When in Rome: A conversation with Francesco Cera

Francesco Cera was born in Bologna, Italy. He studied organ and harpsichord with Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini and later with Gustav Leonhardt at the Amsterdam Conservatory. Regarded as one of Italy’s leading early music specialists, he has performed as a soloist in international festivals and on historic organs throughout Europe. Cera has recorded harpsichord and organ works by 17th-century Italian composers (Rossi, Merula, Storace and Valente) for the Tactus label, to critical acclaim. The French label Tempéraments issued the anthology “Rome Baroque,” with music by Frescobaldi and Pasquini. Francesco Cera has recorded three CDs of Scarlatti’s sonatas (from a 1742 manuscript), and taken part in the performance of all the sonatas at the Festival in Ghent (Belgium). The ARTS label has recently issued his recordings of Bach’s French Suites and four Harpsichord Concertos (with I Barocchisti, Diego Fasolis, conductor). From 1991 to 1994, Cera was a member of the ensemble Il Giardino Armonico. He directs the Ensemble Arte Musica, with whom he performs an Italian repertory spanning the period of Gesualdo’s madrigals to 18th-century cantatas. He has led masterclasses and workshops at the Royal Academy of Music London, Académie d’Orgue de Fribourg, Accademia di Musica Italiana per Organo, the University of Illinois, Cornell University, Arizona State University, and Oberlin College. Since 2001 he has lived in Rome, where he is Honorary Inspector of Early Organs for Rome and the Lazio region. His website: www.francescocera.it.

Born into a family of organ builders, Andrea Pinchi learned the rudiments of the art of organ building as a child from his paternal grandfather, Libero Rino. After receiving a scientific degree in 1987, he officially joined the family business, refining his knowledge under the direction of his father, Guido, and participating in the construction of important organs, working especially on pipe design and pipemaking. From 2001–2003 he was managing director of Stinkens Italia Srl, a company that has made thousands of pipes worldwide, and especially for U.S. organbuilders, over the years. In 2001, with his sister Barbara, he founded the historic organ restoration firm Ars Organi, which has carried out restorations of great interest, such as those of the 1509 organ of Mastro Paolo Pietropaolo in the Chiesa Museo di San Francesco in Trevi (Umbria), the 1615 Antonino La Valle instrument in Santa Maria Assunta in Sclafani (Sicily), the 1759 Conrad Werle organ in San Giuseppe in Leonessa (Lazio), and currently, the two-manual 1769 Aloysius Galligani organ in the Chiesa del Suffragio in Foligno. He has considerable experience in the field of organology, thanks to the teaching and guidance of Dr. Oscar Mischiati, with whom he worked closely from 1981 to 2004 in his family’s restoration business. Pinchi supervised the cataloging of the organs in the diocese of Foligno for the Umbria region; he has published numerous articles on organology. He has participated in organbuilding meetings both in Italy and abroad; he is president of L’Associazione “Aloysius Galligani,” which deals with historic organs of the Umbria region. He is owner, with his siblings Barbara and Claudio, of Fratelli Pinchi , a company founded in 1930, which has built over 440 organs in Italy and other countries; among the most significant are those of the Duomo in Arezzo, Kusatzu Concert Hall in Japan, Tempio Don Bosco in Asti, and Padre Pio Basilica in the Renzo Piano-designed San Giovanni Rotondo—a four-manual, 100-rank mechanical action instrument. He has supervised the temperament and tuning of many historic organs for recordings made by Archiv-Deutsche Grammophon, Camerata Tokio, Discantica, Opus 111, Quadrivium and Tactus. He does design work both for the family firm and for foreign organ builders.

After more than thirty years and hundreds of instruments restored with the highest technical qualities, the restoration of historical organs in Italy still holds surprises and offers us opportunities for growth and knowledge. In the last few years, our view of the antique Italian organ has become even larger and more diversified, not simply in the general structure of the instruments, but mostly in the tonal concept adopted throughout Italy over the centuries by organbuilders.
In the church of Santa Lucia, in Serra San Quirico, an old village in the mountains near Ancona (Marche region), it was possible to discover a particularly rare instrument. It is an organ dated 1676, signed by Giuseppe Testa, a famous organbuilder from Rome. Scholars knew about the existence of such an organ, but since no evident signature was ever found, its attribution was still uncertain, also considering that it was in quite a different style from that which defined the organs made in the Marche region.

Background of the instrument
During the restoration process, conducted by the Ars Organi company, located in Foligno and owned by Andrea and Barbara Pinchi, an inscription on the top of a languid was found: “Io Giuseppe Testa Romano feci in Roma Anno 1676” (“I, Giuseppe Testa, Roman, made this in Rome in the year 1676”). Giuseppe Testa is surely to be considered the most important organbuilder in Rome in the mid-17th century; he maintained the organs in the basilicas of San Pietro and Santa Maria Maggiore, and built numerous organs now placed in the churches of Rome. Unfortunately, many of the instruments he built that are still extant have been greatly modified throughout the centuries; thus, there is little historical evidence of his work. This is why the organ in San Quirico is of such extraordinary importance: an organ by Giuseppe Testa that was quite well preserved.
Most of the elements are still original: 95% of the pipes, the keyboard and pedalboard, casework, windchest, even the stool for the organist! Particularly beautiful are the three central pipes of the façade, modeled in a spiral, typical of the Roman school. In the 19th century, drawknobs and bellows had been changed and were rebuilt during the recent restoration job, modeled after originals from the Roman School of the period. The pipes had suffered some bad nicking, but many pipes were still intact in the mouths and helped furnish the model for the general voicing of the instrument. The reason this instrument is about 200 km from Rome is that the Marche region, in the 17th century, belonged to the Papal States, and the reason for the choice of Santa Lucia in San Quirico is probably due to the fact that this village is on the way to the Sanctuary of Loreto.

Stoplist and sonorities
The stoplist of the Testa organ presents different elements of originality. There are two 8′ Principals, of which the second is of sweeter tone; the first inner pipes were made in metal, and so they have been rebuilt this way. There are two flutes, one 22⁄3′ and the other 2′ (called by the builder Flautino), instead of the more common 4′ one. A 16′ Controbassi in spectacular chestnut wood, from C1 to C2, is coupled to the keyboard (the pedalboard is simply linked to the keys without an independent stop). The rarest stop is the 8′ Voce Umana, from F2. This well-known Italian stop, designed to beat in combination with the Principal, was widely used in northern Italy since around 1550, but it had never been used in Rome nor in other parts of central Italy until the beginning of the 18th century (apparently in Rome, Frescobaldi did not have the Voce Umana for his Toccate per l’elevazione). Therefore, this stop in the organ of San Quirico is the oldest that we know of among all the instruments built in Rome in the 17th century, and perhaps suggests that this stop was known by the organists of the Eternal City (we hope this hypothesis will be confirmed by other discoveries in the future). The effect of the drum is interesting and unusual; activated by the last pedal in the pedalboard, without its own pipes, it acts on the D1 and F1 notes of the keyboard.
The organ by Giuseppe Testa in Serra San Quirico offers us the possibility of finally hearing the tonal concept of this very important organbuilder from Rome, whose personality and craftsmanship are well evident not simply in the manufacture of the pipes and the mechanical parts, made with great knowledge, but also in the sound itself. At the time of the organ’s construction, Rome was an important center for organ music; it was dominated by Bernardo Pasquini, follower of the master Girolamo Frescobaldi. Many organists from Germany came to Rome to learn the latest organ style.
The measurements and the proportions of the pipes are such that their effect can be well appreciated by the ear. The sound is quite clear, bright and full of harmonics, even if not completely transparent but matched with a good fundamental and with generous speech. The main Principal is, along with the 22⁄3′ Flute, the stop with more fundamental, though it maintains a light character. The second Principal is sweeter than the main one but not dark. The 4′ Octave marks a tonal separation from the main Principal, because of its narrower scaling; that is why it is more penetrating and clear. The five ripieno ranks follow the same style of the 4′ Octave, and their sound is similar to strings, very open and brilliant.
The Voce Umana has a sound that matches better with the main Principal than with the second. The 22⁄3′ Flute is among the most surprising stops of the organ: its sound is strong, round and projects well in the church. It is only a hypothesis that the size of the other 2′ Flute recalls the Roman organs of 16′ that had 2′ and 11⁄3′ flutes. Its timbre is different from the 22⁄3′ one, less round, but does not lack sound. The 16′ Controbassi is also very clear and does not have a booming effect in the acoustic.
The restoration by Ars Organi has had the delicate responsibility to re-establish the original pitch with the best approximation possible, and to recreate the original sound of the instrument through an in-depth study and patient work of voicing, achieving surprising and very convincing results. This organ allows us to discover the sound conceived for the organ works of Bernardo Pasquini, and to execute with great taste all the literature of the 17th-century Italian masters as well as the German composers who took their inspiration while in Rome.
—Francesco Cera
Translation by Zoila Donati

The first time I saw the organ in the magnificent church of Santa Lucia, in 1987, I was aware that I was looking at an organ of rare beauty belonging to the Roman School, but I had no idea I was looking at the last masterpiece produced and signed by Giuseppe Maria Testa!
Obviously, whenever a restoration job is undertaken, one dreams of making an extraordinary discovery, like a hidden handwritten paper inside the windchest, or under the first key—or under the languid of the first front pipe! All of this, with other little discoveries, has allowed us to reconstruct the original look of the instrument.
The restoration work began in 1998 and ended in 2007. At the end of this job we produced an in-depth publication. I will later highlight the most important aspects regarding the tonal material.
Throughout three centuries the instrument has undergone numerous interventions, some of which have been particularly serious, such as converting the instrument to equal temperament, raising the pitch to 426 Hz at 11°C, tampering with the drawknobs, the modifications of the pedal windchest and the substitution of the original bellows. However, the original pipes were all present, even if they were seriously altered by the falling of the rackboard and by interventions made with little attention. The tops of the front pipes and of the internal ones had been cut and scrolled. Some feet of the façade pipes had dents that could easily be seen, and some toeholes had been altered and closed. A substantial number of factory-made pipes had been used to fill in or replace a few original pipes, which were considered impossible to save.
From a tonal standpoint, everything seemed to coincide with the original model, although a lot of the pipes in the ranks had been mixed, and not all of them played where they were supposed to. Even the pipes of the 2′ Flautino had been used in the 22⁄3′ Flauto in XII, and in their place in the 19th century someone had put a 4′ Ottavino. The first four pipes of the Principale Primo (front), originally made in metal, had been replaced in the 1800s with pipes made of fir. The 16′ Controbassi stop in chestnut, originally stopped, had been opened and doubled in its length with fir.
The survey has highlighted all the elements of the primary nucleus, then they have been rearranged according to the original numbers. By doing this, all the pipes that had been moved started to play, as they should have, consistently with the right balance between diameters and lengths. All operations providing the correct rearrangement have also restored uniformity of the thickness of the pipe metal, especially in the principals: very thin in the Principale Primo and Voce Umana, and much more robust in the Principale Secondo. The thicknesses of the metal of the Flauto in XII are much more substantial and they grow proportionally towards the high notes.
The bevel of the languids varies greatly according to the stops. The lab analysis produced the following results: front pipes 97.9% tin; inner pipes 98.4% lead. Following the preliminary phase, the pipes have all been cleaned and restored to their original conditions. During the last intervention the instrument had been retuned to 426 Hz at 11°C, and the temperament modified to equal, which made it necessary to lengthen all the pipes.
Once we collected all the non-original pipes, we proceeded building 154 pipes out of 471 (33%) using the same models, alloy and measurements of the originals. The pitch has been restored at 415.7 Hz at 14°C, humidity at 52%, while keeping in mind the pipes of the 16′ Controbassi, which maintained traces of the plugs inside, and the original metal pipes, which preserved unaltered voicing and length of the bodies. The temperament is again meantone ¼ comma.
The characteristics of the nicking are rather common to all the stops and count on average seven nicks per languid. For the Principale I, Principale II, the Ottava and the Voce Umana, the nicking is done all the way to the pipes of ½′.
The greatly varied bevel of the languids of the different stops and the differentiated scaling speaks by itself to the knowledge of Giuseppe Testa, who knew how to design the instruments he made with incredible taste and attention. The principals are differentiated in diameter and metal thickness. The ripieno ranks present a complex and elaborate mix of diameters that are narrow for the high notes and more generous in the low notes.
The Flauto in XII was thought out and realized with very clear principles, with diameters that start out rather narrow to widen later towards mid-keyboard, doing the same thing with increasing pipe metal thickness. This is the physical rendering of a wooden recorder, with its dynamic characteristics. All operations have been supervised and directed by the Italian authorities appointed to supervise all restorations in the Marche region, in this case Professor Maria Claudia Caldari and Maestro Mauro Ferrante.
Also part of this restoration were Andrea and Barbara Pinchi, Ivan Dumitrak, Marco Dominici. Assistant for voicing: Francesco Cera. Historical-philological research: M° Mauro Ferrante, Ispettore Onorario della Soprintendenza delle Marche; Prof. Paolo Peretti, Organologo e Musicologo, Conservatorio di Bari.
—Andrea Pinchi

The Organ
Keyboard 45 notes, short octave, C1–C5
Total width 653 mm

Pedalboard 10 notes, short octave, C1–C2 plus drum pedal

Stoplist
8′ Principale I
8′ Principale II
4′ Ottava
2′ Quinta Decima
11⁄3′ Decima Nona
1′ Vigesima Seconda
2⁄3′ Vigesima Sesta
1⁄2′ Vigesima Nona
8′ Voce Umana
22⁄3′ Flauto in XII
2′ Flautino
16′ Controbassi, stopped

The sights and sounds of Italy offer more inspiration than any score or treatise—they provide clues about the spirit of the music, where words and musical notation fall miserably short

What if I told you that there is surviving Italian organ music as splendid as Giovanni Gabrieli’s In Ecclesiis and as ethereal as Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere? A few months ago, I would not have believed it either. In fact, I was under the impression that compared to Italy’s glorious tradition of ensemble music, its organ music was of lesser importance, and its historical organs were pretty but small. On paper, every instrument looked the same—a single manual, one octave of pull-down pedals, and a stoplist consisting of a principal chorus (the Ripieno), a flute or two, and perhaps a Voce Umana.¹ Three months of studying organ in Italy with Francesco Cera radically changed my mind. I went intending to obtain a more complete picture of early organ music, having already spent time in France, Holland, and Germany. I left in love with a magnificent collection of keyboard music.  

My change of heart began not with the music but with the art and architecture of Italy. The entire country is like a giant open-air museum. Visitors can enter and experience the very places where Gabrieli, Frescobaldi, and so many others made music. That they were inspired by their surroundings is impossible to contest. These places are by definition inspiring. They were designed by the world’s greatest architects and filled with art by the greatest sculptors and painters from anonymous Roman masters to Pinturicchio, Raffaello, Michelangelo, Bernini, Tintoretto, and many others. Elaborate organ cases are among the most striking architectural features of many Italian churches and palace chapels. I began to realize that such glorious spaces where the organ had so much visual importance simply must have resounded with impressive organ playing. 

The instruments themselves also provided indisputable proof. They were far from boring. Though their stoplists were similar, their tonal character varied widely from region to region in a way that perfectly complemented the art and architecture of the area. What of the music that survived for these instruments? At first glance, it seemed simple to me, appeared not to require pedals, and certainly seemed an inappropriate choice for performance on modern instruments. Fortunately, all of this was only an illusion created by a style of musical notation that left many crucial interpretive decisions to the discretion of the performer, who would have been familiar with the contemporary musical style and performance practices. I learned why an understanding and appreciation of historical art, architecture, and instruments and a knowledge of the surviving repertoire and treatises are so crucial for today’s performer.  

Early Italian keyboard music is most successful when its interpretation is informed by historical sources and inspired by the conviction that it is the aural representation of Italy’s breathtaking visual splendor. Italy’s art, architecture, and music can be organized into regional schools based in four of Italy’s most historically important cities: Venice and Florence in the north, Rome in central Italy, and Naples in the south. Allow me to share some of the highlights of my journey to discover their art, historical organs, and keyboard music. 

Venetian Splendor 

Today, the city of Venice continues to exist mainly because of the tourists. Many of the locals have moved to the mainland. Nevertheless, the city’s colorful vibrancy and the remnants of its former grandeur are very evident. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the houses and shops, the green of the canals, the aquamarine of the lagoon, and the glistening white of the church façades are a feast for the eyes. Appropriately, Venice’s painters—Titian, Tintoretto and others—are famed for their use of color and the way that light seems to shine from within their paintings. Of the city’s 114 churches, the Basilica Cattedrale di San Marco is the most famous (Figure 1). One of the finest examples of Byzantine architecture, its exterior is covered with inlaid marble and carvings, while its interior glows with gilded mosaics. Besides its breathtaking opulence, the sheer size of the cathedral is impressive. Remarkably, at the time of Claudio Merulo (1533–1604), Andrea Gabrieli (1533–1585), and the rest of the illustrious line of musicians who worked here, San Marco was not a cathedral, but the private chapel of the Doge of Venice, and Venice was one of the richest and most important cities in the world! My impression of Venetian organ music changed completely when I examined it through the lens of Venice’s vibrant color palette and astounding splendor.

Organs of Northern Italy

The organs of northern Italy are characterized by their cantabile tone. Some also have much more colorful stoplists than organs in other parts of Italy. In 2006, Giorgio Carli completed the restoration of the 1565 Graziadio Antegnati organ of the Basilica di Santa Barbara, the private chapel of the duke of Mantua.  The organ’s case is beautiful. Its richly painted doors contrast with the white walls of the chapel. This instrument was built under the direction of organist and composer Girolamo Cavazzoni (1520–1577). Its 16′ plenum is glowing rather than brilliant, perfect for Cavazzoni’s music, which is closely related to choral polyphony. As was the norm in Italy until the 18th century, the organ is tuned in mean-tone temperament, but the keyboard has split keys (Figure 2), allowing the player to choose between D# and Eb and between G# and Ab, thus enabling one to play in many more tonalities and to better imitate the pure intonation that a vocal ensemble is able to achieve. The keyboard and pedalboard both have particularly long compasses, the keyboard from C to F5 and the pedalboard from C to A2. The music of Marc’Antonio Cavazzoni (1485–1550), Girolamo’s father, demands such a compass. This long key compass also permits the organist to play in different octaves, using the 16′ Principale at 8′ pitch, for example. The winding of this organ is a special treat. Rather than supplying an electric blower, Giorgio Carli installed an automatic bellow lifter to pump the bellows. This allows the player to experience the wonderful flexibility of playing on pumped wind without the trouble of hiring a person to pump the bellows.  

Near Mantua, in the Chiesa di San Tommaso Cantuariense in Verona, stands a well-preserved 18th-century organ built by Giuseppe Bonatti in 1716. It is a two-manual instrument with an unusually colorful stoplist and a lavish complement of special effects. The main manual controls the Grand Organo—the usual Ripieno plus a Cornetto (in two parts: 4′-22⁄3′ and 2′-13⁄5′), Trombe reali, and two flutes. An exquisitely crafted Regale with rare original parchment resonators mounted on a separate windchest like a Brustwerk is also playable from the main manual. The second manual controls the Organo Piccolo, a tiny 4′ echo division situated behind the player. Other special effects include a chorus of bird stops (Figure 3) and a Tamburo (a stop played by the lowest pedal note that imitates a drum using a cluster of bass pipes). The pedals are permanently coupled to the main manual, but this organ also includes an independent pedal reed and Contrabassi—octave of 16′ wooden pipes. The tone of the organ is sweet and elegant, thanks in part to its comparatively low wind pressure, a common feature of Italian organs. The wind pressure of this Bonatti organ is set at 53–55 mm. By contrast, the wind pressure of the comparably sized 1704 Schnitger organ in Eenum, the Netherlands, is set at 62.5 mm. The tonal variety and elegance of the Bonatti organ make it perfect for 18th-century music, including the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who, incidentally, played this instrument while on tour in Italy.   

Music of the Venetian and Emilian Schools

The keyboard music of northern Italy reached its peak during the Renaissance. Its focal point was the Basilica di San Marco in Venice. The splendid polychoral tradition of the basilica profoundly influenced the organ music of the Venetian school. Composers of the Venetian school were responsible for some of the most important developments in keyboard composition of both the Renaissance and the Baroque. Marc’Antonio Cavazzoni’s collection, Recerchari, mottetti, canzoni–Libro primo, printed in Venice in 1523, is one of the most important examples of early 16th-century organ music. Cavazzoni was born in Bologna, where he probably received his musical training at the Basilica di San Petronio, and likely knew the famous 1475 Lorenzo da Prato organ there. Later he moved to Venice and was an assistant to Adriano Willaert at San Marco. Cavazzoni’s recerchari are particularly significant, because they are among the earliest free compositions for the organ. These recerchari are majestic pieces written in an improvisatory style. Like later toccatas, they investigate idiomatic keyboard figuration rather than counterpoint. While his father, Marc’Antonio, was a pioneer in developing idiomatic keyboard figuration, Girolamo Cavazzoni, organist at Santa Barbara in Mantua, was a master of imitating vocal polyphony at the keyboard. An understanding of the text of the chants, motets, and chansons on which many of his works are based is absolutely crucial for a successful interpretation.  

Claudio Merulo and Andrea Gabrieli worked together as organists at San Marco. Merulo was renowned and influential during his lifetime. Girolamo Diruta dedicated Il Transilvano, one of the most important treatises on Italian organ music, to him. Merulo’s toccatas were the first to alternate virtuosic and imitative sections, a technique that Frescobaldi and the North German organ school would use later. Also, foreshadowing the Baroque, they often use ornamental figures as motives. Merulo’s music is full of unique written-out trills and diminutions. Studying it is an excellent way to learn how to add ornaments to repertoire of the 16th and early 17th centuries. In comparison, Gabrieli’s music may seem rather subdued, but, in fact, it only lacks the profusion of notated trills. Presumably, Gabrieli would have added these in performance. His Ricercari ariosi are particularly beautiful adaptations of the polychoral style.  

Eighteenth-century Bolognese composer Giovanni Battista Martini (1706–1784) was highly esteemed during his lifetime, and attracted students from around the world. Leopold Mozart even asked his advice concerning the talents of his son. Nevertheless, his surviving compositions do not seem to justify his reputation. They are pleasant but simple pieces in galant style. Consider them in context, however, and the picture changes. The majority of these pieces survive in manuscripts written in Martini’s own hand. They are predominantly written in two-voice structure, but occasional figured bass symbols suggest that they were really sketches, and that the organist was expected to fill out the texture by adding chords. Some of Martini’s Sonate per l’Elevazione survive in both simple and elaborately ornamented forms, exemplifying how he might have actually performed them.² Playing Martini’s music as written is a little like stripping a Baroque church down to bare plaster walls. Far from being easy and uninspiring, these pieces are charming examples of Italian Rococo organ style and exciting vehicles for creativity.

Rome’s Legacy

Rome is sometimes called “the Eternal City.” It displays its long rich history in an abundance of art and architecture (Figure 4). Romans are proud of their heritage. In the past, Rome’s great noble families collected antiquities, displaying them in their palaces. The Farnese collection, now on exhibit in the Naples National Archeological Museum, is particularly impressive evidence that admiration of antiquity dates back at least to the beginning of the 16th century. Many of its more than 300 marble sculptures were unearthed in archeological excavations specifically conducted on behalf of Pope Paul III and other members of the Farnese family. These same noble families and the Roman Catholic Church employed contemporary artists as well, who left masterpieces from every historical era. The poignant perfection of High Renaissance works like Michelangelo’s Pietà in St. Peter’s Basilica, the dramatic lighting and gestures of Baroque treasures like Caravaggio’s Crucifixion of Peter in the Chiesa di Santa Maria del Popolo or Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa in the Chiesa di Santa Maria della Vittoria, and the busy ornamentation of Rococo creations like the organ case of the Werle organ in the Basilica di Sant’Eustachio are all on display. In the churches, clouds of angels surround visitors, while the palaces seek to amaze them with marvels of architecture like Bernini’s and Borromini’s staircases, which compete for attention in the Barberini palace. For me, Rome’s deep appreciation of its long tradition of artistic excellence is the key to understanding the music written there.   

Organs of Central Italy

Only a few of Rome’s Renaissance and Baroque organs survive. As in many large wealthy European cities, pipe organs were replaced as fashions changed. Nevertheless, the smaller towns and villages in central Italy are home to a wealth of unique historical organs. It is far beyond the scope of this article to describe them all—the city of Rieti, where I spent much of my Italian sojourn, alone is home to 14 historical organs in varying states of playability. Let me begin by describing one of the oldest organs in Italy. It was built in 1509 by Paolo di Pietro Paolo da Montefalco, and is located in the Chiesa di San Francesco in Trevi, Umbria (Figure 5). This instrument is priceless for many reasons including its antiquity, its proximity to the birthplace of Girolamo Diruta, the way that it documents the history of organbuilding, and certainly also its beauty. Organbuilder Andrea Pinchi told me how thrilled he was to be given the opportunity to restore this instrument in 2005, having been convinced since he was a teenager that the case in the Chiesa di San Francesco held something very special. When it was first built, the organ consisted of a five-rank Ripieno and a Flauto in ottava.³ In the 17th century, a Flauto in duodecima was added, and in the 18th century the important Umbrian organbuilder Fedeli restored the instrument and added a Voce Umana and Cornetta. Because they reflect the historical development of the organ, these stops were all preserved in the restoration. The sound of this organ is bright and brilliant. The small Ripieno easily fills the sizable Gothic church. Like the Antegnati organ in Mantua, this was an instrument designed to imitate vocal music. Its extremely sensitive key action allows the player to create subtle text-like inflections by varying attacks and releases.

The organs that Frescobaldi played at St. Peter’s have long disappeared, but a splendid 17th-century Roman organ does survive to transport Frescobaldi’s sound world to the present day. The 1612 Giovanni Guglielmi organ in the Chiesa di Santa Maria in Vallicella (Figure 6) was restored by Ruffatti in the year 2000, but it continues to lack the international attention that it deserves. It is a large instrument based on 16′ pitch. The grandeur of the Ripieno is enhanced by many doubled ranks and by a trumpet. I was surprised to learn that a trumpet stop was a common feature of large Roman organs. The 1597 Luca Blasi organ of the Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano, for example, also includes a trumpet. Perhaps the most eye-opening aspect of the Guglielmi organ is its narrow pipe scaling. The organ’s sound is bright, almost nasal, but crystal clear. It is simply impossible to cover up passagework even with the densest chordal accompaniment. The spectacular case of this instrument is also noteworthy. It is, as it were, created using ornamentation, including two giant sculptures of angels, and the entire case is sumptuously overlaid with gold.⁴ The matching case in the other transept of the church now contains an 1895 Morettini organ, which also merits a visit.

Music of the Roman School

Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583–1643) grew up in Ferrara, home of the great d’Este family. While Frescobaldi was young, many notable composers—including Claudio Monteverdi, Orlando di Lasso, Claudio Merulo, and Carlo Gesualdo—visited court. As a child prodigy studying with court organist Luzzasco Luzzaschi, Frescobaldi absorbed these diverse influences. In his early twenties, he decided to seek his fortune in Rome, and proceeded to write and publish some of the most important music of the 17th century and to pass on his skill to talented students from all over Europe.  

Frescobaldi’s music is like the city of Rome. It glories in tradition while being unafraid of innovation. Walking in the footsteps of Lasso and Palestrina, Frescobaldi composes masterful counterpoint, but juxtaposes it with flamboyant baroque figuration, skillfully incorporating affect figures. In his performance instructions that preface Il primo libro di capricci of 1624,⁵ he explains that in his music the metrical relationships that were so important in Renaissance music are now governed by the mood of the music. His sacred music, including the three Masses of Fiori musicali and the two extended elevation toccatas from his Secondo libro di toccate, is deeply spiritual. Frescobaldi masterfully communicates the meaning of the Mass liturgy into his settings. His elevation toccatas take the listener on a journey through contemplation, sympathy, and ecstasy. Though at first glance Fiori musicali seems like just another book of short pieces, when these pieces are considered together they form imposing Mass settings, and it becomes clear that this collection shares the monumentality of other early Roman Baroque sacred art like the baldacchino that Bernini designed for St. Peter’s Basilica (Figure 7).

Similarly, Bernardo Pasquini’s (1637–1710) music demonstrates both his admiration for the past as well as contemporary tastes. His output is extensive and varied, ranging from works like the Fantasia la mi fa fa and the Capriccio in G, which recall Frescobaldi’s contrapuntal works, to figured bass sonatas and versets, to variations, toccatas, and suites in a style similar to that of his friend and colleague Arcangelo Corelli, and foreshadowing the keyboard writing of his most famous pupil, Domenico Scarlatti.  

Michelangelo Rossi’s (1601–1656) music shows the other face of the Roman Baroque—the face that seeks to shock and amaze, especially by breaking the rules. During his lifetime, Rossi was best known as a virtuoso violinist. He also composed at least two operas and spent most of his life working as a court rather than a church musician. His ten keyboard toccatas are formally similar to Frescobaldi’s toccatas, but are full of startling effects and chromaticism that borders on the grotesque. In them, extreme virtuosity makes up for contrapuntal simplicity.  

Neapolitan Daring

Drama and audacity are a key part of Neapolitan art. For twenty-five centuries, Naples has brazenly lain in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. It is a city of daring and a city of extremes. Emerging from the strange semi-darkness of the old city’s narrow streets, for example, one finds oneself confronted by the glittering brilliance of the bay. Neapolitan art and architecture express this too. Naples is famous for its seemingly quaint hand-crafted nativity scenes. Take a closer look, and you will find them full of drama enacted by humorous and grotesque characters. Behind a most forbidding fortress-like block façade, soars the opulent Baroque interior of the Chiesa del Gesù Nuovo, with its profusion of colorful frescoes, inlaid marbles, and priceless treasures. Similarly, the famous sculptures of the Cappella Sansevero, including Giuseppe Sanmartino’s The Veiled Christ, combine absolute technical perfection with gestures and facial expressions so full of pathos that they do not just invite an emotional response from their viewer, they force one. 

Organs of Southern Italy

My most memorable experience with southern Italian organs occurred during a trip to the town of Teggiano in the region of Campania. The south of Italy is full of secluded towns and villages and many undiscovered artistic treasures. Teggiano is home to several historical instruments, but the two most interesting were built around the turn of the 17th century—one in 1595 (Figure 8) and one in 1619 (Figure 9), only four years after the publication of Giovanni Maria Trabaci’s Secondo Libro de Ricercate et altri varij Capricci. Neapolitan-style instruments from this time period are extremely rare. Neither instrument is playable at this time.⁶ The restoration of the 1595 instrument is nearly complete, but has been suspended because of a lack of funding. The 1619 instrument, though magnificent, is still a ruin. Nevertheless, they still reveal much about Neapolitan organ music from the late Renaissance time. The pipe scaling used in these instruments is extremely narrow and would produce a sound as brilliant and arresting as the glaring Neapolitan sun. In addition, both instruments have very narrow cases that would act only as soundboards, and would not mix or soften the sound at all (Figure 10). 

The Neapolitan area was also home to talented 18th-century organbuilders, including Silverio Carelli. In 1784, Carelli built a beautiful instrument as a gift for the cathedral of his hometown of Vallo della Lucania. Its tone is sweet and full; several ranks including the Principale 8′ are doubled. Its keyboard and pedalboard are both fully chromatic, also in the lowest octave. The case is magnificent (Figure 11). Carelli spared no expense in building this instrument. He even included bagpipes, which could be used to play pastorali at Christmas time—so fitting in an area famous for its hand-crafted pastoral scenes.         

Music of the Neapolitan School

Like the Venetian school of keyboard music, the Neapolitan school flourished during the late Renaissance. Its leader was the Franco-Flemish composer Giovanni de Macque (1550–1614). He worked for the Gesualdo household and later as maestro di cappella for the Spanish viceroy. Giovanni Maria Trabaci (1575–1647) and Ascanio Mayone (1565–1627) served under De Macque as organists of the royal chapel. Their music is radical. De Macque’s in particular is full of daring harmonies and forbidden intervals. How it must have appalled proponents of strict Renaissance counterpoint! But then, it was written in Naples, not in Rome. As was the Neapolitan tradition, the music of De Macque, Trabaci, and Mayone is suitable for performance on keyboard instruments as well as on harp. It stands to reason that the composers assumed that the performer would make adjustments idiomatic to the instruments on which they chose to perform, adding a pedal part on the organ, arpeggiating chords on the harpsichord, and so on. Unlike Frescobaldi, none of the Neapolitan composers wrote prefaces including detailed performance practice instructions, but Trabaci does include an important word of warning in the preface to his Libro primo (1603).⁷ He writes that his music is carefully composed, but that study is necessary to discern the spirit of the music. Should the performer neglect to do this study, it will be their own fault if they did not succeed in realizing his intentions. Of course, it is impossible to know today exactly what Trabaci meant by this statement, but one thing is sure: in order to perform this Neapolitan music convincingly, it is crucial to study, determine the affect that the composer sought to convey, and then to do everything possible to communicate it as intensely as possible.

Conclusions

In conclusion, allow me to offer a few practical suggestions regarding interpreting the notation of early Italian organ music. Musical notation developed over the centuries to include more and more performance information. At first, however, it was simply a memory aid in a musical tradition that was transmitted orally. Early Italian notation of keyboard music gives no information about dynamics or registration, and little information about tempo or the use of pedal. Some composers, like Merulo, for example, notate trills and other ornaments, while others notate only the minimum of ornaments, and still others like Martini provide only a skeleton of their composition. Both the typesetting of modern editions as well as the moveable type in use in the 16th and early 17th centuries make this music appear rigid. Further, the time signatures and note values common at this time tend to be much larger than we are accustomed to today. Quarter notes in the music, for example, are often the same speed as what we would notate as eighth or even sixteenth notes today. As a result, this music can appear simple and boring at first glance. Performed with a good dose of imagination—and, as Trabaci reminds us, sufficient study—however, this music is completely captivating, and its exuberance is sure to attract music connoisseurs and first-time concertgoers alike.  

Diruta’s Il Transilvano (1593), Antegnati’s L’arte organica (1608), and Adriano Banchieri’s L’organo suonarino (1605), along with a good ear, are the best guides for choosing registration. In Renaissance music, a slow tactus permeates the music, and the relationships among meters help to establish a tempo. In Baroque music, the tempo is more flexible and governed by the affect of the music, as Frescobaldi discusses in the prefaces to his Libro primo di capricci and his two Libri di toccate. Historical Italian organs are the best source of information regarding pedaling. With the exception of some 18th-century organs, Italian organs have pull-down pedals with no independent stops, but they are very effective for reinforcing a cadence, harmonic sequences, or a cantus firmus. As Frescobaldi demonstrates in his two toccate sopra i pedali, the pedals can also be used to sustain pedal points. Most composers did not notate these pedal points, though their toccatas often feature extended passages decorating a single harmony. Adding a pedal point in these passages makes the organ sound much fuller and more impressive. Studying written-out ornaments and examples of diminutions in treatises like Silvestro Ganassi’s Opera intitulata Fontegara (1535) will help a performer to develop a repertory of ornaments. Playing from facsimiles of music that were published using beautiful copper engraving, like the toccatas of Frescobaldi and Rossi, allows one to avoid the uninspiring straightness of modern notation. As Frescobaldi counsels in the preface to his Fiori musicali, contrapuntal music should be studied in its original open score format. This is guaranteed to deliver much more coherent counterpoint.⁸   

Now is the perfect time to restore early Italian organ music from its relative neglect. Much music that was unavailable outside Italy has recently been released in excellent modern or facsimile editions, formerly unplayable instruments are being restored, research has uncovered helpful performance practice information, and new recordings of ancient instruments are allowing people around the world to experience their beauty for the first time.⁹ But, in my opinion, the sights and sounds of Italy offer more inspiration than any score or treatise. They provide clues about the spirit of the music, where words and musical notation fall miserably short.

The author thanks Francesco Cera for his assistance in preparing this article.  

Tradition and Development

A concert by Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini and Gustav Leonhardt at the Basilica of San Petronio in Bologna, held on October 27, 2000, provided the inspiration for  writing an article on the historical Italian organ, its tradition and development. My goal is to give a panoramic view of the subject, and anyone knows that when looking at a panoramic view much of the detail is lost. Still, such an attempt is worth carrying out because some general guidelines can in any case be drawn. To do so, it is necessary to go back a number of centuries and try to understand the original role of the organ in the musical world of Italian churches.

The Basilica of San Petronio is no ordinary place from the standpoint of organbuilding history. It enjoys the presence of two unique instruments: the oldest Italian organ in existence, built by Lorenzo da Prato between 1471 and 1475, roughly 20 years prior to the discovery of America by Columbus,1 and a later organ, built by Baldassarre Malamini in 1596. The instruments are located face to face in the area traditionally reserved for the choristers, behind the high altar.

The program notes for the Tagliavini-Leonhardt concert, written by Marc Vanscheevwijck, well explain the use for which organs of medieval and renaissance times were intended:

Alternatim performance practice, i.e., the performance of liturgical pieces alternating contrasting musical forces in the various versets of the sacred texts, originates in the old antiphonal singing of psalms of the first centuries A.D. In responsorial music a soloist or a small group of singers alternated with the larger choir. Sometimes they alternated plainchant with polyphonic settings of the text. Probably as early as the organ began to be used in church, the organist already improvised "versets," alternating with the choir singing the counter versets in Gregorian chant. Obviously, the schola never repeated the texts of the versets played by the organist, who improvised (and later composed) on the relative Gregorian melodies. The earliest source of such a practice is the Faenza Codex, compiled c.1420. During the following century this alternatim practice spread throughout Italy. Many alternatim settings, particularly of the mass proper, have been preserved, some of the most famous of which were composed by Girolamo Cavazzoni, Claudio Merulo, Andrea Gabrieli, and (in the 17th century) the Fiori Musicali of Girolamo Frescobaldi.2

Two aspects immediately come to mind:

1. The organ location, which for effective responsorial use had to be near the choir and not necessarily in a favorable position for the congregation,

2. A tonal structure suitable for dialogue with a small group of singers.

There was no need for a sound big enough to accompany the choir, simply because the organ was intended as a soloist. And accompanying the congregation was certainly not in the agenda, since people did not sing during liturgy in Italian Catholic churches until very recently.3

What effect did all of this have on the sound? Since power was not the issue, early Italian organbuilders developed their talents in other areas, and tonal quality became the priority. They created relatively small instruments, mostly with only one manual, with gentle, beautifully voiced stops. Wind pressures were in most cases quite low, down to 42-45 mm. at the water column, and the voicing techniques as well as the tonal design in general reflected such an approach.

Listening to music by Antegnati (also a famous Italian organbuilder), Segni, Veggio, Gabrieli and others performed on the beautiful organs of San Petronio gave me and the entire audience (a few hundred people all gathered in the large space behind the high altar, to be able to best hear the organs) a good perspective of the musical experience which was originally expected from such instruments.

It is my belief that the original DNA of ancient Italian pipe organs, as defined by their original use in the liturgy, played a decisive role in the subsequent evolution of the instruments. This was due to a strong sense of tradition among the vast majority of builders and to their reluctance to introduce changes to a practice which was considered successful. Examples to the contrary do exist, but any effort of generalizing, or extracting general rules from a complex reality, always ends up sacrificing notable exceptions.

In post-Renaissance times, organ use became widespread. All Italian churches had at least one organ and often one or two Positivo4  instruments in addition to the main organ. And a very significant change took place: in addition to being used as a solo instrument for improvisations and for the performance of written music, the organ also became an accompanimental instrument for the choir. Its location within the building also changed in most cases, taking into greater consideration the congregation as the beneficiary of musical performances: the preferred location for new instruments became a balcony facing the nave, which is still considered by many to be the ideal location for the best possible diffusion of sound within a building. Naturally, broader tonal resources had to be made available in order to accommodate this new function, but this did not cause a significant change in the original voicing practices. In other words, more stops were introduced and a Pedal division was added (normally consisting of one or two stops), but the basic tonal structure remained the same and no major changes took place in the sound: still low pressures and gentle voicing. After all, organs still did not need to be big or powerful, because they were not intended to support an entire congregation, just a choir.5

A further, major evolution took place as a result of the greater demands by the repertoire of the Romantic period. A great number of new stops were introduced: reeds of various types, more flutes, strings, even percussion: drums, cymbals, bells and the like. The organs built by the Serassi family of Bergamo towards the end of the eighteenth century and during the following century are a good example of the romantic Italian organ. The occupation of Bergamo by the troops of Napoleon (1796-1813) and subsequently by the Austrians (1814-1859) influenced organbuilding practices by introducing new musical models and, as a consequence, by contributing to the development of new devices and new sounds that would improve the performance of the music inspired by the teaching of Simon Mayr (1763-1845), by his pupil Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848) and by Gioacchino Rossini.6 The famous composer Felice Moretti (also known as Father Davide da Bergamo), a Franciscan monk and a family friend of the Serassi, composed music that was deeply influenced by opera. Also, Giuseppe II Serassi, the most innovative member of the family, introduced new devices aimed at facilitating the dynamic control of sound: the third hand, or mechanical super coupler, the fourth hand, or sub coupler, the expression shades, pedals for pre-set combinations of stops, an easier system for the coupling of the manuals (by means of a pedal and no longer by the sliding of the upper manual into position), settable combinations of stops, and the Tiratutti or Tutti for the Ripieno ranks.7

In spite of all of this, the ancient core of the instrument and the basic tonal concept behind it remained virtually unchanged for a good part of the nineteenth century. Low wind pressures were still the rule, as well as unforced voicing, fairly open pipe toes, and few nicks at the languids. As a consequence,   there was a broad harmonic development in the sound, allowing a very effective use of each stop in combination with others and forming an ensemble of rare cohesion and beauty. Pressures of sometimes less than 50 mm. at the water column naturally presented a real challenge, particularly for the voicing of reed stops, but this had the effect of encouraging builders to find original design and voicing methods to overcome the difficulties.8

At this point, it is necessary to define the tonal core of the organ which I have indicated as an element of continuity in Italian organbuilding throughout the centuries. Its main component is the Ripieno. The term does not translate to Mixture, but rather it defines a series of individual Principal scaled ranks of pipes at various pitches, creating a system of sounds at harmonic intervals, normally beginning with 8' pitch as the foundation of the manual.

The composition of a typical Ripieno with its traditional nomenclature follows:

Principale (I) 8'

Ottava (VIII) 4'

Decimaquinta (XV) 2'

Decimanona (XIX) 11/3'

Vigesima seconda (XXII) 1'

Vigesima sesta (XXVI) 2/3'

Vigesima nona (XXIX) 1/2'

Trigesima terza (XXXIII) 1/3'

Trigesima sesta (XXXVI) 1/4'

And occasionally:

Quadragesima (XL) 1/6'

Quadragesima Terza (XLIII) 1/8'

The highest pitch in the entire Ripieno is in most cases the note C at 1/8'. Beyond this limit a ritornello or break begins with pipes double the length, or one full octave lower in pitch.9

Table 1 is intended to give a clear and comprehensive idea of the tonal composition of the Ripieno. The method I am utilizing is unconventional and it consists of identifying each pipe by a number corresponding to its place in an ideal succession of notes starting with number 1 as low C of the 8' Principal. Low C at 4' will consequently be numbered as 13, low C at 2' will be numbered as 25 and so on. The highest pitch pipe in the Ripieno will be number 73, corresponding to the pitch limit of 1/8'. Once a rank reaches note number 73 it will break back and start a ritornello with note C#62 (or one full octave lower). To simplify matters, I am showing the first octave as complete (12 notes). The most common arrangement in Italian historical organs calls for a short first octave (8 notes, with C#, D#, F# and G# missing). Notes are identified by octave number, according to the Italian system, by which C1 corresponds to note C of the first octave, F3 to note F of the third octave, and so on. The chosen compass for our example is of 49 keys, C1 to C5. This system, by numbers rather than by footage, is intended to provide a more immediate idea of the repetition of equal size pipes throughout the compass for the entire Ripieno. Equal number means equal size pipe.

The conventional method is shown in Table 2. The Ripieno here is comparable, in pure terms of number of pipes, to a Principal chorus with 8', 4' and 2' stops plus a six-rank mixture. But by looking at Table 2 one can immediately appreciate the vast difference from such an arrangement. At note C#2 the first doubling or double pitch appears: pipes from the 1/2' rank (XXIX) and 1/4' rank (XXXVI) become of identical size. Consequently, between notes C#2 and F2 the tonal effect is not that of a six-rank mixture but rather of a five-rank mixture with one of the ranks doubled. This aspect becomes more and more prominent as we move up the keyboard, to the point that at note C#4 (key number 38) with all ranks from Decimaquinta (2') up drawn, only two pitches can be heard: 2', repeated 4 times, and 11/3', repeated three times. As one can easily appreciate, such tonal structure cannot be compared with that of a Mixture, or Fourniture or any other multiple-rank stop designed as a single entity. The Ripieno is simply different. It is conceived as a sum of individual ranks at different pitches, each separately usable in combinations with any other rank and all usable at once as a pleno.10

Obviously, this feature provides a great deal of flexibility in the tonal palette. From an organbuilder"s practical standpoint, it has two effects:

1. It forces the voicer to be extremely scrupulous as to the tonal balance, regulation and speech adjustment of each pipe even in the highest pitched ranks, since each can be separately used;

2. It makes tuning more difficult, due to the drawing effect on the equal pitched pipes when they play together. Only a tuner who knows how to deal with such a problem can obtain a stable tuning of the Ripieno.11

Tuning with double pitches was nothing new to ancient builders. In fact, pre-Renaissance and Renaissance organs, in Italy as well as in other European countries, often had double or even triple notes of equal length in the treble of the Principal, the Octave and sometimes the Fifteenth, to enhance the singing qualities of the instrument in the treble. This practice strangely survived, in some areas of Italy, all the way to the beginning of the 19th century. This proves that the difficulties connected with the tuning of multiple equal-pitched pipes never bothered Italian organbuilders too much.12

Other traditional stops forming the original core of the historical Italian organ include the following:

Flauto in Ottava (4'), normally tapered or cylindrical, sometimes stopped

Flauto in Decimaquinta (2') in the earlier instruments

Flauto in Duodecima (22/3')

The Terzino, or Tierce flute (13/5') was later added and, in the nineteenth century, the Flauto Traverso or Fluta (8', normally in the treble only).

Early strings appeared in the eighteenth century, at 4' in the bass and occasionally over the entire compass, but such stops were vastly different from what we think of as a string today. They had no ears, no beards, no nicks at the languids. These characteristics, combined with a very narrow scale, contributed to produce a sound with a very prominent transient at the attach and a cutting sustained tone, strongly imitative of early string instruments.

The Voce Umana or Fiffaro, a Principal-scaled stop at 8' pitch (treble only) was also used in the Renaissance and became increasingly more common in the Baroque and later periods. Its pipes were normally tuned sharp against the 8' Principal, except in the Venetian tradition and among a few builders in the south of Italy, where flat tuning was preferred.

The above description, as I have said earlier, represents a simplification of a much more complicated subject, and many examples exist that do not follow the rule.13 Also, all of those who are familiar with ancient Italian organs will agree that the tonal experience that comes from a Callido or a Nacchini organ is vastly different from that of an Agati or a Catarinozzi. They were expressions of very different artistic environments and the builders were very faithful to their own local traditions.

What happened in nineteenth-century Italian organbuilding is worth investigating a bit more closely. Early signs of rejection of the Italian romantic organ appeared. In 1824 the Cardinal Vicar of Rome promulgated an edict stating: "Organists may not play on the organ music written for theater, or with profane character, but only music that can encourage meditation and devotion . . . "14 Still, many of the major builders in the north, as well as many in other parts of the country, continued in their tradition of building instruments without changing their style.15 But at some point, foreign influence became a strong factor16 and the "new inventions," the Barker lever first and then pneumatic and electric action, came into the picture.17 Pneumatic action in particular and the new sounds, such as the "modern strings" and harmonic stops demanded higher wind pressures, and the organ sound became stronger and aggressive. But, as we all know, pneumatic action represented only a relatively short transition period in organbuilding history, and a further evolution of the instrument was soon marked in the following century by a perfected electric action and by the rediscovery, in the mid 1960s, of tracker action. This movement was immediately promoted by some of the major Italian builders18 and it became stronger and stronger over the years. The neoclassical instrument was created, based on mechanical action and on the re-discovery of the traditional sounds and voicing techniques. But, as it is often the case, the intent was not that of copying the past but rather of preserving the best of tradition within a new context which was calling for a new use of the organ: the support of congregational singing.

One may get the impression that it is impossible to extract a general trend from this entire process of evolution. Still, I believe that one common denominator can be found: the unforced, pleasing singing quality that has survived unchanged for over five centuries, and which effectively represents, in musical form, the character of the Italian language.

Notes

                  1.              The instrument consists of one manual and short pedalboard, as follows. Manual: F1-A4 without F#1, G#1; divided keys G#1/Ab1, G#2/Ab2, G#3/Ab3; Pedal: F1-D2 directly connected to the corresponding manual keys. The stoplist follows:

Principale contrabasso (24', façade) - doubled from C#3

Principale (12', rear façade - doubled from C#3, triple from Bb3)

Flauto in VIII

Flauto in XII

Ottava (doubled from Bb3)

XII

XV

XIX

XXII

XXVI-XXIX

Spring windchest, A = 470 Hz, meantone temperament; restoration by Tamburini, 1974-1982. The above information is the courtesy of Liuwe Tamminga, recitalist and organist at the Basilica of San Petronio.

                  2.              Concerning earlier use of the organ in western world churches, see Peter Williams (Duke University, Durham, NC) in his essay "The origin of the Christian organ with some particular reference to Italy," Acts of the International Symposium on "I Serassi--L"arte organaria fra sette e ottocento," Ed. Carrara, Bergamo, 1999, p. 12. Referring to the early Middle Ages, he writes: "I don"t know any evidence that organs were brought into church in order to accompany singing--whether it was the celebrant singing at mass, the lay people responding with their own acclamations, or the monks chanting their daily office in private or in public. All that one can be certain about is that organs were there to provide sound, and whatever later music historians may have assumed, it is seldom if ever clear what kind of sound they made, or for what purpose and at what point they made it. Only from the thirteenth century onwards the picture is clear . . ."

                  3.              While the practice of congregational singing at celebrations in Italian churches may have had its first examples at the end of the nineteenth century, it was during the Second Vatican Council that this practice was actually encouraged.

                  4.              A Positivo can be described as a smaller size "cabinet" organ, self-contained, whose casework is normally divided in two sections: the lower case, containing the bellows (normally two multi-fold hinged bellows activated by levers), and the upper case, which sits on top and which holds the keyboard, the windchest and pipes. It was almost invariably built without independent pedal stops,  and its pedalboard, when present, consisted normally of one short octave, whose keys were connected to the corresponding keys of the first octave at the manual by means of strings or wires. Although easily movable (sometimes large handles on the sides of the two sections of the case indicate this possibility), it is different from a Portativo, an even smaller instrument whose primary function was that of providing music during outdoor processions.

                  5.              Larger instruments are not unknown to historical Italian organbuilding. I will mention two examples of rare complexity:

a.) The instrument at the church of San Nicolo L"Arena in Catania, by Donato del Piano (1698-1785), with a total of five keyboards, divided between three consoles attached to the case (1 manual - 3 manuals - 1 manual) with the larger console in the center and one pedalboard for the center console, plus a separate small automatic pipe instrument activated by a rotating drum. This enormous, beautiful instrument, now in a poor state of disrepair (among other things, the pipes have all been removed and stored), includes pipework of extremely unusual shape.

b.) The great organ at the Church of the Cavalieri di S. Stefano in Pisa, built between 1733 and 1738 by Azzolino Bernardino della Ciaia (1671-1755) with the help of other organbuilders from different parts of Italy, with four manuals plus a fifth manual activating a harpsichord. This organ was later converted into a pneumatic instrument and subsequently electrified. Only a portion of the original pipework survives.

                  6.              See Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini, "Le risorse dell"organo Serassiano e il loro sfruttamento nella prassi organistica dell"epoca," in Acts of the International Symposium on "I Serassi--L"arte organaria fra sette e ottocento", Ed. Carrara, Bergamo, 1999, pp. 80-84.

                  7.              See Giosue Berbenni, Acts of the International Symposium on "I Serassi--L"arte organaria fra sette e ottocento," Ed. Carrara, Bergamo, 1999, pp. 22-24.

                  8.              The lower the wind pressure, the thinner the tongues must be to obtain promptness of speech. But thin tongues also produce undesirable side effects, notably:  a) A thinner timbre in general, with greater development of overtones and less fundamental; b) Uncontrollable sound at the bass register, where any reed naturally tends to become louder; c) Very weak trebles. To overcome these problems, a series of interesting methods were developed. I will mention a few:

a.) Wide and deep shallots to increase the volume of air excited by the tongue, with the effect of increasing the prominence of the fundamental in the tone;

b.) Double or even triple tongues at the low register, to control volume, timbre and stability;

c.) Variable tongue thickness at the treble, with the filing of the tip to obtain promptness while retaining a good volume of sound.

For a more complete description of voicing methods on low pressure reeds, with specific reference to the reeds of Serassi organs, see Francesco Ruffatti in "I registri ad ancia negli organi Serassi," Acts of the International Symposium on "I Serassi--L"arte organaria fra sette e ottocento," Ed. Carrara, Bergamo, 1999 pp. 144-150.

                  9.              When the lowest pitched stop on the manual is the Principal 16' the nomenclature remains the same, although all stops start one octave lower in pitch. The stoplist becomes:

Principale (16')

Ottava (8')

Decimaquinta (4')

Decimanona (22/3')

and so on. In essence, the organ is still seen as based on the 8' Principal, with the extension of a counter octave towards the bass (see my article on Gaetano Callido, December, 1999 issue of The Diapason, p. 17, Note 8).

                  10.           Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini in his article "Il ripieno," L"organo, Year 1, No. 2, July-December, 1960, Ed. Patron, Bologna, points out the difference between the Italian Ripieno and the northern European mixtures as follows:

"a) The classical Italian ripieno is divided into its constitutive elements, corresponding to separate stops, while the foreign mixtures, starting from a certain pitch (from 4', from 22/3', from 2', from 11/3' etc.) are condensed into one stop;

b) Both in the ripieno and in the northern mixtures a gradual "compression" towards the treble takes place, a compression which is more limited in the German and northern European organ, greater in the Italian organ. In fact a ripieno will have a "compressed" extension in the treble, reduced from 8' to 2', while in the Mixtur-Scharf scheme the treble is extended between 8' and 1';

c) The "masking" of the jumps produced by the breaks is done differently in Italy from abroad; in Italy, by the division of breaks into two different points, one for the octave stops and one for the quint stops; abroad by the partial or complete substitution of the break in quint and fourth with the one in octave.

The northern European mixtures, through a particular interpretation of the break and without any fear of going beyond the pitch limits in the bass and the treble as imposed by the Italian ripieno, tend to make the tonal "density" more uniform, by reducing the difference between the tonal richness of the bass and the treble. Part of such uniformity is sacrificed by the Italian organbuilder in favor of tonal beauty. This is why the use of the Italian ripieno is mostly chordal and for toccatas, while the northern European organum plenum, especially the German, can also perform a polyphonic role."

In c) Tagliavini refers to alternation of quint and unison breaks within the same rank in all ranks of the mixture.

The pitch limit of northern European mixtures and related stops is often C at 1/16', close to the limit of human hearing, one full octave higher than the Ripieno and this factor alone determines a dramatic difference in the sound from the Ripieno.

                  11.           Drawing is an acoustical phenomena by which the sound of a pipe is drawn or pulled into tune by the sound of a second pipe which is playing an interval close to being pure or in tune. This effect is stronger between unison pipes; when tuning the second pipe to the first, its sound will slide into tune as soon as its frequency approaches that of the first pipe, but before it actually reaches the same value, thus determining an apparent tuning condition. Adding a third pipe and trying to tune it to the two previous sounds becomes impossible if the first two pipes are in a status of apparent unison, because each of the two sounds will react to the third pipe differently, according to their real frequency value. The difficulties increase exponentially from note C#4 up in the example shown, where two groups of 4 and 3 equal size pipes respectively play at once. The procedure to tune the Ripieno is consequently different and definitely more complicated than that of a regular mixture stop, as it must take into account the drawing of equal length pipes.

                  12.           I am here mentioning two organs, built in Tuscany by the Paoli family of Campi Bisenzio at the beginning of the 19th century, both restored by Fratelli Ruffatti in recent years:

a.) the organ in the Church of S. Francesco in Pontassieve, near Florence, built by Giacobbe Paoli, which includes doublings at the Principale starting with note Bb3, at the Ottava from note F3 and at the Decimaquinta also from note F3;

b.) the organ built by Michelangelo Paoli in the Basilica of S. Maria, Impruneta - Firenze, utilizing the pipes of a previous instrument by Bernardo d"Argenta, 1535, which has doublings at the Principale starting from note F#3, at the Ottava from note B3 and at the Decimaquinta from C4. Having re-built the windchest entirely, the builder could have easily eliminated the doublings had he not believed in the validity of such tonal approach.

                  13.           As an example, Sicilian organs in the 18th century were often built with multiple Ripieno ranks activated by a single stop control.

                  14.           See "La riforma dell"Organo Italiano" by Baggiani, Picchi, Tarrini, Ed. Pacini, Ospedaletto (Pisa), 1990, pp. 9-10.

                  15.           The largest instrument built by the Serassi family, the "Organum maximum" with three keyboards and over three thousand pipes, was built in the romantic style as late as in 1882. This instrument was restored by Fratelli Ruffatti between 1983 and 1985. It includes many of the effects which were rejected by liturgists, such as the drum, a bell and other percussion.

                  16.           Ferdinando Casamorata (1807-1881), musician and music scholar, introduced the work of Cavaillé-Coll to the Italian musical scene by making public the work of J. A. De La Fage "Orgue de l"Église Royale de Saint Dénis, construit par MM Cavaillé-Coll père et fils, Facteur d"orgues du Roi." Rapport. II edition, Paris, 1846. See "La riforma dell"Organo Italiano" by Baggiani, Picchi, Tarrini, Ed. Pacini, Ospedaletto (Pisa), 1990, p. 12. He gave explanations and favorable comments on some of the most remarkable characteristics of the instrument, notably the variety of wind pressures, the Barker lever, the "strength" of the upper registers, especially the reed stops, etc., and presenting them as valuable innovations worth imitating.

                  17.           An important role in this process was played by George William Trice (1848-1920), a British merchant who became an organbuilder and established a factory in Italy. He built the first electric action organ in 1888 for the Church of S. Andrea, Genoa. Other notable instruments followed, among which the three-manual instrument for the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Genoa, inaugurated in 1890 with concerts by Alexander Guilmant and Filippo Capocci.

18.               

Tamburini and Ruffatti were the first major Italian companies, in the early 1960s, to resume building mechanical action instruments.

Francesco Ruffatti has been a partner since 1968 of Fratelli Ruffatti, builders and restorers of pipe organs, in Padova, Italy. Besides being the tonal director of the firm, he is actively involved in the research on historical Italian organs and the supervision of the many historical restorations performed by the firm.

Fabrizio Scolaro has studied organ, harpsichord, and composition at the conservatories of Bologna and Vicenza, and with Harald Vogel, Michael Radulescu, Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini, Monika Henking, Ton Koopmann, and Jordi Savall. He has been a teacher of organ for several years, and is involved in concert activity both as a soloist and with chamber orchestras. Every Sunday he plays the G. Cipri organ (1556) of the Basilica di San Martino in Bologna. Since 2000, he has worked in the voicing department of Fratelli Ruffatti, organbuilders of Padova, Italy, as a reed and flue voicer and tonal finisher, both in the field of historical restorations and new instruments.

It is a general belief that the stop composition of historical Italian organs is rather standardized, based on a series of principal-scaled stops forming the Ripieno, and enriched by one or two flutes. In many cases and especially for certain historical periods, this is a correct assumption; however, exceptions abound.
Organbuilding has been greatly influenced by the peculiar Italian geographical configuration, by its very interesting history, and its political fragmentation into a number of states, to the point that even a small distance between two cities or two areas often exhibited marked differences in organbuilding practices. A notable example of this is the coexistence, around the middle of the 18th century, of two organbuilding schools, featuring drastic differences in the tonal character of their instruments: one in the city of Venice and the other in the Lake Garda territory, two areas that are geographically very close.
The Italian organ did not crystallize its tonal structure, as many believe. Quite to the contrary, it remained open to influences coming from across the Alps, by incorporating new stops, mechanical features or accessories, and special effects that ended up becoming common even in smaller instruments. A notable aspect of this is the presence of accessories and special effects. The use of the tremulant, of ingenious systems imitating birds (sometimes of different species) or of singing insects, the rolling of drums, and the sound of shepherds’ bagpipes is mentioned in a number of texts, not necessarily connected to organ music. Here are a few examples:

The organs built by Vincenzo the Flemish, the first located in the Cathedral of Orvieto played by Gio. Pizzoni, the second in S. Pietro at Gubbio and played by Grisostomo Rubiconi; they both deserve being greatly praised, and in particular the one in S. Pietro, which in addition to 12 continued organ stops [meaning Principal-scaled stops extended for the entire keyboard’s compass], is enriched by the presence of an equal number of stops imitating stopped and open Flutes . . . Drums, Tremulant, and Nightingales . . . .1

. . . there is a precious and rare organ, comprising 2,800 pipes, with 40 stops, the sound of which imitates that of Trompettes, Timpani, the song of birds . . . .2

. . . In the organ of S. Giustina in Padova one hears the Trompette, and the Viola, the Violin, and also the song of various birds . . . .3
The purpose of this article is to present the history of such effects and accessories in Italian organs and to provide suggestions for their use in musical performances, on the basis of documents, books written by scholars and composers of organ music, and also by notations in musical manuscripts (few in earlier times, but which became more and more abundant and specific later on). A further source is the Tabelle di Registrazione (registration charts) that a small number of organbuilders wrote and left with their instruments, as instruction manuals to prevent registration mistakes or to suggest the best ways to utilize their instruments.
While a wide variety of sources has been consulted, it is, however, almost inevitable to have left out some of them. Italy is extremely rich in this respect, with its large number of organbuilding schools and the variety of instruments that still exist or that existed in the past, but for which we still have documentation. Many documents (contracts, descriptions) are certainly yet to be discovered in the archives of churches and monasteries.
The starting point that I have chosen for this research is the first part of the sixteenth century. At that time, the Renaissance—one of the most extraordinary and rich periods in the history of humankind—was flourishing in Italy. The splitting of the territory into many different states ruled by marquises, dukes, princes, and kings—all very rich and prosperous, all competing with each other to obtain the work of the most famous artisans and artists—produced an artistic level that is among the highest in all of art history. The names of the painters, sculptors, and artists in general that one would have then encountered in the squares, churches, and palaces throughout Italy are the same names that we encounter today in the most famous museums. It is obvious that such intense artistic and economic activity would attract artists and artisans from other European countries. What was happening in the figurative arts had its parallel in music as well. The names of Costanzo Festa, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, and Claudio Merulo were mixed with those of Adrian Willaert, Jakob Arcadelt, and Orlando di Lasso, to mention just a few, the latter all coming from northern Europe.
In organbuilding, the work within Italy of artisans coming from across the Alps helped enrich the tonal spectrum of the Italian organ, and influenced the local organbuilding schools. The foreign organbuilders brought with them from their original countries the effects and accessories, but also different pipe types, such as stopped pipes, for example, and these new features and ideas were readily adopted by local organbuilders.
As we will see, during that period the new special effects (tremulant, rolling drum, and nightingale) were systematically introduced from the north to the south of Italy, even to already-existing instruments.

The Tremulant
The introduction of the tremulant (tremolo in Italian, also referred to in the past as tremolante, tremolare, tremolli) in an organ requires a rather simple mechanism. Two types were used in the Renaissance and in successive centuries: the open wind tremulant (also called lost wind tremulant) and the closed wind tremulant.
In the first case, a pallet, to which a spring or a weight is applied, is located externally over an opening in the windline or in the windchest. When the pallet is released and made free to move, the pressure inside the wind system will try to push the pallet open, while the spring or weight installed over the pallet will react by applying a contrasting force. The result is an oscillation of the pallet, which determines a periodic release of wind out of the system and a resulting periodic pressure drop, which in turn creates the undulating effect in the sound. This was the most common system during the Renaissance.
In the second case (the closed wind system), the pallet is installed inside the windline to stop the wind flow. When the tremulant is not active, the pallet is pulled up in the open position and the wind can flow without restrictions. The device is activated by releasing the pallet, which, by falling down in the closed position, tends to prevent the wind from flowing. This creates a periodic oscillation of the pallet, pushed open by the wind rushing through, but the pallet being heavy enough to try to return itself to the closed position by gravity. The resulting wind instability creates the undulating effect. This system is very close, if not identical, to the one described a few centuries later as Tremblant doux by Dom Bedos.4
The two types of tremulant produce two different effects on the sound of the instrument: The “open wind” system has an oscillating frequency that is independent of the number of notes played by the organist (or, in other words, by the wind absorption), while the “closed” system is effective only when a few notes are played, but loses its speed and depth as the wind consumption is increased by pulling more stops or by playing big chords, to the point of losing its effect completely.
During the restoration of the 1519 organ built by Giovanni Piffero, located in the Palazzo Pubblico at Siena, one of the oldest examples of the introduction of an open wind tremulant in an Italian organ was found.5 Starting from this date, evidence of the manufacturing of organs with tremulants, or of their additions to existing instruments, becomes more and more frequent in instruments located throughout the Italian peninsula.
In 1561, Massimiliano da Udine included the tremulant in the contract for the organ for the Sisters of San Daniele in Venice, an instrument that no longer exists.6 During the same year, in Sicily, Silvestro Colliga included a “Flute in the German style with its Tremulant” for the organ of S. Antonio Abate in Palermo.7
In 1570, the Venetian organbuilders Emiliano and Giulio Zacchino were contracted to restore the new organ in the Basilica of S. Antonio in Padova, and, among other things, to update the fiffari (meaning the tremulant) to modern practices.8 In 1577, the brother organbuilders Vittore and Federico Federici restored the organ in the Cathedral of Feltre, and among the repairs needed, they included a modification of the tremulant to make it reproduce the effect of the fiffaro.9
These last two citations are particularly important to help us understand one of the most frequent uses of the tremulant in musical performances.
It is first of all necessary to note that in Italy in the 16th and 17th centuries, the term fiffara or fiffaro was used with reference to the transverse flute (also then called traversa or fiffaro traverso).10 A further name for the same instrument was Flauto alemanno or Flauto alla todisca (or tudisca), meaning flute in the German style.11 One of the most valued characteristics of such stops was the vibrato: Martin Agricola, in 1545, in the fourth edition of his work Musica instrumentalis deudsch, calls the transverse flutes Schweitzer Pfeiffen, and writes that it is good practice to use them with oscillating breath.12
One of the first sources on the use of the tremulant is the registration chart written or dictated, probably in 1558, by organbuilder Vincenzo Colombi for the organ in Valvasone, where the use of the “flauto along with the fiffaro”13 is suggested. (Photo 1) The tremulant is there called fiffaro, thus exchanging the end result (the imitation of the transverse flute) with the means to obtain it.
As mentioned above, Silvestro Colliga in 1561 promised to manufacture a
Flauto alla todisca with its tremulant. Similarly, in other contracts for Sicilian organs, in almost every case where flutes with stopped pipes are mentioned—to imitate the flutes alla todisca, or of German style—the tremulant appears as well.14 It is therefore clear that it was rather common practice among organists to imitate the transverse flute by combining the flute stop (whether made of stopped pipes or not) with the tremulant. However, we need to wait until the beginning of 1600 in order to find texts of wider diffusion, containing specific indications on the use of tremulants in pipe organs.
In 1608, Costanzo Antegnati wrote L’arte organica. In the portion of this treatise that deals with registration practices, he explains that the tremulant can be used with the Principale alone, but only when playing slowly and without diminutions, in order to accompany motets with few voices or to play softly.15 Later on, Antegnati provides another indication on the use of the tremulant, stating that it can be used with the Ottava and the Flauto in Ottava, or (proposing the registration suggested by Vincenzo Colombi 50 years before) even with the Flauto in Ottava alone, again specifying that it is necessary to avoid fast playing or rapid phrasing. He had previously noted that those who play rapidly with the use of the tremulant show bad taste16 because such an accessory confuses the sound when notes are played at a fast pace.
In 1610, Claudio Monteverdi, in his music for the Vespers,17 expressly requests for the organ—which provides the basso continuo—the registration of Principale and tremulant,18 from the end of the 11th to the 19th measure of Versus 3 “[quia respexit] humilitatem ancillae suae” of the II Magnificat a sei voci. It is to be noted that the same verset in the primo Magnificat had been orchestrated with two real fiffare (then two trombones and subsequently two blockflutes),19 while the organ was accompanying with the Principale alone: once again, it is quite evident that the tremulant is used to imitate the “affetto” or the sensation created by the transverse flutes.
In 1622, Girolamo Diruta explains the use of the tremulant in the course of his dialogue Il Transilvano,20 saying that the second tone makes the harmony melancholy, and it requires the Principale (by itself) with the tremulant, while the fourth tone makes it lamentevole (mournful), mesta (sad) and dogliosa (grievous), and this effect is obtained by the Principale with the tremulant or a Flute stop played in the appropriate range of the keyboard and with the correct melodic behavior. As one can see, Diruta narrows down, or redefines, the use of the tremulant, by associating it to the basic tone (second or fourth) of the music being played, and to the character that such tone gives to the pieces (melancholy, mournful, sad, grievous).
Toward the end of the 16th century, with the advent of the Voce Umana stop21 (a principal-scaled rank of pipes beating with the Principale), once again called Fiffaro, the tremulant gradually disappeared from the tonal compositions of new instruments. The sound of the new stop, which played in the treble section of the keyboard, was better, richer, and more interesting than the simple mechanical oscillation of sound. However, in 1718 it is possible to find yet another citation on the use of the tremulant: it can be found in the registration table of the organ built by W. Hermans in 1650 for the Cathedral of Como. It includes a complete description of the instrument and quite a few suggestions on the use of the stops. At #45 of the list in the chart, one reads “Voce Umana, Principale e Tremolo,” where the Voce Umana is in this case a reed stop (a Vox Humana). Later on, in the paragraph entitled “For the music,” it is explained that such a Voce Umana can be used with the tremulant in the bass portion of the keyboard, while the Principale and Tromba are played in the treble section, or the contrary (left hand with the Principale and Tromba, right hand with Voce Umana and tremulant). Such combinations are made possible by the presence of two manuals. As a conclusion for the long series of registration suggestions, the registration table states that “the tremulant can be used at the discretion [of the organist], when one, two or at most three stops are played.”22

The Nightingale
The Nightingale—literally translated in Italian as Usignoli, but normally referred to with the more generic term Uccelliera (song of birds) and sometimes also called, in various linguistic variants, stortis philomelis,23 ocellj, risignoli,24 rossignoli, usignoli, passeri (sparrows), canarini (canaries)—is uniform in its construction features: it consists of a series of two or more pipes mounted upside down, with the ends of their resonators submerged in water. (Photos 2, 3 and 4) When the pipes play, the wind coming out of the resonators sets the water in motion, and this creates an effect on the sound of the pipes that very realistically simulates that of singing birds.
Traces of the presence of nightingales even in important instruments are numerous. Starting from just before the mid-1500s, they continue until 1880 without interruption all over the Italian territory from north to south, as evidence that such effects were held in high esteem by the organbuilders who manufactured them, and by their clients.
One of the first traces of such a device is connected to Vincentio Beltramo, who came from the Burgundy region of France, and who in 1544 signed a contract for a new organ for the church of San Nicola at Tortoreto (Teramo), in the Marche region, mentioning the Nightingale among the other stops.25
In 1569, Lodovico Arnoldo, a Flemish organbuilder, restored the organ at the Pieve di S. Maria in Gemona, adding, among other things, the Nightingale, as noted in the letter of payment.26 One could mention a number of other locations and organbuilders, because, as stated above, almost everywhere already-existing or brand-new organs were equipped with such a device. Its installation is very simple: a hole is made in a windline, or in an accessible location at the windchest, and a stop control is installed to allow the organist to turn the effect on and off at will by opening or closing the wind. Often the Nightingale is located at the foot of the façade pipes, and in some cases several of them can be found within one instrument, one for each section of the façade when the same is divided, as is often the case in Renaissance-style instruments. In this case, the series of nightingales is operated by a slider similar to that of the other stops. Once the slider is activated, each nightingale unit starts to operate as soon as one or more façade pipes in the corresponding section is played. The end result, when playing a scale on the façade pipes, is that of birds singing at random from one side to the other of the instrument.27
In 1797, Pietro Agati built the organ (restored in 1990 by Fratelli Ruffatti) for the Church of S. Michele Arcangelo at Vignole, in Tuscany (Photo 5), where the Usignoli can be found. In later periods such devices appear mostly in organs built in central and southern Italy. For example, in 1881–1882 the Serassi brothers of Bergamo, in cooperation with Casimiro Allieri, built their largest instrument ever for the Cathedral of San Giorgio in Ragusa Ibla (restored in 1987 by Fratelli Ruffatti). Among the special effects, still at this late stage in history can be found a Nightingale, in this case a very large one, consisting of 12 pipes! It must have been specially requested by the customer, since the Serassi brothers had stopped manufacturing such devices by that time.
On the suggested use of the Nightingale in repertoire, little information can be found until the beginning of 1600; it is a fact, however, that it was widely used, since we have evidence of its presence in pipe organs from the middle of the 16th century on.
One of the first sources that indicates its use can be found in the registration chart for the organ in Orvieto built by Vincenzo Fulgenzi.27 It was written by Vittore Federici from Belluno (mentioned above for his work in the Cathedral of Feltre). In 1602 he was hired to perform some maintenance work on the instrument and he was asked to give his suggestions as to its use. He indicated that the use of the Nightingale was appropriate in the “Battles,” to be used in conjunction with the Contrabassi (24′), the Ottava di Contrabassi (12′), the Tromboni, the Flauto in Quintadecima (6′), all of the manual stops, and Cuckoo.29 Another suggestion concerning the use of the Uccelliera (birdsong) can be found in the registration chart for the Willem Hermans organ, built in Rome in 1666 for the church of S. Apollinare, which contains the suggestion to register the combination “Flauto in 8a. Rossignollj.” In the same chart, which most likely Hermans himself wrote, we also find a rather generic suggestion as to the use of the effects in that organ: that “The tremulant, drums and nightingales be used at the discretion of the organist,”30 leaving total freedom to the organist as to their use in music.
A further indication, this time in northern Italy, can be found in the organ of the Cathedral of Como, built in 1650 by the same Hermans. In the already mentioned chart, under number 24 we find the combination: “Flauto in Ottava, Drum, Nightingales.”31
Around the turn of the 19th century, we find a similar indication for the use of the nightingales, this time without the drum, in the registration chart of the Tronci family, organbuilders active in Tuscany, who proposed the use of the Flute and the Nightingale for the “andante movements.”32
A much more varied and interesting use can be found in the music of Giuseppe Gherardeschi (1759–1824), a Pistoia-born musician from whom a large number of compositions survive, expressly composed for use on the late 18th–early 19th century Tuscan organ. Many of these works (most still unpublished) include extremely detailed registration notations; below are a few that mention the use of the Nightingale. In the Messa per Organo in Elafà, per uso del signor Francesco Baldansi di Prato, 1813, in the first verset for the Gloria the nightingales are called for twice.33
In the Sonata per Organo a guisa di banda militare che suona una Marcia, one finds the following requested registration:34 Reed stops, Flauto in Selva, and [Flauto] in 8a, Flautino Basso and Timpani (rolling drum) played in the loud passages but staccato, and nightingales where expressly indicated. One of the latest indications for the use of this effect can be found in the Pastorale, dated 1850, by another composer of the Gherardeschi family, Luigi (1791–1871), who, in two instances, suggests adding the nightingales to the initial registration, which comprises Principali, Ottava soprana, Flauti e Trombe.35
Judging from the indications that have been found, it seems prudent to conclude that the tendency was to use the Nightingale when lower pitch registers are used in contrast with higher pitched ones, to introduce it in the andante movements and in compositions such as the pastorali, and therefore in conjunction with softer stops, but also as a reinforcement in combinations using reeds and color stops.
Other effects were made to imitate the song of different species of birds: the “Nightingales, Cricket first, Cricket second, Titmouse birds and Sparrows” of Giuseppe Bonatti (1716) at San Tommaso Cantuariense in Verona,36 or the “Canaries and Cuckoo birds” in a specification by Giovan Battista Piaggia for an organ in the Cathedral of Bolzano (1752).37 The use of such effects obviously follows the same indications given for the nightingales.

The Rolling Drum (or Thunder)
In examining documents that refer to modifications of existing instruments, or contracts for the manufacturing of new organs, the rolling drum (in Italian Tamburo, but also called timpano, gran timpano, timballone, rollante, rullo, tamburro a ruolo, tuono, tremolo) is very often found in conjunction with the tremulant and the nightingales. It seems, in fact, that in most cases the three effects were all installed together.
As we have seen for the tremulant and the nightingales, the installation of the drum was also rather simple, even in already-existing instruments. In the 16th and 17th centuries, it normally consisted of a couple of pipes of 6 or 8 feet especially dedicated to this effect. They played together at close but not identical frequencies, thus producing a prominent beat that resembled rolling drums. In later years, when pedal stops began to appear in pipe organs,38 in order to avoid the construction of such additional pipes and thus save space and money, a number of pipes of the Contrabasso were made to play together by means of a special mechanism, producing a very realistic effect.
In some 19th-century organs of the Lombard school, in which the drum sound is produced by 3, 4, or 6 dedicated pipes, it is even possible to increase the intensity of sound: by pressing the pedal half-way down, only a few pipes will play, thus producing the “normal” rolling drum; pressing the pedal all the way down will cause all pipes to play at once, thus producing the effect called Gran Timpano or thunder.39 In the 19th century it is possible to find a variety of “drums” within the same instrument, obtained through different combinations of 16′ and 8′ pipes playing together.40
One of the first traces of a rolling drum in an organ dates from 1543, when Giovanni Paolo Contini used it in the organ at the church of San Francesco in Montepulciano;41 subsequent traces abound and can be found all over the Italian peninsula, thus giving us an idea of how widespread these effects were. It is possible to state that between 1550 and the second half of the 1800s, drum stops (Rollante, Timpano, Thunder, Earthquake42) were almost always present in organs built in Italy, just like the Principale or the Flute stops.
The first suggestions for using the drum come from Vittore Federici for the organ in Orvieto: he describes a registration to play a battaglia with the drum in the German style,43 which we have already mentioned under the sections dealing with the nightingales. The association of the drum with pieces describing battles is obvious, a type of performance which, according to Adriano Banchieri, was “commonly allowed on Easter Sunday . . .” with reference to the verses “Mors et vita duello conflixere mirando” (“Death and life have struggled”) of the Gregorian sequence Victimae paschali laudes.44
Willem Hermans, both in the instructions for the use of the organ in the Como Cathedral, built in 1650, and for the organ in the German College in Rome (1666), suggests “Flauto in 12a Tamburrj,”45 the resulting sound being a beautiful imitation of a military flute or a Flagioletto, very similar to one of the registrations suggested 100 years later by Dom Bedos, even if the French builder specifies the use of two 2′ flutes in place of one 22⁄3′ Flute.46
An interesting aspect in the use of the drum is the type of mechanism by which it is activated. If the organbuilder has provided a pedal, the drum can be used rhythmically, by pressing the pedal in sequence. In some cases, however, the drum is activated by a stop knob, in which case the use can only be continuous, or else the player will have to resort to the help of a registrant. The latter, more archaic method can be found in several instruments built in different times and regions of Italy, for example: an organ built in 1735 at the Church of SS. Filippo e Giacomo in Erbezzo (Verona) by Gaetano Amigazzi, a builder of the Lake Garda and Verona area in northern Italy; and an organ by Nicola Abbate, built in 1780 for the Church of SS. Annunziata in Venafro (Isernia).47
As one can see, while in most organs throughout Italy the drum was being activated by a pedal, a few builders were still continuing to build it with archaic systems. Thus one must recognize that there are no general rules in Italian organbuilding practices, and that the organist’s interpretation of a musical piece when utilizing this effect should also take into account the most common organbuilding practices in the area where the music was composed.
In 1790–1792, Girolamo Zavarise, another builder of the Lake Garda school of organbuilding, in the registration chart for the organ of Selva di Cadore (Belluno), writes that “the drum is played by gently striking the pedal and must not be held for a long time, otherwise it creates disturbance.”48 This indicates that the action for the drum allowed the organist to use this effect at will, by means of a pedal. In fact, in the Veneto region and in Lombardy, the rolling drum is predominantly activated by the last pedal at the right hand side of the pedalboard.
Likewise Gaetano Callido, the famous late 18th-century Venetian organbuilder, left many registration charts (Photo 6), all indicating the use of the rolling drum, where this effect is referred to as “drum to be played a tempo,”49 clearly indicating a change in musical taste. In all these suggestions, the drum appears in the registration for the characterization of a march, which required the Principale, the Ripieno stops, the Flauto in XII, the Cornetta (a Tierce rank in the treble), the Tromboncini (a Regal stop), the Pedal Tromboni (8′) and Contrabbassi (the keyboard being permanently coupled to the pedals). It is therefore a mélange, which included all of the organ stops except the Flauto in Ottava and Voce Umana.
I have earlier described the registration for the Sonata per Organo a guisa di Banda Militare che suona una Marcia (Organ Sonata in the mode of a Military Band playing a March) by Giuseppe
Gherardeschi of Pistoia, written between 1800–1820, where, in the same fashion, it was requested that the timpano (drum) be played staccato, together with a loud registration.50
An interesting series of suggestions and recommendations on the use of the drum is contained in the book by Giovanbattista Castelli, which was adopted by the Conservatory of Music in Milan as a “practical manual for the students who are learning the use of the organ.” Castelli was the equivalent of today’s CEO of the Fratelli Serassi factory, one of the most notable organbuilding families operating between the 18th and the end of the 19th century.51
In the chapter titled “tremolo” [sic], he deals with the rolling drum, and he describes its use in a more elaborate and creative way than other organbuilders ever did. He explains that it is used predominantly during the last few chords of a piece. He continues by stating that it is also “pleasant in the piano passages” by pressing the pedal for a longer or shorter time as required by the piece, making sure, however, that the volume of the solo part on the manuals is prominent enough. It must also be used on the weak beats of held chords. However, after stating that a “judicious application” must be used, he cautions the organist “not to overuse it in the piano passages.”52
The example by Vincenzo Petrali, which illustrates the use of the drum (no. 16), an attachment to Castelli’s text, is self-explanatory: the piece opens with two held notes of the drum, separated by a pause; the keyboard section follows, with a registration including the Principale and the Voce Umana, during which the drum is not activated, until the musical theme is introduced, underlined by two more “held notes.” Subsequently the drum is activated on the weak beats of the closing measures of the piece.
Consequently, an orchestral use of this effect should be established, and, following an accurate analysis of the musical piece to be played, it is appropriate to also use it, without going overboard, in a wider spectrum of situations, beyond allegro movements or marches. It must be emphasized that this device was commonly found throughout Italy and that consequently it would be a good practice to imagine a broader and more articulate use of the drum when performing Italian organ literature.
It is also interesting to mention a curiosity: Giuseppe Verdi, who began his musical life by playing the organ in his parish church, and who took music lessons from two organists, Pietro Baistrocchi and Fernando Provesi, must have had a good knowledge of the effect of the rolling drum and of its construction. In fact, in the first scene of Act 1 of Otello, he requires that the organ on stage hold the first three notes of the pedalboard (C, C#, D) for numerous measures. It is a dramatic beginning with “lightning, thunder, hurricane,” as specified in the introductory description; it is a natural storm, which anticipates the emotional turmoil of the leading character. The three held notes in fact reproduce the effect of thunder quite faithfully.

The Bagpipe
The narration of the birth of Christ in the Gospel according to Luke tells us that among the first to come to the manger was a group of shepherds. The nativity representations obviously incorporated such features (the first nativity scene was created in 1223 at Greccio, in the region of Umbria, by St. Francis of Assisi), and it is clear that the shepherds who participated would carry with them the typical musical instruments of their tradition: bagpipes and reed flutes, or ciaramelle. A large number of paintings also testify to this tradition. The style of the pastorale, literally “shepherd’s song,” is directly inspired by the songs of the shepherds and by their musical instruments. One of the characteristics of the bagpipe—commonly referred to in Italian as cornamusa, but also found as müsa, baghet, and piva, just to mention a few of the original dialect-derived names that were given to several instruments, all similar but sometimes incorporating marginal construction differences—is the presence of at least one Bourdon pipe, which produces a drone. In the year 1544, Vincentio Beltramo from the Burgundy region of France specifies the Zampogne (bagpipes)53 in the contract for the organ at S. Nicola a Tortoreto (Teramo). The name may have indicated a complete reed stop; however, since immediately before in the same document he had mentioned the Trombecte stop, it is likely that, in the case of the bagpipe, he meant them to be only an effect.
This device was particularly common in organs built in central and southern Italy well into the nineteenth century. One reed pipe, usually with a short wooden resonator, could be easily activated by means of a stop control, and left on to play continuously. In some instruments two of these pipes, at different pitches, can be found, but always individually controlled. These pipes can be tuned at different pitches according to the need; having two of them instead of one, of different sizes, expanded the tuning range without creating excessive speech or volume problems. The notes normally produced by these pipes rotate around the keys used for musical compositions named Pastorale: G, F, D, and C. They simulated the continuous sound of the bagpipe’s Bourdon, and music in pastorale style would be improvised over this background sound. This can be done today as well, of course, or a pastorale piece can be played that is compatible with one of the keys produced by the bagpipe effect. 
 

July 26–September 27, 2003

Joyce Johnson Robinson is associate editor of THE DIAPASON.

It was my great pleasure to play a recital on a historic organ during the sixth international historic organs festival in the Biella area in northwestern Italy. Biella is a lovely town of 50,000, located about ninety minutes’ drive north of Milan and Turin, midway between them. The district’s prosperity comes from production of wool and rice; driving through the area, one spots frequent signs announcing woolen clothing for sale, and rice—including Carnaroli, an excellent rice for making the creamy dish risotto, Italian comfort food at its best.

A younger sister of the “Festival Internazionale Storici Organi della Valsesia” (detailed by Sarah Mahler Hughes in The Diapason, February, 2003, pp. 18–19), the Biella festival is also smaller in scope. Last year’s festival comprised nine recitals in as many Piedmontese towns, with organists hailing from the Czech Republic, Finland, France, Germany, Italy, Slovenia, Spain, and the United States. Both festivals were established by Mario Duella, an amazingly energetic organist and impresario who deserves tremendous credit for establishing a concert series that would do any big city proud, let alone a smaller, less urban area. Through the cultural association he founded for the historic organs of Piedmont, he has organized the restoration and maintenance of numerous organs of the Biella and Valsesia regions, and planned and promoted the festivals so that these musical treasures continue to be heard. (There have also been recordings released of the Valsesia organs, including some festival performances.) The festivals receive support from their respective provinces through local government and churches, as well as local businesses. These provinces have a great musical heritage, and their care and nurturing of it does them proud. (The web site address of the Associazione Culturale Storici Organi del Piemonte is http://utenti.lycos.it/storiciorgani/.)

The Biella festival was established to promote the heritage of historic organs and was designed along the lines of the Valsesia festival. According to Mario Duella, its main focus is to publicize and “make known organs which otherwise would not be appreciated: one only has to remember how little these instruments are used in Catholic liturgy, and think of those organists who are unpaid—or paid little.” Duella notes that in Italy the church organist is a very secondary figure and not always appreciated. (And certainly, the same trend is advancing on this side of the Atlantic.) The ten organs in this year’s Biella festival range in age from 1821 to 1929. All but two were built in the nineteenth century, and all but four are single-manual instruments with pulldown pedal (usually 17 pedals). Several were restored by the Krengli firm of Novara; other restorations were carried out by Mascioni, Giuseppe Marzi, Pietro Contenti, Brondino-Vegezzi Bossi, and Italo Marzi & Figli. The oldest restoration was in Rosazza, restored by Marzi in 1963, the most recent in Vigliano, restored by Brondino in 2002.

The concert schedule of the 2003 festival is listed below:

July 26, Chiesa di Santa Maria Assunta, Salussola

Sergio de Pieri (Australia), with Raffaella Benori (Italy), soprano; instrument: Amedeo e Giovanni Ramasco, 1858, op. 64, I/26, pulldown pedal, restored by Mascioni, 1979

July 31, Chiesa di San Lorenzo, Sostegno

Juan Paradell-Solé (Spain); instrument: Amedeo e Giovanni Ramasco, 1846, op. 37, I/25, pulldown pedal

August 14, Chiesa dei Santissimi Pietro e Giorgio, Rosazza

Matti Hannula (Finland), and Mario Duella (Italy); instrument: Guglielmo Bianchi, 1880, op. 65, I/24

August 16, Chiesa di San Sebastiano, Trivero/Bulliana

Michel Colin (France); instrument: Camillo Guglielmo Bianchi, 1876, op. 52, I/19 September 5, Chiesa di Santa Maria della Pace, Pralungo

Joyce Robinson (U.S.A.); instrument: Luigi Berutti, 1929, restored by Krengli, 1996, II/21

September 6, Chiesa di San Giorgio, Coggiola

Jaroslav Tuma (Czech Republic); instrument: Giuseppe Lingua, 1893, restored by Pietro Contenti, 1990, II/29

September 16, Chiesa di San Giuseppe Operaio, Vigliano

Renata Bauer (Slovenia); instrument: Fratelli Aletti, 1929, restored by Brondino-Vegezzi Bossi, 2002, III/22

September 21, Chiesa di San Michele Arcangelo, Cavaglià

Elmar Jahn (Germany); instrument: Fratelli Serassi, 1821, op. 381, restored by Italo Marzi & Figli, 1999, II/43

September 27, Chiesa dell’Immacolata Concezione, Portula

Sergio Militello (Italy); instruments: Camillo Guglielmo Bianchi, 1885, op. 79, restored by Krengli, 1983, I/11; Giacomo Vegezzi Bossi, 1867, restored by Krengli, 1985, I/27

The organ on which I played was in the church of Santa Maria della Pace in Pralungo, a small suburb of Biella. A two-manual Luigi Berutti instrument from 1929, it had been restored by the Krengli firm in 1996.

Grand’organo

Principale 16’

Principale 8’

Dolce 8’

Ottava 4’

Decimaquinta

Ripieno

Flauto 8’

Unda maris 8’

Tromba 8’

Organo espressivo

Violoncello 8’

Gamba 8’

Violini 8’

Celeste 8’

Bordone 8’

Flauto 4’

Clarino 8’

Oboe 8’

Corale 8’

Pedale

Subbasso 16’

Cello 8’

Ottava 4’

My personal experience playing in the 2003 festival was delightful. My husband and I flew from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to Rome, where we spent some days with Roman friends; we then took a train to Milan, rented a car, and drove from Milan to Biella, where we had lunch in a small local trattoria, and asked about a public phone so that we could contact our host, Mario Duella. The waiter replied that the phone line was not working. So I worked up a bit of courage to ask the businessmen at the next table if they would accept a few Euros and place a call for me on a cell phone. About six (beautifully tailored) arms reached toward me, offering their cell phones! Mario made arrangements for a practice session in the afternoon. The custodian and parish priest met us and briefly showed us around. The church, built in the early sixteenth century, is not large but makes up for it with beautiful furnishings, statues, and paintings.

The two-manual Berutti organ had a lovely sound and was enhanced by the church’s lively acoustic. The principals, typical of Italian organs, were not strong, but the strings had a definite presence. The flutes and the oboe were also lovely, the tromba fairly powerful. The pneumatic transmission meant the response wasn’t the fastest, so I had to plan my strategy for the repeated notes of Lefébure-Wély’s Bolero de Concert.

Following practice, we were invited to the home of the organist, Prof. Pierangelo Ramella, who lived just a few doors away. His charming wife offered us an aperitivo and we had an enjoyable, if somewhat unbalanced, conversation (my husband does not speak Italian, and our hosts’ young grandson was very shy). The organist, a retired schoolteacher, was also quite the opera fan. He showed us his collection of opera scores (full scores!). Afterwards, he led the way to our B&B, a few small towns away. We thanked him for his kindness and said we’d see him domain.

Our B&B was a huge old building, with our room on the second floor. We chatted with the daughter of the owner (Signora Clara Castelli, who’s on the board of the Fondazione that presents the organ festival) and met one of her dogs. The view from our room was refreshing and inspiring, overlooking a valley and with the Alps in the distance. But the area was hard hit by the summer’s drought. Normally there is plenty of water from mountain run-off, but the great and enduring heat plus lack of rain took their toll. So no running water was available between 9 pm–7 am, and 2 pm–6 pm. Another strategy to plan!

Upon returning to the church the next morning for more practice, we found Don Ezio Zanotti, the charming and simpatico parish priest, there to greet us. In the afternoon, technicians from the Krengli firm came from Novara to tune the reeds (which didn’t sound bad, I thought)—and, I hope, fix the cipher (which did—it was in the pedal, on the principal!). While they worked, I had a lovely conversation with the custodian and Don Ezio while my husband went off in search of gelato.

Later we returned to our B&B to rest. Mario Duella and his lovely wife Franca picked us up at 8 pm and drove us to the church. I set things up in the balcony and reviewed with Mario the pieces for which he would turn pages. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the sacristy, waiting to be introduced. After Mario’s introduction, I walked down the aisle and ascended to the balcony.

My program was eclectic, beginning with Herbert Sumsion’s Ceremonial March, and ending with Dubois’s Toccata in G. In between was an international mélange of works, from the well-known (Bach’s Jig Fugue) to the lesser-known (Licinio Refice’s Berceuse) to the unknown (a transcription of the sinfonia to Pasquale Anfossi’s oratorio La Betulia liberata). I put my Italian to good use and gave a short introduction to each piece.

The audience was most gracious and following the program there were a few short speeches and a gift of local sweets from an excellent pasticceria. And yet another surprise—Mario mentioned that the previous day was our 15th wedding anniversary, so my husband was called to the front, and we were presented with an enormous bouquet of roses and baby’s breath (apparently Don Ezio was behind this!). We were just flabbergasted. Impromptu speeches are not my strong point, let alone in another language, so I hardly knew what to say, but tried to express our deep gratitude.

We then mingled with the departing audience members—one gentleman came up to me, thanked me profusely, and kissed my hand! I greeted as many people as possible, then Mario and Franca whisked us away to a local restaurant for a lovely meal (and some wine!). Mario and Franca drove us home to our B&B, and then it was off to bed, to sleep but very lightly while my brain remained in high gear.

Train ticket to Milan: $70. New organ shoes: $45. Chance to play in this festival: Priceless.

For information on the 2004 Festival, contact: [email protected].

June 30-September 21, 2002

Sarah Mahler Hughes is Associate Professor of Music and Chair of the Department at Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin. She teaches courses in music history, counterpoint, and women in music as well as organ, piano, and harpsichord, and she directs the Collegium Musicum. The recipient of scholarly/artistic and global studies grants from the College, she traveled to Italy and Germany in July and August 2002 to play historic organs.

On July 28, 2002, I had the good fortune to play a recital on two historic organs as part of the 15th annual International Festival of Historic Organs in Valsesia in the Piedmont region of Italy. Mario Duella, the founder and artistic director of the Festival, had invited me to participate as part of a reciprocal arrangement. From its beginnings in 1978 as a local event with five concerts, the Festival has become international in scope and this summer included 25 recitals on 26 instruments in 22 towns in the valley of the Sesia River. This region northwest of Milan is incredibly beautiful, with Alpine peaks, clear air, and rushing streams. Tourists come from every part of Europe to enjoy the scenery and miles of hiking trails. But the riches of the region are cultural as well as natural, and the former include centuries-old churches laden with art, precious artifacts, and organs.

Organbuilding in the Valsesia area began in the 1600s with artisans from Milan.1 Native builders began to flourish in the first half of the 18th century and even the smallest parish churches contained organs by the 19th century. Restorations and alterations seemed to begin soon after the organs were installed, and the two processes continued hand in hand until the mid-twentieth century. The number of organs in Valsesia increased steadily for three hundred years, beginning in 1601. A 38-year hiatus before and after World War II marked the only interruption in organbuilding activity. Restorations began again in 1975 and continue today. The most recent restoration, by the Novarese firm Krengli, is that of an instrument (1821) by Luigi Maroni Biroldi at the Church of Santa Croce in Rassa. Mario Duella played the dedicatory recital on August 2.

Mario Duella lives in Pray, one of the Valsesia towns, but his grandmother came from Rassa, farther west. He has a great love for his native region and is concerned about preserving the organ culture of the area. His efforts to call attention to instruments in need of repair has resulted in many successful restorations during the past 15 years. These instruments are then featured on the concert series he began. The Festival is supported by the Piedmontese regional government in conjunction with the Cultural Association for Historic Organs in Piedmont, a non-profit group. Other government bodies, principally the Province of Vercelli and the Mountain Commune of Valsesia, also lend financial support.

My recital began in the ancient Cappella di Santa Marta, an oratory in the church of San Giacomo in Campertogno, on an 18th-century organ (maker unknown) that was restored by Italo Marzi in 1981. The instrument has 50 keys (C1 to F5) on one manual with a pull-down pedal. Both manual and pedal have a short octave. The seven stops include a Principale 8', Ottava 4', Decimaquinta 2', Decimanona (11/3'), Vigesimaseconda (1'), Voce Umana, and Flauto in Ottava 4'.  The most memorable registrations are the Principale with Voce Umana, a hauntingly beautiful sound unique to Italian organs, and the Flauto in Ottava 4', which has a very pure sound. On this instrument, I played Sweelinck's variations on Onder een linde groen, a toccata by Bernardo Pasquini, and All'Elevazione and All'Offertorio by Domenico Zipoli. The meantone tuning made the dissonances of the Offertorio extremely pungent. Hearing them, one can understand why medieval theorists characterized tritones as the diabolus in musica.

After this initial portion of the program, we moved through a corridor into the sanctuary proper which houses an electropneumatic organ (1937) by Krengli. One of the last organs built before the war, this instrument is one of the most recently restored (2000) by the same firm. The organ comprises two manuals of 61 keys (C1 to C6) and a full pedal division. The stoplist is as follows:

Grand'Organo

                  16'          Principale

                  8'             Diapason

                  8'             Dulciana

                  8'             Flauto

                  8'             Unda Maris

                  4'             Ottava

                  21/2'      Duodecima

                  2'             Ottavino

                                    Cornetto 3 file [ranks]

                                    Ripieno 6 file

                  8'             Tromba

Organo Espressivo

                  8'             Principalino

                  8'             Bordone

                  8'             Viola da Gamba

                  8'             Concerto Violini

                  4'             Flauto Armonico

                                    Ripieno 3 file [mixture, 3 ranks]

                  8'             Oboe

Pedale

                  16'          Contrabbasso

                  16'          Subbasso

                  8'             Basso

The organ's tonal design reflects both the orchestral taste of the early 20th century and traditional Italian sounds. As one would expect from so many 8' ranks, the sound is both dark and rich in fundamental tone but weak in the upper partials. Other features of the organ include graduated general and divisional pistons (marked piano, crescendo, forte, ripieno) instead of programmable ones, and separate pistons for adding reeds and strings. Blue-tipped stop tabs indicate pedals, pink-tipped ones, manual stops. (It is difficult not to connect this distinctive feature with the Italians' gift for fashion and design.) For this final part of the recital, I played  Romantic and contemporary repertoire: Mendelssohn, Prelude and Fugue in G; Bossi, Scherzo in g, op. 49 no. 2; Brahms, Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen, op. 122 no. 8, and O wie selig, op. 122 no. 6; Estrada, Chacona, Aspiracion; and Billingham, My Lord, What a Morning and I've Just Come from the Fountain. The acoustics were wonderful, a case of bare stone walls and bare floors creating the perfect atmosphere for the powerful sound of the full chorus, on the one hand, and the sensuous oboe stop, on the other.

The audience for this event was large and appreciative. Many faithfully attend the concerts in the series out of love for music and pride in their region's instruments. One man traveled 50 miles on mountain roads to hear this organ! The ushers for the recital were local women dressed in the traditional costumes of the Valsesia region, and as an extra bonus, they distributed prettily wrapped candy to the concertgoers. Perhaps this is an idea worth exploring for American audiences; i.e., strengthening the association between sweetness and organ music.

Many people contribute to making the Festival a success. Those with whom I came into contact were friendly and helpful at all times. I, a foreigner with minimal Italian language skills, was welcomed as an honored guest. Everyone, including the parish priest who wished me coraggio before I played, the church secretary who unlocked doors and gave me a ride back to Rassa after my practice session, the ushers and friends who accompanied us to dinner at a trattoria  after the concert, and above all, Mario Duella, his wife, Franca, and son Luca, who turned pages and assisted me with registration changes, was very hospitable. For those unable to experience these unusual instruments live, three CDs are available: Storici organi della Valsesia (1994; instruments by Vegezzi Bossi, 1911; Mentasti, 1872; and Lingiardi, 1875); Festival internazionale storici organi della Valsesia (1997; an anthology from the first 10 years of the Festival); and Storici organi della Valsesia (2001; instruments by Biroldi, 1822; and Krengli, 1937). For information on next season's Festival, contact Mario Duella at <[email protected]>.

Note

1.                    

Cesa, Alessandra et al. Organi e organari in Valsesia: Quattrocento anni di attività organaria. Borgosesia: Idea Editrice, 1997.

Regione Piemonte

Provincia di Vercelli

Comunità Montana della Valsesia

Associazione Culturale Storici Organi del Piemonte

XV Festival Internazionale Storici Organi della Valsesia

Borgosesia, Chiesa di Sant'Antonio, Alessandra Mazzanti (Italia)

Campertogno, Cappella di Santa Marta e Chiesa di San Giacomo, Sarah Mahler Hughes (Stati Uniti)

Borgosesia, Chiesa di Sant'Anna al Montrigone, Bernard Brauchli (Svizzera)

Foresto, Chiesa di San Giovanni Evangelista, Robert Grudzien (Polonia)

Valduggia, Chiesa di Santa Maria, Robert Grudzien (Polonia)

Riva Valdobbia, Chiesa di San Michele, Karl Maureen (Germania)

Rassa, Chiesa di Santa Croce, Mario Duella (Italia)

Alagna, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista, Helmuth Luksch (Austria)

Mollia, Chiesa di SS. Giovanni e Giuseppe, Dietrich Oberdorfer (Italia)

Carcoforo, Chiesa di Santa Croce, Carlo Barbierato (Italia)

Scopa, Chiesa di San Bartolomeo, Ansgar Wallenhorst (Germania)

Brugaro, Chiesa di Sant'Antonio Abate, Stefano Rattini (Italia)

Varallo, Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Grazie, Luc Ponet (Belgio)

Piode, Chiesa di Santo Stefano, Giovanni La Mattina (Italia)

Crevola, Chiesa di San Lorenzo, Giorgio Fabbri (Italia)

Balmuccia, Chiesa di Santa Margherita, Roberto Padoin (Italia)

Rastiglione, Chiesa di San Michele Arcangelo, Sandro Carnelos (Italia)

Scopello, Chiesa della Beata Vergine Assunta, Jean-Marc Pulfer (Svizzera)

Rossa, Chiesa di Maria Vergine Assunta, Roman Perucki (Polonia)

Borgosesia, Chiesa di Santa Marta, Mario Verdicchio (Italia)

Ghemme, Chiesa di Maria Vergine Assunta, Jean-Paul Imbert (Francia)

Romagnano Sesia, Chiesa Abbaziale di San Silvano, Mario Duella (Italia)

Bornate, Chiesa di Santa Maria Assunta, Emanuele Cardi (Italia)

Serravalle Sesia, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista, Andrea Macinanti (Italia)

Varallo, Collegiata di San Gauderizio, Winfried Engelhardt (Germania)

For information: Associazione Culturale Storici Organi del Piemonte, tel/fax 01576735, e-mail: <[email protected]>, web: <utenti.tripod.it/storiciorgani>.