“It is a pity,” said this wise man, in a condescending manner; “but Wagner knew absolutely nothing about counterpoint.”
And at that very instant the orchestra was singing five different melodies at once; and, as Anton Seidl was the conductor, they were all audible.
Light and shade, as we roughly call them—the German “nuancirung” (nuancing) is far better—depend also on phrasing. In singing, phrasing means the division of the melody into groups of notes, so that breath can be taken. Now, phrasing is obviously quite as vital to wind-instrument players as to singers, because the former, too, must have intervals to take breath. Obviously, if the several players stop to take breath, they should cease to sound their instruments at the same instant, and begin again with equal precision. A similar grouping of notes is made in the performance of bowed instruments by the movements of the bow. All violin-players know that there is a difference in the results produced by the up-stroke and those by the down-stroke. Phrasing in the orchestra, then, is the technical treatment of the natural groups of tones which form the component parts of a melody in such a way that they shall come out clearly and symmetrically and in a vocal style. Here again we come upon the technical part of a conductor’s work. It is he who regulates the phrasing. The distribution of up and down strokes of the bow is in a general way left to the concert-master, the leader of the first violins, but he is, of course, subject to the direction of the conductor. Many composers of the present day mark the bowing in particular passages, but most of them content themselves with indicating such things as slurred notes and staccati, or special effects, such as playing near the bridge, or with the point of the bow. The legato of stringed instruments is indicated in a score by a curved line drawn over or under the passages, thus:
Detached notes are indicated by dots, while lightly detached ones, to be played with a single stroke, are indicated by dots with a slur, or legato mark, over them, thus:
All these details of bowing and of breathing in the wind-instrument choir should be carefully regulated. They are elementary parts of the technic of orchestral performance, and they contribute to the production of smoothness, elegance, and refinement in the playing of a band, as well as to force, brilliancy, and expression. Furthermore, all demands of the composer in regard to the use of particular instruments or the uncommon treatment of instruments should be respected. If the result is bad, it is the composer’s fault. But it is usually good. When Hans Sachs, in “Die Meistersinger,” makes David a journeyman cobbler, he smacks the boy’s ear with his broad hand, and Wagner imitates the ringing in the offended member by the whizzing note of a stopped horn. To play that note unstopped would be to defeat the composer’s intention. It would be equally wrong to neglect to put mutes on where directed to do so. Sometimes composers call for very curious performances, but their wishes should be respected as far as possible. For instance, in his “Lelio, ou le retour à la vie,” Berlioz has written a passage for clarinet “con sordino,” and has directed that the instrument should be muted by being “wrapped in a bag of cloth or leather.” His desire was to give the clarinet a veiled and distant sound, and his wishes should be carried out. In another place Berlioz calls for tympani drum-sticks with heads of sponge. Wagner calls for tenor tubas in the funeral march of “Die Götterdämmerung,” and Mozart calls for a mandolin to accompany Don Giovanni’s “Deh vieni.” Such requirements should always be fulfilled, and so should all directions as to the manner of performance.