This is a blog about music, photography, history, and culture.
These are photographs from my collection that tell a story about lost time and forgotten music.

Mike Brubaker
{ Click on the image to expand the photo }

The Happy Couple

11 May 2019


Husband and wife,
 side by side.
It's a classic pose
in art and photography.
However in this small carte de visite photo
one half of the happy couple sits
while the other stands.


In the 1860s-1870s when this type photo was popular
usually it was the woman who stood
in order to show off her fine dress.
But here the husband is on display
in a sharp military-style bandsman's uniform



A horsehair plume and star-shaped badge adorns his shako.
Eight shiny buttons and a twisted belt buckle fasten his coat.
The photographer has carefully painted
the collar, sleeve braid, and coat piping red,
and added some gentle rouge to the man's lips and cheeks.
His face, framed by a ribbon of fuzzy beard under his throat,
shows a hint of a smile and a twinkle in his eye
as he looks into the camera,.

It's a fine photograph
but regrettably the bandsman, his wife,
the photographer, and the location is unknown.
Since it was purchased from a dealer in Britain
it is reasonable to assume he is English
but he could easily be Scottish or French too.
In any case this is an early CdV from about 1860-1868.

There is a third subject in the photo to balance the couple's pose.
The bandsman's left hand holds tight to a large brass instrument.
It looks a bit like a saxophone
but is in fact an Ophicleide,
an obsolete instrument that is
no longer played in modern wind bands and orchestras.
It is uncommon to see
an Ophicleide
pictured in early photos of bands,
and even more rare to find a portrait of a musician with one.




In October 1834, the city of Birmingham, England put on a music festival to showcase its new town hall. The interior concert hall space was reported as 145 feet long, 65 feet high, and 65 feet wide. At one end was placed a pipe organ that was said to rival the organ in York Cathedral in magnificence and power. The musical highlight of the festival was an oratorio entitled David by the now forgotten Austrian composer, Sigismond von Neukomm (1778–1858). This mammoth production had almost a dozen vocal soloists, a choir of 200 from the Birmingham Choral Society, and an orchestra of 400 with 50 violins, 24 viola, 16 violoncellos, and 10 double-basses; "with wind-instruments, etc. in proportion." This instrumental band included a new brass instrument, "hitherto unknown in England, the contra-bass Ophicléide, or keyed serpent." This musical novelty even crossed the Atlantic to appear in the pages of the Pittsburgh Gazette in November 1834.



Pittsburgh PA Gazette
18 November 1834
In the early 19th century, the rapid advances in industrial metalworking and machine tool technology allowed enterprising craftsmen to improve the manufacture of musical instruments. Though brass instruments like trumpets, horns, and trombones had established a place in the bands and orchestra of the early 1800s, there was still one deficiency. There was no horn-type instrument that could sound true bass tones. So in order to add that particular low sonority to the brass family, in 1817 a French instrument maker named Jean Hilaire Asté invented the Ophicléide.

A metal cupped mouthpiece, into which the player buzzes their lips, is inserted in a very long twisted conical tube. Rather than changing the length of the instrument with valves that add more tubing, the ophicleide uses an older method of tone holes covered by key operated pads. Similar to the key pads of a saxophone, the ophicleide keys are different in that they are normally closed and open only when the keys are pressed. Hence the meaning of its name which comes from the Greek for "serpent with keys."  In 2010 I posted a story called The Serpent and the Ophicleide which shows the older version of the serpent without keys. And in 2014 I wrote a story called Mr. Kellogg's Keyed Bugle about a CdV from the same era with a gentleman playing a keyed bugle, another member of the same brass family as the ophicleide.


An Ophicléide consort
Source: Wikipedia
The ophicleide has a full chromatic scale and its keys facilitate rapid note changes that were not possible on other early brass instruments. The tone is broad with good dynamics from soft to very loud. By the 1860s it was a common for them to be featured in orchestra and bands. Felix Mendelssohn and Hector Berlioz were two noted composers who added the bass sound of the ophicleide to their symphonic music. Today those parts are typically played on valved tubas instead.

From roughly 1820 to 1880 the ophicleide's bass sound enhanced the brass section of bands and orchestras. But by the 1880s it's dynamic texture did not match the big sound that the new rotary and piston valve instruments were capable of. The peculiar keyed fingering system of the ophicleide was also a problem as it required special skill that was unlike the other brass or even woodwind instruments. The tuba was just more versatile and easier to play. So by the 1890s the ophicleide became obsolete to composers, ensembles, and brass players.

Like saxophones, clarinets, and other wind instruments, the ophicleide was produced in several different sizes. In this image of an ophicleide consort, I believe my unknown bandsman's instrument is like the one second from left, which was a kind of alto or quinticlave ophicleide.







The bandsman's wife also stares direct into the camera lens.
The photographer tried to cheer up her sour countenance
with a smudge of rouge on her cheeks and lips,
and a dab of gold for her broach and watch.
But as the bandsman's hand presses down on her shoulder
she appears just about ready to scream
and bolt out of the photographer's studio.






If you look closely, her right hand holds the music lyre
that attaches to her husband's ophicleide to hold his sheet music.
 
A sign of marital fidelity? 
Or just a long suffering resignation
that she will always
take second place in her husband's heart? 





Back in July 2013 I posted a story
on a series of humorous French postcards entitled
Monsieur le Curé and his Ophicleide
To illustrate that story I used a short video
by Everson Moraes, a Brazilian Ophicleide player.
Here he is again with a demonstration of
 his alto or quinticlave Ophicleide,
which I believe is the same instrument
in my photo of the happy couple.


***



***

By a curious twist of musical history
the ophicleide never really disappeared in Brazil
but continued as the bass voice in Brazilian choro music.

Here is Everson Moraes's Group
in a terrific performance
a popular Brazilian choro dance tune
with rhythms that even a dour faced wife
could not resist tapping her foot to.

***



***






This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
click the link to find more testimonials
on the joys of married life.

http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2019/05/sepia-saturday-469-saturday-11th-may.html










5 comments:

La Nightingail said...

An interesting sounding instrument. I wonder what the reasoning was/is in eliminating it from modern bands and orchestras? Trouble finding people who could play it or were willing to learn how to play it?

Kathy said...

I love the Brazilian band! Once again, I learn something I didn't know before.

Barbara Rogers said...

I'd never heard of a ophicleide, and doubt that I've heard one played before. I'm glad you included the videos so I could understand better what it's sound was, and how it is different than other brass instruments.

Philip Carli said...

This ophicleide player is a member of the Band of the Coldstream Guards, as the button spacing on his uniform coat (which is in twos) and the Garter Star and pale rose-coloured plume in his shako indicate. It may have been taken around 1863, when the leadership of the band passed to Frederick Godfrey, whose father Charles Godfrey Sr. had led the band in the 1830s, and very likely it was connected with this particular gentleman being admitted as a player in the Coldstreams' band, which was one of the finest in Britain and indeed the world at that time. If that were the case, no wonder he was almost smiling for the photographer - his engagement, just after the celebrated ophicleidist and euphoniumist A. J. Phasey's departure from the band to take up the euphonium professorship at the Royal Military School of Music, Kneller Hall (the great Sam Hughes was the ophicleide professor there), indicated that this anonymous player was accounted a master of his very difficult instrument. I'm learning the ophicleide myself, and it is a maddening business! - but I adore the instrument, as do many other modern players.

Mike Brubaker said...

Many thanks, Philip, for your comment identifying the uniform details of my Ophicleide player. I suspected the features of his outfit might match one of the British Bands of that era. In my limited research I also uncovered the name of Sam Hughes, but did not want to burden my story with information for which I could not confirm a connection to the photo.

As a horn player, I know something about difficult instruments, and I am amazed at how the ophicleide, an especially challenging instrument, was once acclaimed as a solo instrument. In a review from the Cheshire Observer, 9 November 1872, there was a rare description of an ophicleide solo by Mr. Sam Hughes at a grand orchestra concert under the direction of Mr. De Jong. "In Mr. Hughes' performance of 'Oh, ruddier than the cherry' upon the ophicleide, he proved himself to be a perfect master of that most awkward instrument, but which in Mr. Hughes' hands can be made to produce the most mellow and beautiful sounds of great volume or of no force whatever. The accompaniment to this particular piece by the whole band of fifty performers was most exquisite and as much admired as the solo itself."

I would be very interested to learn more about ophicleide history in Britain. If you would care to correspond, my email address is on the side bar.

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