CHAPTER V

THE WOODWIND FAMILY

_The Woodwind; the reed; the flute; the piccolo; the oboe; the cor anglais; the bassoon; the double-bassoon; the clarinet; the basset-horn; the bass-clarinet._

The Woodwind Family consists of instruments that may be described as wooden tubes, or pipes, through which the performer blows, stopping the holes in these pipes with his fingers in order to get various notes. Some of these are furnished with reeds and some are without. It is easy for us to tell the difference when we look at the Orchestra. The flutes are held _horizontally_ and have no reeds. All the reed instruments are held by the player in a straight line, _perpendicularly_. The Reed Family is divided into two groups: the oboe group, furnished with a double reed; and the clarinet group, furnished with a single reed. This reed, single or double, placed in the mouthpiece of the instrument, is the “speaking” part. Without it, the instrument could not be played. The reed corresponds to the sound-post of the violin.

The reed is made of the outer layer of a certain kind of grass that grows in the south of Europe. Most of it is obtained from Fréjus on the Mediterranean. The reed is very difficult to fit and the player is very particular about it. If anything goes wrong with the reed, the instrument makes a dreadful noise that is called the _couac_, or quack. It is even worse than the wolf[19] on a stringed instrument.

In all woodwind instruments the _embouchure_ is important. The _embouchure_ is a certain arrangement of the lips by which the performer throws into the instrument all the breath that comes through the mouth without losing any of it and without giving the slightest hissing sound.

THE FLUTE

If we listen attentively to any piece of orchestral music, we will notice that the voice of the flute is rarely silent. Very often it doubles the first violins in the melody, running along with them smoothly and sweetly. Sometimes it plays an unobtrusive part of its own and every now and then bursts out into a lovely and elaborate solo, when its clear, silvery, liquid notes sound deliciously cool against the warm, vibrant strings. The flute is one of the most agile and flexible instruments in the whole Orchestra. The flute is the nightingale, the thrush, the lark, the oriole, the mocking-bird of the Orchestra. It warbles.

The voice of the flute is gentle; it is ethereal; it is heavenly; it is pure; it is sweet; and it is soothing. Therefore, composers make use of it for poetic and tender sentiment; for scenes of a religious nature; and to suggest beautiful dreams. It is both graceful and poetic and it induces reverie.

“To most persons,” Lavignac writes, “as to myself, the ethereal, suave, transparent timbre of the flute, with its placidity and its poetic charm, produces an auditive sensation similar to the visual impression of the color blue, a fine blue, pure and luminous as the azure of the sky.”

The flute is a long tube made in three pieces, or joints, as they are called. The head is one-third the length of the tube; the body carries the keys that produce the scale of D major; and, lastly, comes the foot joint, or tail-joint. The flute is cylindrical and is made of wood or silver. In the silver flute the head-joint alone is slightly conical. In the side of the head there is a large opening, less than an inch below the cork, and _across_ this opening the performer blows his breath. On the lower part of the flute are six holes to be stopped at will by the first three fingers of each hand; and three or four levers on the lowest joint furnish additional notes below the regular scale of the instrument.

The performer holds the instrument transversely, sloping downward against the lower lip with the hole, through, or across, which he is to blow turned slightly outward, so that the stream of wind—the “air-stream” it is called—shall strike against the outer edge of this hole. The left hand takes the position nearest the player’s mouth. Four open keys are closed by the first, second and third fingers and thumb placed at the back of the instrument. The little finger touches an open key, G-sharp, or A-flat. On the right hand joint are three open keys for the first, second and third fingers, with the accessory, or “shake,” keys. The right little finger takes the closed key of D-sharp and the two open keys of C-sharp and C. The G-sharp key is open in some flutes, but generally G-sharp closed key is used by flute-players.

[Illustration: FIRST FLUTE, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_George Barrère_]

The flute has no reed. Instead of a reed the “air-stream” from the player’s lips, thrown against the sharp edge of the hole _obliquely_, produces the sound-waves.

The principle is that each note comes independently out of a separate hole and speaks independently, just as if the rest of the tube were cut off. All keys are open with the exception of G-sharp, E-flat keys—and also the two small trill-keys.

Formerly the flute had no keys, or levers. It merely had finger-holes; but between the years 1832 and 1847 Theobald Boehm, a German, by following some experiments made by Captain Gordon of Charles X’s Swiss Guards, worked away until he developed a system of keys, manipulated by means of levers. His invention was so successful that the player has now command of more holes; and, by means of this system, it therefore became possible to play in every key.

The flute stands in this one scale of D-major, so the only way to get higher notes depends upon the breath and lips of the player. “This is the eternal question,” says George Barrère, “playing upper octaves does not require _mere blowing_ as we can play _forte_ in lower octave and _pianissimo_ in the upper. The real means of playing upper is _lips_. It is not a secret; but how many flute-players ignore it, making the flute the most disagreeable instrument to hear!” A good _embouchure_, as the whole manipulation of the mouth is called, is essential to artistic flute-playing. Moreover, the fingers must be raised at equal heights—and not too high.

The player takes a calm, firm, easy, and often graceful, attitude before his desk. Good flute-players also learn a great proportion of their music by heart.

_Staccato_ notes and ornamental passages are produced by “single tonguing,” and “double tonguing,” and “triple tonguing.” For different effects the player makes an effort to pronounce certain consonants, _k_ or _t_ for example; but instead of pronouncing them he blows them off his tongue in a little kind of explosion. But all this is done quickly and with ease by a virtuoso.

The tones of the first octave are rather faint; those of the second octave, produced by exactly the same fingering as those of the first and with a stronger blowing of the breath, are stronger; and those of the third octave, also produced by the same fingering, are more penetrating.

Boehm’s explanation is worth quoting to help us understand the production of tone. He says: “The open air-column in a flute’s tube is exactly comparable to a stretched violin string. As the string is set into vibration by the bow, the air-column in the flute is set into vibration by the blowing of the performer’s breath and management of the lips. As the clear quality of tone of a violin depends upon the proper handling of the bow, so the pure quality of tone of a flute depends upon the direction of the ‘air-stream’ blown against the edge of the mouth-hole.

“Each octave requires a different direction of the ‘air-stream’; and, by increasing the force of the breath, the tone is increased. By ‘over-blowing,’ each tone can be made to break into higher tones.”

Older composers seem to have cared very little for the flute. They did not have the modern improved Boehm flute. They found that the performer often played out of tune. Cherubini said: “The only thing in the world that is worse than one flute is _two_.” Many agreed with him. However, Haydn wrote a trio for flutes in his oratorio of _The Creation_ and Handel wrote a beautiful _obbligato_ for it in the aria, “_Sweet bird that shun’st the noise of folly_,” in _Il Penseroso_, where it imitates the bird. Bach wrote six Sonatas for the flute.

Handel’s aria, “_O ruddier than the Cherry_,” in _Acis and Galatea_, now played on the piccolo, was originally written for the flute.

Mozart wrote two concertos for the flute and one for flute, harp and orchestra. It is very evident in the _Magic Flute_.

A solo passage in Beethoven’s _Leonora Overture, No. 3_, is very famous. In Beethoven’s _Pastoral Symphony_ it impersonates the nightingale.

Mendelssohn loved the flute dearly. It is very important in his _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ music. It plays lovely sustained chords in the Overture, a beautiful part in the Nocturne and the Scherzo contains one of the most celebrated passages ever written. He also gave it an exquisite _obbligato_ in the quartet _O Rest in the Lord_ in the oratorio of _Elijah_.

Wagner has a fine part for the flute throughout the _Meistersinger_; it is important in the _Largo_ of Dvořák’s _New World Symphony_, where it plays with the oboe; Liszt made it conspicuous in his _Hungarian Rhapsodie, No. 2_; and it sings in the _Morning_ of Grieg’s _Peer Gynt Suite_.

Berlioz and Tschaikowsky both played the flute themselves and, naturally, their works are full of beautiful melodies for this instrument. Berlioz calls for two flutes and harp for the _Cris des Ismaëlits_ in _L’Enfance du Christ_. Tschaikowsky’s symphonies are a delight to the flute-player. An exceptionally striking use of the flute is in the _Danse des Mirlitons_ and _Danse Chinoise_ in the _Nut-cracker Suite_.

Richard Strauss, who always goes a little farther than anybody else, has in the “Windmill” number of the _Don Quixote Variations_ called for the “flutter tongue,” a new way of rolling the tongue. The name describes it.

Last, but not least, we must recall Gluck. What could be more beautiful than his use of the flute in _Armide_, unless it is to be found in the music of _Orfeo_? All through that beautiful opera the plaintive, tender voice of the flute is conspicuous. Not only does it play melodies for the enchanting ballets and minuets, but its wailing notes tell us of the grief of Orpheus for his adored Eurydice; and when we arrive in the Elysian Fields with Orpheus its pure and ethereal voice, heard in a solo of ravishing beauty, lifts us out of the everyday world we live in and transports us into a realm of blissful peace and enchanting beauty.

[Illustration: FREDERICK THE GREAT PLAYING THE FLUTE

_With his Orchestra at Sans Souci_]

In early days the flute was played by holding it straight in front and not horizontally as shown in the picture facing page 74. The German, Quantz, did much to bring the horizontal flute into fashion. One of his most enthusiastic pupils was Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, who is shown in the picture facing this page playing a flute concerto with his orchestra at _Sans Souci_, taken from an engraving by Chodowieki. The King’s favorite greyhounds are the only listeners. Franz Benda is the first violin and Christian Friedrich Fasch, who succeeded Philipp Emanuel Bach (son of J. S. Bach), is playing the harpsichord.

Modern compositions usually call for two flutes and a piccolo.

THE PICCOLO

The piccolo is the little flute. Properly, it should be spoken of as the piccolo flute, for just as we have seen in the case of the violoncello the word ’cello means little or small, so the word piccolo is an adjective and not a noun. However, people speak of it simply as the piccolo. The piccolo plays the upper octave of the flute. It is less than half the length of the flute and it lacks the “foot-joint.” Its compass is over two octaves. Almost every piccolo player can play high B and even C. The music for the piccolo is always written in the Treble Clef, an octave below the real pitch, that is to say an octave below the real sound of the notes. The fingering and technique are exactly the same as for the flute, so anything that can be played on the flute can be played on the piccolo.

It should be noted here that two-thirds of the compass of the flute plays within the compass of a high soprano; now, the piccolo, on the other hand, is nearly always playing in a register higher than that of any human voice. It is the most acute and piercing of all instruments in the orchestra; for even the corresponding notes produced by harmonics on the violin are far less shrill and penetrating. The piccolo rarely plays in its lower register. Its second octave is bright and joyous; but in this we hardly distinguish it from the flute. What we do notice are the piercing upper notes in quick runs, in chromatic passages and wild screams. Sometimes too, the piccolo can be made to utter something of a diabolical nature.

The piccolo is often used to brighten the upper notes of the other members of the Woodwind Family in all kinds of combinations. This method of using the piccolo might be likened to brightening up an article with gold leaf. We might say that the piccolo sometimes adds a sort of gilt edge to the melody.

Berlioz liked to use it in this way for additional ornamentation, so we hear a great deal of this kind of piccolo gilt-edging, as we might call it, in his works. Berlioz gave it a great deal of thought. “In pieces of a joyous character,” he wrote, “the sounds of the second octave are suitable in all their gradations; while the upper notes are excellent _fortissimo_ for violent and tearing effects: in a storm, for instance, or in a scene of fierce, or infernal, character. Thus the piccolo flute figures incomparably in the fourth movement of Beethoven’s _Pastoral Symphony_—now alone and displayed above the low tremolo of violins and basses, imitating the whistlings of a tempest whose full force is not yet unchained—now on the higher notes still, together with the entire mass of the Orchestra. Gluck in the tempest of _Iphigénie en Tauride_ has known how to make the high sounds of the piccolo flute in unison grate still more roughly by writing them in a succession of sixths, a fourth above the first violins. The sound of the piccolo flutes issuing out in the upper octave, produces, therefore, a succession of elevenths with the first violins, the harshness of which is here of the very best effect.

“In the chorus of the Scythians, in the same opera, the two piccolo flutes double in the octave the little grouped passages of the violins. These whistling notes mingled with the ravings of the savage troop, with the measure and incessant din of the cymbals and tambourine make us shiver.

“Everyone has remarked the diabolic sneer of the two piccolo flutes in thirds in the drinking-song of _Freischütz_. It is one of Weber’s happiest orchestral inventions.

“Spontini in his magnificent bacchanalian strain in the _Danaïdes_ (since become an orgy chorus in _Nurmahal_) first conceived the idea of uniting a short piercing cry of the piccolo flutes to a stroke of the cymbals. The singular sympathy, which is thus created between these very dissimilar instruments, had not been thought of before. It cuts and rends instantaneously, like the stab of a poignard. This effect is very characteristic—even when employing only the two instruments mentioned; but its force is augmented by an abrupt stroke of the kettledrums joined to a brief chord of all the other instruments.

“Beethoven, Gluck, Weber and Spontini have thus made ingenious use—no less original than rational—of the piccolo flute. But when I hear this instrument employed in doubling in triple octave the air of a baritone, or casting its squeaking voice into the midst of a religious harmony, or strengthening and sharpening—for the sake of noise only—the high part of the orchestra, I think it a stupid method of instrumentation.

“The piccolo flute may have a very happy effect in soft passages; and it is mere prejudice to think that it should only be played loud. Sometimes it serves to continue the scale of the large flute by following up the latter and taking high notes beyond the flute’s command. The passing from one instrument to the other may then be easily managed by the composer in such a way as to make it appear that there is only one flute of extraordinary compass.”

Handel used an instrument that corresponded in his day to the piccolo in his wonderful accompaniment to the bass song, “_O ruddier than the Cherry_,” in _Acis and Galatea_, where he gives it a pastoral character. He also makes it play an _obbligato_ in the aria, “_Hush ye Pretty Warbling Choir_,” in the same cantata. He does the same thing again in the aria, _Auguelletti che cantate_, in _Rinaldo_. Meyerbeer gives it much to do in his infernal waltz in _Robert le Diable_; and in Marcel’s song “Piff Paff” in _Les Huguenots_ it adds brilliancy to the martial effect. Beethoven has a striking place for the piccolo in the finale of his _Egmont Overture_; Verdi makes it heard in Iago’s drinking-song in _Otello_; it is conspicuous in the grotesque dances of the dolls in the ballet of _Coppelia_ by Delibes; Wagner uses it in his storms, in the _Ride of the Walküre_, and in all his fire-music in the _Nibelungen Ring_; Strauss gives a peculiar trill for it in _Till Eulenspiegel_; and Berlioz gives it full play in his _Carnaval Romain_, op. 9; and in the Minuet of the “Will o’ the Whisps” of his _Damnation of Faust_ he calls for _three_ piccolos.

Therefore, we might characterize the piccolo as the imp, or demon, of the Orchestra, or the flash of lightning, or the darting flame, or the whistling wind.

THE OBOE

The Oboe, like the violin, comes from a family of long ancestry. It goes back to ancient Egypt, Assyria and Greece. In the Middle Ages this family was known as the _Bombardo_, _Bombardino_, _Bombardi_, or _Chalumeau_. The Germans called this family _Pommers_, which seems to be a corruption of _Bombardi_.

“The Bombardo,” writes Carl Engel, “was made of various sizes and with a greater or smaller number of finger-holes and keys. That which produced the bass tones was sometimes of enormous length and was blown through a bent tube like the bassoon, the invention of which it suggested. The smallest instrument, called _chalumeau_ (from calamus, a reed) is still occasionally to be found among the peasantry in the Tyrol and some other parts of the Continent. The Germans call it _Schalmei_ and the Italians _piffero pastorale_. In England it was formerly called _shawm_, or shalm.”

The type of these instruments was a _conical_ tube of wood with a bell at one end and a bent metal tube at the other containing a double reed mouthpiece. There was a quartet of them; and the oboe, or _hautbois_ (high-wood) was the treble. There was also an _oboe d’amore_[20] and an _oboe di caccia_, hunting oboe (from which the _cor anglais_ is supposed to have been derived), and there were many others. Old writers refer to them as _chalumeau_ and _schalmey_ and _shawm_; and in such a general and confused way that it is hard to know just which special instrument they are talking about. These old oboes are called for in Bach’s scores; but they began to drop out of use in his time. We know, however, that _chalumeau_ was the instrument of the old reed band that always played the melody and that from it sprang the oboe of to-day. The instrument went through many changes before it reached its present condition; but none of these affected the family voice—the penetrating, roughish twang. The Bombardino-Schalmey voice still persists: it is like some other famous family traits—the Bourbon nose and the Hapsburg lip for instance—it is hard to suppress. However, it is this peculiar voice that makes the oboe such a desirable member of the orchestra.

“The _timbre_ is thin and nasal, very piercing in its _forte_ passages, of exquisite refinement in its _piano_ passages; harsh and of bad quality in its very high and very low notes. The oboe is artless and rustic in its expression; it is pastoral and melancholy; if it is gay, its gayety is frank and almost excessive and exaggerated; but its natural tone is of a _gentle sadness and a resigned endurance_. It is unrivalled in depicting simple, rural sentiments of any kind, and on occasion can even become pathetic.”[21]

[Illustration: FIRST OBOE, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_Henri De Busscher_]

The oboe is the most elaborate and complicated of all the reed instruments. The mechanical changes are due to Apollon Marie Rose Barret (1804-1879), a remarkable French oboe-player, aided by a French instrument-maker named Triébert. Historically and musically the oboe is the most important member of the reed band. It is first of all a _melodic_ instrument; or, in other words, its tone quality is what it is especially valued for and not for brilliant passages. It can call up pastoral scenes and it can express innocence, grief, pathos and gentle gayety.

The oboe is a wooden pipe, or tube, with conical bore widening out gradually until it forms a small bell, shaped something like the flower of a morning-glory, or convolvulus. At the opposite end it has a small metal tube, or mouthpiece, called “staple,” to which the reed (consisting of two blades of thin cane) is attached by means of silken threads. Along the wooden pipe are two “speaker keys,” worked by metal rods called “trackers.” This reed is the _speaking part_ of the instrument.

The oboe is made in three pieces,—the head-piece, bottom and bell-joints. The player first screws the joints of his instrument together so that the finger-holes are in a straight line, and then he puts the reed in the head-piece. The first, second and third fingers of each hand are used to cover the holes. The whole instrument rests on the thumb of the right hand. The little fingers and the thumb of the left hand are used for the keys. The fingers are always placed over the finger-holes ready to close them when necessary. The fundamental scale is obtained by opening and shutting the holes pierced laterally in the pipe and these are governed by a mechanism called “speaker keys.”

The scale of the oboe begins on the middle C and is chromatic. The instrument, being conical, “over-blows” an octave. It runs up to the extreme treble G. But although it is a soprano, it is a “middle compass” instrument. Music for it is written from F on the first space of the Treble Clef to D in octave above.

The fingering resembles that of the flute; but, owing to the reed in his mouth, the player can only use single tonguing.

The player puts the reed between his lips, taking care that his teeth do not touch the mouthpiece. Then he places his tongue against the open part of the reed, presses the reed with his lips, draws his tongue gently backwards and blows a stream of air into the oboe, managing his breath as if for singing. Sometimes he pronounces the syllable _doo_ and sometimes that of _too_, according to the effect he wants to get.

The double reed in the player’s mouth is the sound-producer. The air-column inside the pipe acts as a resonating medium, strengthening the vibrations of the reed by vibrations of its own.

As the player is obliged to take his lips from the mouthpiece to exhale, he cannot perform long sustained passages without pauses. While the oboe does not require as much breath for blowing as some instruments do, the difficulty is to _exhale_ and refill the lungs so as to go on with the rest of the work.

The notes are produced by holes, some open, others closed by keys raised by means of levers. The oboe, like the flute, is an octave instrument, that is to say it “over-blows” the octave. The oboe possesses notes sufficient for an octave, or more, with chromatic intervals. The next octaves are obtained by means of cross-fingering and from the octave keys which do not give out an independent note of their own but determine a node in the column of air and so raise the pitch of any other note an octave. The oboe is a “non-transposing instrument” and sounds the note written.

“It is possible to play on this instrument chromatic scales and _arpeggio_ passages; _legato_ and _staccato_; leaps; cantabile passages; sustained notes; _diminuendo_ and _crescendo_; grace notes and shakes.”

“The oboe,” writes Berlioz, “is especially a melodic instrument. It has a pastoral character full of tenderness,—indeed I might say timidity. Candor, artless grace, soft joy, or the grief of a fragile being suits the oboe’s accents: it expresses them admirably in its _cantabile_.

“A certain degree of agitation is also within its powers of expression; but care should be taken not to urge it into utterance of passion—a rash outburst of anger, threat, or even heroism; for then its small _acid-sweet_ voice becomes uneffectual and absolutely grotesque.

“Gluck and Beethoven understood marvellously well the use of this valuable instrument. To it they owe the profound emotions excited by several of their finest pages. I have only to quote from Gluck’s Agmemnon’s air in _Iphigénie en Aulide_ ‘Can the harsh Fates?’ These complaints of an innocent voice, these continued supplications, ever more and more appealing, what instrument could they suit so well as an oboe? And the celebrated burden of the air of _Iphigénie en Tauride_, ‘O Unhappy Iphigénie!’

“Beethoven has demanded more from the joyous accent of the oboe. Witness the solo of the _Scherzo_ of the _Pastoral Symphony_ and also that of the _Scherzo_ of the _Ninth Symphony_, also that in the first movement of the _Symphony in B-flat_. But he has no less felicitously succeeded in assigning them sad, or forlorn, passages. These may be seen in the minor solo of the second return of the first movement of the Symphony in A-major in the episodical _Andante_ of the finale to the _Eroica Symphony_; and above all, in the air of _Fidelio_, where Florestan, starving to death, believes himself, in his delirious agony, surrounded by his weeping family and mingles his tears of anguish with the broken sobs of the oboe.”

In Beethoven’s _Pastoral Symphony_ the oboe impersonates the quail and in Haydn’s _Seasons_ it imitates the crowing of a cock in a long and difficult passage. Perhaps the most beautiful use of the oboe in all music is in Gluck’s opera of _Orfeo_, in which it plays an exquisite minuet with the flute and a beautiful ballet with the violin. Schubert uses it charmingly in the second movement of his _Symphony in C-major_.

COR ANGLAIS

The _cor anglais_, or English horn, differs slightly in appearance from the oboe; but these differences help us to identify it. In the first place, it ends in a kind of ball; and in the second place, there is a bent crook at the other end that holds the mouthpiece containing the double reed. It is supposed that the word _Anglais_ is a corruption of the word _anglé_, meaning bent; for in olden times this instrument was bent at an obtuse angle in the middle of the tube. It is, therefore, more correct to call it _cor anglais_ than English horn. The English have had nothing whatever to do with the development of the instrument.

The _cor anglais_ is nothing more or less than the alto, or tenor, oboe. It has the same scale and compass as the oboe; but it stands in the key of F, a fifth below that of the oboe. It is, however, unlike the oboe, a “transposing instrument,” that is to say, the music does not represent the real sounds. In the case of the _cor anglais_ the music is written in a key a fifth above the real sounds. Any good oboe player can play the _cor anglais_, because the technique and fingering are practically the same.

“Its tone,” says Lavignac, “is essentially sad, melancholy, sorrowful. The _cor anglais_ exactly suits the expression of mental suffering, which is, therefore, especially characteristic of it.” “Its quality of tone,” says Berlioz, “less piercing, more veiled and deeper than that of the oboe, does not so well as the latter lend itself to the gayety of rustic strains. Nor could it give utterance to anguished complainings. Accents of keen grief are almost beyond its powers. It is a melancholy, dreamy, and rather noble voice, of which the sonorousness has something vague and remote about it which renders it superior to all others in exciting regret and reviving images and sentiments of the past when the composer desires to awaken the secret echo of tender memories. In compositions where the prevailing impression is that of melancholy the frequent use of the _cor anglais_ hidden in the midst of the great mass of instruments is perfectly suited.”

The _cor anglais_ has been called “an oboe in mourning.” Perhaps that will give the best idea of its sorrowful voice.

The _cor anglais_ came directly from the alto pommer of the Schalmey-Pommer family.[22] Most probably the _oboe di caccia_, or hunting oboe, was its immediate ancestor. A very good reason for thinking this the case is because in Rossini’s Overture to _William Tell_ the “_Ranz des vaches_” (calling the cows) was originally given to the _oboe di caccia_, which was still in use in Rossini’s time; and when the _oboe di caccia_ became obsolete, the part was taken by the newer _cor anglais_.

The _cor anglais_ and the oboe assumed their modern appearance about the same time. Both instruments were much changed in construction and mechanism during the last hundred years; but both instruments kept the old family voice, which has a curious harsh quality combined with plaintiveness.

Beethoven wrote a Trio for two oboes and _cor anglais_, op. 29. The French composers made it popular. Meyerbeer has it play an _obbligato_ to the aria “_Robert, toi que j’aime_,” in _Robert le Diable_; Berlioz made it important in his _Symphonie Fantastique_; and it appears in Dvořák’s _New World Symphony_, having a melody in the _Largo_ with accompaniment of strings _con sordini_. Strauss gives it prominence in _Heldenleben_.

[Illustration: COR ANGLAIS, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_Attilio Bianco_]

Of its famous solos none is so haunting as the plaintive part in Act III of _Tristan and Isolde_. Here the long, sad melody heard on the Shepherd’s pipe is entrusted to the saddest voice in the orchestra,—the _cor anglais_.

THE BASSOON

The bassoon is the bass of the oboe group, holding the same place in this family that the violoncello does in the String Family. It is a descendant of the old bass pommer, the bass of the Schalmey Family; but in the various transformations that took place between 1550 and 1600 the characteristic Schalmey family voice disappeared in the bassoon. The tone-color of the bassoon is quite unlike that of the oboe and that of the _cor anglais_, although it is played with a double reed.

The bassoon is a pipe, or tube, eight feet long conically bored and turned back upon itself so as to reduce its length to about four feet. The instrument consists of five pieces: (1) the bell; (2) the bass, or long joint; (3) the double joint; (4) the wing; and (5) the crook, a small curved tube of metal which holds the mouthpiece with the double reed. The bottom of the instrument is stopped by a flattened oval cork. The pipes meet at the double joint and turn upward. The holes are pierced obliquely so as to bring them within reach of the player’s fingers. There are three holes in the wing-joint and three others in the front of the double joint, to be closed by the first three fingers of each hand. A single hole on the back of the double joint is for the thumb of the right hand. The little finger of the right hand touches two keys; and a series of interlocking keys is on the bass, or long, joint producing the lowest notes of the scale for the left thumb to work.

The player holds the instrument diagonally in the hollow of his two hands, with the left hand uppermost at the level of his breast, and, of course, nearest the bell of the bassoon. The right hand is placed below and behind his right thigh. The double joint of the bassoon rests against the player’s knee. The bell of the instrument points upward.

The bassoon stands in the key of G-major and plays an octave lower than the oboe. Its compass is three octaves and a half, the lowest note being B-flat. The music for it is written in the Bass Clef and in the Tenor Clef for the highest notes. Like the flute and oboe, its deep notes are its _fundamental_ tones; those of its middle register are second harmonics; and those of its highest register are third, fourth and fifth harmonics. The fingering is the same for all octaves. The higher notes are produced by “over-blowing,” so that the air-column in the instrument vibrates differently according to the way the player directs his breath.

“Its lowest tones,” writes Lavignac, “are solemn and pontifical, like an organ pedal. Its medium register has a sweet sonority of some richness but little strength; and its high register has the most expression, but is painful, distressed and dejected. At the same time this instrument has comic possibilities. In the medium, and lower registers certain _staccato_ notes which have been often used have a certain grotesqueness bordering on awkwardness.”

“The bassoon was first used,” says Dr. Stone, “in Cambert’s _Pomone_, Paris, 1671; but it has gradually risen to the position of a tenor, or even alto, frequently doubling the high notes of the violoncello, or the lower register of the viola. The cause of the change is evidently the greater use of bass instruments, such as trombones and ophicleides, in modern orchestral scores on the one hand and the improvements in the upper register of the bassoon itself on the other. There is a peculiar sweetness and telling quality in these extreme sounds, which has led to their being named ‘vox humana notes.’ We have good evidence even in Haydn’s time that they were appreciated; for in the graceful _Minuet_ of his _Military Symphony_ we find a melody reaching to the treble A. Haydn uses it as one of the most prominent voices of his orchestra.”

Until Mozart’s time the bassoon was little else but an instrument for doubling the bass of the Strings; but Mozart did great things with it. He even went so far as to write a Concerto for it. It is important in his operas, particularly _Don Giovanni_; in his _Requiem_; and in his _Symphonies_.

After Mozart fixed its place in the Orchestra, Beethoven brought it forward and made its part so conspicuous and so elaborate that the performers had to set to work to improve their technique. “Beethoven never failed to employ it largely, reinforcing it, in some cases, by the double-bassoon. The _First Symphony_ is remarkable for the assignment of subject, as well as counter-subject, in the slow movement to first and second bassoons working independently; both afterwards joining with the two clarinets in the curious dialogue of the trio between strings and reeds. The _Second Symphony_ opens with a prominent passage for the bassoon in unison with the bass strings; in the _Adagio_ of the _Fourth Symphony_ is an effective figure exhibiting the great power of _staccato_ playing possessed by the bassoon; in the first movement of the _Eighth Symphony_, it is employed with exquisite humor and in the _Minuet_ of the same _Symphony_ it is entrusted with a melody of considerable length. Perhaps the most remarkable passage in Beethoven’s writing for this instrument occurs in the opening of the _Finale_ of the _Ninth_, or _Choral Symphony_, where the theme of the movement, played by violoncellos and violins in unison is accompanied by the first bassoon in a long independent melody of the greatest ingenuity and interest.”[23]

Cherubini gave the bassoon a solo in his opera of _Medea_; Gluck gave it a solo in some of his dance music in _Orfeo_; Rossini opens his _Stabat Mater_ with it; and Weber gave it much to do in his operas. Weber wrote a _Concerto_ for it and also an _Andante and Hungarian Rondo_. Mendelssohn also was fond of it. Dr. Stone has well summed up his use of this instrument as follows: “Mendelssohn shows some peculiarity in dealing with the bassoon. He was evidently struck not only with the power of its lower register, a fact abundantly illustrated by his use of it in the opening of the _Scotch Symphony_ and with the trombones in the grand chords of the Overture to _Ruy Blas_, but he evidently felt with Beethoven the comic and rustic character of its tone. This is abundantly shown in the music to the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, where the two bassoons lead the quaint Clown’s March in thirds and still farther on in the Funeral March, which is obviously an imitation of a small country band, consisting of clarinet and bassoon, the latter ending unexpectedly and humorously on a solitary low C. In the Orchestra the bassoon also suggests the braying of Bottom. It is worth notice how the acute ear of the musician has caught the exact interval used by the animal without any violation of artistic propriety.”

[Illustration: BASSOON, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_Ugo Savolini_]

Modern composers have delighted in exhibiting the telling qualities of the bassoon. A notable example is in Tschaikowsky’s _Pathetic Symphony_ and in the waltz movement of his _Fifth Symphony_. In his _Marche Slave_ it is very effective in unison with the violas.

Brahms shows it off well in his _C-minor Symphony_; Strauss in his _Heldenleben_, _Till Eulenspiegel_ and _Don Juan_; and Elgar in his _Pomp and Circumstance March_ and Variations III and IX of the _Enigma_.

Wagner gets desolation and sorrow out of it; and, occasionally, humor; and Humperdinck makes comic use of it in _Hänsel and Gretel_, where it frequently comments on what is happening on the stage.

The bassoon gives long sustained notes, shakes and _staccato_ notes, which are “dry” and grotesque. The English and French name _bassoon_ and _basson_ refer to its pitch in the bass; but the Italians and Germans call it _Fagotto_ and _Fagott_, because they think in shape it resembles a bundle of sticks, or fagots.

To-day there are usually three bassoons in the Orchestra,—the first and second bassoon and the double-bassoon.

THE DOUBLE-BASSOON

The double-bassoon is an octave below the bassoon. It doubles the bass of the bassoon as the double-bass doubles the violoncello.

The double-bassoon is a conical wooden pipe of hard wood—often maple—more than sixteen feet long and doubled back four times on itself. The crook, or mouthpiece, into which the double reed is fastened, is much like that of the bassoon; but the metal bell points downwards.

Though the instrument is not a transposing one, the music is written an octave higher than it sounds to avoid the use of ledger lines. Its compass is from the middle C to the deep sixteen-foot C.

The double-bassoon was used in the Orchestra in Handel’s time. Haydn calls for it in _The Creation_; Brahms, in his _C-Minor Symphony_; Mendelssohn, in his _Hebrides Overture_; and Beethoven reinforces the march in the _Finale_ of his _Fifth Symphony_ with it. He assigns it a leading part in the _Ninth Symphony_.

THE CLARINET

The clarinet is also a descendant of the Bombardino-Chalumeau Family of which, as we have seen, there were so many members. The great difference between the ancestor of the oboe and the ancestor of the clarinet was that the oboe’s ancestor was _conical_ in bore and played with a _double reed_ and the clarinet’s ancestor was _cylindrical_ in bore and played with a _single reed_. That fact was the parting of the ways and was destined to make all the difference in the world. It would seem at first that the tone of the two old _chalumeaux_ (the one double-reeded and the other single-reeded) was at first much alike; but as time went on and the single-reeded _chalumeau_ developed into the modern clarinet, the old rough, reedy voice disappeared for a rich, warbling voice that has more of the bird in it than of the reed.

“The clarinet is one of the most beautiful voices in the orchestra,” Lavignac thinks. “It is the richest in varied _timbres_ of all the wind instruments. It possesses no less than four registers, perfectly defined; the _chalumeau_, which contains the deepest notes and recalls the old rustic instrument of that name; the _medium_, warm and expressive; the _high_, brilliant and energetic; and the _very high_, biting and strident. All these registers, thanks to the progress of manufacture, are able to melt into one another in the happiest manner possible and furnish a perfectly homogeneous scale. Almost as agile as the flute, as tender as, and more passionate than, the oboe, the clarinet is infinitely more energetic and richer in color.”

About 1690 Johann Christopher Denner of Nuremberg added the twelfth key. He bored a small hole nearer the mouthpiece on a _chalumeau_ type of instrument, and made a key to it to be manipulated by the thumb of the left hand. By this he increased the compass of the instrument by more than an octave. It may be said that from this date the clarinet came into existence. From the crude instrument of two keys and seven holes has evolved the present-day clarinet with seventeen keys and twenty-one holes, of which seven are covered directly by the fingers and the others by the keys.

The clarinet is a cylindrical piece of wood, or a tube, about two feet long, ending in a bell. It is made in sections: (1) mouthpiece; (2) barrel joint; (3) left-hand, or upper joint; (4) right-hand, or lower joint; (5) bell. The lowest note is emitted through the bell. The right-hand thumb supports the instrument.

The reed is flat and the mouthpiece is curved backwards to allow of vibration.

The reed is carefully thinned at the point where it vibrates against the curved table of the mouthpiece. The vibration is caused by the air pressure against the reed, thus engendering sound. The air-column in the instrument is shortened, or lengthened, by the opening, or closing, of the holes and keys, emitting high, or low, sounds accordingly. The reed vibrates through the action of the air. The lips of the player merely encompass the reed and mouthpiece, slightly pressing the reed.

Again, to quote from Lavignac: “This instrument, the richest in compass and in variety of timbre of all the wind instruments, is subject to a very special and very curious law. Its tube is absolutely cylindrical and open; and its column of air is set in vibration by a single, flexible reed. Now a peculiarity in pipes of this construction is that the vibrating segment forms, not at the middle point, but at the end where the reed is, so the mode of subdivision of the air-column is the same as if the pipe were stopped. The clarinet has, therefore, only the harmonics of unequal numbers, which renders its fingering very different from that of the flute, the oboe and the bassoon. It would seem that this might place it below them. On the contrary, this instrument lends itself with admirable suppleness to the expression of all sentiments which the composer may wish to entrust to it.

[Illustration: CLARINET, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_Gustav Langenus_]

“Its compass, the greatest possessed by any wind-instrument chromatically, has a great deal to do with giving it this richness of expression; but the diversity of _timbre_ belonging to its lower, middle and higher registers must be regarded as the real superiority of the clarinet.”

Berlioz says: “The clarinet is little appropriate to the Idyl. It is an _epic_ instrument, like horns, trumpets and trombones. The voice is like that of heroic love. This beautiful soprano instrument, so ringing, so rich in penetrating accents, when employed in masses, gains, when employed as a solo instrument, in delicacy, evanescent shadowings and mysterious tenderness what it loses in force and powerful brilliancy. Nothing so virginal, so pure as the tint imparted to certain melodies by the tone of a clarinet, played in the medium by a skilful performer. It is the one of all the wind instruments which can best breathe forth, swell, diminish and die away. Thence the precious faculty of producing _distance_, echo, the echo of _echo_, and a _twilight_ sound. What more admirable example could I quote of the application of some of these shadowings than the dreamy phrase of the clarinet accompanied by a _tremolo_ of stringed instruments in the midst of the _Allegro_ of the Overture to _Freischütz_! Does it not depict the lonely maiden, the forester’s fair betrothed, who, raising her eyes to heaven, mingles her tender lament with the noise of the dark woods agitated by the storm? O Weber! Beethoven, bearing in mind the melancholy and noble character of the melody in A-major of the immortal _Andante_ in his _Seventh Symphony_, and in order the better to render all that this phrase contains at the same time of passionate regret, has not failed to consign it to the medium of the clarinet. Gluck, for the _ritornello_ of Alceste’s air, ‘_Ah, malgré moi_,’ had at first written it for the flute; but perceiving that the quality of tone of this instrument was too weak and lacked the nobility necessary to the delivery of a theme imbued with so much desolation and mournful grandeur, gave it to the clarinet.

“Neither Sacchini, nor Gluck, nor any of the great masters of that time availed themselves of the low notes of the instrument. I cannot guess the reason. Mozart appears to be the first who brought them into use for accompaniments of a serious character, such as that of the trio of masks in Don Giovanni. It was reserved for Weber to discover all that there is of the terrible in the quality of tone of these low sounds.”

Mozart was the first to appreciate the beauties and capabilities of the clarinet. He wrote a Concerto for it with orchestra[24] and his _Symphony in E-flat_ is so full of prominent work for it that it is often called the “Clarinet Symphony.” Beethoven loved it also and developed music for it far beyond Mozart’s ideas. It sings particularly lovely melodies in the _Larghetto_ of the _Second Symphony_. In the _Pastoral Symphony_, where the flute sings the nightingale and the oboe pipes for the quail, the clarinet gives the cuckoo’s notes, or, rather, two clarinets together say “cuckoo, cuckoo.”

Weber also wrote much chamber-music for the clarinet and gave it dreamy melodies in the _Overture_ to _Oberon_ and also some difficult arpeggios in company with the flute, known as “drops of water.”

Mendelssohn also used the clarinet for the idea of water. It is very evident in the _Hebrides Overture_ and in the _Overture_ of _Melusine_ it suggests the rolling waves. It is conspicuous in Dvořák’s _New World Symphony_ and it plays a solo in Tschaikowsky’s _Francesca da Rimini_.

And how Wagner enjoys it! Often he gives it a motive, or lets it sympathize with what is taking place on the stage! And in the third scene of Act I of _Die Götterdämmerung_, he has two clarinets play a duet for thirty bars!

THE BASSET-HORN

The basset-horn is a tenor clarinet with two additional keys and a longer bore than the clarinet. The last three notes are worked by the thumb of the right hand. The basset-horn is not a horn. It takes its name from a German maker named Horn, who made a little bass clarinet in 1770 and called it little bass horn as a modest compliment to himself. Its part is written a fifth higher than the actual sounds. Gevaert says its tone is one of “unctuous sweetness”; and those adjectives certainly describe its rich voice very accurately.

The basset-horn was new in Mozart’s time and he liked it very much, so much indeed that he gave it an _obbligato_ to the aria _Non più di fiori_ in his opera of _Clemenza di Tito_. In his _Requiem_ he calls for two basset-horns.

BASS-CLARINET

This instrument is made like the ordinary clarinet only the bell points upward and outward something after the fashion of a big dipper. It is a slow-speaking and hollow-toned instrument. Wagner uses it a great deal. Liszt has a good part for it in his _Mazeppa_; and it is conspicuous in the _Danse de la Fée Dragée_ in Tschaikowsky’s _Nut-cracker Suite_ and also in the _Don Quixote Variations_ by Strauss.

The bass-clarinet is doubled by the contrabass clarinet.

The contrabass clarinet is an octave below the bass-clarinet. The tube is partly conical and partly cylindrical. It is over ten feet long, and ends in a big metal bell turned upward like that of the bass-clarinet. It has thirteen keys and rings. It stands in the key of B-flat. The instrument is also called pedal clarinet. Its middle and upper registers are reedy, something like the ordinary clarinet tones, and the lower registers are deep rumbles. It might be described as a rival to the double-bassoon.

[Illustration: DOUBLE-BASS CLARINET, SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

_Richard Kohl_]