The orchestra and orchestral music

Since the foundation of good orchestration is skilful writing for the strings, it is natural to consider that department first. The strings, as we shall see, came to their proper place in the orchestra in the works of the operatic composers. In Cavalli’s “Giasone” (1649) we find vocal parts accompanied in something like the Handelian style by two violins and a bass. About twenty-five years later we find the string quartet, two violins, viola, and bass, established by Alessandro Scarlatti, founder of the Neapolitan school of opera. Since that time the strings have been the foundation of the orchestra, and although methods of writing for them have greatly changed, the fundamental principles remain the same.

The general disposition of the strings may be fairly expressed by the formula already given, but worth repeating here: First violins equal sopranos, second violins equal altos, violas equal tenors, ’cellos equal barytones, and double-basses equal basses. In certain circumstances this disposition is altered, because the compass of violas makes it possible for them to sing soprano music, though with a distinctly individual tone, while the ’cello can cover the ordinary range of an entire quartet. The individuality of tone possessed by the various stringed instruments is tolerably well known, except in the case of the viola. It is to its beautiful quality of tone that it owes its chief value. Gloomy, sombre, and even foreboding in the lower register, in its upper range it becomes mellow, tender, pathetic, and inexpressibly winning. No wonder that Berlioz selected it for the voice of the melancholy Childe Harold, or that Brahms made it play such important parts in his quartets. Its dramatic power is now universally recognized by composers, and from the position of a misunderstood and ignored member of the string quintet, it is rapidly advancing to the equally undesirable condition of being severely overworked.

It is a curious fact, however, that many of the younger composers show a singular want of skill in using the viola, and it is this which often upsets the balance of their orchestration. Perhaps this is due in some measure to the Brahms cult. Brahms’s orchestration is not a good model. His middle parts are almost always written too low or too heavily, and hence his instrumentation is muddy. It depends upon what a man is writing. If he is writing a symphony in the classic style, let him follow as closely as possible the methods of Beethoven. If he wishes to be more modern—and it is natural that he should—let him study Dvorák, whose instrumentation is almost perfect. Tschaikowsky’s is, too, but the reader should remember that most of his works are sombre in thought, and that hence the instrumental style will not be suitable to light themes. Liszt and Rubinstein are good models. For thick, luscious coloring there is nothing better than Rubinstein’s “Antony and Cleopatra” overture, and I can recommend also a careful study of Goldmark’s overtures. Wagner, of course, is full of instruction, but a composer must know a good deal before he can discriminate sufficiently to get any benefit from Wagner. But to return to the viola.

The placing of the viola part is of the greatest importance in the color of the strings. For instance, in the slow movement of the famous piano concerto in E flat, called the “Emperor,” Beethoven mutes his violins, but not his violas, and writes the basses pizzicati, thus:

The individuality and penetrating quality of the viola tone brings it out with marked effect in this passage, and Beethoven knew that so well that in the third measure he kept his second violins down and gave the violas the real alto part, because the harmonic significance of the passage rested so largely upon the F sharp, E sharp, E, and D sharp. If the second violin and viola parts in that passage were exchanged, the effect would be altogether different.

The increase of skill in the treatment of viola and ’cello parts, but chiefly of the former, is coincident with the development of the science of orchestration. Indeed, it may fairly be said that first-rate writing for the strings, which is the foundation of orchestration, depends largely upon the treatment of the viola part. Any composer knows enough when writing for strings to give his melody to the first violins and his bass to the basses. But the character of his harmony is to be determined by his middle voices, and it is in the treatment of these that we see growth in skill. Berlioz, in his treatise on instrumentation, says of the viola: “It has, nevertheless, been long neglected, or put to a use as unimportant as ineffectual—that of merely doubling, in octave, the upper part of the bass. There are many causes that have operated to induce the unjust servitude of this noble instrument. In the first place, the majority of the composers of the last century, rarely writing in four real parts, scarcely knew what to do with it; and when they did not readily find some filling-up notes in the chords for it to do, they hastily wrote the fatal ‘col basso’—sometimes with so much inattention that it produced a doubling in the octave of the basses, irreconcilable either with the harmony or the melody or with both one and the other. Moreover, it was unfortunately impossible at that time to write anything for the violas of a prominent character, requiring even ordinary skill in execution. Viola-players were always taken from among the refuse of violinists. When a musician found himself incapable of creditably filling the place of violinist, he took refuge among the violas.”

Haydn’s symphonic scores show skill coupled with restraint in the viola parts. The instrument is never called upon to play passages of any difficulty except when errors will be covered up in the general body of tone. But in his scores the viola takes its correct place in a pure four-part harmony. It is seldom that Haydn undertakes to give his strings more than four parts to sing, though the reader will perceive that as each instrument is easily capable of producing two notes at a time, eight real parts can be written for a string quartet. The ’cello has few independent passages in Haydn’s symphonies. It usually doubles the bass part. Mozart, without attempting to give the viola or the ’cello difficulties to overcome, made wider use of their special tone-qualities than did Haydn, though it must be admitted that Mozart’s symphonies show a great deal of three-part writing for strings. Gluck, in his operas, brought out the dramatic value of the lower register of the viola, and Spontini, in “La Vestale,” was the first who assigned the melody to it. Méhul, the French opera-writer, used it so much that Grétry exclaimed, “I’d give a guinea to hear a first string.” Beethoven, in the andante of his fifth symphony, gives the melody in the opening bars to the violas and ’cellos in unison, a very rich and beautiful effect.

In general it may be said that the string quintet did not attain the full measure of its usefulness in the hands of the classical writers till the viola and the ’cello had begun to be treated with freedom and independence. Then there was no longer any difficulty in writing a full four-part harmony, upon which depends the solidity of the string portion of the score. The best test of scoring for strings is to consider whether it sounds full and self-sustaining when unsupported by any wind-instruments. The lover of orchestral music should give especial attention to Beethoven’s scores. Here he will find the perfection of the classical style of writing, which employed almost exclusively a four-part scheme and kept each instrument in its normal place except when used as a solo voice. With the romantic movement scoring for strings began its search after unusual tone-tints, and composers began to learn that they could obtain these in two or three ways—by increasing the number of voices in their harmony, by taking advantage of the large registers of violas and ’cellos and sometimes carrying them above the violins, and by employing solo instruments among the orchestral mass. The beautiful effect of divided string parts in a simple form is heard in the opening measures of Mendelssohn’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” overture, but if the reader desires to find the extreme modern style of writing for numerous voices in the strings he must go to Wagner. He, indeed, is guilty of occasional abuses of the practice. In the accompaniment to Brangäne’s song of warning in the second act of “Tristan und Isolde” he divides the strings into fifteen parts, but I am quite sure that no human ear can hear all of them. It is seldom that more than eight real parts can be made advantageous, and then chiefly in slow movements.

It all depends upon what the composer wishes to accomplish. If he desires brilliancy in an animated movement, he will use his first violins in unison and above the middle of their register. If he wishes to get more brilliancy, he will write them still higher and double them with the second violins in the octave below. If he writes them in the middle register and doubles them with the second violins, he will get more sonority, but less brilliancy. On the other hand, if he desires richness of harmony coupled with mystery, or ethereal effects, let him divide his strings into several parts. After that it is a mere matter of register. If he writes high, he will get aërial delicacy and tenderness; if he writes low, he will get pathos as well as tenderness. No better examples can be offered than these from “Lohengrin” and “Die Walküre:”

But, after all, these effects are special, and the fundamental principles of sound writing for the strings are best exemplified by the writings of the classical composers. The chief question for the student of music is: Which of the classical writers is the best model? This is a question not easily answered. Haydn’s earlier works are not at all to be commended, while his later compositions are full of sound scoring. His quartets are not excelled as examples of clear, well-balanced writing for strings, but his symphonies do not reveal fully the value of the viola.

Specific instrumental coloring began with Mozart, and yet he is the finest example of continence and sobriety in orchestration. His string parts are generally substantial and well planned, but, nevertheless, I should hardly advise a beginner to study them. The older composers are like ancient history; one must have sufficient information to know what to accept and what to reject in order to read them with advantage. It will not profit any beginner in instrumentation to go farther back than Beethoven. The great symphonist’s string plan is always notable for its breadth, solidity, and flexibility, and there is nothing in the fundamental work of string writing which cannot be learned from him. But there is another composer whose works are neglected by professors and masters, and yet whose orchestration excels all other in the classic school in buoyancy, clarity, suavity, and polish, and to the constant study of his scores I heartily commend all who desire to master the basis of modern instrumentation. I mean Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. His “Midsummer Night’s Dream” is in itself an epitome of the science of instrumentation, and students and amateurs would do well to give many days and nights to its study.

I advise the student of orchestral effects to examine particularly the overture. For lightness and transparency nothing in the way of writing for the strings excels the opening measures for first and second violins in four parts, with the addition at bar 24 of a most effective pizzicato passage for viola. On page 5 (Litolff score) the first violins, doubled an octave below by the second, carry the melody against a tutti in which the string plan is notable for its simplicity and solidity. On page 9 there is a model passage for strings with violas divided, which is worthy of attention. A concert-goer should seek out such passages in scores and mark them. Then at a performance of the work note the effect. By following out such a plan the music-lover will soon come to perceive the differences between the conservative scoring of the early classical writers and the venturesome and brilliant achievements of the moderns. From such a clear and simple plan of dividing strings as that of Mendelssohn in the overture quoted grew the amazing contrivances of modern writers, such as the passage in Liszt’s “Mazeppa” for first violins in three parts, the third playing pizzicato against shakes by the other two, second violins in three parts, violas and ’celli in two each; or the thunder-storm in Wagner’s “Das Rheingold,” where the strings play a broken chord in twenty different ways, or the superbly effective passage from Nicode’s “Das Meer,” which is constructed on this scheme of divided strings with contrary motions:

The effect of this remarkable passage is one of the things which go to show what can be done in the way of tone-coloring with strings alone. The vital points for the reader to bear in mind are those which have been brought out as to the distribution of the harmony in the strings and the necessity of writing for them so that they are independent. To follow the development of skill in this among the successive composers is one of the most fascinating branches of musical study.

Note.—The tremolo and pizzicato of bowed instruments were invented by Monteverde (1568-1643). The striking of chords on such instruments was introduced into orchestral music by Haydn. Mutes were first used in the orchestra by Gluck in his “Armide.” The oldest and most familiar example of the contrast between muted and unmuted strings is found in the “Creation” at the words, “And God said ‘Let there be light.’” The mutes are taken off at “And there was light.” The oldest known use of harmonics is that in Philidor’s opera “Tom Jones” (1765). The division of violins into more than two parts was first employed by Weber. Beethoven introduced divided violas in the last movement of the Ninth Symphony.