I think we may call him the first real conductor of an Orchestra. Certain it is that Lully was the first to gather together a virtuoso Orchestra and train it by methods that approach those of to-day.
Lully’s Orchestra is, therefore, of the greatest interest to us. So let us stop and examine it: “Lully got together the best Orchestra of his time in Europe. It is perhaps an exaggeration to say that he was the first man to train an Orchestra in France and that before him (accordingly to Perrault) musicians did not know how to play from score and had to learn their parts by heart. But he certainly did improve instrumental execution, especially with regard to the violin, and he created traditions in the conducting of Orchestras, which rapidly became classic and were followed in France and even served as a model in Europe. Among the many foreigners who came to Paris to study was an Alsatian, named Georges Muffat, who especially admired the perfect discipline and strict time of Lully’s Orchestra. He said that Lully’s method was characterized by trueness of tone, by smoothness and evenness of execution, by clean attack and by the way the bows of the whole Orchestra bit into the first chord, that famous ‘first stroke of the bow,’ as well as by the irresistible ‘go,’ the well-defined rhythm and the delightful combination of vigor and flexibility, of grace and vivacity. But of all these qualities, the best was the rhythm.”[43]
Robert Eitner called it an “incisive and expressive rhythm.” Others tell us that Lully thought quite as much of delicacy of expression; for there are many marks on his scores, such as “Play softly—almost without touching the notes” and “Do not take off the sordini until you are told to.”
Lully’s Orchestra showed off splendidly in his operas.
“The Orchestra had for its chief instruments: violins in five parts, which played the ritournelles, doubled the choruses and beautified the solos with their harmonies. In excited airs expressing quick passion, the voice was accompanied by two violins which played a very elaborate part and when the passion abated returned to their ordinary recitative. Flutes, usually straight flutes and flutes à bec, though sometimes ‘transverse,’ or ‘German,’ were much used by Lully. Sometimes they played in unison with other instruments. Sometimes they formed separate ‘concerts’ and sometimes they were combined with the trumpets and violins. The trumpets had a magnificent rôle. They played alone in three, or five, parts with the drums. Lully also employed oboes, bassoons, and instruments of percussion, and in his ballets he made a great use of the tambour de basque, (tambourine), castanets and drums. He also introduced bag-pipes, guitars and hunting-horns (in La Princesse d’Élide); the charcoal-burner’s whistle (in Acis); and, like the composer of Siegfried, he did not fear the sound of the forge and the noise of anvils (in Isis). The characteristic trait of the Orchestra (and one essentially French) is that Lully rarely employed it all at once. He divided his Orchestra into groups that have conversations with one another, or with the voices. This system puts lots of light into the picture, as it were, and the air circulates freely. Strangers were always struck by this.
“Lully’s Orchestra was large. It was carefully recruited and trained by him. The violins were extraordinary, especially in ‘the first stroke of the bow.’ People came from Italy, England and Germany to hear Lully’s Orchestra. Everybody admired his correctness, rhythm, the perfection of his ensemble; and, above all, the sweetness, preciseness and smoothness of his violins.”[44]
And now let us see what a contemporary has to say:
“Lully would have nothing but good instrumentalists. He tested them first by making them play Les songes funestes from Atys. It was a nimble hand that he demanded. After all, ease of execution was a reasonable qualification to require. He supervised all the rehearsals; and he had so nice an ear that from the far end of the theatre he could detect a violinist who played a wrong note. And he would run up to the man and say, ‘You did that. It is not in your part.’ The artists knew him and they tried to do their work well. The instrumentalists particularly never dared to embellish their parts, for he would not allow any more liberties from them than he would from the singers. He thought it far from proper that they should assume a greater knowledge than his own and add what notes they pleased to their tablature. If this happened he became angry and would make lively corrections. More than once he broke a violin on the back of a man who was not playing to his taste. But when the rehearsal was over, Lully would send for the man, pay him three times the value of his instrument and take him out to dine.”
This characteristic little picture well shows the methods of the conductor.