Upon the application of the bellows to supply wind, instead of the human lungs, the fingers were used to stop the pipes, and thus prevent their sounding all at once, which it is evident they would have done, standing on a simple wind-chest, which was filled by the bellows. As the number of pipes was gradually increased, the difficulty of managing them by hand of course became greater and greater. This in time led to the invention of the pallet, or valve, to control the admission of wind to each pipe, and by the close of the eleventh century we find it chronicled that there existed at Magdeburg an organ with a key-board comprising sixteen keys. From this time the name of the instrument begins to correspond with our modern idea of the same; its invention was a realized fact, although but a germ of that development which has since raised organ-building to its artistic importance. It must be borne in mind that the pedal organ, with its keys for the feet, was a much later invention. Meantime, the first keys made use of measured from three to five inches and a half wide. Consequently, the title of the performer on this instrument, in the eleventh century, was not that of organ-player, but organ-beater, the keys being struck by the fist, which was protected by a heavy glove. There was, it must be remembered, but one rank of pipes, and these could seldom, if ever, have been in tune, from the fact that they had no means of regulating the wind pressure; while in organs of later date, and at the present day, an even wind is secured principally by weights placed upon the bellows, and the creation of a reservoir of compressed air. At this early time the wind supply was furnished by the common bellows as used by blacksmiths. Thus the supply and consequent pressure of the wind would necessarily be in direct proportion to the muscle or activity of the blowers.
While the various discoveries and improvements in organs of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were slowly progressing, almost the only vocal music the world knew were the Gregorian tones, or plain song of the Early Church. Harmony was entirely unknown, and indeed remained so for many a long year in anything like our modern significance. It is not my purpose here to enter into even a partial examination of the parallel progress of melody and harmony at this age of the world. You have already heard it treated by an abler pen than mine; nor does it properly belong to this department, except in so far as it becomes necessary to note any decided influence exerted by the one upon the other. This influence, as exerted by the organ upon Church music, did not begin as early as might be supposed. Rimbault, in his work on the "History of the Organ" (which I shall have occasion frequently to quote), states that "even in the thirteenth century, the priests of both the Greek and Roman Churches thought the use of organs in divine service scandalous and profane. They preferred rendering divine worship as simple as possible, in order to distinguish it from that of the Jews and Pagans. Even to this day the Greek Church does not tolerate the use of organs in their public services. Notwithstanding these opinions, the use of organs, and even other instruments, gradually became almost universal, not only in great churches, but in those of monasteries, convents, and small towns. The historians of this era celebrate several monks distinguished for the art of playing on the organ. For some time, however, organs were not used in the ordinary celebration of the offices, but only on great feasts and solemn occasions. These first monastic and conventual organs were very small, being only used to play the melody of the plain song in unison with the voices."
In spite of the disrepute into which the whole monastic system fell, there is no question but that the monks and friars were the great conservators and preservers of all the fine arts, and even mechanics, during the troubled times of the Middle Ages. As the prejudice against the employment of instrumental music in the church services began to disappear, nothing was more natural than that the monks, having both the leisure and pecuniary means, and containing among their number the best educated men of the day, should turn their attention to organ-building, animated by the same spirit which led them to decorate and ornament their churches and monasteries. Thus we find that it is to them we owe the improvement of the hitherto clumsy key-board, extending its compass both upward and downward to the extent of some three octaves, and so reduced both fall and breadth of the keys that they could be pressed down by the fingers, instead of struck by the fist; certainly no small improvement. The first organ possessing keys to give the chromatic tones or semitones was built by a priest—Nicholas Faber by name—about 1360.
It now behoves us to glance for a moment at the influence which the organ already began to exert upon music, or the art composition, and to show how the instrument became to show proofs of that right to the title, "king of instruments," in the sense I have adopted. It must be kept in mind that the veriest twilight dawn of the knowledge of harmony had scarcely begun. Yet what can be conceived more natural, than that the organist of that day, even, should stumble on the fact that different tones in conjunction were more agreeable to the ear than the bare unison, which was at first the only accompaniment of the choral song? This being noted, the next logical step was to try and produce the same approved effect with the voices themselves. In the "History of the Modern Music of Western Europe," by Kiesewetter, the following passage occurs. He is not speaking of the organ, but of the origin and development of the science of harmony.
He says: "The union of different human voices which now occurred to their thoughts (the early harmonists), was an imitation not altogether happy, perhaps, of that which in various instances they had discovered with the organ!" Here the fact that the organ was even then beginning to assert itself, to mould the minds of the early writers, in fact, to claim its royal dues, is pretty conclusively shown.
Time would altogether fail me in the scope that this lecture must necessarily occupy, to trace down this influence, once established, through the long cycle of years that followed; the theoretic science and practical application keeping pace with the mechanical development, until it found its full culmination and glory in the new-born science of Counterpoint. This science, which has given polish to the mightiest thoughts of the greatest masters of our art (and in totally different departments than mere organ-playing),—a science, without a satisfactory knowledge of which no man can call himself a thoroughly educated musician,—sprang from just this source.
How often we hear the remark that contrapuntal treatment is best suited to the organ! True; but how many reflect that the organ, so to speak, first dictated counterpoint to the world? An influence, which (the free forms being derived from the stricter) is carried clear down into the realm of Italian opera, i.e., when it is good of its kind. Is not, then, this influence, which the organ has indisputably exerted upon not merely its own literature, but the musical literature at large, an all-sufficient proof of its right to the royal title? It must be borne in mind that this absolutism, as in matters political (to carry out the simile), was possible at this stage of the world in matters musical, because not even the harpsichord, clavichord, spinet, or any of those presentiments of the modern pianoforte, by whatever name they were called, had as yet made their appearance. The organ was, for the time, the sole keyed instrument.
In view of these facts, it seems to me that it may be justly claimed that the title "king of instruments" should be based on far nobler and more historic grounds than is usually done, and that we should not content ourselves with explaining this phrase as arising from the circumstances that it is the instrument which can, of its own resources, make the loudest noise!
EARLY FORM OF THE REGALS. FROM LUCINIUS' MUSURGIA, SEN PRAXIS MUSICÆ. 1536.