IN 1833, THE SAME YEAR in which Aristide Cavaille-Coll received the
contract for the Basilica of St. Denis, a relatively obscure provincial
organbuilder in Germany completed a monumental instrument for a
prestigious Frankfurt church and thereby set the pace for his profession
during the entire remainder of the century. Although St. Paul's Church in
Frankfurt is now virtually empty, its name is remembered among organists
as the major point of departure in the career of the Swabian, Eberhard
Friedrich Walcker, who in turn is automatically associated with the
development of the German Romantic organ. That Walcker did not create ex
nihilo the Romantic organ is clear from an even cursory examination of the
Buchholz organ in Greifswald (THE AMERICAN ORGANIST, September 1980),
completed some two years earlier. Indeed, Buchhoiz's instrument may
represent more of a stylistic divergence from the venerable tradition of
his region than does the Pauluskirche from Walcker's own heritage. As in
the case of Cavaille-Coll at St. Denis, the rare combination of innate
creative genius, a family tradition of high craftsmanship, a daring
conception with all the risks it implied, plus simple fortuitous timing,
galvanized the organ world with a showcase of technical and aesthetic
possibilities appealing to musician and artisan alike.'
Probably what captured the imagination of contemporary musicians was,
above all, the Frankfurt organ's monumentality and the decidedly
scientific considerations underlying its conception. (Again, the parallel
to St. Denis is remarkable.) Although tenders from organ-builders were
solicited for the organ as early as 1824, it took three years before the
contract was signed, the field of candidates having been narrowed from
fifteen to nine, then three (namely Schuize, Overmann Brothers of
Heidelberg-apparently a "local favorite"-and Walcker). When the
prestigious commission, composed of Rinck, Julius A. Andre and the church
organist Petsche, sent out a model specification, the 32-year-old builder
daringly took exception to its conservatism, in one of the fullest
expressions ever of nineteenth-century tonal ideals, a sort of prophetic
Romantic Organ Manifesto:
• Superior insights of late have dispensed with all this jumble of
sounds and hold fast to whatever makes the tone pure, determinate and
certain, to the unity of tone, which, however, does not
preclude the sparing application of just a few quints and tierces, should
such be desired. The general preference is to have many stops, of which
each may be used individually by the player for the performance of a
melody, but which in addition to their unity offer at the same time a rich
variety of character. The beauty of an organ is not to be seen in mere
shrieking [Geschrei], least of all in confused shrieking:
this we have gotten away from. It rather consists in the tone's having a
grand, indeed I should say sacred character. . . ."'
It was the spectacularly successful fulfillment of this novel ideal that
singled out the Pauluskirche organ as a landmark even in its own time. As
an anonymous reviewer for the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung put it:
"Since such large new organs are now seldom built, the matter seems
to me doubly worth the attention of the musical public."3 It seems
safe to say that no organ for nearly another generation (until Ladegast's
rebuild of the Merseburg Cathedral organ in 1855) so incarnated the
strivings of the age. This is surely more important than the
constructional details (double pedal, Vogler-like mutation series, free
reeds, etc.), the significance of which has at times been misconstrued.
Exactly as in the case of Cavaille-Coll during and after St. Denis,
Walcker very quickly "distilled" a more standard style, so that
the really lasting novelty of the Frankfurt instrument was in aspects
which show only vaguely through the paper specification (unless one knows
how to read between the lines).
For example, it is easy to see the two pedalboards as a polyphonic device,
whereas (although its potential therein did not totally escape composers
such as the Stuttgarter Immanuel Faisst) its true purpose was clearly the
rather mundane one of providing two dynamic levels without excessive stop
changing. (We shall meet many an offspring of this concept, culminating in
the automatic pedal shift of the late Reger aera.) The mutation scheme was
indeed borrowed from Vogler, with whom Walcker had direct contact during
his years of apprenticeship." Its lasting effect, however, was
obviously not in the adoption of numerous mutation ranks into the Romantic
organ, but rather in their consolidation into the wide-scaled Terz-mixtur
or Kornettmixlur without breaks, one of the features that filtered upwards
from Southern Germany into the North and are crucial to the authentic
"Reger sound." As for free reed stops, their importance as swell
devices (by variable wind pressure) may be overplayed.
"Absolute" tonal considerations seem to have been the ultimate
determining factor in their success: "schwellbar" or not, their
sound simply blended better with the rest of the tonal palette.
The farthest-reaching innovation Walcker brought about, controversial even
in his own era, made its entry fully a decade after the Frankfurt
masterpiece. Made aware of the drawbacks of the slider wind-chest in
adverse climates by several major contracts in Russia, he began around
1842 to work seriously with the concept of the stop-channel chest. His
acquaintance therewith clearly came from old organs he knew in his region,
in which sparing use of the principle had been made in order to get around
large pipes' tendency to rob wind.5 It is to th s day not entirely clear
whether Walcke''s exploitation of his discovery was based on a deep
conviction of the chest's artistic superiority, or issued from an urge to
play up his growing progressive, innovative image. The first attempts were
not all that conclusive and, furthermore, the new design turned out to be
more expensive to produce than the slider chest. In .any case, the new
concepts of "Walcker's improved spring chest"6 quickly took over
the workshop and spread to other builders in the area within a decade. Its
penetration into Central and North Germany was much more gradual, but inev
table.7
Eberhard Friedrich Walcker's organs have in general fared very badly
indeed at the hands of subsequent generations, and may be considered a
nearly extinct species. Most other great nineteenth-century German
builders worked until the end of the century, sometimes well into the
twentieth; but Walcker created his last important organ in 1862, for the
Boston Music Hall. Hence, his instruments tended to have an antique air
about them that did not sit well with the progress minded. The firm, once
taken over by his sons, was seized by a "bigger-and-better
spirit" more pronounced than before. An element of industrialization
and commercialization gradually got the upper hand (at least in contrast
to the father's enterprise, which despite its size basically retained the
family, moreover the pious Christian family, as its structural model);
this "Weltanschauung" virtually inundated the German organ
world. Consequently, the name Walcker has most often been associated with
the prodigal organs manufactured under the influence of "Wilhelmism"
after 1870. It is, however, important to distinguish between the periods,
and for this reason the production of the third and fourth Walcker
generations will be discussed later.
One outstanding monument still stands to Eberhard Friedrich Walcker's
genius and high standards, the 27-stop organ (1845) of Hoffenheim near
Heidelberg. A miraculous escapee among the countless victims of
"enlightened" organistic as well as belligerent military
campaigns of the last several decades, it deserves the term historic organ
as much as any instrument on the Continent, all the more thanks to an
exemplary restoration by Steinmeyer in 1974. Admittedly, the instrument is
everything the neo-baroque organ is not (except for its purely mechanical
action, at least), and one may easily comprehend the aversion to its kind
on the part of those saturated with Orgelbewegung ideals and sonorities.
To those without preconceived ideas, however, it can open totally new
horizons of organistic thought. The stoplist tells only part of the story:
MANUAL I
Salicional 16 Principal 8 Gedekt [sic] 8 Floete 8 Violadigamba 8 Quint
(wood) 5'/3 Octav 4 Rohrfloete 4 Traversfloete 4 Octav 2 Mixtur IV
Trompete 8
MANUAL II (Hinterwerk)
Principal 8 Doppel Gedekt 8 Doice 8 Holzharmonika 8 Spitz-Floete 4 Flute
d'amour (wood) 4 Nasard 22/3 Flautino (conical) 2 Physharmonika 8
PEDAL
Violin-Bass 16 Sub Bass 16 Octave-Bass 8 Violoncellbass 8 Floeten Bass 4
Posaune 16
Couplers ll/l and I/Pedal (stopknobs) Expression pedal for Physharmonika
For all its tonal differentiation, this organ is not a subtle one in the
sense of symphonic finesse and extremes of color. It lays all its cards
immediately on the table and, in the best Southern German tradition,
invites the organist to group them in fairly large masses.
speaking pipes of a given note; this is universally seen as advantageous
to tonal blend. In the cone-valve or other stop-channel chest systems, the
pipes of any given note are separated from each other at all times,
whereas the pipes of any given srop may communicate. In one case the blend
is "horizontal" and, logically, advantageous to polyphony in the
narrow sense of separation of voice parts; in the other it is
"vertical," favoring homogeneity in chords. Judgments about the
two systems should concern practical "appropri-ateness" and not
theoretical "superiority," and Hoffenheim is the ideal place to
explore one's own rapport with such action.'
Only the countless fascinating tonal details divert attention from the
extraordinary beauty of this organ; but since such overall beauty is hard
to describe in a few lines, some of the details may suffice. Most
unforgettable is the Physharmonica stop, of which only a handful of rare
specimens survives. Borrowed directly from Abbe Vogler, this free reed
stop (here housed alone on gallery level behind the trackers) has no
resonators but is enclosed in a sort of box whose lid can be closed by a
pedal at the same time wind is gradually cut off, producing a crescendo of
enormous range for a single stop. The effect is largely that of a
harmonium and can therefore, without careful handling, resemble that
described in caricature by Vogler's own detractors, namely a singer being
progressively strangled while performing. The stop's curious nasal timbre
is useful as an ensemble element as well as in solo passages, and is
"backed up" by the even more fantastic Holzhar-monika, whose
breathy and "woody" tone it vaguely resembles. The latter is a
wooden flue stop with a downright recklessly narrow scaling (one inch at
4' C!), perfect for plaintive and calm textures like Brahms's "Es ist
ein Ros' entsprungen."
A chapter in
themselves, the many flutes complete the roster of wooden stops. Most
remarkable are the "Gedekt" on Manual 11-Walcker's father
already was renowned for his doppelflutes" of which this is a
descendant-and the overblowing (from middle C) Traversfloete which
achieves a stunning imitative effect by a round mouth.
An unexpected French influence is to be found here and there, such as in
the construction of the manual trumpet stop with double blocks. Curiously,
the open, medium-scaled Manual II stop marked "Quint" on the
pipes, is called "Nasard" at the console: oversight, lack of
coordination in the shop, or conscious effort to appear up-to-date? In any
case, the sounds themselves are not made to fool anyone:
one hears in particular a typical German trumpet tone, rather thin and
unassuming. The power elements are to be found in the principals and the
"reedy" Terzmixtur. Despite the Farbmerk character of the second
manual, it can, to a great extent, hold its own dynamically against the
first. Tonally, though, its narrow scalings in the best Romantic tradition
make it much less weighty than Manual I. How refreshing it is to break
away a bit from the Quin-tade/Gedecktpommer/Bourdon complex in the manual
16' range! A thorough examination of the specification10 will indeed
reveal, even on paper, a brilliant overall conception in which unity and
variety are perfectly balanced and each stop's musical function clearly
defined. The tutti is homogeneous, noble and imposing, with the astounding
clarity in strength which typifies the German Romantic organ, whether from
1840 or 1910.
Thus the Hoffenheim organ is unquestionably one of the most crucial
instruments left on West German soil today. True, there is no individual
unique element about it: one meets with overblowing flutes, cone-valve
chests, detached consoles, even a Physharmonica or two all over the
country. But, thanks to this treasure (and to those who saw to its far
from automatic preservation), the possibility will always exist to judge
Eberhard Friedrich Walcker's ability by something more than a few
hopelessly scattered stops and the historian's disparaging accounts. One
of the greatest organbuilders of all time deserves at least that much.w
NOTES
1. Virtually all of the standard reference works give the specifications
of the Pauluskirche organ (e.g., P. Williams, The European Organ, pp.
94-95; W. Sumner, The Organ, p. 486; P. G. Anderson, Organ Building and
Design, p. 256; W. Metzler, Romanlischer Orgelbau in Deutsch-land, p.
55-56; H. J. Moser, Orgelromantik, p. 80ff.; E. F. Richter, Kalechismus
der Orgel (4th ed.), p. 191; H. Riemann, Kalechismus der Orgel, pp.
166-68; etc.)
2. Quoted from Walcker's project ol October 25, 1826, in Johannes Fischer:
Das Orgelbauerge-schlecht Walcker in Ludwigsburg. Die Menschen -Die Zeiten-Das
Werk, Kassel, 1966, p. 28 (trans. by present author).
3. Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, No. 40 (1833), p. 669 (trans. by
present author). Particularly admired were the twelve bellows, each 14' x
5'A', which allowed a true tutti of a good 70 stops with no
"alteration" in the tone. Walcker further achieved an
unprecedented fullness in 32' tone here, thanks to a chance acoustical
discovery.
4. Vogler was to
play a concert in Cannstatt,
where the workshop of Walcker's father was, and had the organ there
modified-perhaps even "simplified"!-for his
"productions." (See Fischer, op cit., p. 26.)
5. The organbuilder Hausdorffer from Tubingen built several such chests in
the eighteenth century, which Walcker could not help but come into contact
with, particularly in Esslingen City Church (1754).
6. Of course, the true spring chest is a stop-channel system; the old, one
might say the traditional, confusion comes from the superficial similarity
of pallet construction between the latter and certain variants of the
cone-valve chest.
7. See the magnificently documented study by Hermann J. Busch, "Zwischen
Tradition und Fortschritt-Zu Orgelbau, Orgelspiel und Orgel-komposition in
Deutschland im 19. Jahrhun-dert," in Alfred Reichling (ed.), Mundus
Organum. Festschrift Walter Supper, Berlin, 1978, pp. 63-91 and in
particular 77-78.
8. A discussion of the playing characteristics of such actions must, for
reasons of space, be reserved for later chapters. See also the description
of the organ in Paris, St. Eugene (MUSIC, March 1976, pp. 44-45).
9. Justin
Heinrich Knecht mentions this in his famous Complete Organ Method, which
shows that the name Walcker was regionally known before the turn of the
nineteenth century. But the organs built by E. F. Walcker for places even
as relatively close as Hoffenheim and Frankfurt were considered products
of "foreign" (auslan-disch) manufacture.
10. cf. Hans Gerd Klais, "War die Kegellade ein Irrtum?" in
Mundus Organum . . . (note 7 above), pp. 171-84. (English translation by
Homer D. Blanchard, "Was the Cone-valve Chest a Mistake?" in The
Tracker, Vol. 21, No. 3, Spring 1977, pp. 14-18; Vol. 21, No. 4, Summer
1977, pp. 10-14.)
Kurt Lueders graduated in 1972 from Yale College where he was an organ
student of Paul Jordan and Philip Prince. He lives in France at present
where his teachers have been Maurice Durufle and Edouard Souberbielle. In
addition to contributing articles to American and European organ
publications, Mr. Lueders edits La Flute Harmonique, the only review in
the world devoted exclusively to the nineteenth-century organ.
MARCH 1981
