"Travel back in time. Open that church door and peer inside. Hear the incredible, vital voice of instruments you have only read about . . . climb the winding stairs to view the organ up close. If you wish, lay your hands on its keyboards and let its time-honored voice sing just for you. Prepare to be enchanted . . ." Who could possibly resist such an enticing invitation? Certainly not I, nor--apparently--the forty-three others who lost no time in signing up for this extraordinary travel opportunity sponsored by Minnesota Public Radio and hosted by Pipedreams' own J. Michael Barone.
For this septuagenarian, who had never before ventured across the "Big Pond," this was, indeed, a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. Our itinerary was an ambitious one. We would be visiting at least forty organs in eleven days--an interesting mix of old and new instruments in a variety of venues including castles, palaces, museums, cathedrals and village churches.
It was my intention to keep some kind of travel diary and to write an article about the trip when I returned. As luck would have it, my life took some unexpected turns about that time, and many months passed before I was able to turn my attention to this self-appointed task. More than a year would have passed by the time the article reached the hands of readers. I thought long and hard about it. Perhaps I should abandon the project. In the end, I couldn't. It was a trip that deserves to be documented and shared. By now, many details, once vivid, have faded, and I apologize for the errors and omissions that are bound to occur. This is not intended to be a scholarly report in any sense. It is not about facts and figures and stop lists. The memory of this remarkable journey has been simmering away on the back burners of my mind, and I want to try to capture its essence and share some impressions with you. Here, then, is the Pipedreams Organ Tour, 2002, in retrospect.
Day 1
Early Monday morning, as we arrived from various points of embarkation, our group began to assemble in the boarding area of Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport. Weary and jet-lagged, we were a motley crew indeed. Our ever-genial host, Michael Barone, greeted each of us warmly and presented us with a thirty-page booklet that he had prepared. In addition to a detailed itinerary, it contained a fine introductory essay, photographs, maps, stop lists, website links and other pertinent and helpful information. It would become our vade-mecum for the next eleven days. In a matter of mere minutes, a group of strangers were rapidly becoming "family," and the final leg of our journey to Berlin was about to begin.
The flight from Amsterdam to Berlin is a relatively short one, and before long, we found ourselves deplaning. Tegel airport--as one might expect--is large, bustling and modern. Had our ears not been surrounded by myriad voices all speaking in German, it might have been the airport of any great city. We were warmly welcomed by our German tour guide, Sonja Ritter, and our bus driver, Manuela Huwe. Eventually, our luggage was duly accounted for and stowed, and we climbed aboard our large and comfortable modern tour bus. The adventure had begun!
Our itinerary promised a brief "panoramic tour" of the city, and it did not disappoint. It was a beautiful, warm and sunny day--the first sunshine Berlin had seen in this month of April! As we drove through the city, flowering trees were everywhere. Everyone in Berlin seemed to be outside enjoying the sunshine. Crowded sidewalk cafes and mounted policemen on horseback were reminiscent of the isle of Manhattan on a warm day in spring.
Our only stop in Berlin that first day was at the Breitscheidplatz for a brief lunch break. The plaza, a popular tourist attraction, is dominated by the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, which was built at the end of the nineteenth century. Bombed by the British in 1943, the ruined church tower is all that remains. It has been preserved as a memorial, and a new, modern church of blue-stained glass now stands beside it. Some in our group chose to explore the church. Others wandered off in search of lunch and souvenirs, and some seized the opportunity to acquire some euros at a nearby bank. Too sleep-deprived and exhausted to move, I chose to sit on a bench in the warm sun and reflect on my first impressions of this great city. Berlin exudes an almost overwhelming aura of energy, vitality and transformation--a modern-day phoenix rising from the ashes. It is a city of starkly dramatic contrasts between old and new--building for the future, while preserving and learning from its past.
Once again aboard our bus, we headed for Potsdam, some eighteen miles to the south and west. If Berlin was colorful and bright, Potsdam seemed gray and somber. Older, smaller, less urban and "touristy," we were now in what had once been East Germany before the reunification in 1990. Potsdam was bombed by the British in 1945, and even today--more than a half-century later--the signs are still visible. Large, ugly, institutional-looking apartment buildings bear witness to the recent Communist occupation. But Potsdam, like Berlin, is also a city of contrasts. Palaces, formal gardens and landscaped parks speak eloquently of the wealth and splendor of the past.
Sanssouci Park
Our first stop was Sanssouci Park, the home of Frederick the Great's eighteenth-century summer palace. Neither words, nor even photographs, can begin to do justice to this incredible monument to royal self-indulgence. Wilhelm Frederick II, the philosopher king, had a passion for things French, and spoke only that language. An accomplished pupil of Quantz, he was famous for his daily chamber music concerts and midnight suppers, at which he surrounded himself with an elite circle of intellectuals and artists, among them such luminaries as Voltaire. It was for Frederick that Bach wrote The Musical Offering after visiting the king in Potsdam in 1747. The lavish, single-story palace, with its yellow, rococo façade, sits high atop what had once been only a desolate hill. The palace is not open on Monday, but we were able to walk about and take in the panoramic view of the park below. Walking across the vast plaza and past the fountains, we made the long descent down the broad and elegant staircase, past six tiers of terraced vineyards with their glassed-in alcoves designed to protect the orange and fig trees. Having reached the great fountain at the bottom, one is able to turn and look back up the hill toward the palace. It is a truly extraordinary sight, now etched indelibly in my memory.
From there, a leisurely stroll took us through more of the park with its beautifully landscaped gardens, temples, statues, pavilions and grottos. Approaching the edge of the park, we arrived at the lovely Friedenskirche (Peace Church), a picturesque Italianate structure modeled after an early Christian basilica and complete with campanile. Built by Frederick IV, the nineteenth-century, "romantic" Prussian king, the church was completed in 1848, the same year that the organ was dedicated.
The original 18-stop instrument, built by Gottlieb Heise, employed casework designed to encircle the rose window. Over the years, additions and alterations were made by various builders. A major rebuilding and dramatic enlargement by Sauer, in 1909, resulted in a new façade which covered the rose window. During the twentieth century, the revisions continued, resulting in the replacement of many Romantic registers by Baroque stops. Plans are now underway, and funds being raised, for a major rebuilding project which will return the organ to something like its original nineteenth-century state. The acoustics are fine, and in spite of its checkered past, the organ gave a decent accounting of itself under the capable hands of Director of Church Music, Matthias Jacob, who welcomed us warmly and played a mini-recital of Bach, Reger and Franck.
Schuke Orgelbau
Back on the bus once more, we headed for the Schuke Orgelbau, the last stop of the day before checking into our hotel. The Schuke organ factory is located in the heart of the old Dutch Quarter. It was here, after the Thirty Years' War, that Frederick I, the "Soldier King," commissioned the building of 134 red brick, gabled houses in the Dutch style, meant to attract workers from Holland to help with Potsdam's building boom at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The Schuke company was founded in 1820 by Gottlieb Heise, builder of the original Friedens-kirche organ. Since 1894, it has been under the Schuke name and has survived two world wars as well as the enforced nationalization which took place between 1972 and 1990. Not a small shop by any means, Schuke employs twenty-eight craftsmen, including a physicist and a design engineer. With an international clientele, the company designs, builds, restores, reconstructs and maintains organs of every size in every venue.
East Germans seem to be early risers. A working day at the Schuke company begins at 6:30 and ends at 2:30. By the time we arrived, most of the workers had already left or were leaving for the day. The quaint, picturesque setting imbued the whole enterprise with an ambience of charm and informality. Our tour guide was a young physicist from the University of Potsdam. We wandered up and down and through many small rooms which occupied several adjoining buildings, all accessible through a small, cobblestone courtyard. For some in our group, it was their first visit to an organ shop, and there were many questions, some of which were difficult for our guide to field because of the language barrier. Fortunately, our group included the American organ builder, Roland Rutz, who was able to greatly facilitate the communication problem.
A church, a palace, a royal chapel, and an organ factory--not bad for an afternoon's work! By now, we were beyond exhaustion and more than ready to head for our small hotel, which was located in a quiet, residential Potsdam neighborhood. We would be on our own for the remainder of the evening. It was still early, and a few of the more adventurous in the group headed back to Berlin via public transportation. After being reunited with our luggage, and having stretched our legs a bit, most of us were quite content to settle on a leisurely meal right there in our hotel.
Day 2
The restorative powers of a good night's sleep had worked their wonders, and after an early breakfast, we gathered in the lobby eager to board our bus for what promised to be a very full day in Berlin. The fact that the day had dawned cold and rainy had not dampened our spirits. Our driver, Manuela, drove us back to Berlin by a different route, more residential than that by which we had come before. Lakes, streams and lovely forested areas abounded. Green was the color of the day, and signs of spring were everywhere. Berliners evidently love their gardens, yet their lawns seem to fend for themselves and lack the "manicured" look one expects to find in similar neighborhoods back in the States. I found the effect charming and thought again of Berlin as a city of contrasts--in this case, the rather dramatic juxtaposition of urban and rural.
Church of the Holy Cross
Our destination on this rather dark and gloomy Tuesday morning was the Kreuzberg district of Berlin and the Church of the Holy Cross. The bus let us out on the Blücherplatz, and we made our way on foot to the church. The Church of the Holy Cross is one of the largest and most prominent in Berlin. Built between 1885 and 1888, it suffered severe damage in WW II, and the interior was completely destroyed. Although a rather limited reconstruction in the 1960s had made the church habitable again, many problems still remained, and it had become a financial liability to the community, rather than an asset. As a result of many years of creative and foresightful cooperative planning in the 1980s, the church has undergone a major reconstruction and revitalization. After several years, the project was finally completed, and the building was inaugurated in 1995. Recognized as an historic monument, its exterior remains virtually unchanged. Inside is another story altogether. While preserving the integrity of the main room (the worship space), this very large interior has been miraculously transformed into an ecologically sound, multi-use facility, which serves the entire community. Side galleries, open stairways, windows and skylights, stone, glass and steel: all of these elements have been combined into a harmonious blend of old and new. Michael Barone has referred to it as "creative contemporary recycling at every level." Wherever one happens to be in this vast space, the effect is visually thrilling.
But enough about the building. We had come to see, hear and play the organ--an organ no less extraordinary than the building it occupies. The organ is E. & G. G. Hook, Opus 553, II/39, built in 1870 for the First Unitarian Church of Woburn, Massachusetts. In 1991, the organ was threatened with destruction when the congregation ceased to function there, and the building was designated for other uses. The Organ Clearing House came to the rescue and removed the instrument, but a local buyer could not be found at that time. Fortunately, the organ specialist, Uwe Pape, was able to arrange the purchase of the instrument by the Kreuzberg chapter of the Evangelical Church. This was followed by a period of uncertainty while the organ waited in storage. Finally, the Church of the Holy Cross was designated as its new home, and after careful planning, the installation and revoicing was accomplished in 2000-01 by the Eule company. The organ was in good condition and, except for some releathering and the repairing of some cracks in the windchests, it remains unaltered. In its original Woburn incarnation, the organ had been buried in a narrow chamber and forced to speak into an acoustically dead room. Here, a beautiful, new, free-standing organ case has been designed by two of the architects who were involved in the recent renovation. The organ is now visually "at home" in its new surroundings and speaks, for the first time, into a good acoustic. Perhaps even more importantly, Berlin now possesses a fine example of nineteenth-century organ building. Kantor Gunter Kennel greeted us warmly, introduced us to the organ, answered questions and played for us. Afterwards there was ample opportunity for those who wished to try the instrument themselves.
Charlottenburg Palace
Back on the bus again, our next stop was Charlottenburg Palace, the largest palace in Berlin. Located on the Spree River and once approachable by boat, it was built between 1695 and 1699 as a rural summer home for Sophie-Charlotte, wife of the future King Frederick I of Prussia. Over the years, it was added to in stages and finally completed by Frederick the Great with the addition of an east wing in 1746. Severely damaged by Allied bombing in 1943, the palace has been meticulously restored and is now a major tourist attraction.
We took the guided tour and enjoyed viewing the many priceless paintings, tapestries and furnishings, including the famous porcelain collection of Frederick I. But the major attraction for us on this gloomy Tuesday was the royal chapel and its organ. Having completed the formal tour, we were escorted into the small chapel. Once free of the museum-like context of viewing roped-off treasures, we seemed to have quietly slipped into another dimension where we found ourselves at once immersed in sumptuous, eighteenth-century splendor. To actually experience this architectural detail at close range and in three dimensions was both wonderful, and at the same time, a bit overwhelming.
The original instrument had been a 1706 Schnitger of two manuals, twenty-six ranks. Even though the organ had been removed and stored for safekeeping in the cellar in 1943, it was totally destroyed by fire bombs the following year. Fortunately, Alexander and Karl Schuke had been planning a thorough restoration and had carefully documented and photographed the instrument in its every detail. The restoration by Karl Schuke was completed in 1970. In the center of one of the long sidewalls, high above the floor of the chapel, Haupt-werk and Pedal divisions and console are housed within a chamber, which sits behind the arched opening into the room. The Rückpositiv, in an elaborately carved and ornamented frame, projects into the room. In spite of this rather "quirky" physical design, the organ has a pleasant sound and a clear presence that fills the room nicely. Professor Klaus Eichhorn was on hand to greet us and play works by Sweelinck, Scheidemann and Weckman. Although time was short, several in our group seized the opportunity to try the instrument. The organ loft is very small and able to accommodate only a few people at a time. I was content to remain below, absorbing the sights and sounds of another age in this royal chapel where kings had worshipped. I must say that exiting the palace and finding ourselves abruptly back in the twenty-first century was a bit of a jolt.
Berlin Konzerthaus
Back on the bus once more, we headed for the Gendarmenmarkt, the largest plaza in Berlin, and thought by many to be the most beautiful square in all of Europe. "Take-out" sandwiches sufficed for our lunch break and helped to keep us on schedule, as we were expected shortly at the Konzerthaus for an organ demonstration.
Dominating the large plaza, the Berlin Konzerthaus is an imposing structure. Flanked by the German cathedral (the Berlin Dom) on one side and the French cathedral on the other, it stands today as an outstanding example of European concert hall reconstruction. Originally designed in 1801 as the State Theater, it has survived many disasters and reconstructions over the past two hundred years. Severely damaged in WW II, it was first made structurally safe, and then, starting in 1979, systematically restored to its original design. In 1984 it reopened as the Berlin Konzerthaus, now home to the Berlin Symphonic Orchestra.
The organ, IV/74, built by the Jehmlich firm of Dresden, is of modern, eclectic design. Mounted high on the wall above the orchestra, the case has been beautifully integrated into the overall architectural scheme, which reflects the classical elements and lavish details of an earlier age. In addition to the attached, mechanical-action console, there is a second, movable console with electric key action, which sits on the concert stage. Organist Joachim Dalitz greeted us and gave us a brief demonstration and mini-recital while we were free to wander about if we wished. Somehow, for me, the visual aspect of the instrument in this grand concert venue seemed to promise far more in terms of sound than it actually delivered. There was absolutely nothing one could point to that was "wrong" or unpleasant in any way. But to my ears, something ineffable was missing. But there was no time now for further reflection, and we would be back again that evening for an orchestra concert. In the meantime, it was out on to the plaza again, and time to make our way across to the Berlin Dom.
Berlin Dom
This magnificent domed building, inspired by the Italian Renaissance, was built by Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1905, replacing the original eighteenth-century cathedral which he had demolished in spite of the sharp criticism of some of his contemporaries. The Berlin Dom is home to what was once the largest organ in all of Germany and the largest instrument ever built by Wilhelm Sauer. The organ, IV/113, was inaugurated at the same time as the Cathedral church itself in 1905. Sauer (1831-1916) established his own organbuilding shop in 1855. Having traveled widely, and having absorbed the ideas of such distinguished builders as E.F. Walcker and Cavaillé-Coll, he became one of the most famous builders in all of Europe. Most of the nineteenth-century instruments in Berlin were built by him, and the Berlin Dom instrument is considered by many to be his crowning achievement. Over the course of the century, many changes were made, reflecting the current trends in organ design as well as the devastation of two world wars. In 1917, the tin façade pipes were donated to the "war effort" and later replaced in 1927. In 1932, at the instigation of cathedral organist Fritz Heitmann, several neo-baroque changes were made in the Positiv. In 1942, a plan was proposed by the Rudolf von Beckerath firm for an extensive, neo-baroque rebuild which, because of the war, was never seriously considered. When the Cathedral dome was de-stroyed in a 1944 bombing raid, the organ miraculously survived unscathed, only to be subsequently damaged by theft and vandalism and exposure to the elements, as the dome remained open and was not repaired until 1953. Since then, some twenty years later a serious and thorough restoration of both cathedral and organ was undertaken and finally completed in 1996. The earlier neo-baroque tonal modifications have been removed, and once again the instrument speaks in the warm, romantic orchestral sounds intended by its builder.
The Dom is a major tourist attraction, and on the day that we were there, it was crowded with people. We were ushered up to one of the side galleries where we heard a short, regularly scheduled recital played by the young organist, Thomas Sauer. Unfortunately, I think we were in a very poor location for hearing the organ. Although we did not have programs, I recall the selections as being surprisingly eclectic for such a Romantic instrument. The program certainly demonstrated the organ's versatility in handling a great diversity of styles--perhaps not always with authenticity--but the musicianship was never in doubt. Due in part, perhaps, to my mounting fatigue and our less-than-satisfactory seats, I found my attention wandering a bit during the recital. A rather strange phenomenon seemed to be occurring. The sound of the organ and the lavish, visual grandeur with which we were surrounded were being upstaged by this extraordinarily magnificent space. In spite of the cold, drizzly day, the vast interior seemed to be bathed in sunlight, and I felt em-braced by the atmosphere in a magical, timeless, and almost tangible, way. With the familiar and rousing strains of the "Finale" from the Vierne First Symphony, the spell was broken, and we were once again on our way.
"Good Tidings" Church
We would return later to the Gendarmenmarkt for dinner and a concert, but for now our destination was the Karlshorst District of Berlin and the Evangelical Church, "Good Tidings," where we would hear and play a 1755 Migendt organ, II/22. This well-traveled little instrument has a quite remarkable history. The organ was originally commissioned by Princess Anna Amalia, sister of King Frederick the Great. It was for this instrument that C.P.E. Bach wrote his Six Sonatas and dedicated them to the princess. After Anna's death in 1787, the organ was moved to a church in the Berlin suburb of Wendisch-Buch where it remained undiscovered until 1934. Plans were made for it to become a second organ at the Nikolai Church, and in 1936 it was disassembled. During the ensuing confusion of WW II, it was moved about again and miraculously preserved from harm. In 1960 it was restored by Schuke and installed in the "Good Tidings" church. This modest and charming neighborhood church provided a welcome contrast after our earlier exposure to the grandeur of palaces, concert halls and cathedrals. We learned that Roland Münch, the man who had been curator of this historic instrument since 1969, had only recently died. In his absence, we were greeted warmly by Herr Knappe and his wife, who seemed to be members of the parish. His knowledge of the instrument and the pride and joy he took in demonstrating it more than compensated for any lack of virtuosity on his part. In spite of some language difficulty, we felt welcomed and at home. No vastness here to be sure, but instead, a warm, vibrant sound that seemed to permeate every nook and cranny of the small sanctuary in a vital, but not in the least aggressive way. After the demonstration, our three most serious players each took a turn along with Michael, and for the first time--but not the last--there was some hearty hymn singing.
Back at the Gendarmenmarkt, there was time for a leisurely stroll before heading to the Opernpalais restaurant for a dinner. We were divided into small groups at several tables for a pleasant and relaxing meal in quiet and elegant surroundings. Concert tickets were distributed and, having got our "second wind," we made our way back to the Konzerthaus for a symphonic concert of Schubert, Schumann and Mozart.
It was hard to believe that this was the same venue we had visited only hours earlier. The very presence of this large and enthusiastic crowd of serious music lovers seemed to breathe warmth and life into what had seemed to me earlier to be a rather cold and austere building. And indeed, why not? It was for this that the building was intended. Magic was afoot here. The musical "chemistry" generated by conductor, performers and audience had, at least for me, succeeded in invoking the spirit of "Music Past." This was indeed where Mozart had come to attend the premiere of Weber's Freischütz overture and where Wagner had conducted The Flying Dutchman. No longer just a group of American organ buffs, for one magical evening, we were Berliners, intensely proud of our musical heritage and of our concert house, which had literally risen like a glorious phoenix from its ashes. There was an intensity about this musical evening which I will not soon forget.
In spite of the lateness of the hour, our coach had not turned into a pumpkin, and we headed back to Potsdam for one last night, mulling over the days events and welcoming the opportunity to get a glimpse of Berlin at night.
Day Three
Wednesday began with a very early wake-up call. We had to have not only ourselves, but also our luggage collected, be breakfasted and at the entrance for a 7:30 departure. It was a tall order indeed. Even though the day was dark and drizzly and chillier than the day before, everyone seemed eager for the next leg of the journey.
It felt good to leave the city behind us, and it was interesting to see something of the rural countryside. We passed by vineyards and fields of white asparagus, the Hartz Mountains always visible in the background. Sonja's commentary enhanced our enjoyment of the ride, and she also took advantage of the travel time to provide us with some interesting historical background about our first stop of the day. As Sonja would succinctly put it in her very precise English, "Destination: Wittenberg."
Wittenberg
The small medieval city of Wittenberg was founded on the northern bank of the Elbe River in the twelth century. We were headed for the Schlosskirche (Castle Church). Both castle and church were built during the reign of Frederick the Wise between 1490 and 1511, and we were about to step through yet another window into the past. We began with a walking tour of the castle. Five hundred years embraces a lot of history as well as a lot of destruction and painstaking restoration. Of the original castle, only the exterior remains. History can be read about, and architectural details can be photographed and described. But one is never quite prepared for the experience of being there in that space and imagining what it might have been like to live within these walls so long ago.
From there we proceeded into the church. It was on the original doors of this church that Luther had posted his 95 Theses in 1517. But we had come to hear the Ladegast organ. Friederich Ladegast (1818-1905) was an important nineteenth-century builder whose shop produced more than 200 organs. Influenced by the ideas of both Andreas Silbermann and Cavaillé-Coll, he developed a sound that was a unique blend of the Baroque and the Romantic.
The original Castle Church instrument was an 1864 Ladegast of three manuals and 39 stops. In 1935 it was rebuilt by Sauer. The alterations (typical of the time) were substantial and included electrifying the action and adding a Schwellwerk. Then, in 1994, the Eule firm took on the enormous task of returning it to its original mechanical and tonal condition, although it was decided to retain the 1930s Swell. Today the organ boasts four divisions and fifty-seven stops. It was demonstrated for us on this day by organist/cantor Anne-Dore Baumgarten, who is also professor of church music at the Wittenberg seminary. Afterwards, all who wished were invited to climb the gallery stairs and play. All too soon it was time to move on, but we could not leave this historic cradle of Lutheranism without at least one rousing stanza of "A Mighty Fortress."
Out on the ancient cobbled streets, we made our way to St. Mary's, the Stadtkirche (City Church) of Wittenberg. It was here that Martin Luther preached, and here that he was married and buried. Although it is the oldest church in Wittenberg (begun in the thirteenth century), its organ, completed in 1983, is a contemporary mechanical-action instrument by Sauer of three manuals and fifty-three stops. Herr Lamberti was on hand to greet us and to demonstrate the instrument with works by Bach and Mendelssohn.
With a full day still ahead of us, we scrambled back aboard the bus and continued on our way as we consumed the "Bach's lunches" with which we had been provided. This time our destination was the historic town of Halle.
Halle
Located on the River Saale, an important tributary of the Elbe, Halle was first mentioned in the tenth century, although it is located on what appears to be the site of ancient Bronze Age and Ice Age settlements. During the Middle Ages, the river provided fish, drinking water and transport for the town's most important resource, salt. Today, Halle is a major industrial center as well as the largest city in the District of Saxony-Anhalt with a population of more than a quarter of a million people. We were headed for the famous Marktplatz at city center with its Handel Monument and the famous "Five Towers" which dominate the landscape. Our first stop would be the historic Marktkirche where Handel had been baptized and received his first communion. Here he had his first organ lessons with his teacher Zachow and played his first services as Zachow's substitute .
The church originally possessed a sixteenth-century instrument by Esauas and David Beck, which was praised by Michael Praetorius in his Syntagma Musicum. The Beck orgorgan no longer exists and in 1984, the Schuke company built a modern instrument of three manuals and fifty-six stops. Of special interest to us was the small Reichel organ of one manual and six stops. Played from the back of its beautifully carved case, it had been added to the cathedral in 1664 in order to expand the musical possibilities. Over the years, the organ has unfortunately been "tampered with," and in 1972, the Schuke firm restored it to the original mean-tone temperament and brought it back to its original specification. Students of Konrad Brandt demonstrated both instruments for us briefly, and then it was on to the Halle Cathedral for a demonstration by Konrad Brandt of the 1851 instrument by Wäldner. It was here at the Cathedral that Handel had been appointed probationary organist for one year before he resigned and left for Hamburg. Following that, we took a guided tour of the Handel museum before boarding our bus once more. Destination: Merseburg Cathedral.
Merseburg Cathedral
The history of Merseburg can be traced back as far as the ninth century. The cornerstone of the Cathedral was laid in the year 1015 and since then, the edifice has been rebuilt several times. The history of the Cathedral is a complicated one, even for this time and place. But of particular interest to us was the 1855 Ladegast, IV/80, which sits high in the rear gallery of this immense and ancient building. It was for the inauguration of this instrument that Liszt composed his largest organ work, the Fantasia and Fugue on "Ad nos." Unfortunately, the work was not finished in time, and so the cathedral organist, a pupil of Liszt, played instead the Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H. In 1961, the organ was "baroqued," a fate which befell so many fine examples of nineteenth-century German organ building. After the pendulum had swung back, a provisional restoration was completed in 1995. Now a more thorough and complete restoration is in progress to be completed by 2003.
At the moment, the only playable instrument in the Cathedral was a small Ladegast organ of one manual and ten stops which is being used as a substitute until the restoration project is complete. It sits quite unpretentiously down on the main floor to the side of one of the transepts. Built in 1850, it is the oldest extant Ladegast instrument. It was demonstrated for us by the organist, Michael Schönheit, who played a short program of amazing variety: Bach, Mendelssohn, Rheinberger and Brahms. Herr Schönheit's busy schedule did not permit him to linger, but since this was our last scheduled stop for the day, arrangements were made for us to stay and try the little organ. It had been a very long day--a castle, a museum and five organs. By now we were all, without exception, hungry, exhausted and chilled to the bone.
And then something quite extraordinary happened. I no longer recall who was the first to play as we gathered around the organ, but I can only describe it as a kind of magical, musical chain reaction. We were somehow enchanted by the musical sounds emanating into that huge space from this tiny organ. People came forward to play who, up until now, had only watched and listened. It was surely the most awkward console we had encountered to date--hardly "user friendly" for those of us accustomed to AGO standards. Shyness and self-consciousness were abandoned with much encouragement all around. Some only played a hymn. Some did not read music, and played by ear. Of all the things we had seen and heard on that eventful day, one moment is etched most vividly in my memory. It was nearly time to leave, and the very last to play was the eldest gentleman of our little group. There we stood, huddled together for warmth in the corner of that dark and vast space, united by the sound of this remarkable little instrument, raising our voices in a chorus of "Church in the Wildwood."
And then it was back to the warmth of our bus and on to Leipzig which would be our home for the next two nights. The light was fading and our mood was rather subdued as we rode past rural farms and open fields, reflecting on the day's events and looking forward to a warm meal and a good night's sleep. Although it was nearly dark by the time we arrived in Leipzig, our driver, Manuela, took us past St. Thomas-kirche. Just enough light remained to afford us a glimpse of this famous church where Bach had spent the last twenty-seven years of his life--an enticing foretaste of what lay in store for us tomorrow.
This article will be continued.
