce the impression of fire. When Wotan strikes the ground with his staff and calls Loge, the god of fire, to come and guard Brünnhilde, who is falling into her enchanted sleep under the big pine tree, the red flames flicker and soar into the air. We hear, with the slumber-song and other familiar motives, the dance of the leaping flames. More and more furiously they come, sparkling and gleaming like rubies and fire-opals; and as they rise and crackle and soar heavenward the glockenspiel adds its delicate, silvery notes to the Fire-Music, making brilliant tips of light to the soaring plumes of flame. And here, too, the triangle contributes its white notes like vivid points of heat and light.

THE CELESTA

The celesta is a small, square instrument that looks something like a parlor organ. It has a keyboard like the piano, with black and white keys running to four or five octaves. Moreover, it has dampers and a soft pedal like the piano; and the hammers are set in motion by a simplified piano action.

The music is written like piano music for two hands in the Treble and Bass Clefs; but sounds an octave higher than it is written.

The celesta is a new instrument. Tschaikowsky and Richard Strauss gave it popularity.

The celesta’s silvery and resonant voice owes its charm to the fact that under each note, a little bar of steel, a resonator of wood is fastened.

The celesta never gets out of tune. It is sweet, clear, fairy-like, fanciful, light and graceful. It is something like the little glass harmonica, which children play with.

THE XYLOPHONE

The xylophone (coming from two Greek words, wood and sound) is made on the principle of the toy harmonica. It is an old instrument still used by primitive and half-civilized tribes. A series of slabs of wood, graduated in size, are fastened to two “guides,” or supports, also of wood. The xylophone is played by two wooden “beaters,” which the performer holds in each hand. The way of playing it is much like the Hungarian cimbalon. It has a dry, hollow sound; and is only suited to grotesque music such as Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre, or Dance of Death, in which it represents the clattering of the bones of the dancing skeletons.

THE WIND-MACHINE

The wind-machine is very seldom used. Strauss calls for it in the Windmill adventure in the Don Quixote Variations. It is a curious contrivance rather than a musical instrument. It is a sort of barrel with some of the staves missing and the empty spaces covered with black silk. The barrel is laid on its side in a “bearing,” supported by an open “cradle.” It is then turned round with a handle, so that the silk comes in contact with a “face” of wood, or cardboard, and makes a rushing noise like the sound of wind, blowing violently.

THE RATTLE

Occasionally the rattle is used,—the old Watchman’s Rattle, a wooden cogwheel, which is revolved against a hard, but flexible, spring of wood, or metal. Strauss employs it in Till Eulenspiegel.

THE ANVILS

A blacksmith’s anvil is never brought into the Orchestra when “anvils” are required. The effect is produced by means of steel bars. The player beats them with a hard metal “beater.”

The famous Anvil Chorus in Il Trovatore is played on such a substitute. Wagner calls for no less than eighteen “anvils” in Das Rheingold to give an idea of the prodigious industry of the Nibelungs. They are of three sizes—small, medium and large—and the music for them is written in nine parts to get the effect that Wagner wanted.

THE CUCKOO

This toy instrument consists of two tiny pipes, made of wood and mounted on a pair of tiny bellows. The pipes are stopped with a plug that is pushed in and pulled out to get the sound of the bird’s voice.

The cuckoo is used in Haydn’s Toy Symphony and in Humperdinck’s fairy opera of Hänsel and Gretel.

BELLS

Bells are sometimes wanted by a composer. Meyerbeer used a big bell in low F to give the signal for the massacre of the Huguenots and combined it with bassoons and clarinets, which give the music a sinister quality that is very impressive. Rossini has a bell in the second Act of Guillaume Tell and Verdi has a prison bell ring in Il Trovatore.

“There is nothing more false,” says Lavignac, “than the saying ‘who hears a bell hears one sound only,’ for of all sound-producing agents the bell is perhaps the one which develops the greatest number of over-tones, often discordant even, which sometimes causes a difficulty in discovering which is the fundamental musical tone.”

Of course, we can easily see how such would be the case, when the sound is reflected back and forth inside the bell and the old echoes do not have a chance to die away before new vibrations are set in motion.

Modern composers rarely use real bells. They give the impression by other means; for instance, for the midnight chime in his Danse Macabre, Saint-Saëns has twelve notes plucked on the harp. Strauss in his Sinfonia Domestica tells us it is seven o’clock by seven little taps on the glockenspiel (see page 127). The Bells of Montsalvat in Parsifal are usually played on the “Tubular Chimes,” a row of steel pipes, which are shown in the illustration facing page 126.