Hermans II

Umberto Pineschi deonstrates various stops and registrations on the 1664 Willem Hermans organ at Sant'Ignazio di Loyola in Pistoia, Italy. Referred to in the article "An Introduction to the Organ Worlds and Words of Giuseppe Gherardeschi (1759-1815)"

Sarah Mahler Kraaz, DMA, is Professor of Music and Chair of the Department at Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin, where she teaches organ, piano, and music history, and directs the Collegium Musicum. She is an active composer and has performed recitals in the U.S.A., Scotland, and Italy. She is a frequent contributor of reviews and articles to The Diapason. Dr. Kraaz spent several weeks this spring researching and playing historic organs in Italy and Spain during a sabbatical leave.

  In a perfect world, we organists would always be able to play music on the instruments for which it was written. Putting music and organs from the same time and place together produces a beautiful synchronicity, the closest thing to time travel we can experience. Happily, this was recently my fate. What follows is a description of some music and instruments that have expanded my understanding of a particular musical tradition. They will continue to inform my performances.

On March 6, I played a recital of Italian music on the Vespers Series of the Giuseppe Gherardeschi Organ Academy in Pistoia (www.accademiagherardeschi.info). Pistoia is a small city in Tuscany approximately 30 miles northwest of Florence. The remains of a medieval wall circumscribe the old town whose Cathedral of San Zeno houses a silver altar dedicated to San Jacopo, thereby putting it on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The cathedral, the former Bishop’s Palace, the Baptistry, and the Town Hall, all dating from the 13th–15th centuries, surround a central piazza that even today dominates the center of Pistoia. An open-air fruit and vegetable market, shops, restaurants, and cafes spread out from there in a web of narrow cobblestone streets. Wednesday and Saturday mornings are market days, when stalls appear in the centro selling everything from clothing to kitchenware. Bells from the many churches in the city mark the passage of time. Pistoia is off the beaten track for tourists. It’s a great place to visit if you want to mingle with Italians who live comfortably in the present while surrounded by the past. The city and neighboring towns are also home to a number of historic organs, most of them from the 18th and early 19th centuries.¹

Giuseppe Gherardeschi

A brief biography in the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians² states that Gherardeschi was an organist, composer, and eventually maestro di cappella at the cathedral; except for a brief period of study in Naples, he spent his entire life in Pistoia. He began his musical studies with his father, Domenico (1733–1800), who was maestro di cappella at the cathedral, and continued with his uncle, Filippo Maria (1738–1808). The latter, also a Pistoia native, had been a pupil of Giovanni Battista (a.k.a. ‘Padre’) Martini³ in Bologna from 1756 to about 1761, when Filippo was admitted to the elite Accademia Filarmonica. Giuseppe completed his formal studies with Nicola Sala at the Conservatorio di Santa Maria della Pietà dei Turchini, one of three music conservatories in Naples. Upon returning to Pistoia, he married, fathered seven children, and became organist at the church of Santa Maria dell’Umiltà. When Domenico Gherardeschi died in 1800, Giuseppe inherited his position as maestro di cappella at the cathedral, a post he held until his death. In the tradition of the Bachs and Couperins and other families of musicians at the time, Giuseppe’s son, Luigi (1791–1871), and grandson, Gherardo (1835–1905), succeeded him. The Gherardeschi men all composed sacred vocal and instrumental music, much of which survives in the cathedral archives. Giuseppe did not confine himself to music for the church, however; five symphonies, all in the three-movement fast-slow-fast pattern favored by Giovanni Battista Sammartini and other 18th-century Italian composers, survive, as do numerous arias, chamber music, and oratorios.⁴

Umberto Pineschi’s edition of 

Gherardeschi’s organ works

That we know anything at all about the life and music of Giuseppe
Gherardeschi—and consequently, about the contemporary Tuscan organ—is due to the almost single-handed efforts of Umberto Pineschi. Organist, teacher, scholar, founder of the Gherardeschi Organ Academy, and now in “retirement” Director of the Scuola Comunale di Musica e Danza “Teodulo Mabellini” in Pistoia, Pineschi has worked tirelessly to locate, preserve, and restore organs in and around Pistoia. He edited the organ works of Gherardeschi for publication beginning in 1978. The first collection was followed by a second, third, and fourth, but as he confesses in the foreword to the newest edition (in Musiche Pistoiesi per Organo, published by the Fondazione Accademia di Musica Italiana per Organo in 2009), there was “no organized plan, since every time only the pieces considered interesting at the moment were selected.” Further, he adds, “Their context, often crucial for their understanding, was not taken in[to] account. Such a fragmented presentation of the Gherardeschi organ works did not allow one to fully appreciate both their lesson on the Pistoiese organ and the artistic relevance of the composer.”⁵ Pineschi here refers to the symbiotic relationship between organ music and the instruments for which it was written, in this case Pistoiese organs of the 18th and early 19th centuries. These deficiencies are addressed in the new edition, which is the basis for the discussion that follows.  

The present volume brings together all of Gherardeschi’s known compositions for organ, including some that have never been published. The pieces appear in the same order as in the manuscripts. Pineschi identifies several groupings by genre: 1. Sonatas; 2. Masses in C and D (Offertorio, Elevazione, and Postcommunio) and a Mass in E-flat that has versets for alternatim performance with the Ordinary; 3. Collections of versets; 4. Miscellaneous short pieces, including a colorful Sonata per organo a guisa di banda militare che suona una Marcia, two pastorales, and a fugue in G minor. Each piece has been assigned an opus number (a P followed by a number). Strict classification according to this scheme is impossible, however, since two of the sonatas (P.IV [1787]) are rondos and a number of the Mass movements (the Elevazione in D, P.I,5; the Offertorio in C, P.I,7) are sonatas. Elements of secular genres, including the concerto, aria, and symphony, also define and shape these pieces in a manner surely intended to entertain as well as sanctify the listeners.

Since the purpose of this article is to present an overview, rather than a comprehensive discussion, of Gherardeschi’s works, representative examples from each of the categories above will highlight important stylistic features of the music and the organs for which they were written, beginning with the sonatas. These all conform to the binary form and tonal design of the 18th-century keyboard sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti and others.

Offertorio, Mass in C: 

a representative work

The Offertory in an organ Mass is generally longer and more elaborate than other movements because it provides music during the preparation of the Eucharist. Gherardeschi takes advantage of these large dimensions by writing the Offertorio from the Mass in C as a sonata. The movement begins assertively with strong tonic chords in the left hand against clearly articulated right-hand rhythms in a 4-bar phrase. This antecedent phrase is answered by a consequent phrase in a reduced texture and registration, much like a dialogue between the tutti and solo parts of a concerto (Example 1). Indeed, Gherardeschi’s registration directions support this impression: initially, he calls for ‘[ri-]pieno con Trombe (trumpet)’ and ‘Timp[ano]’ in the pedal, which would be the equivalent of a full orchestra. The second phrase is labeled ‘p[ieno] senza ripieno [i.e., without the Trombe] e senza ped[ale]’. Without the trumpet (soloist) and pedal + timpani, the effect is of an echo. This alternation continues throughout both sections of the Offertorio. The texture is open, treble-dominated, and non-contrapuntal; occasional octaves in the manuals add a bit of dramatic emphasis at times. Harmonically, the music is predictable, with the first (A) section ending in the dominant key of G major. The B section opens in G minor, however, and moves to d, a, and F before returning via the dominant G to C.  

The energy, rhythmic drive, clear tonal design, and concerted style of the Offertorio reveal how steeped
Gherardeschi was in the music of Corelli, Vivaldi, and Sammartini. Written at the end of the 18th century, as Vienna and Paris were eclipsing Italy in the development of instrumental music, these pieces remind the listener of the connections among the various schools.

The concerto and symphony are not the only models for this music, however. Pineschi observes that the influence of opera and the theatre is clear in the Masses: “Indeed, the Offertori show the influence of the overture, the Elevazioni and the Benedizioni that of the romanza, while the Postcommunio echoes the always attractive spirit of the cabaletta; all, however, display whimsy, balanced proportions, and, above all, good taste.”⁶  

In fact, two of the three Masses in the collection, those in D and C, consist of exactly these movements, that is, Offertorio-Elevazione-Postcomunio. In modern usage, these may stand alone or be played in concert as a group of fast-slow-fast movements. The remaining Mass, in E-flat, is more complex because of versetti that alternate with chant. The Table of Mass movements summarizes the shape and content of the Messa in Elafá. One observes immediately the variety of tempos, meters, and registrations Gherardeschi uses in the versetti. The last aspect is the most important, for it tells us a great deal about the late 18th-century and early 19th-century Tuscan organ in general and the Pistoiese organ in particular. In this regard, the Mass resembles the other sets of versetti in the collection, all of which specify different stops as solos or in combinations.  

Registration

Gherardeschi frequently calls for “organo aperto” in his music. This means the complete Ripieno (Principale 8′, Ottava 4′, Decimaquinta 2′, Decimanona 11⁄3′, and two or three high-pitched ranks combined, the Vigesima seconda e sesta [1′, 2⁄3′] or seconda, sesta e nona [1′, 2⁄3′, ½′]), plus the Trombe (trumpet) 8′ and Cornetto.⁷ This combination, the equivalent of a full organ without flute stops, produces a clear and brilliant but not overpoweringly loud sound. “Pieno” refers to the complete or partial (i.e., 8′, 4′, 2′) Ripieno (Gherardeschi does not specify which). All the other combinations in the Messa call for specific principal and ‘da concerto’, i.e., solo, stops, including some divided stops (Musetto treble 8′; Clarone bass 4′; Trombe bass 8′). Stops divided between bass and treble registers have been a feature of Italian organs since at least 1664, when the Flemish Jesuit, Willem Hermans, built an organ for the church of Sant’Ignazio di Loyola (known in later times as “Spirito Santo” and since 1 February 2011, again as Sant’Ignazio) in Pistoia.⁸ They are advantageous on a small organ. In Pineschi’s words, “Gherardeschi’s clever use of the divided stops allows one to casually move from the bass section of the keyboard to the treble section and the other way round in such a way that the listener has no time to realize that.”⁹ He might have added that Gherardeschi must have possessed uncommon dexterity, given the lack of mechanical aids for registration changes and the fact that many of these occur in the middle of a piece. Perhaps he employed an assistant, maybe his son Luigi as organist-in-training. Pineschi suggests that these directions to change or add divided stops (which always occur at cadence points) reflect spontaneous changes made by Gherardeschi when he was improvising, as experienced organists did; the written version is for organists who were not as skilled or experienced in the art of improvisation.¹⁰

Of course, Gherardeschi’s registrations reflect and reinforce the character of individual versetti in the Messa; rhythms, tempos, and styles complete the picture. The first and last Gloria verses are of particular interest because they are cast as marches in duple meter with an abundance of dotted rhythms, repeated chords, triadic openings, trumpet-like solo lines, and liberal use of a “special effect” Timpano stop (from two to six wooden pipes, out of tune in such a way as to give a kettle-drum effect, operated by a pedal played by the right foot). The first Gloria verse begins with a fanfare in the manual accompanied by pedal and Timpano. In measure 5, another special effect (also played with the right foot), the Usignoli (Nightingale) stop, appears alternately with the timpani to simulate the trills of a clarinet¹¹ (Example 2a). Marches, whether for military bands or in concert music, were a common and popular musical genre in the 18th century.¹² As such, they connoted heroism, vigor, cheerfulness, and manliness.¹³ Gherardeschi was not the first composer to set the “Et in terra pax” couplet to a march; François Couperin had done that 100 years earlier in his Messe pour les couvents.¹⁴ Undoubtedly, the triumphal, affirmative nature of the text is a determining factor in the choice of musical style, but in the Messa there is more to the matter. Napoleon invaded Italy in 1790, defeating the Austrian army. The next 15 years were tumultuous ones in all the regions of the Italian peninsula, when French-initiated political and social reforms met with strenuous opposition from many Italians and the Church. The return of Austrian rule in 1815 after the Congress of Vienna, repressive as it was, was hailed as a return to order and normality.¹⁵ Gherardeschi composed his music against this backdrop of political turbulence amid constant reminders of a military presence. The Sonata . . . a guisa di banda militare even includes the “Janissary style” derived from Turkish military bands, a type of march in which cymbals, bass drum, and triangle are implied in the instrumentation (Example 2b, see page 28). Marches figured prominently in operas, symphonies,¹⁶ and secular keyboard music in the late 18th century, so it is not surprising to find them in organ music as well.

Versetti

In the preface of this volume, Pineschi lists the versetti as a third group after the sonatas and Masses. These works, though individually brief, are the most numerous and perhaps the most important for what they tell us about the Pistoiese organ of the time. There are two types of versetti, distinguished by their registrations. Versetti a pieno require the
[ri-]pieno, or full, sound, with only a tempo indicated at the beginning (the registration is implied) (Example 3a); versetti concertati require use of the ‘da concerto’ stops and have specific registrations provided at the beginning of each piece (Example 3b). From these, we learn the tonal design of the organs for which
Gherardeschi wrote his music.¹⁷ The ‘da concerto’ versetti are also labeled ‘solenni’, referring to their intended liturgical use in the Mass or other services, especially the Office of Vespers (e.g., the Magnificat). Versetti are written in all eight psalm tones, as one would expect. Interestingly, the versetti a pieno, P.II, are only figured basses; the organist must realize them in performance. Obviously this Baroque musical shorthand was still proving useful at the beginning of the 19th century.

Organs

Specifications for four organs that
Gherardeschi would have known appear in the preface to the Opere per organo. The first, by Hermans, was the prototype for the rest, which were built in the 1780s and ’90s by Antonio and Filippo Tronci and Pietro Agati. These instruments have been preserved and restored in Pistoia and Lucca. A similar organ built by Luigi and Benedetto Tronci in 1793 has been in the Cathedral in Pistoia since Pineschi rescued it from the chapel of the Rucellai villa, Campi Bisenzio (a small town between Prato and Florence), in 1998.  This is the instrument I played every day for five days in preparation for the Vespers performance. It is, amazingly, in its original condition. The specifications are as follows (For photos and audio clips of the Hermans and Tronci organs, visit The Diapason website,
Diapason.com>.):

Ripieno stops

Principale 8′ (first eight pipes are wood and play without drawing a stop because they are placed on a separate chest; the remaining pipes are tin, with C2 the major pipe of the façade)¹⁸

Ottava 4′

Decimaquinta 2′

Decimanona 11⁄3′

Vigesima seconda e sesta (1′, 2⁄3′)

‘Da concerto’ stops

Flauto 4′ (from C2)

Cornetto I (soprano 4′, 13⁄5′)

Cornetto II (soprano 22⁄3′)

Voce languente (the same as the Voce umana, soprano 8′)

Special effects: Timpano, Usignoli

Manual compass: 47 notes, C1–D5 with short octave at the bottom)

Pedals: eight notes (C–G), short octave, always coupled to manual

Divided registers between E3 and F3

As other writers have observed, having the ranks of the ripieno available as single stops (rather than as a multi-rank mixture stop) presents a multitude of registrational choices, many of which are subtly different. I enjoyed getting to know the sounds of all the stops individually and in various combinations. The Tronci keyboard has a uniform and light touch perfectly suited to the lively, graceful lines of 18th-century music. Using the short octave on both manual and pedal requires re-patterning of both cognitive and muscle memory. (What usually feels like a fifth is now a second, for example.) The short pedals are also quite different; one hardly needs organ shoes to play them, since only toes are used—heels remain on the floor. To sum up, playing an instrument like this, so different from a modern organ, requires total concentration, since all the senses—visual, auditory, kinesthetic—are involved in sometimes unfamiliar ways.

I hope this brief introduction—to the music of a composer who, in his own lifetime, was well known and highly respected in Tuscany, and to one of the organs he could have known—will encourage interest in both topics. This delightful, lively, and lovely music deserves to be better known on this side of the Atlantic. At present, the Opere per organo is only available from the editor, Umberto Pineschi, at . It is well worth the effort to obtain the book.

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. 
 

In 2015 there are several composers whose anniversaries can be commemorated, albeit some of the dates are not known for certain; some of the names need no introduction but there are also several lesser-known names listed here whose compositions are well worth exploring. No claim is made for completeness and there is no guarantee that every edition is in print—there may well also be editions by other publishers.

Christopher Gibbons (1615–76).Eldest surviving son of Orlando Gibbons, he was organist of the Chapel Royal and Westminster Abbey; only a few compositions for keyboard survive in various manuscripts, comprising two short pieces (corrente and saraband) for harpsichord, four verses or voluntaries and three verses or double voluntaries (i.e. requiring two manuals for their execution), with passages for solos on Cornet, Sesquialtera, and Trumpet. Some versions of these double voluntaries seem to have been considerably amended and elongated by the scribe. All nine pieces have been re-edited by John Caldwell for American Institute of Musicology’s Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series (CEKM 18). 

Spiridionis a Monte Carmelo (1615–85). German organist, who traveled widely in Belgium, Germany, and Prague before taking a position in Bamberg in 1664. He composed sacred music and also published a two-volume keyboard tutor, Nova instructio pro pulsandis organis, spinettis, manuchordiis, in Bamberg, of which the first part, which appeared in 1670, contained a very large number of cadences, 35 canzonas, and 15 dances including corrente, and the second part, which appeared the following year, contains mainly cadenzas, as well as ten canzonettas, seven toccatinas, two gagliardas, and four corrente. Part three contains more formulas for cadentiae followed by ligaturae and trilli; part four contains the actuarium for parts one and two, an aria, allemanda, sarabanda, and modus variandi. A modern edition by Edoardo Bellotti of parts one and two has been published by Andromeda. Parts three and four have also been edited by Bellotti and published by Il Levante, obtainable via La Stanza della Musica, Rome (www.lastanzadellamusica.com).

Gregorio Strozzi (ca. 1615–after 1687). Organist in Naples and doctor in both civil and canon law, in addition to sacred works he left a Capricci da sonare cembali et organi, published in open score in Naples in 1687, which is indebted to Trabaci, Mayone, and Frescobaldi, its 31 pieces covering the main compositional genres of the time including three capriccios, three ricercatas, three sonatas, four toccatas, two balletti, three gagliardas, three sets of variations, eight correntes, a mascara, and a Toccata de passacagli. This important print has been re-edited by Barton Hudson for American Institute of Musicology in the Corpus of Early Keyboard Music series (CEKM 11).

Heinrich Bach (1615–92). Great uncle of Johann Sebastian and organist in Arnstadt, almost all of his compositions in various genres have unfortunately been lost. He was the father of Johann Christoph and Johann Michael Bach, who also became composers. For keyboard he left a Chaconne in A, edited by Laura Cerutti for Armelin, and two chorale preludes, on Erbarm dich mein and Da Jesu an dem Kreuze stund, included in Organ Works by the Bach Family, edited by Diethard Hellmann for Edition Peters.

Tarquinio Merula (ca. 1594–1665). Organist and violinist active mainly in Cremona, he published a number of sacred concertos, Mass and psalm settings, as well as madrigals and ensemble canzonas. Fourteen keyboard works have survived in manuscripts, including a chromatic Capriccio and Sonata, the former based on the chromatic tetrachord, the latter on a figure covering a major ninth by semitone (!), although many subsequent entries are limited to the tetrachord. There are three intonazioni cromatiche (which may well be incorrectly attributed), a toccata (which contains a fugal section sandwiched between sections akin to Merula’s toccatas but lacking his inventiveness), a capriccio with an insistent rhythmic figure and much sequential writing, and five canzonas, of which the first, an arrangement of his ensemble piece La Loda, has basic similarities to the capriccio, and the second is based on an intriguing sequence of four descending broken triads. The next three canzone have been attributed tentatively to Merula, no. 3 being a version of his ensemble Canzona La Marca. All of these pieces together with a cromatica by Soncino and a  canzona by Fasolo have been edited by Alan Curtis and published by L’Organo, Brescia, as Monumenti di Musica Italiana Series 1, Organo e Cembalo, vol. 1, available from Armelin. There is also a reprint by Kalmus, which lacks the introduction. 

Wolfgang Ebner (1612–1665). Organist of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, Vienna, and court organist, contemporary with Froberger. Three works certainly by him include three toccatas, a courante, a Capriccio sopra L’aria Pergamasco, the Partite sopra l’Aria Favorita with seven variations, and the 36 variations divided into three groups of 12 (the second and third groups being in the form of a courante and sarabande) on an Aria in A Minor composed by Ferdinand III. Works of uncertain authenticity include 56 versets encompassing various forms (i.e. toccata, capriccio, fugue in the eight church modes), eight of which are variants of pieces by Froberger and one by Frescobaldi, two preludes, a partita in A, and eight individual dance movements. Published by Bärenreiter in 2 volumes, edited by Siegbert Rampe, the publication also includes keyboard works by Georg Muffat. 

Nikolaus Bruhns (1665–97). Pupil of Buxtehude, he became organist in Husum in 1689. Comparatively well known to players today, particularly for his preludes in E minor, Bruhns was also a highly skilled violinist who, according to undoubtedly reliable contemporary accounts, accompanied his violin playing at the organ by a bass played with great dexterity on the pedals. None of his organ works were printed in his lifetime, and no autograph manuscripts have survived. His small opus survived in a virtually unbroken transmission in both manuscripts of the 18th century and printed editions from the 19th forward. He wrote chamber music, which regrettably has not survived, and 12 cantatas, and left four brilliant praeludia for organ in manuscripts—multi-sectional, and clearly showing the influence of his teacher as well as echo devices. A highly ornamented Chorale Fantasia on Nun komm der Heiden Heiland also shows continuation of the North German tradition of Scheidemann, Reincken, and Tunder. Modern editions, which also include an adagio and a praeludium, of which only fragments survive, have been prepared by Klaus Beckmann, published by Schott in the series Masters of the North German School vol. 13, and also edited by Harald Vogel for Breitkopf & Hartel.

Johann Hanff (1665–1712). Organist in Hamburg and Schleswig, only three of his cantatas and six chorale preludes survive in manuscripts. Five of the preludes are in a similar style to Buxtehude’s, with highly ornamented melodies in the right hand, but in Erbarm dich mein two verses are set, the second verse opening with a fugue based on the descending chromatic fourth before reverting to a right hand solo of the ornamented melody. They have been edited by Ewald Kooiman for Harmonia Uitgave, Incognita Organo Part 7. 

Johann Fischer (ca. 1665–1746). Kapellmeister to Ludwig Wilhelm of Baden, he published chamber and vocal music. His keyboard works include four sets of pieces, comprising two sets of suites for harpsichord/clavichord in 1696 and 1738, which show the French influence, and two sets of pieces for the organ, which show a more Italianate influence. Musikalischer Blumenstrauss of 1732 is a collection of pieces on the eight tones comprising a praeludium, six fugues, and finale for each tone. Ariadne Musica, of 1702 and 1715, contains 20 short preludes and fugues, each in a different key (including B, E-flat, and A-flat major, B, F#, and C# minor), which were known to J. S. Bach, who used some of the subjects in his Well-Tempered Clavier, and five ricercars on hymns for Advent, Christmas, Quadragesima, Passiontide, and Easter. 

The complete keyboard music has been edited by Ernst von Werra for Breitopf & Hartel. The Ariadne has been edited by Ernst Kaller for Schott as Liber Organi vol. 7 and the Musikalischer Blumenstrauss by Rudolph Walter for Musikverlag Alfred Coppenrath, Altötting as Süddeutsche Orgelmeister des Barock vol. 1, available through Carus Verlag. Facsimile editions have been published by Broude Bros in the Performers’ Facsimiles series nos. 197 (Ariadne) and 199 (Musikalischer Blumenstrauss). 

Johann Molter (1696–1765). German organist in Eisenach and Karlsruhe whose comprehensive works embrace all genres. Six chorale arrangements have been edited by Siegbert Rampe for Bärenreiter in German Organ and Keyboard Music from Bach’s Period.

Xarava y Bruna (ca. 1640–1715).Nephew of Pablo Bruna. Two pieces by him, an Ydea Vuena por a la mi re and fuga, and an Obra en lleno de 3 Tono (a tiento accidental found in the Jaca manuscript is a short version of the fuga), are to be found in one of the Martín y Coll manuscripts, and have been edited by Julian Sagasta for Union Musical Española in Tonos de Palacio y Canciones Communes vol. 2, and by Carlo Stella and Vittorio Vinay for Zanibon in Composizioni Inedite dal ‘Flores de Musica’ di Antonio Martin y Coll. 

Georg Wagenseil (1715–77). Organist and composer to the court in Vienna, he composed operas, chamber music, concerti, and organ and harpsichord music. Although considered as one of the most important Viennese composers of the 18th century, very few of his many keyboard works have been published, and conspicuous by their absence are the organ works, including 97 versets in various tones, a cycle of Praeambula and Versets on the Eight Tones, and numerous other individual pieces. Five pieces have been edited by Erich Benedikt and included in Viennese Organ Music from around 1750 published by Doblinger as DM1335 in the Diletto Musicale series, including a praeludium on the 1st and on the 2nd tones, a Fuga in D Minor, a piece titled Das Glockengeläut zu Rom dem Vatican (in C minor), and an Andante in D minor taken from the third Divertimento of opus 1, better perhaps suited to stringed keyboard instruments. 

James Nares (1715–83). Became organist of York Minster in 1735. In addition to much sacred music including services and secular vocal music, he left several publications for keyboard including two sets of lessons for harpsichord and a set of six fugues with introductory voluntaries for organ or harpsichord, which are available in a modern edition by Greg Lewin as well as in facsimile from Oxford University Press. Only nos. 1, 3, and 5 are preceded by an introduction. Also available in facsimile from Oxford University Press is Il Principio, or A Regular Introduction to Playing on the harpsichord or Organ, which gives basic information on ornamentation and fingering followed by a graduated series of pieces.

Georg Reichardt (1715–89). Pupil of Jakob Adlung. His Sechs fugierte Orgeltrios have been edited by Rudolph Walter for Hänssler Verlag and are available from Carus Verlag. 

Charles-Joseph van Helmont (1715–90). Organist in Brussels, he composed a large quantity of sacred vocal music including Masses and motets and a much smaller amount of secular vocal music. His keyboard works comprise the Pièces de clavecin of 1737, which include two suites, the pieces of which have French titles. The first suite and four fugues have been edited by J. Watelet and published by Vereniging voor Muziekgeschiedenis te Antwerpen in 1948 as Monumenta Musicae Belgicae vol. 6 (also contains pieces by Dieudonné Raick), with the second set edited by Laura Cerutti for Armelin, with a facsimile edition published by Anne Fuzeau. The complete set of Six Fugues has been edited by Jan Vanmol for Calcant.

Johann Doles (1715–97). Pupil of Bach in Leipzig, where he became Kantor, he composed much sacred and secular vocal music, harpsichord sonatas, and some chorale preludes, of which four pieces from the fifth volume of Singbare und leichte Choralvorspiele has been edited by Eberhard Hofmann for Musica Rinata in Orgelpräludien vom Barock zur Klassik. 

John Alcock Sr. (1715–1806). Organist at Lichfield Cathedral from 1750 until 1765, and thereafter at Sutton Coldfield and Tamworth, he composed sacred choral music, numerous secular vocal works, Six Suites of Easy Lessons and a Trumpet Tune for the harpsichord, which has been edited by Richard Jones and published by the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music, as Easier Piano Pieces (vol. 15), and a set of Ten Voluntaries for the Organ or Harpsichord, a new edition of which has been edited and published by Greg Lewin.

Carlmann Kolb (1703–65). Organist of the community of Asbach and priest, he left a sinfonia for harpsichord and strings and the Certamen aonium published in 1733, a set of pieces on the eight tones, including a fairly expansive prelude, 3 fugal verses in a variety of styles and meters, and a toccata-like cadenza. Some of the preludes, particularly the third, are almost extravagantly eccentric in their modulations and dramatic rests. Modern editions by Rudolf Walter for Musikverlag Alfred Coppenrath, Altötting as Süddeutsche Orgelmeister des Barock vol. 5, available through Carus Verlag, and by Gregor Klaus for Willy Müller Süddeutscher Musikverlag, available from Bärenreiter.

Jose Ferrer (1745–1815). Organist in various Spanish cathedrals, including Oviedo, he composed mainly secular and chamber music. Seven sonatas for keyboard by him are preserved in a manuscript now in Zaragoza, and a further six have been attributed to him on stylistic grounds, although as no. 8 is by Domenico Scarlatti, it may well be that further pieces are by other composers. Many of the sonatas are far better suited to stringed keyboard instruments but nos. 9–11 sound well on the organ. All 13 sonatas have been edited as Sonatas para Clave by Dionisio Preciado and published by Real Musical, Madrid, as Teclado Espanol Siglo XVIII, vol. 1. No. 2 in G minor and a further Sonata in C Minor, both taken from MS 1665 at Montserrat, are included in Early Spanish keyboard music: an anthology—Vol. 3, The eighteenth century, edited by Barry Ife and Roy Truby for Oxford University Press.

Pietro Morandi (1745–1815). After studying with Padre Martini in Bologna he worked in Pergola and Senigallia cathedrals. He composed sacred and secular vocal and damatic music and also left 12 Concerti per L’Organo solo, with instructions for registration, and twenty sonatas and sinfonias, all of which have been edited in four volumes by Maurizio Machella for Armelin. 

Giuseppe Gherardeschi (1759–1815). Organist in Pistoia, first of S. Maria dell Umiltà and then the cathedral, he composed much sacred vocal music and several sonatas for harpsichord or fortepiano plus violin and also concerti. His numerous organ compositions, which include versetti, offertorios, elevazioni, sonatas, and rondos, contain precise instructions for registration, including drum pedals and toy stops such as the Uccello. Many have been edited by Umberto Pineschi in Musiche pistoiesi per organo (Biblioteca Classica dell’Organista, vol. M05 and M06), Antologia del Settecento organistico pistoiese (Biblioteca Classica dell’Organista, vol. 19), Musiche d’organo a Pistoia (Biblioteca Classica dell’Organista, vol. 30); Letteratura organistica toscana dal XVII al XIX secolo (Accademia di musica italiana per organo, Pistoia). Some twenty pieces have been edited by Maurizio Machella in two volumes for Armelin as L’organo Italiano nell’Ottocento (OIO 222 and OIO 223). An official download of Gherardeschi’s complete organ works, together with many other pieces from the Pistoia cathedral archives, is available from www.accademiagherardeschi.it/eng-partiture.php?id_sezione=6 for a payment of 10 Euros.

Domenico Puccini (1772–1815). organist in Lucca and grandfather of the famous opera composer, he composed both sacred and secular vocal music, as well as operas. He left 42 one-movement sonatas for organ in manuscripts, which have been edited in four volumes by Maurizio Machella for Armelin. A further volume contains sonatas for violin with accompaniment for organ or fortepiano. 

An increasing number of pieces, ranging from complete original publications/manuscripts (which present the usual problems of multiple clefs as well as original printer’s errors) to modern versions of complete or individual works, are to be found on various free download sites, most noticeably IMSLP; however, the accuracy of some modern typesettings is highly questionable, and all should be treated with caution before use. 

Publishers’ websites 

American Institute of Musicology—CEKM series:
www.corpusmusicae.com/cekm.htm 

Armelin: www.armelin.it

Associated Board: shop.abrsm.org

Bärenreiter: www.baerenreiter.com  

Breitkopf & Hartel:  www.breitkopf.com  

Broude Bros: www.broude.us 

Calcant: www.janvanmol.be 

Carus Verlag: www.carus-verlag.com 

Doblinger Verlag: www.doblinger-verlag.at

Fuzeau: www.editions-classique.com     

Greg Lewin Music: www.greglewin.co.uk

Monumenta Musicae Belgicae: www.dbnl.org 

Musica Rinata: www.berliner-chormusik-verlag.de

OUP: ukcatalogue.oup.com/category/music.do 

Schott Music: www.schott-music.com 

Part 1 was published in the July 2011 issue of The Diapason.

The “Turkish” Percussions
Between the first and the second decades of the 18th century (available documents do not agree on the exact timing) the Ottoman Sultan Ahmed III sent as a gift to the Polish King a complete Turkish military band. Such type of musical band was already known in Europe, both because the Turkish diplomatic delegations were accompanied by such bands, and also for having been heard during the wars against the Turks. In 1683, the Austrian troops and population, during the siege of Vienna, were psychologically troubled by a Turkish musical band that was playing after prayer times during the day, and at sunrise and sunset.
One of the peculiarities of the “Turkish” music was the great importance (and loudness) of the percussions. The bass drum (Photos 7 and 8), the crash cymbals (Photo 9), the “Sistro” or “Chinese hat” (Turkish crescent or Jingling Johnny54) (Photo 10), and the triangle impressed and captivated European musicians, who, starting from the second half of 1700, adopted them in their musical creations. One of the first to utilize them was Gluck (probably on that occasion, but even in prior performances of his works, like the Cadi Dupé, in 1761, by hiring Turkish musicians who lived in Vienna at the time) for his opera La rencontre imprévue ou Les Pèlerins de Mecque (1764). It was an opera that even Mozart likely heard and appreciated, to the point that he wrote the twelve variations in G major, K. 455, on the theme from an aria of La rencontre. Since then, many musicians have adopted both the style and the instrumentation of Turkish music. Mozart, in 1775, wrote a concerto for violin (no. 5 in A major, K. 219) sometimes named “Turkish” for the peculiar structure of the last tempo; in 1778, the piano sonata in A major, K. 331, with the famous rondo “Alla turca” (“in Turkish style”); and, in 1782, the opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail. But even Haydn (for example in the symphonies 63, 69, and 100) and then Beethoven (from Die Ruinen von Athen in 1812 until the last movement of the Ninth Symphony) and even the musicians of the Strauss dynasty adopted Turkish instrumentations and styles.55 In a matter of a very few years, composers and orchestras throughout Europe adopted the exotic Viennese acquisitions.
Manufacturers of fortepianos were also fascinated by the instrumentation “in the Turkish style,” and around the year 1800 they began to manufacture instruments that included a stop called “Turkish music”56 or Janitscharenzung, consisting of a pedal-activated mechanism hitting the soundboard and also activating a sort of Chinese hat.
After the Congress of Vienna, most of northern Italy (the present regions of Lombardy, Veneto, Trentino, and Friuli-Venezia Giulia) fell under Austrian rule. This undoubtedly facilitated the transferring of ideas and merchandise between Italy and Austria. There are many Viennese-made fortepianos today in public and private collections, and many of them came to Italy during that period.
The popularity of opera in the 18th and 19th centuries and at the beginning of the 20th in Italy is a phenomenon that is being studied from every possible angle. An interesting aspect is the great appreciation, almost a sort of fan-like exaltation, of the music of Verdi, which had a strong political connotation, being linked to a sort of underground rebellion against Austrian rule and against all other oppressors of the Italian people. Often, one could find “W VERDI” graffiti, not referring to composer Giuseppe Verdi, but instead an acronym of the phrase Viva (long life to) Vittorio Emanuele Re (king) D’ Italia (of Italy), the Savoy dynasty King of Piedmont, who was being encouraged by many patriots to free Italy from foreign rule and to unite it under one single reign. (Photo 11)
It was also common for the lower social class of people to attend the opera. Many travelers throughout Italy were impressed by the fact that operatic pieces were being played and sung everywhere, even in churches! Hector Berlioz, who was traveling in Italy between 1831 and 1832, wrote: “I have often heard the overtures of the Barbiere di Siviglia, of Cenerentola and Otello [by Rossini]. Such pieces seemed to form the favorite repertoire of organists, who very pleasantly inserted them in the divine services.”57 The comment of Gaspare Spontini, as sent in an 1839 letter by Franz Liszt to the director of a magazine in Paris, is however of a very different note. The Italian musician was absolutely

. . . shocked, scandalized, as are all those who unite the religious sentiment to the artistic one, when listening, during the religious services, and during the celebrations of the holy mysteries, to only ridiculous and indecent theatrical reminiscences, full of anger in seeing the organ, this majestic voice of the cathedrals, making its large pipes resonate only with cabalettas in fashion.58

In such a musical climate it is very likely that the Italian organbuilders, in order to adapt operatic transcriptions for the organ in a more realistic way—possibly influenced by the effects introduced by the Austrian pianoforte, which was then in common use—may have begun to propose the introduction of Turkish instruments in their new organs, having been requested to do so by organists or even deciding to do so on their own.
References to such instruments start to appear around the second decade of the 19th century. Padre Davide da Bergamo59 (one of the most important figures in Italian organ romanticism), organist at S. Maria di Campagna in Piacenza, wrote in 1822 to the Serassi Brothers about the organ that he wanted them to build for him, for which he requested “. . . the tamburo reale” [the real drum], and in another letter he specified “as Tamburo reale I mean properly the drum of natural leather . . . .”60
One of the first applications of the entire device subsequently referred to as “Turkish Band”61 (consisting of bass drum, rolling drum, Chinese hat, and cymbals) by the Serassi Brothers is found in the organ of the Collegiate Church in Treviglio (Bergamo), built in 1816; however, there is evidence of the introduction of such a device in organs, even though possibly in part, around 1814: in the poem dedicated to the building of the organ of Revere (Mantova), the Catuba (bass drum)62 is mentioned. Around that time and for about 50 years following, many organs were built throughout Italy equipped with this fantastic effect, which is found almost exclusively in the romantic Italian organ. In fact, it is not at all present in Austria, it sporadically appears in France in a few organs around the end of the 18th century that no longer exist today (in this case, however, limited to the drum only), and in a couple of English organs, but the extensive use during the 19th century is a typically Italian phenomenon.
As mentioned above, opera was very much loved, and piano transcriptions of operas were very common. The treatise by Calvi63 features an entire chapter dedicated to the “Method to register several pieces transcribed for pianoforte,” in which he explains in fairly good detail how to use the stops to play an opera’s sinfonia, arias, or duets. This chapter follows a small paragraph dedicated to the “Method to imitate the arrival of a band,” specifying that by following the suggestions in reverse order one can also imitate the departure of the band. It is clear that the use of the Turkish band was adding realism to symphonies or other orchestral pieces. In fact, in the conclusion of chapter five, where the stops are described, one can read that this true drum can only be used for the playing of a few marches, and in some chordal inserts of harmony in symphonies and largo movements, “always limiting the hit according to the force [meaning volume] of the parts.” Immediately following, Calvi adds: “it is advisable not to use the Band too often and the Campanelli [Glockenspiel], particularly during the sacred functions.”64
The recommendations by Castelli, published thirty years later, are not much different. After stating that this effect is more in use in countryside churches and that the imitation “of the military and dance music is not fitting to the religious dignity of the sanctuary,” he suggests “not to make too frequent use of it” and limiting its use either to a final march, or to a finale using the fortissimo, or to insert it when the rituals represent “a religious rejoicing.”65
Castelli again provides a complete description of the mechanism and its use. He first explains that it is composed of the bass drum (or leather drum), the crash cymbals, sistro [Chinese hat], and a rolling drum [made with organ pipes], which is activated by a pedal similar to the one used for the tutti. He then describes a very imaginative use for this device:
By pushing down the pedal “gently and slowly” the sound of the rolling drum alone can be obtained (which can be used in the place of the one that he previously refers to as Tremolo, or even in tandem with it);
By hitting the pedal with a “sharp but light hit” the bass drum and the rolling drums can hardly be heard, but it is possible to obtain “the distinct sound of the cymbals and of the Chinese hat, which is useful in adding a special color to some brilliant passages even when piano.”
As far as this special effect is concerned, in the performance of romantic Italian organ literature, we can find several instances in which composers—unlike those of previous times, who were very restrained in giving suggestions—do write rather precise indications for the registration of their pieces. Normally the Turkish Band is referred to in the music as “Banda” or “B.da”, or even “Con Banda,” “B.a” or simply “B”.
In 1837, the Pistoia-born composer Luigi Gherardeschi called for the use of the Band in a section of his Gran Marcia per Organo, and the points for its use are indicated as “B”.66
Padre Davide da Bergamo uses the device with great rationality and parsimony; here are some examples.67
• In the series 15 pezzi di musica pel nuovo e magnifico organo di S. Maria di Campagna in Piacenza (15 pieces of music for the new and magnificent organ of S. Maria di Campagna in Piacenza), published in 1839, both at bar 153 of the Polonese68 in D major and at the beginning of the “Presto” section, he indicates “Con banda.”
• In a Sonata Marziale69 in F major, he indicates first “Banda” (measure 3) and then “B.a” (measures 7, 11, 15), subsequently indicating “F con banda,” five times in all within a rather long piece—by analyzing the piece, it seems there are other points at which to use it (for example, measure 87 and the Finale).
• In the third of a series of Versetti,70 a piece of slightly more than 50 measures, he requests the “Banda” to be used ten times! (Example 1)
• In a Suonata71 in B-flat major, he specifically requests “Con sistro Cinese” (with Chinese hat), then simply “Sistro,” three times in all (measures 8, 16, and 27). Evidently he refers to the use with “sharp but light hit” as described by Castelli in his book, which allows the activation of only one part of the Banda; the special effect is requested in its totality in a following section of the piece (mm. 45, 102). (Example 2, on page 24)
These few indications in almost 60 organ pieces show us that Padre Davide was convinced of the need to not abuse this effect, as indicated by Castelli. It is very likely, in fact, that Castelli was influenced by the indications of this ingenious composer, given P. Davide’s close contacts with the Serassi family, and consequently with Castelli himself.
In spite of the recommendations of various composers and writers to use restraint with such effects as the Banda, and to perform pieces in keeping with “the holiness of the site and the religious majesty with which the sacred services are to be accompanied,”72 a bit of everything was performed in Italian churches. A clear picture of what Italian organists played during the second half of the 19th century—besides the testimonials by Berlioz and Liszt as previously described—is offered by a list of “forbidden music,” published by the Catholic Church in 1884, which forbids in a church

even the smallest part or reminiscence of theatrical operas, of dance pieces of any kind such as Polka, Walzer, Mazurkas, Minuets, Rondo, Schottish, Varsoriennes, Quadriglias . . . National hymns, Popular, erotic or comic songs, Romanzas . . .73
This excessive freedom in the choice of repertoire, together with the new organbuilding ideas coming, once again, from across the Alps, produced towards the end of the 19th century a reaction against the shining sonorities of the romantic Italian organ, which led to the modification of many instruments by means of the suppression of reed stops and cornets, the reduction in number of the Ripieno ranks, and the dismantling of the most characteristic effects74 in favor of strings. This change produced a modification of the music being performed, which became surely more severe and solemn, but also more boring!

The Campanelli (Bells, Glockenspiel)
The Venetian organbuilder Gaetano Callido, between the 18th and 19th centuries, never failed to include, among the registrations suggested for his instruments, the one “ad imitazione dei campanelli” (“to imitate the Campanelli”), which could be obtained by registering the Principale over the entire keyboard compass, the Voce Umana and one Ripieno rank (the Vigesimanona) of ½′, and by playing “spiccato” or “arpeggiato nel basso.”75
Giovanni Morandi (1777–1856), a composer of the Marche region whose compositions were entirely written for the type of organ built by Gaetano Callido or, more generally, for the type of organ built in the late 18th-century Venetian style, also wrote a Rondò con imitazione dei Campanelli.
In various organs built from the end of 1700, however, the real Campanelli appear among the special effects, sometimes also called Gariglione (a term that comes from the Italianization of “Carillon”). It is a stop limited to the treble portion of the keyboard, and is made up of a series of tuned bells in the form of small bronze “cups,” featuring a very bright sound. (Photos 12, 13, and 14)
Back in 1589, Emilio de’ Cavalieri had a series of 36 bells made for him, which were likely connected to an organ, even though this is not absolutely certain. In such a case, the stop extension would have been much greater than the one in use between the 18th and 19th centuries: from A1 to A4 or from F#1 to F4, depending upon the keyboard’s compass.76
Between 1591 and 1600, we find another piece of evidence in the sonaglini (small bells) by Fulgenzi for the Orvieto organ,77 but it is only during the end of the 18th through nearly the entire 19th century that the Campanelli were included in new organs or added to existing instruments.
Luigi Gherardeschi from Pistoia used them in a section of the Gran Marcia per Organo of 1837, by adding the Gariglione (bells) together with the Cornet, to a registration formed of Principale basso, Bordone basso and Bordone soprano, Flauto, Tromba, and Decimino (13⁄5′).78
In his manual dealing with the Campa-nelli, Calvi states that “a good effect can be obtained by playing them with the Flauto in Ottava alone, and by accompanying them with Fagotto and Ottavino [2′ flute] with arpeggiato passages in the bass.” He suggests their use even in conjunction with the Cornetto. He also includes the possibility of their use in “mezzoforte and forte” movements, suggesting not to play chords without accompaniment.79
A few years later, Castelli included them in the specifications for his “middle size organ” and the “large size organ” (Massimo), among the three versions that he considers possible, but he does not talk about their use, as he had done for other effects or accessories.80 However, in the Prontuario di registrazione (registration instruction manual), he suggests three registrations that utilize them:
The first (to be used in staccato or puntato passages) includes the Campanelli, Traverse Flute, Octavin, Octave and Viola in the bass;
The second (for fast and virtuoso passages, to imitate a carillon) consists of Flute in XII, the Second Principal in the treble, and again the Octave and the Viola in the bass;
The third registration (for marches) includes the Tromba, Traverse Flute, Octavin, Fagotto and Octave in the bass.81

The Terza Mano (“Third Hand” or super coupler)
The “Third Hand” was an accessory that gained a great deal of popularity during the romantic Italian organbuilding period, and consists of a super coupler for the upper part of the keyboard. It was invented around 1816 by Giuseppe II Serassi (1750–1817), an ingenious organbuilder. The Quarta Mano (Fourth Hand) (the sub coupler in the first half of the keyboard)82 was invented along with it, but will not be dealt with here, since this device was much less common in the Italian organs of that period. (Photo 15) The Third Hand was highly successful, however, and it was adopted in new organs throughout Italy, as well as being added to existing instruments. It can be operated by a pedal, by a stop lever, or by both controls within the same organ. The most predictable and trivial use is surely that of utilizing it in octave passages, where, rather than going to the trouble of playing two notes at once, one can activate the device and simply play the lower note on the keyboard; it is quite obvious that, by doing so, speed and accuracy of playing increases.
Castelli, however, gives us a very detailed account of the less-obvious use for this device in a special chapter of his treatise.83 He suggests using it to reinforce the soprano line in theme repetitions, in order to create a crescendo effect, but he also states that it is effective even in piano passages. It is useful, he assures us, in making “more brilliant and marked” a passage that is written in a low tessitura. Furthermore, in the case of notes or chords held in the central part of the keyboard, it is possible to hit the corresponding pedal in a staccato manner, thereby underlining those notes or those chords.
Calvi, in 1833, stated that the Third Hand is very useful “in the ripienos, the crescendos, as well as in syncopated passages.”84 He also suggested a specific sequence of stops to imitate the “messa di voce”85: starting with the “Principale in the bass, and the Voce Umana alone,” going further by adding “. . . Principale primo and the Crescendo will be obtained, then with the Third Hand more forte will be obtained.”86 Calvi again suggested imitating the Clarinet by using the Traverse flute together with the Third Hand.87
Padre Davide da Bergamo, as in the case of the Band, limits the use of this device to specific instances:
• For crescendos (example: Suonata88 in B-flat major, bar 171), in which the section with the Third Hand precedes the forte;
• To slightly increase the volume without making stop changes in a piano section (example: Sinfonia89 in C, bars 110 and 212);
• To highlight a theme in its ripresa variata (example: Pastorale90 in A major, in the last section, Allegro, bar 192);
• To make a theme that is played in the middle section of the keyboard “more brilliant and marked,” as Castelli says (example: Sinfonia91 in D major, bar 234). (Example 3)
As with other effects, it is possible to record a very limited and careful use of the Third Hand by Padre Davide, who suggests its use only in the few examples shown and in an extremely limited number of other instances throughout the sixty pieces that I have analyzed.

The Combinazione Preparabile “Alla Lombarda” (Adjustable Combination in the Lombard Style)
Another invention, introduced by Andrea Luigi Serassi92 around 1776, gained great success: a mechanism by which a combination of stops could be prepared in advance, which Castelli called Tira-tutto preparato (pre-arranged tutti). It was later adopted by many organbuilders with the name Combinazione alla Lombarda (Combination in the Lombard style). This mechanism allows the organist to add a series of previously “prepared” (by the organist) stops to a registration. It is activated by a pedal protruding from the casework located at the right side of the pedalboard.
For this mechanism, Castelli again illustrated an original use, which was later exemplified in one of the Petrali compositions attached to his treatise (number 21). The more common use is that of adding a registration to another one to form a crescendo. Another, more interesting use is by means of small percussive taps of the pedal, for example on the weak beats of the measure, while chords are being held, to imitate the orchestral effect of the introduction of new instruments that start playing while other instruments are already playing tenuto harmonies.93
This is also a case where a careful analysis of the piece to be played, and the choice of performing it in orchestral style, can greatly help the player in utilizing the possibilities offered by instruments with the “Combinazione alla Lombarda.”

Conclusion
Through the centuries, the Italian organ, far from being limited in its expressive possibilities, was influenced by changes in musical taste and was in turn effective in influencing them. Even within the context of its rather simple tonal structure, by incorporating effects and accessories it has taken up new sounds and new dimensions. The cooperation between organbuilders and organists has never ceased to be fruitful for both, producing masterpieces of great quality and musical wisdom.
In many instances, for the performance of Italian organ music, performers fail to use simple expressive means that have been a part of the musical palette of Italian musicians since the Renaissance. I believe that an historically informed and philologically coherent performance can give the player, even within rigorous boundaries, many more expressive and varied performance possibilities than a quick and unscrupulous reading of a piece, based on superficial knowledge and arbitrary decisions. 

Hear audio samples of the effects discussed in this article at
www.TheDiapason.com.