THE ORCHESTRA OF YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY.

BY MRS. JOHN LILLIE.

I suppose that every one who enjoys music likes to hear either a band or an orchestra. There is something very inspiring and fine about a performance where a great many people take part.

It is always well, even in the most delightful music, to stop and think how much you enjoy because you understand it; that is, if you are a student, and I am addressing myself chiefly to young people who are studying music.

Is not an orchestra a confusing sight in one way? You look at all the violins and violoncellos, the flutes, the hautboys, the wind instruments, and finally the conductor, and even if he waves his baton ever so knowingly, you wonder how he knows just what to do.

I think the conductor of an orchestra always looks like the possessor of some curious secret. His baton goes here and there; he waves it in a rhythmical or sharp fashion, and yet if you look closely you will see that not one in the orchestra but feels that he is his leader. There is a regular meaning in everything he does.

There are very few portions of musical history so interesting to me as the orchestra. To-day we have such excellent music in public orchestras that I suppose we forget there ever was a time when even musicians were not sure how orchestras ought to be arranged. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries there were flutes and many stringed instruments; but the people who played on them did not know that they might be used harmoniously together. I am sure that seems almost funny to you now, but it undoubtedly was the case.

You see, music was in just that unformed condition then that they did not know what they could do with it. Now we will try and think a little, and see when orchestras began, and how they gradually prospered.

To go very far back, I must tell you that certain instruments, like lutes and lyres, were used among the ancients. I think they played them in concert. At all events, they had a dim idea that, performed upon together, they would sound well. But it was not until the sixteenth century—in 1581—that anything like a real orchestra was known. And just here I want to tell you what the word itself means.

Orchestra is a Greek word. It really means an open space where people sit, but it expresses now a place for an instrumental band and a chorus, and, properly speaking, an orchestra must sit. This is one of the chief distinctions between an orchestra and a band. Bands must, by right, stand while they play; orchestras ought, by right, to sit, that is, unless the weight of their instruments obliges them to stand. Besides this distinction, a band is composed of wind instruments; an orchestra has both wind and stringed instruments.

Now, when you hear any orchestral concert, look back into olden days and see the first orchestra that we have record of. It was in the days of the sixteenth century.

In France there lived a certain famous nobleman—the Duc de Joyeuse. The splendor and beauty of his entertainments were renowned; and when, in 1581, he married the Lady Margaret of Lorraine, a very gorgeous festival was gotten up by him regardless of the expenditure of time or money or genius.

Now at this entertainment was produced a sort of dramatic performance with an instrumental band—the first on record. But it was in a very different fashion from the performance of an orchestra of to-day. They knew very few rules for harmonizing the instruments, yet, from the accounts given, the effect must have been very pleasing. Certain it is the gay audience were delighted by it.

Of course writing for orchestras was soon adopted by the various composers of the seventeenth century. Before the close of the century there were some quite well-ordered orchestras of stringed instruments, and when Bach began to write, the science of orchestration had gone very much further.

In writing for orchestras Bach used a great many times what is called the obligato. This word, when written over a part, means that it can not be left out—it must be played.

The other day I was listening to Beethoven's Fourth Symphony performed by some of the best players in the world, and led by a famous conductor, and I could not help thinking how very interesting it might be even to very young students to listen to any such performance, having a copy of the music with them, and then, on going home, to pick out certain parts and try to play them, reproducing some of the stringed effects. Now perhaps you will think this work for very advanced students. So it is, but little hands can try it too. Try some little chosen part of any symphony you may hear at a good concert, and see if you can remember, when you play, just what part of the expression belonged to any one particular instrument. I have heard pianists who seemed to me to almost reproduce the feeling of an entire orchestra.

Another interesting and useful study is to find out, before hearing a concert, the names of the various instruments used, and then, by means of a dictionary or encyclopædia, you can read all about them. See if it will not transform the whole concert to you.

Here is a list of the instruments of a complete orchestra: First violins 15, second violins 12, violas 10, violoncellos 10, double basses 8, flutes 2, piccolo 1, oboes, cor Anglais, clarionet, corno di bassetto, bassoon, double bassoon, trumpets, horns, trombones, timpani, cornet à piston, bass trumpet, tenor tuba, ophicleide, contra bass tuba, harp, bass drum, cymbals. The number and kind of instruments can of course be varied to a certain extent without losing the effect.

Chamber music differs from ordinary orchestras because none of the instruments are doubled; that is, only one of a kind is included in it, and it is adapted to a small number of performers on stringed instruments.

Many famous musicians have been equally famous conductors of orchestras. Mendelssohn and Moscheles, who were dear friends and great musicians, were celebrated for their conducting. Mendelssohn had a peculiar power over the musicians. They looked at his face as well as at his baton. Those sweet keen eyes seemed to tell each what to do—his whole soul was in the work. Very many stories are told of how on certain occasions parts of the score were found missing just as the men were taking their places, and yet Mendelssohn always contrived to get it together again with his marvellous faculty for rapid musical work. Once he is said to have dashed off a whole part while the audience were waiting, writing it from memory.

In an old house in London there is a book full of Mendelssohn's sketches when he and Moscheles were on their concert tours; and looking at them—some bright, some humorous, all happy and kindly—one could fancy just how much heart and soul he carried into his work; he put his fun into it as well as his sadness. Whatever he had, he gave it all to those around him when he stood in the conductor's place.

AN APRIL SHOWER.