[CONTENTS]
[TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE]

VIOLIN TONE AND
VIOLIN MAKERS

VIOLIN TONE AND
VIOLIN MAKERS

DEGENERATION OF TONAL STATUS. CURIOSITY VALUE
AND ITS INFLUENCE. TYPES AND STANDARDS OF
VIOLIN TONE. IMPORTANCE OF TONE IDEALS.
ANCIENT AND MODERN VIOLINS AND TONE.
AGE, VARNISH, AND TONE. TONE AND
THE VIOLIN MAKER, DEALER,
EXPERT AND PLAYER
BY
HIDALGO MOYA
TOGETHER WITH AN ACCOUNT, BIOGRAPHICAL
AND CRITICAL, OF THE PRINCIPAL VIOLIN MAKERS OF
THE VARIOUS SCHOOLS AND THEIR WORKS
BY
TOWRY PIPER,
JOINT EDITOR OF HART’S “THE VIOLIN, ITS FAMOUS MAKERS
AND THEIR IMITATORS”
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1916

PRINTED IN ENGLAND BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED
LONDON AND BECCLES
All rights reserved
TO
THE KING OF INSTRUMENTS
AND
HIS FAITHFUL SUBJECTS IN ALL COUNTRIES
THIS HUMBLE EFFORT ON BEHALF OF
TONE
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

For many years those who advocate the principle that Tone is the only thing that matters in a violin have been few in number, but earnest in purpose, and it would appear their efforts have not been barren of result when we find it admitted, where one would least expect it, that the day of the toneless old fiddle has passed for ever.

But this is not enough. Players of the violin, and especially those who seek refinement of tone in the instrument, still remain under the thrall of systems, methods, influences and errors which must also pass away before the road to tone is freely open.

An understanding of the relationship between tone and the instrument, and between the instrument and the various toneless interests by which it is surrounded, is vitally important to the player or the buyer of a violin—unless the instrument is being acquired as a curiosity, in which case tone need not, of course, concern the purchaser to any marked extent. But to the player these relationships matter very much indeed, and the understanding of them is rendered difficult owing to the invisible nature of tone, there being no material evidence to indicate its presence in one violin or its absence from another, a fact of which full advantage is taken in certain quarters. In the classifying of violins according to present methods, tone finds no place, having neither status nor any standard by which it may be judged; well may the player be uncertain whether he is acquiring a musical instrument or merely an antique. The very reason why the violin possesses a tone has not yet been satisfactorily explained, present opinion on the subject being near to chaos, some holding that it is due to the wood, others that it lies in some secret of construction, a few that it results from varnish, and many that it is created by age—but none, so far as I am aware, thinking it is due to an Ideal; material and construction being merely the means through which it finds expression. There is enough here to explain the uncertainty which surrounds the subject of tone and its connection with the violin, a connection which I shall attempt to explain in these pages by dealing with the instrument and its makers, whether ancient or modern, and with its history, manufacture, sale and use, solely from the point of view of Tone.

With tone at the mercy of caprice, and the violin in no better case, it is not unlikely that the general uncertainty extends to its makers—especially to the old instruments and their builders—notwithstanding the number of books which catalogue their names and indicate the nature of their work. Some few of these books are fairly exhaustive, authoritative and reliable, but the point of view from which the violin is approached is that of the connoisseur and collector rather than that of the player, whilst the rest are mainly unreliable and partial copies of the first.

In order to provide a sufficient account of those makers who, for one reason or another, are worthy of attention or likely to be the subject of inquiry from players, the second section of the volume, containing reliable and valuable information—much of which is now published for the first time—has been placed in the hands of Mr. Towry Piper, whose aid I have been fortunate enough to secure, and who needs no introduction to fiddle lovers. To those new to matters connected with the violin, it is sufficient to say that Mr. Piper is widely known as a writer and expert, one of the editors of Hart’s classical work on the violin, a recognised judge of fiddles and tone, and a capable player of the instrument.

H. M.

CONTENTS

VIOLIN TONE AND VIOLIN MAKERS

CHAPTER I
ANOMALOUS POSITION OF THE VIOLIN

It would be difficult to present the subject of tone in a manner calculated to inspire both appreciation and confidence without first making an effort to rescue the violin from its present position of uncertainty, and the player from influences detrimental to an impartial judgment of the instrument as a tone-producing medium. This position has been forced upon the violin gradually; has become more menacing with the passing years; and is due to the addition of an interest which it did not originally possess, and which has finally become so paramount that tone, when considered at all, actually plays second fiddle in a dual value. The violin may still be the “King” of instruments, but this added interest has made it of even greater value as a curiosity. Thus has its position come to be extraordinary and without counterpart in the world of art.

This dual interest is, of course, well known. When associated with certain special instruments it is harmless enough. But what is not fully appreciated by players is the pernicious influence this world-wide curio interest exercises over all violins when the attempt is made to value them from a purely tonal point of view.

Mr. Hart says in his book, “The Violin, Famous Makers and their Imitators:” “In those days when the old Brescian and Cremonese makers flourished, the only consideration was the tone-producing qualities of their instruments; the violin had not then taken its place among curiosities.” So, then, tone was once the only value considered, presumably because the instrument was originally made to satisfy the requirements of players, and not the curiosity-hunting instinct of collectors. And the player’s interest in tone has never wavered. It still overshadows every other consideration, and is the object of constant search. Tone being the player’s elementary necessity, the desire for tone has always eclipsed interest in the merely curious. But being a curiosity, the old violin with the finest tone is placed practically beyond the player’s reach, and this has made the pursuit of even good tone, in all old violins, an uncertain and financially hazardous enterprise.

Let us now explain how this curio value originated; how it advanced; the mighty interests surrounding it; how it usurped the position of tone; and how it has come about that the old violin is valued, bought, and sold entirely regardless of its tonal capacity.

Between the years 1550 and 1875 there worked in Italy and elsewhere some seven hundred makers of violins and kindred instruments who were sufficiently well known to warrant the inclusion of their names in modern books of reference. As a large number of existing old fiddles are by unknown makers; as no amount of research will unearth all who made violins during that period, it is safe to add as many more as would make the total nine hundred. Among these nine hundred makers two take the first rank, closely followed by three or four who take second place, and a dozen or so who occupy the third position as creators of really great tone in the violin. Let us say the total is twenty, and we shall then have eight hundred and eighty violin makers of olden times who simply “made fiddles.” Upon the violins turned out by the twenty who rank as “Old Masters;” whose instruments, and especially choice specimens of them, were always few in number when compared with the productions of their more numerous confrères, and are to-day almost priceless; upon these violins was founded a cult, pioneered by one Luigi Tarisio in the early years of the last century. Tarisio was a carpenter by trade; never made a violin, and could play the instrument but indifferently. In due time, however, he began the collection and sale of violins by the famous old makers of Italy and became the chief instrument in spreading the cult over France and England. Originally founded upon the great master violins, first one and then another of the lesser known makers has been embraced, until now all old fiddles of every country are included, whether the maker be known or not, and regardless of whether the instrument has anything other than age to recommend it. This cult is scarcely distinguishable from any other cult, whether of furniture, pottery, or stamps. It differs only in the object upon which it is founded. It has its experts, dealers, collectors, and its host of followers. It is due to the scarcity of fine old master violins that the more plentiful supply of minor old fiddles, many of which are tonally worthless, is so diligently exploited. Without them the cult could not now be kept alive for a single day.

Among experts, dealers and collectors—but not among players—there has always existed a tendency to deal with the old violin more as a curio than as a musical instrument, and this tendency has brought it perilously near the status of old furniture, the value being centred in the object rather than in any tone merit which the object may possess. This view of the commoner old fiddle, so widely held by dealers of the present day, is due to the fact that the really fine toned old master violins, upon which the cult was founded, did possess some rare type of tone which, with much confidence upon the part of everybody concerned, could be taken for granted, and there was no need, even if an expert could be found capable enough, to pass any judgment upon its tone-value. In most cases the tone was there. It was absent only when visible evidence in the form of cracks, etc., indicated otherwise. It was sufficient to secure the object and tone of the right sort followed as a matter of course. Here, then, the expert acted not without reason in basing value upon what could be seen rather than upon what could be heard.

Therefore, when the violins of the masters were succeeded, for the purpose of trade, by those of lesser tonal worth, it was but natural that this method of valuation should be extended to these fiddles. It was the time-honoured custom, and remains to this day the only system of valuation in existence. It had always satisfied the collectors, for whom it was invented, and who collect for reasons other than tone because, in many instances, they could not play the violin at all. The great players accepted this toneless method of valuation with some show of reason. They were thoroughly competent judges of tone; could select their ideal from the works of the masters with unerring accuracy and, if they paid a high price for curio value, it was to secure what was of much greater importance to them, tone value. But how about the more numerous section of tone lovers: the aspiring young artists, the leaders of orchestras, the ambitious students, and the amateur soloists? To these tone is of importance, to say the least. Many a promising career is jeopardised through the lack of it, and progress in a difficult study retarded for the same reason. A poor toned violin will bind the soloist to a commonplace voice, and may even set up for the beginner a false standard as an ideal of tone. It is this great body of players who are obliged, under existing circumstances, to place their tonal wants at the mercy of a system not intended to cater for their needs, but to the needs of the curio-hunter. Let us now explain this method of valuation more fully in order that the violin player may see exactly where he stands in relation to a system under which he is, perforce, obliged to secure his tone.

CHAPTER II
A TONELESS METHOD OF VALUATION

It is the business of those who value old violins to determine the age, maker (if known), country of origin, “school,” genuineness and condition of various parts, and, from the result of these observations, to place a money value upon the instrument. All this is done without any reference to the tone; without placing a bow to the strings; without, in fact, there being any necessity for the expert to be able to play at all. An equally reliable opinion will be given if the old violin be without strings, finger-board, tailpiece, bridge, soundpost or bassbar, the top separated from the body, and the neck dislocated; that is to say, if the fiddle be utterly unplayable.[A] This is precisely the system of valuation under which the dealer in old violins acquires his stock, and when that stock is put into a saleable condition, it is the system of valuation under which it is sold. Whatever tone the old fiddle may or may not possess (and as to this the buyer may satisfy himself), the curio value remains intact. It is the predominant asset, and is unaffected save by considerations involving the object. Let anything connected with the object prove questionable and down goes this curio value at once. Here is an example: A violin, supposed to be by a famous old maker, was well known in Europe for years. Its value was a thousand pounds. It carried many of the ear-marks of its supposed maker, and contained his genuine label. In due time it came into the possession of a celebrated London connoisseur who had doubts. Removing the label, he found beneath the label of the famous maker’s son. The violin was then valued at five hundred pounds, the curio value of the son’s best work. But the tone remained the same! This example deals with the known great violins; those of tonal repute. Let us see how it affects the commoner old fiddle; those that come the way of most tone seekers. A fine-looking old violin is acquired at a supposed bargain price of twenty pounds. Its faded and tattered label reads:

Jacobus Stainer in Absam
prope Oenipontum. 1664.

After possessing this instrument with much pride for a time the owner takes it to an expert to ascertain its real value, and is told at the first glance that it is a modern imitation, made in Germany, and its value is thirty shillings. Here again the tone remains unaltered, but the instrument is not old. As to these imitations, most deceive only the inexperienced. Others, however, are more ambitious, being carefully doctored by expert “fakers,” and the old masters imitated—in everything save tone—with diabolical ingenuity. We are constantly reading how paintings and other works of art, supposed to be the product of some ancient and gifted hand, are finally discovered to be spurious; but not before they have succeeded in imposing upon the experts of national museums! These things are judged solely by their appearance, just as the violin is judged, and so long as this system continues, just so long must every one relying upon it be prepared for deception in two directions; the imitation old master on the one hand, and the genuine old fiddle of poor tone on the other. Would it not be a move in the right direction to rely upon tone alone; upon something which, at least, is capable of speaking for itself?

It must not be supposed from the foregoing that the great expert and connoisseur knows nothing of tone. He often knows very much about it—more, perhaps, than many who actually make violins. This knowledge he has gained through a unique experience, covering a wide range of instruments by many old masters, and because he is often a player of the violin himself. But all experts are not great, nor are all of them players of the violin. There is, indeed, under such a system, no need for them to possess a knowledge of tone, or any ability to produce it from the instrument. If, therefore, the old violin is not judged and valued from the standpoint of its tone it is not the fault of the expert, but the fault of the system under which he exercises his calling. This system offers protection only to the collector and, in the interest of all players (who receive from it no tone protection whatever), should be abolished, or at least modified to include as binding a guarantee for tone value as, without hesitation, is given for curio value.

If the lover and seeker of tone has some experience of the matter; if he is so fortunate as to number among his friends a candid and impartial dealer; he is aware that the bulk of old fiddles possess but small tone value; that it is age, repute, or appearance that sells them. Many players have purchased old violins which are genuine enough, but practically worthless in tone; such tonal glories as they possibly once possessed having long since departed. But the maker’s name remains; the instrument is still the veritable production of an old maker. In the case of paintings the ravages of time detract from a single asset, and matter little. Your painting may be chequered with cracks and otherwise show that time has passed across it no gentle hand. Its crumbling canvas may be bolstered up from the back without any detriment to its single value as a work of art, and it may slumber in the mansion or the museum secure from every hurt save the desiccating influence of the passing years. According to the experts the violin should be similarly situated and have but a single asset: that of an artistic object. If it were not called upon to exercise the function of a musical instrument all would be well. It would, like the painting, remain a rare work and nothing more. As such it would repose in its cabinet without ever a bow being drawn across its strings. As a curiosity that would be its legitimate place. Should any player drag it forth to fulfil another purpose, his must be the risk. Should he find this purpose accomplished, well and good. If not, he must be satisfied in the possession of a curiosity, and accept, with what patience he can command, the lack of tone.

For a century or more the toneless pariahs among “genuine old” fiddles have roamed from place to place, and from country to country. Like the Wandering Jew, they are never at rest. Countless amateurs have owned them, treasured them, found them out, and sent them forth again. Some bear the scars of fruitless operations, for it is the fashion among the inexperienced to attribute the lack of tone in all violins to faults of adjustment. In one way or another the attempt is made to accomplish what the maker of the fiddle failed to do. As to this, there is a difference between adjusting a fine-toned violin, and trying by the same means, or by any means whatsoever, to create tone in a fiddle that never possessed any. The many aids and improvers of tone may, indeed, alter for the better that which could not well be worse, but to say that any of them will “create the tone of a fine Italian” is a statement very far from fact.

I have now defined the position of the old violin as a musical instrument, and as a curiosity. The new violin has no status which the expert can recognise, because it is worth nothing as a curio. Unlike the ancient fiddle, it has but one asset, tone, and, according to possession of this attribute, is its value high or low. Being outside the calculation of the expert valuer, tone has neither standard nor status, nor any recognisable money value. The system under which the old violin is judged, therefore, cannot and does not apply to the new. In fact, there is no existing method of valuing a new violin! As I deal with the modern fiddle in another place, let us proceed with the consideration of the old and acquaint the reader with the Standard and Types of that grand tone against which all violins, whether new or old, should be measured.

CHAPTER III
TYPES OF STANDARD VIOLIN TONE

In order to distinguish the types of tone which, at various periods, have been looked upon as Standard—that is to say, representing an ideal of perfection, and at all times have had adherents,—I set out below five types that may be said to represent the five great groups of tone. Violins embraced by any one of these groups will vary in the perfection with which they present the type according to the tone-developing skill of the maker; according to his ideals of perfection, and according to the condition of the instrument. It is unlikely that two makers, engaged upon the development of the same tone-type, would succeed in copying each other exactly. Individuality would be sure to assert itself in tone as it does in handicraft. As to this individuality, it is somewhat difficult to describe, but may be said to be a sort of uniform peculiarity noticeable in the tone of all violins produced by a certain luthier.

Amatisé.—Sweet, sympathetic, and more or less lacking in power. Found in the violins of the numerous Amati family, Jacob Stainer, those of Antonio Stradivari prior to 1667 and his smaller instruments made after that year, and in the violins of the followers of these makers. Plentiful.

Bergonzian.—Virile, powerful, partaking of the qualities of Stradivari and Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù to some extent. Rare.

Brescian.—Dark, sombre, “brilliantly melancholy.” Any violin possessing a tone sombre in character is said to be Brescian, frequently without much regard to other characteristics. Found in the violins of G. P. Maggini, and da Salò, which are rare, and in less perfection in a number of instruments by other makers, both ancient and modern.

“Cremonese.”—Not a type, but a generic term, used to designate the general superiority of tone produced by violin makers of Cremona, prior to about 1775,[B] over instruments produced in other centres.

Guarnerian.—A tone distinguished for its remarkable qualities of clearness, brilliancy, virility and intensity. Peculiar to the violins of Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù. Rarely imitated with any degree of success. Rare.

(Guarneri) Length of body 13¾ to 13⁷/₈ ins.
Width across lower bouts 8¹/₈ ins.
Width across upper bouts 6⁹/₁₆ ins.
Arching variable but tending to flatness.

“Italian.”—Not a type, but an expression, used to distinguish the tone of ancient Italian violins from those made in other countries. Now rather loosely applied to any instrument possessing tonal qualities above the average.

Stradivarian.—Rich, mellow, sympathetic and powerful. The favourite with most players although Guarnerian tone is preferred by some—to quote the opinion of one celebrated expert, “The tone of a good Joseph beats that of the average ‘Strad’ into a cocked hat!” Stradivarian tone has been said to combine the good qualities of both Brescian and Amatisé. It possesses in a marked degree that rich woody quality admired by connoisseurs. To appreciate the meaning of “woody” quality, one should hear an organ containing both wood and metal pipes and note the difference in tone quality between them. The best organ of this kind I know of, and one of the richest toned instruments it has ever been my pleasure to hear, is located in the Tabernacle at Salt Lake City, Utah, U.S.A., and was built by an Englishman, Joseph H. Ridges (1826-1914) about sixty years ago.

Of all the five types of tone Stradivarian is the most plentiful. Apart from the violins of Stradivari, which are more numerous,[C] perhaps, than that of any other famous old maker, the type is found in a high state of perfection in some of the instruments of his followers, and in not a few violins by modern makers.

It may be thought that other great makers should be credited with the creation of a tone-type; but I think their violins will, in tone, be found to fall into one or another of the groups named above, varying only according to the ideals and individuality of the several makers.

I shall now investigate the relationship between tone and the old instruments, and explain why a master of tone was not always a master of handicraft, and why many excellent workmen were unsuccessful as creators of a grand tone. In the next chapter, therefore, I deal with the old masters as violin makers.

CHAPTER IV
THE OLD MASTERS AS VIOLIN MAKERS

There is a “Life” of Stradivari[D] by Messrs. Hill which contains a deal of valuable and reliable information of the utmost importance to those interested in violin tone. It does not, indeed, deal with the subject from the point which we are now about to approach, but it makes such a fitting prelude to our theme that I regret my inability to quote this work extensively. I therefore earnestly advise my readers to procure a copy of that work if they are not already acquainted with it, as, in dealing with the subject of tone from my own point of view, I am prevented, through considerations of space, from giving much information which would add background and perspective to this discussion, and thereby add materially to its interest and understanding. With this digression I will now proceed.

The old masters divided the art, or work, connected with the manufacture of a violin into two parts. The first was that of preparing the various pieces of wood and combining them into a more or less finished violin, and the second consisted in so manipulating these parts as to control the tone and cause the instrument to give forth, when finished, exactly the quality, intensity, flexibility and refinement of voice which the maker intended. The resulting violin would, within human limitations, embody the tone ideal of the master. The great tone builders, for the most part, were surrounded by workmen and pupils whose duty it was partly, if not wholly, to prepare the wood and bring the instrument to a more or less rough state of completion. In addition to developing the tone the master designed the moulds and determined the exact size and shape of the instrument, this being a work having much to do with tone as, upon the perfection of the design, depends the type of tone which the master will produce in the instrument. It is probable that some of the Amatis were as well equipped with ideals of tone as Stradivari, but the model which they used prevented them attaining such good results, although producing tone of much refinement. Here is seen one reason for the never-ending changes which the masters made in the shape of their instruments. They were seeking the best possible base upon which to build tonal ideals, and not endeavouring to design a violin which would, in itself, possess these characteristics—an impossible task, as I shall presently show. Equipped, therefore, with high ideals of tone and a splendid model in which to develop and control every essential that makes for the creation of the perfect voice, it is not difficult to understand why certain makers were able to create, with remarkable uniformity, a great toned instrument; or others, with an equally good model, but not so gifted with ideals, a violin inferior in tone; while others again, like the copyist of form, without ideals, or the ability or desire to apply them if he possessed any, turned out a violin lacking in those essentials of tone which characterise the perfect instrument.

The violin has figured in the minds of its devotees as a curio for so long that points relating to its great asset, tone, cannot well be left to a mere statement of fact. Especially is this the case in dealing with matters forming the base of that cult to which they belong, for their knowledge of the instrument, its history, and its makers is profound, and embraces an intimate acquaintance with the many theories and experiments advanced and tried during the past hundred and fifty years to account for and unravel the mysteries of tone. While the reason for tone which I advance in this work is not only obvious, but actually in use at the present day, achieving consecutive results identical with those named in this chapter, it may not be amiss to set forth here, for the benefit of those who may be interested, some arguments in favour of the fact that tone in the violins of the great masters was due to their ideals of tone, and to no other reason. The process employed in developing these ideals was in no sense a secret with these masters. Great results in all art are due to the talents of the artist. Method and process, being but means to an end, may be imparted to another by precept and example, but the ability to express a high ideal was never the outcome of any “secret” in constructing a violin, or the preparation of canvas and pigment, or due to any special virtue contained in mere wood, paint, or marble.

If, therefore, those responsible for the grand tone in the old violins did no more than make the instrument, or supervise its manufacture by the workmen and pupils by whom they were, in most cases, surrounded; if the creation, regulation, and control of tone were due to any set, or even variable, rule of design, construction, arrangement of parts, manner of applying varnish, or method of selecting wood, then the pupils of, say, Stradivari, by following these rules, etc., could not fail to obtain like tonal results. But tone equal to that of Stradivari, or of any other great tone-creator, has never followed the copying of anything that could be discovered by the most painstaking measurement and study of their instruments.

Again. It has always been supposed the old masters attracted pupils desirous of learning from them the purely mechanical art of constructing a violin. With this idea I entirely disagree. There is nothing about the mere making of a fiddle to warrant the supposition. If these pupils were attracted because they wished to acquire, as nearly as possible, the high tone ideals of the masters, and become versed in the delicate method of its embodiment in a violin, for the purpose, in short, that has always attracted pupil to master in all art, the matter becomes clearer. Pupils of the masters frequently stated the fact on their tickets, and it is hardly possible they did so merely to advertise the source of their cabinet-making knowledge. Modern builders, more often than not, work to satisfy connoisseurs of form rather than exponents of tone; but, with the earlier makers, we are assured by an authority of the highest eminence that “tone was the only consideration.”

To hold any other view of tone-creation leads but to confusion. If mechanical construction alone attracted pupils they would certainly acquire all necessary knowledge with the same facility as knowledge is acquired to-day in all branches of mechanical art. There would be nothing connected with the matter that could not be seen with the eye and reproduced with the hand. Even if they failed or were at times careless in the last degree as carvers of wood, we know by the work of Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù, this is no bar to tone.

Yet we have makers taught by the greatest masters, heirs to their models and, in the case of the sons of Stradivari and Bergonzi, to patterns, tools, wood, and even partly finished instruments, but who still failed to produce the tone of their teachers and fathers. Surely no clearer evidence than this is needed to indicate that it was high ideals alone that placed the masters above others—even their own sons—as poets in tone. Let me repeat that this is no mere theory. Violins are developed to ideals to-day, and I believe it has been done since the days of da Salò by one maker or another. By no other process is it possible to create, as the masters did, a tone characteristic of the maker. No mechanical process will produce this result, whatever else it may accomplish, and however complicated, “secret,” or scientific it may be.

I believe experts agree that the most striking characteristic of the old masters’ violins is not simply the grandeur of their tone, but the extraordinary regularity with which this tone was reproduced in successive instruments. It is said that consecutive reproduction of any kind of tone is the most infrequent as well as the most difficult thing in present-day fiddle making. So far as the instrument is concerned, nothing has occurred to make this more difficult to-day than in 1725, when Stradivari, Guarneri, and Carlo Bergonzi were accomplishing their consecutive tonal marvels. The fiddle itself has no secrets which can be hidden. It does not defy analysis, and to add that the mere building of a violin never has given and never will give consecutive tone results, is but to say what is already known and has been repeatedly demonstrated for more than a hundred years. Lest it be supposed that any method is, in itself, a never-failing producer of grand tone, let me say positively it is nothing of the sort. With the highest ideals even the masters did not produce a stereotyped tonal grandeur. A fine tone was, with them, the rule, and a tone of lesser worth the exception—but there were such exceptions. With others less gifted tone of a lower grade was the rule, and fine tone the exception—and here, again, there were exceptions. In both, however, is found the unmistakable and individual character of tone personal to the maker, and inimitable. It is for these reasons that I should condemn any method of tone creation which is purely mechanical; which depends upon method rather than upon ideals, as being entirely outside the system of tone-creation used by the great makers of old time.

While dealing with the old masters and tone, we may as well continue with their immediate followers and devote a chapter to the decline of grand tone after the period of decadence was reached.

CHAPTER V
THE DECLINE OF TONE

As we have seen, tone had an auspicious beginning about 1550; suffered a rather lengthy relapse, but began to recover during the latter years of the next century; took a new lease of life about 1700; and was in full maturity and vigour during the first half of the eighteenth century. It then suffered a second relapse, more extended and more serious than the first, which all but terminated its existence.

A plentiful number of theories have been advanced, all more or less ingenious, to account for the decline of tone after about 1750. The known facts are few and simple. On the one hand we have the sons, pupils, and followers of the masters, while on the other we have the fact that they failed to secure such consecutive tonal excellence—to put it very mildly. To the many theories to account for this another may be added without any great harm. As the decline was in tone, let us look at it from that point.

In purely mechanical affairs progress follows experience and the passing of time. That no such progress followed in this case would seem evidence enough to eliminate the mechanical, or violin-making, factor, and substitute tone-ideals in its place. This, however, by the way. So great were the last three tone creators that there is some excuse for their sons, pupils, and followers failing to equal them. Between 1750 and 1800 there was, doubtless, little demand for fine-toned violins from the makers who were then alive, owing to the large number of master violins handed down from the earlier half of the century. The living makers might well have been forced to compete among themselves for such trade in low-priced violins as they could get. With them it was probably not so much a matter of tonal art as of bread and butter—or macaroni. We are aware that, in all ages of violin making, a demand has existed for the low-priced instrument, numerically in excess of the demand for those of higher price and better tone. Overshadowed, therefore, by the great masters this may well have been about the only demand upon the builders of that time. The question of high tone quality does not enter largely into this demand, but the question of price is vital.

Here, then, we have conditions which would appear to foster a decline in high standards of tone, especially when we consider that the models, as perfected by the masters, even without any special regulation or adjustment, produced a tone which satisfied the bulk of players of that day, just as the same fiddles, now ranking as “old,” satisfy the bulk of players of the present day. Some few makers of that and succeeding times, however, did not appear content to forego ideals. If they did not succeed in reaching the highest standards, they at least kept the wavering flame from dying altogether. We have, for instance, Thomas Balestrieri in 1750, J. B. Guadagnini in 1780, François Fent, 1780, Januarius Gagliano, 1770, Nicholas Lupot in 1820, J. F. Pressenda in 1840, and J. B. Vuillaume in 1870, to mention some of the best known, and not those of more recent times. Thus builders were always turning out fiddles, some of which fell little short of the highest standards, from 1750 down to the present day, for, as will be seen in the chapters devoted to modern violins, some of the instruments produced in these days, regulated to ideals in the old-fashioned manner, uphold the highest standard.

But if grand tone was not extinguished its creators were, and are, sufficiently few in number to warrant the statement that tone has suffered a serious decline. Especially is this realised when the few really great toned fiddles are compared with the number, less notable from this standpoint, produced since 1750. But there is nothing to be gained by labouring this point. It would appear to have been fully appreciated early in the last century, when we find the celebrated experimenter Felix Savart busily engaged in demonstrating, by mechanical methods, the reason for tone; and efforts at a general revival have continued ever since. The fact that tone cannot be seen, while the violin containing it is visible enough, has stimulated curiosity to discover a supposed “lost secret,” which in reality was the method I have named, probably abandoned for the reasons and in the manner already suggested, by all save a few. And it is not difficult to imagine these few, clearly appreciating their advantage, keeping the method of tone regulation and control very much to themselves and, by producing fairly consecutive tonal excellence (while the more numerous contemporary makers were doing the reverse), spurring the investigators to fresh efforts and the scientists to new explanations. Some of these theories dealt with acoustics and are extremely complicated and interesting, but it has never occurred to me that art has anything in particular to do with science, and I certainly do not believe the old masters knew overmuch, if anything, about the scientific side of tone. If the results they achieved have since been found of a highly scientific nature, there is good reason to believe they were unaware of it at the time. We read in Messrs. Hill’s “Antonio Stradivari,” p. 189: “That Stradivari was guided ... by a knowledge of science as applied to the construction of instruments, we do not for one moment believe.” And to this I would add that neither was he so guided in his creation of tone. Savart, in his efforts to unearth the “secret” by the use of some sort of mechanical means, was the first to “attune” the plates and thus produce the best mechanical method yet devised; a method having nothing to do with ideals, but much to do with science. Its outstanding feature is that it produces with uncanny regularity a type of tone which, like the process, may be characterised as mechanical. It is only fair to say of this method that it does, on occasion, result in a tone of much brilliance. Just why it should do so is probably a puzzle to those who employ the process. If they were aware of the reason for this occasional good tone, they could doubtless make it the rule instead of the exception. The reason, however, lies beyond the scope of the method employed, as we explain in the chapter devoted to varnish and tone. None the less, tone produced by “attuning” the plates is not by any means to be derided, although the general results attained do not warrant the high claims made for the process. Among others who laboured towards a revival of tone were the copyist, who let tone take care of itself; the old wood theorists, who considered that tone-quality lay in old wood,[E] and the varnishers, who believed that the “secret” of tone is in varnish.

Curiously enough, amongst those who have so laboured, the elucidation of the problem seems never to have been approached from the standpoint of Tone itself, and they have not regarded tone as an expression of ideals, but a sort of natural result following upon some peculiar or particular virtues to be found in wood and varnish, the maker of the violin being a kind of human machine achieving tonal results by rote and rule. Wood, construction, and varnish do, indeed, seem to indicate the possible avenues through which investigation may be carried. In them undoubtedly lies the reason for tone which, if discovered, would still leave the process by which it was achieved as profound a difficulty as ever. We view the paint upon a pictured canvas without special interest. We know it is paint and leave it at that. Aside from the ideals of the artist we know it possesses no virtues leading towards the creation of a work of art. We have no illusions regarding a combination such as this. If we desired to produce a similar picture we are quite aware that similar paints placed upon canvas of equal size would not be enough. We fully appreciate the fact that colour and canvas are but the means through which ideals are rendered visible, yet, when we turn to the violin, we find this truth abandoned. By the token here expressed all the virtue lies in canvas and paint. To achieve an artistic result is to use a cloth similar to that of, say, Rembrandt (of the same age, if possible), cut to the same size, and apply thereto similar colours—carefully gauging the thickness all over with a micrometer! With all this care we get a picture, but not a Rembrandt. As everything has been done that Rembrandt did, and the result is not exactly what we desire, we take refuge in the only hypothesis left, and agree that a picture so produced must wait for perfection until it is as old as Rembrandt’s. To produce a picture by any such means appears ridiculous, yet it is exactly the means by which it is sought to produce an ideal of tone in the violin. It is not considered that materials and construction are merely the means through which the tone ideal of the builder finds expression, but through some mysterious influence (not yet discovered!) the materials are expected to create some magnificent quality of tone at which the builder must be prepared to stand aghast.

Having now become fairly well acquainted with the old violin, and reviewed the progress of its tone through the past three hundred and sixty-six years, we may consider we have arrived at a point where the modern violin can be admitted, with the object of defining its position from a tonal point of view; first making an investigation into the relationship existing between a new fiddle and tone.

CHAPTER VI
RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A NEW VIOLIN AND TONE

Fiddle-making may be either a hobby or a business. Sometimes it is both. It is also more or less of an art, but only the connoisseur is able to explain wherein and why. To the “man in the street” a fiddle is just a fiddle, as like any or all other fiddles, as one pea is like another. Sometimes it is red, sometimes yellow, and sometimes brown. Therein do they differ.

There is nothing about the making of a violin which calls for our special notice. This has been set forth in many exhaustive works, described and illustrated at great length. In a work on tone it would be useless to devote space to cabinet-making. The relation between making a fiddle and tone is all that need concern us here. Let us see just what that relationship is. In order to make the subject clear we must generalise. We cannot go into the numberless and complicated details that affect the sound in one way or another—for good or evil—because it is not sound, not the mere noise a violin will emit, that interests the tone-lover. We procure, let us say, suitable wood and a book on fiddle-making and set to work. In due time, with the exercise of patience and such skill as we can command, we produce a violin—our first—built carefully to the measurements and along the lines of, say, the immortal Stradivari. When the varnish is dry enough we string it up, and not until then do we know what its tone is like! And what, by the way, is it like? The answer is simple enough: it is like the tone of any other fiddle so constructed. We have accomplished tone results no greater and no less than any other copyist has achieved in the past hundred and fifty years, because we have done no more than they have done and no more than any one can do. We have made a box about fourteen inches long, a little over an inch deep, eight inches or so in its widest part, and with an irregular outline. We have slightly arched the top and bottom of this box, and provided it with various fitments and strings. Every box so made will, without exception, produce a sound of some sort, whether made by Antonio Stradivari in 1720, or John Doe in 1916. Sometimes that sound is loud, and sometimes it is weak, often it is both, and again it is neither, depending upon matters which the makers may, or may not, appreciate and, perhaps, alter for the better or worse within these narrow limits. This, then, is the relationship between the raw fiddle and tone.

Both the violin and such tone as it will naturally, or we might say mechanically, possess, is but the crude material which the tone-builder uses. By means of the one he refines, regulates, and develops the other. Manifestly the result depends upon what he considers a fine and telling tone. There can be no guess-work about it, and nothing can be left to chance. He must know exactly when he has reached the result he desires, and the higher his ideals the better the tone. As the raw material in the shape of unrefined tone is, to a greater or lesser extent, filled with flaws, these must be eliminated; as the violins in their undeveloped state ever present tone problems infinite in variation—no two being alike—the tone builder can follow no set rule, and no mechanical method. To achieve, therefore, a thoroughly artistic and satisfactory tonal relationship between the instrument and its voice depends, first, on high ideals and, second, a process elastic enough to meet, successfully, conditions which are always changing.

As to the tonal position of the modern violin, there is no denying the fact that it has long been an object of suspicion. The wonder is not that this suspicion should exist, but that a new fiddle should have any tonal repute left at all. Let us review some of the causes responsible for this condition of affairs.

In the “good old days” of violin making, say in 1725, when the most famous of all makers were working, surrounded by many who, if less famous, were able to hold their own, there were no fiddle factories swamping the market with machine-made trash, belittling and depreciating the (then) new and less numerous hand-made instrument. There were no dealers in, say, the violins of da Salò, Maggini, and the first Amati, to the exclusion of the new ones of Stradivari, Bergonzi, and Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù. There were no collectors of the old and rare who disregarded the work and tone of the living builders. There were no books on the history of the violin devoting sixteen pages to, let us say, Duiffoprugcar, who worked two hundred years previously, and indicating the living makers thus: “Stradivari, Antonio, now living”—when mentioned at all. There were no “Journals devoted to the interests of violinists,” in which Carlo Bergonzi might have read an article on the work of Antonio Amati, filled with fulsome praise and flattery of the old, but containing little, or nothing, about what was being done there in Cremona at the time. There were no players of the violin who preferred a battered fiddle, made by some unknown maker in 1592, to one made in his home town of Cremona three years previously—in 1722. Having none of these things to contend against, their lines were truly laid in pleasant places if we compare them with the builders of 1916, who have all these things, and many more besides, against the popularity of their instruments. In passing, it is worthy of note that, whatever influence there is against a just consideration of the modern tone work,[F] this influence does not in the least affect the sale of factory fiddles. These are still sold at the rate of some hundred thousand instruments per annum to those who never read fiddle books or literature; to whom a fiddle is just a fiddle; who place all old fiddles in one class, and all new fiddles in another—and this kind of buyer is far more numerous than might be supposed, if figures did not place the matter beyond doubt. But every worker who builds his violin by hand, selecting costly materials and doing his work with loving and painstaking care, knows what this influence means. He knows there are surrounding him many influences, all of which lead the tone-seeker in one direction, namely, towards the old.

Yet the fine modern instruments still survive, and are growing rapidly in tone repute. In spite of everything they still find players whose only consideration is TONE, just as TONE was the only consideration in the days when the old makers flourished. If the new violin can, in the face of all that is against its popularity, still find this favour, it must, indeed, have tone merit so exceptional as to be far in advance of many of those old violins whose praises are so persistently advertised. Everything considered, this strikes us as a happy augury for the immediate future of the new fiddle. I venture to predict that its makers will not be compelled to spend a century or so in the tomb before their good work is appreciated. That these new violins are becoming a factor seriously to be reckoned with is not lost upon those whose interest it is to foster the trade in old instruments of less tonal value. After all, it is tone value that will decide the question between the old and the new, and it is possible the day is not far distant when old violins (outside those by the famous creators of grand tone) will have to stand or fall upon their tone-merit, rather than upon the claim of having been made by some obscure or unknown maker in an equally uncertain but ancient day. Meantime modern makers must expect new work to be ignored by all save those who have no old axe to grind; to be condemned, or “damned by faint praise;” all of which it has stood and will continue to stand. Its claim is founded upon a tone-base too substantial to be shaken. All it requires is a fair trial and comparison with the products of the old masters; and the more famous the old master the better the test; for it may easily prove itself superior to an ordinary old violin without being in any respect remarkable in tone. In order that no question may arise as to the accuracy of this statement, I give, in the next chapter, the results in a contest of tone between six old master violins, and six new instruments by living makers.

I believe that most of us who are lovers of the fiddle began as idolaters of the instrument, rather than of its tone. Of such lovers this may be said: in our early faith we were prone to accept many strange and uncouth gods; but, as we grew older, we became more particular; we selected for our allegiance one out of many; but as even idols cost money, we were not always privileged to possess the one which was our heart’s desire, but worshipped it from afar, meantime living in hope and consoling ourselves with a less potent fetish. It is said of the Chinese that, when an idol ceases to answer requirements, it is chopped in pieces and another purchased. Our progress with fiddles is not dissimilar, only we sell our idol. And thus many of us spend our lives—and money—seeking fiddles when, in reality, it is tone we are after. That we so seldom find it is due to the fact that we make up our minds beforehand where it will abide. Never, I believe, has imagination played me such scurvy tricks as when it caused me, during the years of my novitiate in tone, to invest some ancient and tubby “gourd” with the dulcet voice of a “real Cremona.” I look back upon those distant days with real humiliation. And I recall the assurance with which I clung to my faith!—mainly because I had no such illuminating guide to tone as the one presented in the next chapter.

CHAPTER VII
OLD TONE AND NEW—A CONTEST

On June 22, 1912, the London Daily Mail published the following from its Paris correspondent: “A contest took place in Paris last night which seems to vindicate the contention that modern violins are as good in tone as those of ancient make, for which thousands are paid by enthusiasts. A number of violins were played in a dark room, and at the end of the competition a vote was taken from the numerous musical and artistic audience present, with the result that the finest was judged to be a Belgian instrument dated 1912; the second was a French 1911 violin, and not until the third came a Stradivarius, valued at more than £3000.”

There are lacking in the above report many details which cannot fail to interest the tone-seeker. I am, therefore, indebted to Mr. D. I. Cardozo, of Amsterdam, for a more extended communication on the subject, which I print in full. While this, as well as similar contests, are extremely interesting, the lesson which they convey has already been learned by those who keep abreast of matters relating to tone. The present contest will serve to keep this lesson before violinists, and future competitions will spread further afield the high tone repute of the modern violin.

A point in this communication worthy of careful note is contained in the statement that the winning violins were both produced by a system which enabled their makers to control the tone. I have dealt with this subject at considerable length in previous chapters, but the bare statement of the fact in this communication is incomplete without adding that the maker not only controls and regulates the tone, but creates its quality as well. Manifestly he could “control” with equal facility a poor tone, and, if he possessed no ideals of what a fine tone should be, his regulation of it would still be barren of satisfactory results. Mr. Cardozo writes as follows:—

“Are the violins of the great Italian violin makers of the glorious time of their art—the Stradivarii, Guarnerii, Amatis, Grancinos—without rivals, and are the world’s famous violin players right in paying fabulous prices for such rare instruments and to prefer them to those of modern make? Or have the modern makers brought their art to such perfection that the preference for the old instruments is nothing but a prejudice; that a man with common sense must admit some makers are producing such beautiful instruments, with such a rich tone, that they are by no means inferior to the most beautiful old instruments known?

“This is not a question of yesterday nor of to-day, but the solution has come somewhat nearer since the competition held in Paris some weeks ago. Continuing the competitions of 1909 and 1910, when in both cases the violins and violoncellos of modern makers were awarded the first prize and the Stradivarii were beaten, the Monde Musical has opened this year a new competition.

“Twenty-seven modern violin-makers, viz. eighteen French, two Belgian, two German, two Italian, one Dutch, one English, and one Russian had together sent in forty-two instruments which had to struggle against six old Italian: one Stradivarius (valued at £3000), one Guarnerius del Gesù, one Maggini, one Gand, one Joseph Guarnerius (son of Andrea), and one Grancino.

“The competition was so regulated that the public, consisting of well-known artists, could not see what violin was being played upon at any given moment. The same artist played, behind a curtain in the dark, the same piece on the different violins, which were numbered, and which numbers were acquired by casting lots. Between the playing of two numbers the lights were switched on for a moment to enable the audience to make their remarks and put down the points on their lists.

“On the first night only the new violins were played, in order to select from them the best, and, as a result, twenty of the forty-two instruments were deemed worthy to compete with the old violins. From this twenty the six best were again chosen, No. 1 being a Dutch violin with 112 points, and of the five others four were French with 87, 73, 67, and 51 points respectively, and one Belgian with 47 points.

“On the next night these six modern violins had to compete with the six old ones. There was a large public attendance, and a hundred and sixty-one artists were selected to do the voting. Two well-known violinists, Simonne Filon and Jean ten Have, played, one after the other, on the twelve violins. The voting produced the following result:—

“The two violins which gained the first and second place, and which received a good number of points more than the Stradivarius, were built according to the system of the French physicus, Dr. Chenantais. Kaul, a pupil of the doctor, is a friend of Falisse, and it was while staying in Brussels that he explained to Falisse the principles of Chenantais,[G] and advised him to follow them. Falisse took this advice and entirely succeeded. The violin with which he succeeded in winning the first prize was finished on the 15th of June, the contest being held on the 21st of the same month.

“The principle of Dr. Chenantais is that the maker must not continue to copy the violins of the Italians, nor bother about why there is so much variation of form.[H] The doctor does not pay much attention to the varnish. The main point is the verifying (“relage”—regulation) of the tone, and his success shows that he is right. In 1909 a violoncello on this principle of Chenantais-Kaul was awarded the first prize, and now again by means of two of his pupils he wins place over all new and old violins.

“It may be that such competitions are not completely conclusive; that the old violin may be played the best, as the artist is more used to playing upon it. In any case it is not true to say the old violin-makers cannot be improved upon in tone.”

The obvious criticism of this report is, of course, that the world seems to have been scoured to find the six new violins, and, after all, only two of them succeeded in beating all the old instruments in tone. It may also be said we are given no indication of the tonal repute of the six old violins, but are left to assume they were representative of their makers. We have also no explanation of the peculiar fact that, when the new fiddles were tested against each other, the winner of that contest found itself among the “also rans” in the final—and bringing up the extreme rear, to boot. We have no doubt, however, the result was arrived at in a thoroughly honest and reliable manner, capable critics having decided (without knowing what instrument they were voting for) that the new violins were equal, and in some cases superior, to the violins of the old masters. Since 1912 the new violin has made rapid strides, an ever-increasing number of artists providing themselves with new violins of fine tone, instead of old ones with questionable tone, thereby increasing the pleasure of those who hear them play and adding to their own renown. That these violins exist should be a source of gratification to all lovers of the instrument, and especially to those who are unable to invest the large sums demanded for the great-toned violins produced by the masters of Cremona and elsewhere. To these the fact that a violin, equally great in tone, is actually within their means may well be accepted with incredulity. This incredulity is, under all the circumstances, natural. It is, therefore, accepted and respected by every maker of a great-toned new instrument. Not only so, but every facility will be given for testing the new against the old, to the end that modern tone may become better known and appreciated, for it is only by this means that the sentimental influences which have so long worked against the new violin can be overcome.

“Are, then, all modern makers creators of great tone?” No, they are not, nor has this been the case in any period of violin making. Yet—and this may well be worthy of attention—there is scarcely a maker of to-day, even to the copyist, who has not his tonal counterpart among the builders of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His violins are as good as those produced by his more ancient prototype. They may, indeed, be more worthy of the attention of players, as our modern is apt to follow a model superior to those adopted by many of the older copyists.

Having, so far as the magnitude of the task and my own limitations permit, made this effort to reinstate the modern violin in a position of which, but for circumstance, it would have never been deprived, let us consider some of the pitfalls besetting the pathway of the tone-seeker—especially if he be so daring as to venture his quest towards new pastures, leaving that pre-empted field wherein, some would have us believe, tone can only be found. In plainer terms, if he seeks, or finds, tone among new fiddles instead of old ones.

CHAPTER VIII
A DOUBLE-BARRELLED THEORY

A frequent contention against the new violin, especially when its high-tone quality is so overwhelmingly apparent as to confound even the unreasonably prejudiced, is the statement that this fine tone will disappear in time. This appears strange when we remember it comes from those who say tone is found only in the old violin! According to this theory age seems a most accommodating adjunct. It not only gives tone, but takes it away also—it all depends upon whether the maker is dead or not! But the seeker of tone need not be alarmed when such double-barrelled wisdom is solemnly imparted. The tone of the great new violins is absolutely permanent. It does not owe its origin to age, or to anything that time can alter any further than it can alter the tone of any other great violin. Its continued existence is subject to the same conditions as govern the existence, or tone-life, of the finest old Italian instruments. If time influences it at all it is only to make it better. Whatever effect age may have upon a fiddle constructed of green wood, upon the factory-made article, or upon those unsuitably varnished, where it is conceivable something unexpected may occur to the sound such instruments are capable of emitting, nothing of this sort happens to violins constructed by either old or new masters of tonal art.

This tone-disappearing theory is not only ridiculous, it is mean. Unable to deny tone as a patent and present fact in a new violin, suspicion must be created and the possessor frightened with the bogey of its ultimate and certain loss. The tone-seeker’s interest must be struck in the tenderest spot. Even if not immediately effective, the seed of suspicion is sown, with the result that (in effect) the tone-lover sits at the bedside of his (supposed) ailing fiddle applying home remedies and patent nostrums without avail. At last the doctor, usually a quack, is sent for and, without more ado, gives the tone its coup de grâce. But this need no longer be the case. Fortified with knowledge and fully aware of the purpose for which this entirely false theory is advanced, the new violin possessing fine tone may be treasured with confidence in the permanency of its brilliant voice.

CHAPTER IX
THE EXPERT DEALER

While there are numerous experts and dealers of great renown and unquestioned repute, there is no denying the existence of those who would do well to drop the “and” from this title and thus become what they really are, “Expert Dealers”—experts in acquiring old fiddles (usually of low grade), experts in advertising their praise, and experts in selling them.[I]

The first consideration of this type of dealer is to keep alive the interest in old fiddles—the type of old fiddle that is acquired for a few shillings and sold for as many pounds. New violins, even of the finest-tone quality, are nothing to him. They cannot be purchased cheaply, or sold at an extravagant price. The new violin has but one asset—Tone. Its value depends upon the quality of its tone and nothing else, while the old, even the very cheap old, is lifted above tone because it is a curio as well as a fiddle, although it may be downright flattery to say its tone is third rate.

This dealer has but one serious trouble, namely, to keep his patrons satisfied with the species of “tone” which, when the glamour of owning a “fine old violin” has worn off, begins to whine for attention. His ability to meet this issue really justifies his claim to the title of “expert.” He is full of advice regarding adjustment, alteration of bridge, post, bar, etc., or an exchange for another fiddle if these prove unavailing. Whatever he may advise it will not be to try a new violin. He does not realise the gulf that is fixed between himself and the purchaser of the instrument. His interest is centred in the sale of a fiddle, while those who patronise him are interested in the purchase of tone. This type of fiddle merchant sometimes admit, with cynical candour, that “people do not buy violins for their tone (sic) nowadays.” If so, the fault lies with the dealer rather than with the “people.”

But if violins are not bought for their tone, what are they purchased for? If the dealer and his patron were in agreement that a violin has no other mission than to pose, like a Chippendale chair, as a curiosity, the tone of the instrument may well be relegated to a secondary position. It can, like the chair, be used; from its time-stained interior a sound may be produced which, if it does nothing else, at least proclaims the thing to be a fiddle. And that is all it is bought for!

It is doubtless quite true that the majority of violins are not “bought for their tone nowadays;” but the only one perfectly aware of the fact is the dealer himself, and he is, perhaps, justified in making the statement, for he knows what the instrument is bought for if the purchaser does not. It might have been more accurate to state that violins are not sold for their tone, but for their age or appearance. It is only the dealer who buys an old fiddle simply because it is old.

This kind of dealer prospers because few people realise that fine tone is not to be acquired cheaply in an old violin; that age and tone are not synonymous terms. They are misled through the spell cast over all old fiddles by the masterpieces of Cremona. Tone of superfine quality seldom comes their way. It is rare their acquaintance with it is close enough, or frequent enough, for them to appreciate more than its superficial beauties. Age, or its simulation, is visible to the eye, and tone of some rare sort is therefore considered an assured thing. Their ideas are stronger than their ideals and their imagination superior to both, with the result that the progress of many talented students, and not a few good players, is seriously retarded through the use of some “genuine old” but poor-toned violin.

Opposed to this type of dealer are the genuine dealers and experts, men of a vastly different class. It need hardly be said that, while the first are many the last are few. Still, they may be found in most great cities of the world, the two most famous houses being located in London. Here one may find all kinds of old violins and new ones as well, the last being, in most cases, produced in their own workshops. Through these houses have passed the most famous violins known, and there one may be sure of finding old instruments of fine tone and undoubted pedigree and repute. It is from this kind of dealer that most of the world’s greatest players have purchased their instruments, and it is here they send them for adjustment or repair. As it is extremely hazardous for the ordinary buyer to rely upon his own judgment when purchasing an old violin, he cannot do better than place his wants in the hands of one of these specialists. In most cities and towns are also to be found reputable dealers and repairers. Their stock of old instruments is, however, necessarily limited.

CHAPTER X
IMITATION OLD MASTERS

When certain of the more famous old violin makers were still living, when they had achieved through the splendour of their tone and the perfection of their model a wide-spread fame, there came into being a class of fiddle builders who devoted their energies towards copying, as closely as possible, the work of the great luthiers of their time. It is only fair to state that the majority of them were honest, and without desire or intention to create what might be considered a forgery. But some unknown hand has accomplished the feat for them by removing the label of the real maker and substituting the ticket of one more famous. Thus we have many genuine old violins sailing under colours to which they have no legitimate right, and deceiving—not only the unwary, but sometimes those who are very wary indeed.

Jacob Stainer inspired more copyists, perhaps, than any other builder, although Nicholas Amati seems to have been a very good second, while none of the great makers escaped altogether. As these copies were manufactured when the originals were new they were not artificially aged. Time, therefore, has dealt with them just as it has dealt with the violins of any other maker of old times. Their ancient appearance is perfectly genuine, and therefore the detection of fraud rendered more difficult in the close copies—especially as some contain labels which were removed from authentic old master violins. As to the tone of these instruments it is sufficient to say that a select few were produced by makers who were really good regulators and developers of tone. If their violins had been untampered with and allowed to sail under true colours instead of false, their repute would have been of no mean order. Others, however, possess a tone of the meanest description, being merely unregulated copies.

Another class of imitator consisted of those makers of considerable reputation, as builders of fine-toned violins, who indulged in the habit of ageing their instruments by artificial means, led thereto by a keen appreciation of the fact that a fiddle which has the appearance of age will sell more readily than one that is frankly new. Connoisseurs have always condemned this practice, not only because it detracts from the intrinsic value of the instrument, or because the processes employed are destructive to tone, but because there is added to the violin that which is false, and therefore hateful to all lovers of the fiddle, save, indeed, those for whom these imitations were intended—the age-worshippers. The makers did not intend these instruments to pose as old masters. They were produced as honest “fakes,” if such a thing can be imagined. Most contain the label of the builder, and were artificially aged merely to hasten their sale. As works of tonal art they cannot be recommended.

The next class of imitation is composed of those new-old, machine-made abominations turned out literally by thousands by the German fiddle factories. Why these should be made to imitate the old is a mystery, for they deceive nobody—unless it be those absolutely ignorant of fiddle matters. They are bought by dealers and sold for just what they are; with “case, bow, instruction book and resin,” all for a sovereign! These need not detain us, nor need we mention their “tone.”

The last imitations to claim our notice are those intended deliberately to deceive, and they find victims among that class of fiddle player who appears ever willing to “take chances.” Some of these forgeries are clever enough, and well calculated to catch the eye of the novice. No wonder the pawnshops are festooned with them! From every point of view they are worthless. Without any pride of ancestry, from posterity they can hope for nothing. Their forte, if not their purpose, is to retard the progress of those who struggle hopefully with a splendid but difficult art; to lay the foundations of failure for many talented players, and bring the most earnest effort towards tone to an untimely or unsatisfactory end. It is said that a poor workman blames his tools, but many excellent players blame themselves when it is the fiddle that is at fault. These fiddles make them incapable of appreciating fine tone, and throughout their lives they allow a worthless instrument to impose its strident voice upon them. Let us close this review of the imitations with the following quotation from a letter I received not long ago, written by the head of a world-famous firm of dealers in old violins: “It is easier to sell an imitation old violin than a new one of better tone.” The italics are mine, but the lesson is unmistakable, and should be seriously considered by every seeker of tone.

CHAPTER XI
LITERATURE OF THE VIOLIN

While the literature of the violin deals with every phase connected with the subject—its history, manufacture, repair, music, old masters, great players, celebrated instruments and many instructions on how to play the fiddle, the most celebrated and authoritative works are those which contain a historical reference to all the ancient makers, so far as known, and their work. Their chief value lies in the fact that they catalogue the names of over six hundred old violin makers and give much information regarding their fiddles. So far as the known old makers are concerned they are not only reliable, but invaluable guides to all dealers in and lovers of the old instruments. As guides to tone, however, they are hopelessly out of date. The best of these books were originally published about thirty years ago, and while their value as a list of old makers is in no way depreciated, the passing of time has, in some other respects, rendered little honour. From them one gains the impression that the fiddle, and especially its tone, belongs to an age that is past; that its best days are gone, never to return. While tone is rarely mentioned, we are led towards the supposition that the art of its creation is as dead as the dodo; that it stopped short (like grandfather’s clock) a very long time ago. The idea is conveyed that, since that time, no maker has succeeded in producing a really worthy fiddle. In fact, all other makers are definitely stated to be imitators, which shows their authors were entirely ignorant regarding tone creation, however versed they were in the lore of fiddle manufacture. Yet there is no intentional slight cast upon the modern, nor is he singled out for obloquy. He is considered merely as a living nonentity. The idea seems to prevail that, to become famous, the fiddle maker must die, and the longer he is dead the more worthy he becomes of inclusion among the immortals. His sin is not that he cannot make a good violin, or even that he cannot create a tone equal to the antiques, but that he cannot, by any means whatever, make an old violin. Some of these “imitators” have, however, revenged themselves by almost accomplishing the feat;[J] at least they have succeeded so well as completely to deceive some of the age worshippers. They have baked or stained their fiddles to the colour of ancient wood, grafted the head, counterfeited wear; created and repaired cracks, and even reproduced the label in facsimile—and sold the result at a fine “old” figure! Without any doubt these fiddles are treasured by more than one player to-day through absorbing from these books one conclusion over-mastering every other—the age value of a violin.

These histories voice sentiments which have been dear to the collectors ever since the fiddle “took its place among curiosities.” And these sentiments are honestly held and expressed in good faith. The authors were men of renown in the fiddle world. There is no mistaking their enthusiasm for the old instrument and everything connected with it. They were connoisseurs, experts, dealers, and great judges of tone; also, in some instances, fine players of the instrument, and they covered the field of the old fiddle so completely that most books of a like kind which have appeared during the past twenty-five years are founded upon their efforts. In absorbing the facts, however, these later works have also absorbed the fancies of their mentors, and thus we have the old fallacies multiplied and spread further afield until the influence of the old instruments has come to be truly amazing. Consider the fabulous sums now cheerfully paid for them; the advertisement they receive from painters, poets, and novelists; their possession by the greatest players; the interest attached to certain rare examples, and note the effect of all this upon the more humble followers of the fiddle cult, who have come at last to see every old instrument—even the imitation—glowing with a brilliance reflected by the beacon-lights of Cremona! These books hold an important place in violin literature, but not as guides to tone.

Books on violin making are of two kinds: those that instruct and those that amuse. Fortunately the last are few, but still plentiful enough to cause trouble—not because the writers were unskilled in their art, but because the reader is told very much less than enough of some matters and too much of others. The excellent work of Mr. Ed. Heron Allen,[K] however, does not suffer in either of these respects.

Instructions and books on how to play the violin are almost numberless, and the technic of the art is covered at every point. With hardly an exception they are of real service, although woefully neglecting the matter of tone—save from the necessities of technic. I have endeavoured to repair this omission in Chapter XVIII.

There are a few monthly journals, or magazines, devoted to the interests of those who play the violin and kindred instruments. Their subscription price is exceedingly moderate, and they deal with subjects most of which the earnest student can hardly afford to miss. Amongst all the literature of the fiddle these journals are of most value and interest to the player. Their columns are, naturally, open to correspondents and some valuable letters appear, while others are interesting if only to indicate the peculiar working of the speculative mind when applied to the violin and matters connected therewith. The work of modern builders is occasionally reviewed, this being faithfully and fairly done, although not, perhaps, entirely dissociated from considerations binding the reviewers to other and older interests.

It is surprising that, in this progressive age, with many thousands of violin makers scattered throughout the world, there has not appeared a periodical which, while catering to the needs of the modern player, would also weigh the work of the modern builder in a balance more evenly held between himself and his ancient competitor. It is a simple fact that the present-day builder receives but scant encouragement from practically all fiddle literature, while any nondescript is lavishly (and freely) advertised if he should happen to be ancient—which, more often than not, is the extent of his virtues. The modern is becoming impatient of the perpetual insinuation that he is inferior, as a creator of tone, to the worst old fiddle-maker that ever died, and as he forms no inconsiderable section of the fiddle community, with an influence and patronage not to be despised, his interest would naturally trend in the direction where he found that justice which is his due.

One other type of fiddle literature is of interest to the lover of violins. The “Lives” dealing with famous makers singly. In practically all cases these deal with the creators of a standard of tone. These should find a place in every fiddle fancier’s library, not because everything they contain may be taken as absolute truth, but for the light cast upon the maker’s work and times.

CHAPTER XII
WANTED—A TONE GUARANTEE

It is the business of the dealer in old violins to seek out, purchase, restore, advertise, and sell old violins; to guarantee the instrument to be made by, or attributed to, a certain maker (as the case may be), and to be made in or about, a certain year—this last to settle the fact that it is old. It is also his business to have this instrument equipped with the necessary tackle to make it playable, otherwise it would not be saleable. If he does not know who made the fiddle it is simply guaranteed as “genuine old.” No dealer of repute will sell an imitation-old fiddle for other than what it really is.

Tone, however, is not a part of the old violin the dealer will guarantee to be other than what it happens to be.[L] If the instrument is by a well-known maker he may, indeed, say the tone is characteristic of that maker, or better (or worse) than the violins of another maker, but he will not guarantee a certain refinement or quality of tone to follow upon a certain amount of age in an old violin; or the tone of an old instrument made, say, in the year 1721, to be equal to that of any violin made in that year, or any other year.

It has always seemed to me remarkable that dealers in old violins, especially instruments ranging in price from fifty to two hundred pounds, do not give some sort of tone guarantee; especially when the purchaser intends to use the violin for the production of musical sounds. Why should the player be asked to accept a document which does not guarantee the thing for which he is making the purchase, but something entirely different? As a curio the fiddle may be genuine enough, and as most of its value lies in the fact that it is a curio, it is only right that this part should be fully guaranteed. Tone, however, is the thing of most value to the player, and he should have for that equal protection against mistakes of judgment.

I have always, in common with all lovers of the fiddle, paid my ungrudging tribute to the masterpieces of past times, but if all old violins are really better in tone than some of the new ones, as some would have us believe, those who hold this opinion should not only be willing, but anxious, to back their view. If they have so much confidence in the tonal superiority of the old instrument, a tone guarantee could be issued that would challenge comparison with any new instrument. This would be more convincing than the present habit of simply saying that the tone is “grand,” or even that it is “magnificent,” as such expressions have no tangible value, and are allowed to a dealer just as poetic license is allowed to a poet.

The dealer could remedy this state of affairs, should he choose to do so. He could, for instance, issue a guarantee with old violins, other than those by the known great creators of tone, stating that the tone of the instrument is warranted superior, or even equal, to any new violin at the same, or a lower, purchase price. By some such means could the question as to whether the instrument is bought for its age or its tone be more clearly defined. If this cannot be done then let the dealer clearly intimate that the old violin is sold mainly as a curiosity and as such is fully guaranteed as to value. The present system by which some dealers (not all, be it understood) make their sales should be discouraged. Mere statements regarding tone, if not backed by a guarantee, are too elastic when issued as a verbal opinion. Even dealers are not infallible, being as prone to mistakes as the rest of us.

An independent expert in tone is sadly needed. Some of the most reputable of experts are not dealers at all; they do not buy or sell old fiddles, but, for a reasonable fee, will pass judgment upon the maker, age, and curio value of the instrument. Among them are many who are skilful performers on the violin, and, although tone is not the point of view from which they approach a valuation of the old violin, they are thoroughly competent judges of tone as well as of fiddles. They have a wide experience of fine old violins by the greatest makers, and an opinion from them as to tone could be relied upon with confidence. Troubled owners are constantly sending their old instruments to these experts for curio valuation and judgment and receive what they ask for. Why cannot one of these experts let it be known he will also impartially judge tone; that he will, from that standpoint, value any and all fiddles, new as well as old? I believe I express the wish of most tone-lovers when I ask for such an expert. The difficulties in the way are, of course, considerable, and (as usual!) would come from those receiving the most benefit. But I think my readers will agree that something should be done. For the sake of clearness, let me review the present situation.

At a rough estimate there are some fifty thousand genuine old violins in existence,[M] including a large number of clever forgeries of the old masters, most of which are also ancient. Of factory fiddles there is no end, and handmade new violins are numerous enough. All these instruments are accurately classified; the old and the old forgeries (or close copies) according to their makers, or, if the makers are unknown, according to their “school,” country, or age to which they belong. The imitation-old (save in the few cases where famous makers “aged” their violins), and the factory-made instruments are brushed aside by the experts as unworthy of notice. The hand-made new violin occupies a position so extraordinary that we may be pardoned a short digression in order to indicate more clearly the attitude assumed by experts towards the modern violin builder.

It is freely admitted by all makers and connoisseurs of the instrument that certain of the ancient makers developed the body of the violin to a standard of excellence beyond which no improvement is possible, as a base upon which may be built, regulated, and developed a grand tone. Now observe. If the modern maker employs any of these models he is an “imitator.” This term carries with it an air of reproach, indicating that the modern fiddle-maker is content to pose as a mere copyist and let tone take care of itself; a supposition very far from fact. On the other hand, should he try to avoid this reproach; should he endeavour to placate the captious, and, perhaps against his better judgment, devise a model upon original lines, he is again condemned, this time not without reason. In either case it is not tone which counts with the expert, but fiddle.

So far as tone is concerned, the player is left to his own devices. He has plenty of guides to the instrument, but none to tone. He may seek the advice of some fiddling friend who, being also without any guide or standard, expresses merely his own opinion. Should he fall back upon his own resources he cannot but hesitate. The new violin he views with suspicion. It is an “imitation,” so the experts have said, and who would have an imitation when the “genuine” is available! Should the tone of this “imitation” happen to be of exquisite quality, he is unconvinced. He is apt to think there is a mistake somewhere, or that his judgment is at fault. He will come at last to the “genuine” (or to the imitation) old instrument, in both of which he finds something tangible, something he can see. Here is something the experts have bothered themselves about; something with an ancient name and much history; something the mere possession of which is an inspiration! When all this is wedded to a grand tone he has, indeed, found a prize. But the tone is not always there. Often it is but a pale reflection of a former glory. In any case he has no guide to it, and usually accepts its visible and historical features and takes his chance on the tone.

With no existing Standard of Tone recognised by experts or dealers there is no violin, old or new, which the player can accept without question. Each, therefore, sets up a standard of his own, together with endless ways and means of “trying” a fiddle, in the process of which it is usually forgotten that a strange violin, even though it be a master instrument, will present (ofttimes in its most desirable tone-elements) an uncomfortable feeling when first tried, merely because these elements are foreign to the player’s idea of tone and “touch.” Dealers and experts are continually, and rightly, warning purchasers against any reliance upon their own judgment regarding the genuineness of a violin, but no one warns them against possible mistakes in tone. If they are not a judge of the one, why should they be considered a judge of the other? Nine players out of ten are not a judge of either, and are guided by the name, fame, or appearance of the instrument rather than by any confidence in their ability to judge tone for themselves.

Any really good player with a wide experience of all sorts of fiddles is a good judge of tone. The great soloists and those experts who are also players are excellent judges.[N] The thoroughly competent judge is one who regularly plays upon many violins, possessing tone of all sorts, and is specially informed and experienced with the tone of the masters. He is then equipped with what may be termed an “Average Standard” and not bound to any one type.

The worst possible judge of tone is the player whose experience extends to one violin only. Whatever the tone of this instrument may be, it certainly does not embrace all the virtues and faults of tone. Such as it has, however, it transmits to its owner, with the result that the violin to be tested is not judged on its merits, but according to its agreement with a preconceived notion. Again, violins are rarely alike in the arrangement of their equipment. The curvature of the bridge differs. The strings are spaced differently. The “stop” is not the same. It may also possess important tonal elements which, if not understood, may be ignored, or even condemned. It is partly for these reasons that players so seldom admit a strange violin is equal to their own. They are accustomed to their own violin and its tone. Its use has become second nature and, without meaning to be so, they are prejudiced in its favour. In the next chapter I indicate a method of testing tone.

CHAPTER XIII
HOW TO TEST A VIOLIN’S TONE

The method of testing tone which I have used for many years, with uniform success, is this: I procure a fine-toned old master violin, a really first-class solo instrument and one possessing those qualities of voice and carrying power most desired by artists. I then secure the services of a competent critic. The old master and the violin to be tested are then played under two environments: in a large hall, and in a room, carpeted, furnished, and curtained. The piece to be played is selected with a view to placing upon both instruments (which are tuned to exactly the same pitch) a severe tonal and operative test, and this piece is played successively upon both violins. The critic is never allowed to know which fiddle is being played, but must judge by the tone, and decide which possesses (1) the best carrying power, (2) the greatest depth and richness on the lower strings, (3) the most incisive and telling qualities of clearness and brilliancy in the upper register, and (4) which of the two violins conveys the best general impression of tonal refinement.

Where the slightest doubt exists regarding the flexibility of tone, that is to say, the ease with which it can be produced under the bow, I submit the violin to some great player. This last is a very important test, for it determines the playing possibilities of the instrument. If the violin passes with honour through these trials it is a very fine-toned and satisfactory fiddle indeed. Should it fail to equal the old master on any tonal point, or not prove perfectly satisfactory to the artist as a responsive instrument, the points wherein it is at fault are clearly indicated.

Those who wish to settle the question of a violin’s tone, therefore, should carry out the test upon these lines, or follow them as closely as circumstances permit. Thereafter the instrument may be treasured or condemned with equal confidence, for it has been weighed in an impartial and accurate balance. The violin submitted to test must, of course, be in proper adjustment and equipped with suitable strings. If there is doubt about this, place it in the hands of a qualified expert in such matters.

Since age is so universally invoked; since it is this element which gives to the old violin its greatest value and (so it is said) to tone its quality and mellowness, let us endeavour to determine just what relationship exists between age, the violin, and tone.

CHAPTER XIV
EFFECT OF AGE ON TONE

It has always seemed to me that theories dealing with the effect of age upon the tone of the violin are lacking in conviction, and that most of them are held as mere beliefs, founded upon a larger experience of the old violins than of the new. Many celebrated players have expressed the opinion to me that age alone gives to a violin its mellowness, or richness, of tone; some, indeed, adding that the instrument must also be much played upon. As to this last, it would appear disproved when we consider the few magnificent examples of the old masters’ work which have come down to our times almost untouched, and with the tone of which we have heard no complaint. Manifestly, then, the theory refers to the age of the violin, that is to say, the age of the wood of which it is constructed. To accept this theory would be to say the old violin had no mellowness, or richness, of tone when new, a statement impossible of proof, as no living man has seen or heard it when fresh from the maker’s hands. Documents exist which go to prove that the violins were quite satisfactory from a general tone point, and were much sought after solely on that account, even when their makers were living. But if we take refuge in the hypothesis and say that age of wood is responsible for mellowness of tone, how do we account for the failure, in this respect, of violins constructed from materials one to two hundred years old, and in some cases even older? Everybody knows these fiddles are not one whit better in mellow, or any other kind of tone, than those made from new, but thoroughly seasoned, wood.

It is because of these contradictions between theory and fact that we cannot accept the idea that age is solely responsible for mellowness of tone—even were we not possessed of concrete evidence to the contrary. There is no denying the lack of mellow tone in many new violins. One would hardly expect it in machine-made and spirit-varnished factory fiddles with plates arched by compression between hot iron moulds, and I shall presently indicate the reason why it is so seldom found in handmade instruments of a higher grade; but to say the bulk of new fiddles have little or no mellowness of tone is, after all, only what may be said regarding the bulk of old violins, and brings us no nearer a solution of the problem.

Mellowness, softness, richness, or whatever it may be termed, appears to me as merely one of those elements which, like purity, adds one to the total of desirable features which we look for and expect in a violin of Quality. It may appear reasonable to assume that time might improve one or all of these features, provided they originally existed, or act with more potency on the quality of mellowness; but it is against experience, as well as reason, to say that time is an unfailing creator of them, else mellowness would not be absent in the tone of hundreds—not to say thousands—of hand-made violins constructed prior to 1800. Furthermore, should we accept this theory we must be prepared to believe that the greatest makers of the olden time were not the masters of tone we have always supposed them to be. Again, how does it come about that time has selected the violins of certain old makers, and not always the best workmen either, while the violins of others just as old, or even older, remain untouched by this miraculous, mellow-producing elixir? If it be said that certain conditions in the structure of the instrument are unfavourable to the action of age, is it too much to ask that these be pointed out to us?

This question of age and tone is but one of the many and much-debated aspects of the violin which resolves itself when considered from the standpoint of tone-creation advanced in these pages. In whatever age a violin maker (if he be also a capable tone-builder) may work, he will construct his tonal edifice according to his ideals. He may hold every desirable element as an ideal save mellowness, while another may develop much of that quality and little else. To hold the balance evenly between all the desirable elements of tone is, therefore, no easy task, and we may well marvel at the genius of the great ones who accomplished the feat, and even admire those who succeeded only partially. We can also understand why the copyists, those who work without tone ideals, fail so often in the production of a mellow quality, and, on the occasions when they do produce it, remain in ignorance as to how it was done.

I do not think many will object if I state that it takes a certain length of time for a newly made violin to settle down to its work; that the fullest measure of its tonal beauties become available to the player only after the instrument becomes accustomed to the tension of its strings, and when the varnish is settled and seasoned. All this is purely mechanical. There is no creative force at work. It is simply an adjustment of the various parts to the work for which they are intended, and, after much experience, I find the time required for these beneficent changes to be from three weeks to three months, depending on the season. I have even known instances where they became operative within the space of a few days. After this the violin may be expected to improve slowly, or not to improve at all, for about a year, depending upon the instrument, and the amount of time required to put the final seasoning touch to the varnish, and accomplish the last adjustment of its various parts under the strain of concert pitch and use.

The effect of age on tone is, therefore, practically nil. It does not and never has created it. The instrument may, indeed, be consumed by the rotting of its wood, or fall to dust through the corroding influence of time, or be totally splintered by an accident, or even injured by fire when, without any doubt, its tone will disappear. I have indicated wherein and why time may be of some aid to tone, but the idea that it takes a lengthy period to “bring out the tone” in a finely constructed and properly tone-developed violin, in whatever age its maker lived, I characterise as sheer nonsense.

Let me make this appeal to all lovers or owners of a violin, old or new, or to all who contemplate the purchase of either: Do not allow the inexperienced, self-constituted expert, who usually appears in the guise of a “candid friend,” or one who possesses that type of knowledge which is little and dangerous, to lead you astray on this matter of age and tone. If your violin is a year old you may consider its tone has acquired from age all it is ever likely to receive. If the instrument be heavily built it may be extended to eighteen months. In any case, such improvement as the tone will receive after this will be so small as to be scarcely worth considering. Remember that tone is not created by age, nor has age any power (other than that which I have indicated) to destroy it. In a word, if your fiddle be well built, its tone (whether good or bad) may improve slightly, and it will not deteriorate if the instrument receives ordinary care.

CHAPTER XV
VARNISH AND TONE

Among the attributes which constitute the finished violin, varnish holds the premier position as a controversial subject. For more than a century it has provided an unfailing source of argument, speculation, experiment, and theory, waged around two issues, the material itself, and its effect on tone. The first is concerned with efforts to discover the formula[O] of the “old Cremona” varnish, and the second with the effect of all varnish on tone. Notwithstanding the claims which appear (and disappear) with unfailing regularity that this “secret” of the old Italian varnish has, at last, been found, the world remains unconvinced, and the subject therefore remains very much where it was. And where, for my part, I am quite content to leave it.

The effect of varnish on tone would appear to be equally uncertain if we are to judge by the statements we see in print from time to time. We are confronted with such widely divergent statements as, on the one hand, the effect of varnish on tone is absolutely nil; and, on the other, that varnish actually creates the tone. There is an indication here that investigators have not yet succeeded in convincing each other, and, until some closer agreement is come to, they can hardly blame the public for its attitude of profound and uncompromising scepticism towards individual statements and theories. I believe most violin makers have solved this problem to their satisfaction and in their own way. Those with much experience of fiddles “in the white,” as well as instruments coated with various kinds of varnish, are well enough aware of the effect of varnish on tone. Experiment in this matter is particularly ineffective, especially when it seeks to determine a result which may be considered uniform, for the reason that, while the cause is well enough understood, the effect is not. The cause is varnish and the effect is its influence on tone, and the elements of tone are never exactly the same in any two violins, and are rarely affected by varnish in the same manner. The effect of varnish on tone cannot, therefore, be considered in the light of exact science.

It is for this reason that failure so often follows the second application of a successful experiment; or a series of failures may be punctuated with a few successes varying from partial to full. If the varnish and method of application be the same, it is fairly obvious the failures, as well as the successes, can only be due to the different tonal conditions presented by the instruments. Yet it would seem this is not appreciated, and investigators are led astray through efforts to produce a varnish capable of meeting all these changes—an impossible task. Tone is the determining factor and not varnish. A good, modern oil varnish will leave unaffected all the varying conditions which tone presents, provided the latter be carefully regulated so as to offer, as far as it is humanly possible, a uniform tonal combination in each violin.

If the tone of a violin be developed to a rich, telling, and vigorous quality, with the element of vigour slightly in excess of what is required (particularly in the lower register), experience indicates that such a tone would be best preserved and most (if at all) improved by the application of a fine oil varnish. The best varnish will, however, affect one or another of the elements of tone to its detriment if wrongly applied. It is the fashion among many violin makers to aim at the production of a fine mirror-like surface. While this undoubtedly adds to the appearance, the “rubbing down” and polishing necessary to its achievement is bound to affect the texture of the varnish and, under certain tonal conditions, the voice of the violin. In our opinion it is better to sacrifice this superfine surface and allow the varnish to remain as applied, with all its natural softness undisturbed. It is unlikely the old masters acted otherwise; the fine, flat surface which their varnish now presents, being due to use.

CHAPTER XVI
TONE AND THE VIOLIN PLAYER

Let us first briefly consider the relationship between the player and the violin. Here we find a condition unlike that existing, to the same degree, in any other combination of player and instrument. While it would be far from fact to say the piano, for instance, produces its tone-quality quite independently of the player, it does, none the less, produce its tone mechanically. That is to say, one may believe that a person inexpert in playing upon the instrument and unable to execute even the simplest of airs, capable of striking one key and producing a tone of more or less quality and refinement—depending upon the instrument. This is far from the case with the violin. In the hands of the inexpert even the finest-toned violin will produce only a vile, scraping noise; if it produces anything at all. Everybody is aware that the beginner draws forth a miserable and irritating noise; the amateur will achieve anything from very bad to very good, and the artist a tone of ethereal beauty—all from the same instrument! Let us look into the reasons for this. The first fact to be noted is that the violin does not produce its tone mechanically; the second, that a really fine instrument, although it possesses all the possibilities, gives forth only that tone which the player is capable of demanding from it.

In considering this subject it is extremely difficult to cite anything in the nature of a clear illustration, but we may be allowed to liken the tone of a good violin to the inanimate clay from which the sculptor models a figure. One may suppose the perfection of this figure to depend on the sculptor’s idea of perfection in form. If his clay be of good, even colour, and of fine, plastic quality; if his ideals be high and his ability as an executant well seasoned by experience, one can hardly expect anything save a satisfactory result. This result, it is true, may be bizarre, unusual, grotesque; may carry the marks of genius gone awry, but it will not be amateurish, or lacking in any of the elements of a profound and settled purpose. The player of the violin is confronted with a somewhat similar proposition. The tone of his instrument may be likened to the sculptor’s clay, yielding to nothing save ideals and the ability to express them. In both technical skill is necessary, but it is a mistake to suppose this does more than remove obstacles in the way to a free expression of ideals. One more illustration. It does not require a deal of technical ability to play a simple aria on the violin. Many amateurs are capable of giving a marvellously good rendition without doing anything which the hearer considers at all remarkable; but a great violinist will play the same thing, without embellishment, and in quite the same simple manner, and then the aria becomes remarkable!

Here is seen that gulf which always exists between player and fiddle; that obstacle which only the few appreciate, many ignore, while others are unaware of its existence. It is the gulf dividing the artist from the player. Every devotee of the fiddle comes to it sooner or later, and there most of them remain, unaware that their progress towards tone has come to a dead stop. A clear understanding of the nature of this obstacle and the manner in which it may be bridged will go further towards assisting the player to a grand tone than years of laborious practice. Indeed, neither practice nor experience will, of themselves, lead a single step in that direction.

To continue the illustration, let us say (for our purpose) both the amateur and the artist employed the same simple fingering as well as the same violin and bow in playing the aria, and that both played in the same hall before the same audience. To what, then, is this difference in tone to be attributed? Is it that one has more experience than the other? Is it due to some virtuosic but invisible touch of bowing or fingering? Or is it that one has a higher conception of tone-beauty? Let us see. Many violinists of long experience are utterly incapable of producing a really beautiful tone from any violin; years of playing has given them a technical equipment, but the results aimed at are not achieved. Furthermore, they can play practically anything, to say nothing of a simple aria, and yet they remain only a degree superior to a fair amateur, so far as tone is concerned.

Nothing, then, is left to account for this difference save that it is due to ideals. If one player possesses higher ideals than another it seems reasonable to say all his experience and technic will (perhaps unconsciously) be directed towards the expression of them. Thus will tone-beauty be constantly demanded from the instrument, while those without ideals simply play the fiddle, asking for nothing more in the way of tone than that the violin be in tune. We cannot do better in closing this chapter than quote the following from Messrs. Hill’s “Antonio Stradivari,” p. 162:—

“That the sense of beauty or distinction of tone is to-day cultivated to the same extent as formerly is, we venture to think, more than doubtful. The custom in modern orchestral scoring of sacrificing the individuality of the instrument in order to obtain effects of greater sonority, or of technical dexterity, and the abuse of the full-sized concert grand pianoforte in chamber music, seems to be largely destructive of the feeling for beauty of tone.”

CHAPTER XVII
THE IDEAL TONE

The ideal tone is that which satisfies the player and also “holds the audience spell-bound.” It is said of a very famous violinist that he one day entered the shop of a celebrated London dealer and heard, in the room above, the tones of a violin with which he was instantly fascinated. This instrument he determined to possess, and succeeded, after much trouble, in finally becoming its owner at the handsome price of two thousand pounds. This violinist made his choice of tone through being, for the moment, a spell-bound audience of one, and not through playing upon the instrument himself. It is impossible adequately to judge tone by playing upon the fiddle; the player is too close; he cannot tell whether the tone is “carrying” or not; its beauties, or frailties, are, like a picture, only appreciated at a distance, and the violinist can no more get away from his tone than a singer can get away from his voice. But he has this advantage over the vocalist: he can become, so to speak, an audience and hear the tone-quality inherent to a given instrument produced by another; but not, bear in mind, as he will produce it. None the less he may, by this means, select his voice with a measurable degree of certainty, if he has some idea of what constitutes an ideal of violin tone. There are few matters connected with the violin approached more lightly and with less understanding than this question of ideals of tone, whether in the violin or the player. As we have seen in previous chapters, some violin makers ignore it entirely, being content simply to make the fiddle, just as some players ignore it, and are content merely to play the fiddle. These are continually seeking the instrument which, through the perfection of its tone, will turn them into virtuosi—a thing it never will do.

Although the great artist never hears himself as others hear him—even on the gramophone!—much experience enables him to know something of the tone effect he is producing. We studied this matter with a favourite pupil of the late Dr. Joachim for a subject, whose opinions on tone are interesting. “The most an artist can do,” he says, “is to study the tone of his violin with painstaking care, and, by constant practice, fit such tone ideals as he may possess to those of the instrument. This must be done with such thoroughness that the two ideals become one, otherwise he will be continually at conflict with his violin, and unable to devote an undivided attention to the expression of tone and technic in a manner which experience will teach him is most impressive to the hearer. This ‘manner’ of expression becomes in time, and in its turn, second nature, and only when this final point is reached is the artist entirely unconscious of possessing either a violin or method, and the expression of tone becomes untrammelled as the expression of thought—to which, indeed, it may be likened. This is the only ‘secret of tone,’ and, until it is accomplished, no player can truthfully say he understands, or is able to express, the true tone of the violin—or even such ideals as he may possess.”

I will now devote a short chapter to the method by which a tone ideal may be cultivated and acquired. It would certainly be too much to say this method (or any other) is an unfailing producer of virtuosity. It is but one of many guides, and, as such, I believe it cannot fail to interest every keen student of Tone.

CHAPTER XVIII
HOW TO ACQUIRE AN IDEAL TONE

To give expression to an ideal tone one must possess a tone ideal. If not a natural gift, it may, under favourable circumstances, be acquired. It is not given to all to appreciate art in its higher forms, and the purely technical side of violin playing may be cultivated to such an extent as to appeal, finally, only to the few; whilst tone, no matter to what extent it is cultivated, appeals invariably to the many. It is that quality in violin playing which holds the attention of the major portion of the audience, and, whilst a sound technical training is a necessary part of every player’s equipment, it is the fault of some amateurs that they rely too much upon it. So frequently is the “show piece” offered, full of fiery technical gymnastics, that violin playing has been looked upon (by more people than is generally supposed) as a sort of exercise in string-plucking and bow-jumping. It is said of Dr. Johnson that he once complained of this very thing, and was told that the piece was extremely difficult, to which he replied that he wished it was impossible!

The cultivation and building up of a tone ideal is divided into two parts. First, the development of tone-sense; the ability to appreciate what is meant by purity, delicacy, grace, tenderness, appeal, depth, and power in tone—not only from the violin, but from every source. As the student cannot see his model it must, perforce, be carried as a memory and the mind trained to recall, and remember with as much accuracy as possible, the exact impression and “aspect” of such tone as may be the subject of study; for it is necessary to study, not merely to hear, all tone.

The best subjects for tone-study are these: A really fine organ—not one of the “brassy” instruments now so frequently erected. The human voice, particularly the singers of operatic music, and most particularly the soprano singers in grand opera, this being preferable to hearing the same singers on the concert platform, where, it has always appeared to me, the singing loses much of its purpose, and consequently something in richness and colour. On the other hand, the concert should be visited when violinists of renown appear on the programme, for then will be heard tone to its greatest advantage. The novice should, as far as possible, avoid hearing the violin except when played by the famous artists. Later he will become immune, and the sounds produced by the most tone-deaf of fiddle players will leave his ideals unsullied—may, indeed, become useful lessons in what to avoid. Confine attention to tone, and not the method of its production. Do not allow the mind to be diverted from its object. Much advantage may accrue by not looking at the player at all. Everything in the nature of tone should be carefully studied; not only the tone of instruments, but the sounds heard in field and forest.

Now, it must not be supposed the pupil should attempt to reproduce, parrot-like, anything he may have heard—least of all the tone of the great players. The purpose of tone-study is to create original ideals, and not to imitate the ideals of others. What he should try to produce from the violin is simply the best tone he is capable of demanding from it. This will be his ideal—when he begins to possess one. It need hardly be said that practice should be continued, for, without ability to play the fiddle, even the highest ideals could not be expressed; but, until these ideals of tone begin to take form, it is as well to confine the practice solely to technic, under a good teacher. Why? Let us endeavour to explain.

There is a difference between the kind of tone which the violin will yield to technic alone and the kind it will yield to technic and ideals combined. The first may be likened to an outline drawing, and the last to the same filled in with colour. However perfect the former, its appeal is small and its influence evanescent, and it is a mistake to give such tone any consideration apart from that technic to which it owes its existence, especially whilst engaged upon the spade work preparatory to the expression of something higher. As the student progresses this technical tone naturally improves. The “drawing,” so to speak, becomes more forceful and accurate. To the enthusiastic novice it appears, in time, almost virtuosic, or at least pointing the road to supreme artistry. Herein is found the reason for that absence of really great tone which characterises so many players who, otherwise, are excellent and accurate performers on the fiddle. Such tone as they possess is solely and purely technical in character, good enough, or even perfect, as a succession of correctly phrased sounds, but so far removed from the tonal requirements of solo playing as to make efforts in that direction almost a travesty.

For these reasons it is advisable that the beginner should, when practising the violin, confine his whole attention to technic. When not thus engaged, and when opportunity offers, let him hear and carefully study the tone-picture presented to him by music from one or another of the sources I have indicated. In due time he may begin to wed his ideals to his technical abilities, selecting a simple aria, and I venture the assertion that both he and those who hear him play will be highly gratified with the result.

CHAPTER XIX
TWO STYLES OF TONE PRODUCTION

The player of the violin is an artist in tone no less than his confrère of the brush is an artist in colour, and each has his methods of conveying the impressions which he desires to produce. He of the brush may paint an exquisite picture, fine of line and detail; delicate in colouring, as in a miniature, a picture capable of bearing the closest scrutiny. Again he may pile the pigment upon his canvas as with a trowel, and those who view such work at close quarters will marvel how so much seeming roughness, lack of detail and carelessness can mean anything. But when this picture is viewed at a little distance, order comes forth from chaos; there is unfolded a landscape of surpassing loveliness.

It is the same with the artist in tone. The violinist, for instance, may produce his tone-picture as the painter does the miniature, by the most painstaking attention to every detail of shading and expression, giving to each individual note his idea of colouring. The effect of such a tone-picture is, like the miniature, best appreciated at close quarters, and, like most delicate things, is easily marred, the dividing line between the tender and the “finniky” being very narrow. It takes an artist of rare talent and sound ideals to achieve the one and avoid the other. There are more failures than successes in this style, and it is perhaps for this reason that the majority of players affect what may be called the robust style—and seldom get further than the robust; producing a great deal of sound and very little music. It takes much experience, and judgment of a high order, to weave a coarse fabric of tone which, at a distance, develops the infinite possibilities of the graceful and beautiful in music. The player of the violin is always handicapped by inability to get away from his tone. He cannot, so to speak, hear himself. In the delicate style he may, indeed, have some excuse for thinking he is able to do so, but in the robust style he has none. He cannot, like the painter, step back a few paces and criticise his work. He must possess the ability to know how this bold and vigorous treatment of tone will sound at, say twenty paces, the while he produces it at arm’s length—indeed, at a distance measured by inches! A difficult thing it is to acquire, but worthy of every effort towards attainment, and every earnest student of the violin should make the attempt. It is the only means by which, like the plastic style in painting, effects of the noblest and most impressive character are attained.

CHAPTER XX
MODERN VIOLIN MAKERS

Never have makers of the leading instrument been more numerous. The mystery and romance of that wonderful tone, enclosed within the apparently simple, box-like affair called the violin, has proved an irresistible attraction, and the reward awaiting those who discover the connection and its utilisation as in past times, has fired the zeal of honest builders, and drawn to the art a host of amateurs, experimenters, and theorists. Never has the violin been more earnestly considered at every point; the material for its construction selected with greater care, or workmanship executed with more deliberate attention to tone. The modern builder may justly claim the title of artist and, but for the lingering miasma of exploded theories, have much reason to congratulate himself.

But his troubles do not always come from those outside the pale. Within his ranks is a small section, large by virtue of their insistent clamour, upon whose shoulders the mantle of Stradivari has fallen; those who have discovered the “secret” of his tone and varnish!—not, we may remark, for the first time in fiddle history. Fortunately the green-eyed monster is rampant among them; each is impatient of the claims of the other. Their amateurs are tarred with the same brush, while theorists indulge their bitterness and sarcasm in letters to the fiddle Press. Thus, like the famous cats, are they likely to destroy each other, and bring to naught their cupidity and ability to trade upon prevailing ignorance.

It is the fashion to consider that the mere maker of a violin cannot, with much authority, tell the player anything about tone. To some extent this is due to the ridiculous claims of the mountebanks; to the wearers of the Stradivarian mantle. I admit the opinion is fairly general, and I also admit the claims of the great experts and connoisseurs as unequalled judges of tone. For obvious reasons they would give a fairer criticism on the tone of Joseph Guarnerius, for example, than Joseph would have been able to render on the tone of his contemporaries. But is the connoisseur capable of creating the tone which he judges with such accuracy? He is not. It is a feat entirely beyond his powers, just as it is beyond his power to fashion the replica of a violin upon which is exercised his skilful criticism. The creation of tone is a work belonging to the maker of the violin, and his experience of the subject differs from that of the experts and judges. His work fixes upon him a set of obligations and responsibilities with which connoisseurs and players never come in contact. He has, so to speak, an inside knowledge, while that possessed by others is, in its very nature, superficial; that is to say, they judge, hear, and use the tone of a violin, but remain in ignorance as to the process of its creation. This, of course, refers to the new fiddles. With the old the question of tone does not arise.

Criticism is frequently expressed upon the published claims of the modern makers, especially upon the brazen announcements of those to whom the minds of the old masters are as an open book! It has sometimes appeared to me that, in this age of brilliant commercialism, art is too frequently relegated to the status of a pastime devoid of serious purpose; unworthy of exploiting for the benefit of anybody; that the artist is also looked upon as a sort of drone within the industrial hive, or his occupation the laborious but useless pursuit of a kind of ignis fatuus. Yet art survives commercially, if only as veneer upon the surface of crude utility, proving beyond doubt that dilettantism, at least, still lives! Thus do art and commercialism come closely in contact, and if the artist would exist he must make his appeal after the only manner which the age understands and—advertise! However it may have been in other times, in these days patrons are too busy to make a “beaten path” in the wilderness. If they do not demand, they at least expect the vendor of the beautiful to announce himself.

With some makers the desire for favourable opinions upon tone amounts almost to a passion, leading them to all manner of mistakes. There is little objection in making public the opinions which may be expressed upon the tone of a violin, particularly if made in the Press, or some authority other than the player, but it is well to remember that the value of such opinions is thoroughly nullified by exploiting on their strength violins less worthy. “Testimonials” have been given for violins which, in the bulk, were tonally worthless. An instance is recent history, the makers profiting largely by exploiting examples which they seldom, if ever, duplicated—with results no less disastrous to themselves than to their credulous patrons. “Testimonials,” therefore, are worthless. They refer to one violin only, and not to others by the same maker; a statement which cannot be too often repeated, or too well remembered.

How obviously, then, is indicated the pathway to lasting success; to the satisfaction of all patrons; to fame built upon a solid tonal foundation.

CHAPTER XXI
NOTES ON TONE

Carrying Power.—Here we have that phase of tone which is most elusive. A violin seemingly loud, full and even brilliant, to the player, may, at a little distance, be thin and wailing. Such a violin is lacking in carrying power, and when played with a small orchestra, is rarely heard in the lower register by any save the player. The voice of a true-toned violin is rarely loud to the player, and, in the hands of many, such an instrument never has a chance to display its ability to lead the accompanying instruments. Those unused to such an instrument are charmed, it may be, with the purity of tone, but disappointed with its supposed lack of volume which, in their misguided efforts to produce, is all but destroyed. It is seldom such players can be brought to realise that carrying power is due to purity and not to mere loudness; that a tone which strikes the player as loud and the hearer as weak possesses elements of a conflicting nature which, in their efforts to dominate each other, all but destroy the carrying ability; that tone, when “pure,” is divested of these elements, or most of them, and is naturally less in quantity, or loudness, but greater in penetrative ability; and, finally, that pure tone requires no forcing, or undue pressure, to create a carrying power entirely beyond the possibilities of most loud-toned fiddles. These facts are rarely appreciated save by artists, whether players or singers, and it is seldom that amateurs, or some who rank as professionals, understand purity of tone sufficiently well to recognise what degree of carrying power it will possess. In fact, a loud-toned violin, although lacking the finer elements, is more suited to such players than a purer-toned instrument. It is better that they possess a fiddle with the tone with which they can be satisfied than another which is belaboured with the bow in the vain effort to create what is considered an effective, or “big,” tone. In justice to the player it must be said he is not wholly to blame. Wrong ideals of tone and carrying power are easily formed through the use of an unsuitable instrument. And it must be remembered a player can never “hear himself as others hear him.”

Quantity versus Quality.—“Ruggeri,” writing in the Strad for February, 1913, says: “There seems so often a tendency among violinists of the present day to forget that it is not quantity, but the ‘quality’ of tone that holds the audience spell-bound.” This warning should be remembered by all devotees of the fiddle. While the possession of a beautiful toned violin does not, ipso facto, make a tone-poet of its owner, it is the essential part of his equipment. Tone of superfine quality can only be freely and easily produced from a pure and flexible toned violin, and the importance of such a violin to those who would express the highest ideals in a masterly manner cannot be over-estimated. However sound the player’s theory may be, however high his ideals, he is, in practice, bound to limits of expression which are set by the instrument. Long association and use of a particular violin create a feeling that the limit of the player’s ability to produce quality of tone, and the capacity of the violin for giving it forth, are one and the same, whereas they are entirely different; the player’s ability is constantly growing and expanding, but the capacity of the violin remains always the same. Should this violin capacity be of a low order the player is bound to a dead level of tonal mediocrity, although rarely conscious of the fact. On the other hand, a violin which is practically limitless in capacity for expressing quality of tone places no obstacle in the way of the player whose ambition is to “hold the audience spell-bound.”

Flexibility of Tone.—By flexibility is meant ease of production, the instant tone-response to the lightest touch of the bow—not only in the first, but in the high positions. Without flexibility tone loses its tenderness, most of its qualities of appeal, and delicate shades of expression become next to impossible. Its absence adds to the technical labour of the student and robs the soloist of his main source of inspiration—the command of a supple voice.

Tone-Failure.—It is sometimes remarked by players that certain violins and other bow instruments “lose their voice” after being played for a time under certain conditions. This would appear to take place in heated and crowded rooms and halls. It would further appear that it is certain old violins which are most affected, but new instruments are not entirely exempt, although less susceptible. There is, without doubt, a scientific reason for this, but I have not seen any explanation of the phenomenon in print. I mention it only as an eccentricity of tone, and one which would appear to present difficulty in regulating, and it may be said that an instrument possessing this peculiarity must, indeed, be near to tonal collapse when heat, humidity, and general heaviness of the air are sufficient to produce such a fatal effect. Old wood is spongy in nature. When too old it is dark brown in colour and almost crumbles to the touch. It is not difficult to imagine old wood, particularly if affected with some slight degree of dry rot, absorbing moisture which, together with heat, would cause it to become leathery and lose the crispness it would possess under opposite conditions. If the new violin is affected the cause may possibly be found in the fact that its tone is, under the most favourable conditions, hanging on the very brink of failure, which the mere touch of a heavy atmosphere is sufficient to consummate. If this be the reason for tone failure we should expect the old violin to become affected after some exposure to the conditions stated, and the new instrument immediately.

Fiddles Classified.—It is a task of extreme difficulty to classify violins according to their tonal value; while they may be dealt with singly, any attempt to separate them into well-defined groups, in which certain makers are associated with certain tone characteristics, will yield a result which, for reasons that are well understood, can only be considered approximately correct. Yet they may be roughly divided into four groups which I may be allowed to indicate as follows:—

(1) Superior Tone.—This must be sought for among the violins of the old Italian masters; among those produced by one or two old makers in other countries, and among the instruments produced by the best makers of the present day. The first are the most difficult to obtain, and by far the most expensive, due to their scarcity and to the fame of their builders. Owing to the ravages of time, to the influence of damp, wear, accident, much repairing (not always skilful), and the vandal efforts of “improvers,” many violins by old masters have greatly depreciated in tone.

(2) Excellent Tone.—The lesser lights of the “Palmy Days” turned out an occasional great violin, worthy to rank with the master fiddles of any age, and the same may be said of some of the great copyists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These are rare examples, and so mixed with others of less tonal worth by the same makers as to render their discovery possible only to the expert. Consecutive reproduction of superior tone is such a difficult part of violin construction that only masters can accomplish the feat successfully. The celebrated old makers are known to have succeeded, and so have a select few of the living makers. Mr. Towry Piper, writing in the Strad, says of a modern builder: “He can build a fiddle with a certain quality and volume of tone, and within human limits, repeat the process ad lib.” It need hardly be pointed out that the old masters also laboured “within human limits.” Apart from the specially good examples, the old violin makers of the second class produced in their instruments a quality of tone in every respect worthy of being termed Excellent.

(3) Good Tone.—Within this category is a wide range of fiddles suitable for all ordinary uses, made in all ages of the art, but usually found among violins by old makers of the third class in Italy, those of the second class in France, Germany, and England. The tone of some of these violins deserves to rank as excellent, but here, again, is found a wide difference in fiddles by the same maker. In this class the inexperienced will also find difficulty in making a selection, and the advice of an expert should be secured.

(4) “Just Fiddles.”—Nameless, but “old” Italian, French, German, or English fiddles. Violins of all sorts, old and new, bearing unfamiliar names. The age-baked imitations by makers with and without repute. “Pawnshop” fiddles, manufactured to catch the eye of those seeking the rare but unrecognised! Factory-made “copies” of Amati, Guarneri, Stradivari, Stainer, etc. Numbered by thousands, such fiddles as these are carefully avoided by the knowing seeker after tone. Because one or the other rarely fail to deceive the well-meaning but uninformed, it does not follow that they lack any legitimate place in the world of fiddles. When sold on their merits, or by dealers of repute, they are low in price. On them one may “whack out” a lively tune of sorts and bring pleasure to the uncritical atmosphere of many homes—may, indeed, be a direct lead to better things. The King of Instruments rules over the pleasures of the great, and the little princes of his house bring an equal happiness to those whose lives and tastes are humble. Thus may these instruments bring music to the forecastle and the farm, and pleasure to those who, by one circumstance or another, are barred from better things.

A Strange Belief.—As an illustration of the extraordinary beliefs held regarding tone and its connection with the violin, I quote the following from a recent issue of an American journal: “If Stradivarius were living to-day and was a violin-maker ... he would be just as big a failure as our best modern makers are to-day ... he builded better than he knew.” The writer of this is without first-hand knowledge, either of Stradivari or the “best modern makers,” else he would cite a different explanation of failure. But what are we to say of such beliefs—long since exploded—being revived in a modern journal? Unfortunately for the accuracy of this theory, time has not dealt in a like manner with Stradivari’s sons. They did not build “better than they knew.”

Tone Health.—It is said a violin should always be kept in its case when not in use. While small objection can be found with this advice, I believe good fresh air is beneficial, and it is my practice to make the fullest use of this reviving and antiseptic influence on suitable occasions. I hang the violin away from the wall if indoors, and in a shady place if in the open, so arranged that it will not strike against anything should it swing about through the action of a passing breeze. Violinists are apt to neglect their cases, which should also be kept well aired and dry, together with the cloth used to cover the instrument. The function of a case is to keep out damp, not to keep it in, but I have seen some cases so musty and damp that steam has risen from the covering cloth when held before the gentle warmth of a fire. No wonder violinists are troubled with their tone by thus neglecting the first principles of hygiene. It may be thought superfluous to add that the violin should be kept perfectly clean, but every one experienced in these matters is aware that many players are exceedingly careless, while others actually look upon dirt as an ornament. The interior of the instrument may be cleaned by pouring a handful of rice through the soundhole, shaking it about, and emptying through the same orifice. On the exterior use a very soft cloth or chamois leather, and remove every trace of dust and dampness. This last is deposited from the hands, and may prove fatal to the varnish because of its saline properties. Where the hand touches the body of the instrument most frequently it is not uncommon to see, particularly in the old violins, the varnish entirely removed and the bare wood left to absorb, not only moisture, but grease, which is difficult to extract without injury to the wood. I am aware that, even to mention such a thing, is to suggest something in the nature of vandalism, but I do say these bare places should be carefully cleaned and revarnished—but only where the hand touches when in the high positions, a chin-rest will protect the other end of the violin. The owner of the violin may, however, do as he pleases; it is merely a question whether health in tone or wealth in fiddle is to have the most consideration.

Tonal Misjudgment.—The violin presents many strange difficulties, and, in order to indicate that the judging of tone is no simple or easy matter, I will cite a few cases to show how some excellent and experienced players have been deceived. A professional played upon two violins at a public entertainment—his own, an old Italian which cost one hundred and eighty pounds, and a modern instrument worth about thirty pounds. He played the first half of a selection on the Italian and the second half on the modern, the change occupying but a few seconds. The numerous audience were unaware of any test being made. The instant he began playing the modern instrument the surprise was general, the contrast being extraordinary, the intensity, richness, and telling qualities of the new fiddle’s tone completely eclipsing that of the older violin, which, in comparison, seemed weak and wailing. Note the sequel. Immediately the piece was finished the player, who was unaware of the impression created on his hearers, observed to a friend: “The new fiddle is good, but too weak. I could never lead with it!”

A Stradivari violin, once the property of a celebrated artist who used the instrument until his death, playing in all the great cities in Europe, was borrowed by a very talented amateur for the purpose of playing a solo at his farewell concert, as he was about to live abroad. He did not use this violin, however, the excuse being that he did not think it would carry sufficiently well to fill the hall, not by any means a large one. He used, instead, another instrument, the property of a local player, and, it is hardly necessary to add, treated his hearers to a tone not only less in quantity, but with no quality whatever.

It is the belief among a certain class of players (who are not by any means always amateurs), that an ear-splitting sound indicates a violin possessed of all the requirements of a first-class fiddle. When they discover such an instrument it is treasured above pearls, notwithstanding their progress and popularity are in no wise enhanced by its possession. An artist once called upon a continental expert with an old French fiddle. It had cost a considerable sum, and was looked upon by its owner as perfectly ideal in tone. The expert differed, however, but expressed his opinion as mildly as possible, merely observing that the tone was hardly suited to the artist’s talents! This opinion the said artist received with some show of pique. Later, this violinist began studying under a celebrated master, who condemned the thing in language both forceful and picturesque; and a better toned instrument was procured.

While most of the great violinists use instruments with which no tone fault can be found, others are not so happy in their possession, although, doubtless, quite satisfied themselves. Among these last are two whose names are household words, and the fault lies in the two lower strings of their violins, the sounds from which are scarcely audible in a fair-sized hall, although the hearer may sit only some thirty feet distant—axioma medium!

There are players so accustomed to the tone of one violin that they are utterly incapable of correctly judging the tonal qualities of another. I once met a player of no mean ability who owned and played upon a factory-made instrument which emitted a miserably flat and thin tone. Yet this fiddle had been treasured and used for twelve years! No other violin “suited” so well! although many excellent instruments had been tried. Such extreme cases of self-deception as this are, fortunately, rare, but they are occasionally met with.

Accessories and Tone.—So far as the player is concerned, the important accessories are the strings, bridge and sound post, and with these it is not advisable to experiment. The post and the bridge are usually correctly proportioned and in their proper positions. The former may fall when all the strings are loose, and because of this it is well to keep them fairly taut always. When the violin is not in use I consider the E and G strings may be slightly lowered, the first to prevent unnecessary breakage and the last to prevent thinning of the core and consequent “buzzing.” When a string breaks put a new one on at once. If the instrument is to be restrung throughout, change one string at a time. It is well for the player to bear in mind that resetting the sound post may seem a simple matter, but that it is not so simple as it appears. Not one player in a thousand can accomplish this operation properly, or without some damage to the instrument. The position of the post should be marked on the back of the violin by inserting a thin pencil through the right-hand sound hole and marking as far as possible, and faintly, around its lower end. If the post falls, take the instrument to the nearest repairer.

The bridge is almost indestructible if it receives proper attention. It is important that it should lean slightly towards the tailpiece, never be upright, nor lean towards the finger-board. Watch the bridge frequently when tuning up, or when putting on a new string. The E string is a particular offender owing to its high tension and the frequency of its tuning and renewal. It pulls the upper right-hand corner of the bridge forward. Pay constant attention to the bridge and keep it in the correct position. This pulling forward may be somewhat overcome if the nicks wherein the strings rest are leaded, using the sharp point of a soft pencil.

Every player should possess a string gauge on which is marked the sizes most suitable for the violin. Tone is greatly influenced by the hardness, softness, or size of the strings, and the player should ascertain by experiment what is most suited to the instrument and keep to that. It is rare that two violins are exactly alike in their string requirements, and they also differ in temperament: that is to say, one may demand a certain size and kind of string before the best results are obtained, while another will respond very well without more than ordinary care in selection.

The Bow.—This important accessory should be selected with care. It has an important part in the production of tone, to say nothing of that technic which belongs to it. It is said that a really good bow of correct balance, flexibility and weight, is more difficult to find than a good toned violin. Only the few can afford a bow by Tourte, or other famous makers, but really fine modern bows may be obtained at reasonable prices from most of the dealers, and especially from those who are, in addition, bow-makers. Just as one may become used to a violin of faulty tone, so also may the player become used to a bow which adds to his tonal and technical difficulties. A good “stick” is a treasure and should be well cared for. When not in use the tension should be entirely removed. The stick should be kept perfectly clean, especially on the under side, and the screw oiled occasionally.

The Fiddle “Doctor.”—The simplicity of the fiddle is deceptive. It is not only not so simple as it appears, but of all musical instruments requires the most knowledge and skill in its repair and adjustment. Any player may apply the means by which tone can be preserved, and this is best accomplished by keeping the violin in a cleanly condition and healthy surroundings; but “accidents will happen,” or something peculiar in the tone will indicate the need of attention, and in either case, it is the luthier and not the fiddle “doctor” who should be consulted. Skilful repairers are to be found in practically every city in the world, and in their hands the ailing violin may be left with confidence.

CONCLUSION

And now a few words regarding the process of regulating and developing the tone of a violin. It would in my judgment serve no useful purpose to attempt to publish details of the means employed, as I am satisfied that nothing short of practical exposition and demonstration (coupled with experience) will suffice to convey the knowledge which must be acquired by any one desiring to command anything like uniform success. “Thicknessing,” as it is termed, upon which such success is very largely dependent, is a variable and complex operation and cannot be learned from books; and the most that can be said is that after a violin is built its tone can be fundamentally altered, regulated, and developed by internal and external means to give such final results as the maker, or operator who develops the tone, may consider to be ideal. This is well enough understood by the best makers, but, for reasons which are fairly self-evident, those who practise it are very few indeed.

As much more is required of the student of tone development than a mere acquaintance with the means can give, a thorough working knowledge, leading to successful application, is best acquired by personal instruction from one acquainted with the complicated and ever-changing tonal problems presented by the newly-made violin, and experienced in dealing with them—just as I believe this art was imparted to pupils by masters in the “golden period” of violin-making; the measure of success achieved depending always upon the tone ideals of both the master and pupil, and the skill with which the process is employed to obtain his results. I hope a return will be made to the methods of that period, when tone reached its fullest perfection, to the end that the world may become richer in instruments possessing that quality of tone which is now almost exclusively associated with the violins produced by the “old masters.”

NOTICES
BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL
OF THE PRINCIPAL VIOLIN MAKERS
OF THE VARIOUS SCHOOLS AND OF THEIR WORKS
By TOWRY PIPER

PREFATORY NOTE

In the following pages the author has endeavoured, so far as limitations of space and other circumstances would admit, to incorporate the results of observations made during a very long period of years.

Since the year 1877 he has been a more or less assiduous student of old violins and kindred instruments, and has had perhaps exceptional opportunities of handling and examining some thousands of examples of the different schools of violin-making.

Though the work does not, perhaps, come appropriately within the definition of a dictionary of the subject of which it treats, it will be found to contain notices of a considerable number of makers who have not been dealt with in previous English works on the violin.

In deciding the somewhat difficult question as to what names should be included and what rejected, the author, who has for several years been a contributor to the Strad magazine, has found his experience of the correspondence department of that journal of frequent assistance in arriving at a conclusion, as it has been possible in the light of such experience to form some sort of estimate of the nature of the information most likely to be of use to violin players and owners of stringed instruments generally.

Most of the previous works of this kind will be found to contain numbers of names of old viol and lute makers who are not known to have made violins, such as Dardelli, Duiffoprugcar, and many others; but by omitting these, almost in toto, it has been possible to include a number of minor workmen whose instruments possess merit, without unduly increasing the bulk of the book.

To deal in anything like detail with the huge army of makers of German origin is a task which no English writer has had the temerity to attempt, nor would any useful purpose be served by so doing in a work intended for English readers. Those who desire more precise information on that branch of the subject than is hereinafter conveyed are recommended to refer to the two portly volumes of the German writer, von Lütgendorff, who, with characteristic Teuton thoroughness, seems to have hunted up nearly every one of his countrymen who ever made a fiddle. The work in question is indeed a monument of literary industry and research.

A number of the more recent Italian makers, whose work has come into prominence during the past twenty-five years, have been noticed in somewhat more detailed fashion than has usually been adopted in books of this kind, and an attempt has been made to deal in the same way with a few makers of the French school whose names, for some reason or other, have previously received somewhat meagre attention.

Stradivari, and some of the other Italians of the first rank, have already been handled so fully in works which will be found mentioned in the text that the facts already published concerning them have been digested so far as possible, to enable them to be succinctly presented, and to make room for other matter.

Bexhill, August 21, 1916.

ABSAM, Thomas.—Wakefield; nineteenth century to about 1850; said to have been of Tyrolese birth. Worked for Pickard of Leeds, and on his own account.

ADAM.—Mirecourt. A family of bow-makers of whom the best was Jean Dominique, who worked to about 1860.

AIRETON, Edmund.—London. Died about 1807. A maker of the style and period of Peter Wamsley. Worked for the dealers, Norris and Barnes.

ALBANI.—Late seventeenth and first half of eighteenth centuries. A family of violin makers originating at Botzen in the Tyrol. The chief maker, and the founder of the family, was Matthias, who was born in 1621, and died at Botzen in February, 1712. Most authorities mention two different individuals named Matthias, but it seems to be established that there was but one. Matthias Albani’s work belongs chiefly to the school of Stainer, but the later and better examples show distinct traces of Italian influence, and are built upon lines more approximating to the Amati school. The arching is much less pronounced than that of older specimens, in which it is often extravagantly high; outline and sound-holes, though never losing entirely their German cut, are more Italian-looking, and the varnish, usually a brilliant red-brown, is either identical in composition with that used by Italian workmen of the period, or closely allied to it. The tone of his better instruments is excellent. The wood used is of good quality and frequently handsome. Examples with lion and other ornamental heads occur. He made violins, tenors, and basses, and the larger instruments are held in high esteem amongst players. Tradition has it that he worked for some time at Cremona or elsewhere in Italy, but anything like tangible evidence in support of this appears to be lacking. His name has been made free with by forgers and imitators, and may be seen in all sorts of worthless fiddles, ancient and modern. Spurious labels, dated in the year 1690, abound. His ordinary label reads, “Matthias Albanus fecit Bulsani in Tiroli,” with date. Other makers of the family were Michael, a son who worked chiefly in Gratz, where he died in 1730; Joseph, a younger son, who assisted him, and died at Botzen in 1722; and Joseph Anton, a nephew, who died at Botzen in 1771.

ALBANI.—Mention is made of makers of this name working in different parts of Italy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. One, named Paolo, is said to have operated in Palermo, Rome, and Cremona.

ALDRIC.—Paris. Eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Was living in 1843. One of the best of the French makers of the Lupot School. He was also well-known as a dealer. Excellent work and material. Stradivari model, and usually rather dark red varnish. Instruments frequently rather heavy looking in build. He used chiefly printed, but also written labels, and worked in Paris at various addresses. His violins and other instruments have sometimes been relabelled and sold as the work of Nicholas Lupot.

AMATI.—The family name of the founders of the celebrated school of Cremona. Their record as makers begins about the middle of the sixteenth century, or perhaps a little later, and ends in 1740. The pioneer of the family was Andrea, the date of whose birth is unknown, but there is evidence in the Archives of Cremona showing that he was alive in 1611, and buried his second wife in that year. The appearance and general character of his works point to Brescia as the school from which he derived his inspiration, but beyond tradition there is no evidence to prove that Bertolotti (known as Caspar da Salò) was his actual master. Very little of his authentic work is now in existence. A few violoncellos, and some bass and double bass viols survive, and a very few violins of small or three-quarter pattern. A wellknown example of these last was put up to auction in London recently. The arching of the instruments is high, the sound-holes, of Brescian type, are rather wide open, the wood and workmanship good, the backs of the violins generally in one piece cut slab wise. The labels seem to be dated in Roman numerals. It was this maker’s sons, Antonius and Hieronymus, more especially the latter, who produced the type of violin which will ever be associated with the name of Amati. They worked in partnership during their joint lives, but their individual workmanship is distinct; Antonius, the elder brother’s instruments retaining certain Brescian characteristics which were wisely discarded by Hieronymus, who produced examples of great elegance of form, and possessing a tone which for beautiful quality has never since been surpassed. The date of Antonius’s birth has not been discovered, nor that of his death, but it is generally believed that the latter occurred after the year 1640. Hieronymus’s birth-year is also undiscovered, but there is an entry in Cremonese registers, proving that he died of the plague in November, 1630. The violins bearing the label of the firm vary in size, and a considerable number still survive, the larger and rarer specimens, measuring about 14 inches in length of body, being of more value than the smaller patterns. The usual label of the firm is “Antonius & Hieronymus Fr. Amati Cremonen Andreae fil. F. 16....” The brothers are credited by Messrs. Hill, of Bond Street, with having been the earliest makers known to have produced violas of the smaller dimensions, measuring about 16¼ inches long, which is now accepted as the standard length for the viola. Their violoncellos were of large size—well over 30 inches long—but appear to have been all, or almost all, reduced, to fit them for modern playing. In the violins slab backs in one piece are frequently seen, but many of them, especially those of later date, have jointed backs, the wood of which is cut “on the quarter.” Numbers of labels exist or are cited in books, bearing dates long after the deaths of both brothers must have occurred. No very satisfactory explanation of this seems to be forthcoming unless we assume that Niccolò Amati, the son of Hieronymus, and the most celebrated maker, continued to use the style and tickets of the firm for a long period before finally adopting his own label. We may now turn to Niccolo Amati, who was born in Cremona on December 3, 1596, and died there on April 12, 1684. An earlier Niccolò is mentioned as having been a brother of Andrea, and the name has been copied time and again by successive compilers of lists of makers. Nothing whatever appears to be known of such a person, and there is no good reason for supposing that he ever existed. Niccolò, son of Hieronymus, closely followed his father’s pattern and teachings for a considerable time, and does not seem to have begun to use the ticket with his own name until about 1640, by which time he would be forty-four years of age. He made violins of varying sizes, the ordinary type being about 13⁷/₈ inches long. His sound-holes are generally similar in design to those of his father, but in later work the opening is frequently rather wider, and the angle at which it is set in the instrument a trifle more slanting. He also extended the arching in some of his work, carrying it nearer the sides, and somewhat diminishing the grooves running around these. The term “Grand Amati” which is associated with his name was at one time well understood to apply to a type of violin 14 inches long, with rather produced corners, and a somewhat sudden dip beginning not far from the centre of the back and belly, forming in fact a distinct ridge in the long axis of the instrument. But the term “grand” appears nowadays to be loosely applied to almost any Niccolò Amati violin of somewhat larger size than the ordinary pattern above mentioned. In addition to greater length measurement, the Grand Amati exhibits considerably greater width, which is especially noticeable in the upper portion of the body. On these large violins the enhanced fame of this great maker chiefly rests, and their money value is much greater than that of the smaller forms. They are very scarce, and there is strong reason to suppose that some of the few which exist were largely, if not altogether, the handiwork of pupils, amongst whom may be mentioned Andrea Guarneri, although that maker in his own signed work does not very often follow that pattern. It has been adopted with success by several other makers of high repute, e.g. Francesco Ruger, Sanctus Seraphin of Venice, Jacobs of Amsterdam, Banks of Salisbury, Vincenzo Panormo (rarely), and hosts of other copyists. Stradivari does not seem to have been attracted by it, and only in one or two minor features do any of his known works exhibit any resemblance to it. Niccolò Amati’s varnish is generally of the yellow type associated with the works of earlier members of his family, and the wood used for the backs and sides is of native growth and small, though often very handsome, figure. In some later work wood with a broader curl may be seen, but examples are rare. The violoncellos were originally of large size, but are seldom or never seen uncut. Niccolò Amati had numerous notable pupils and followers, the most important being, of course, Antonio Stradivari. Of these there is not space to append a list, but their names and work will be found noted in the following pages. There is good reason to believe that for at least ten years prior to his death he did not take much active part in the business of his workshop. Hieronymus Amati II., born 1649, died February 21, 1740, was the third son of Niccolò, and apparently the only one who was a violin-maker. It is now well recognised that he was a workman of much ability, and there is no room for doubt that numbers of the instruments made in the latter part of his father’s lifetime were either wholly or partially his handiwork. Many violins dating from about 1670, and bearing genuine Niccolò Amati labels exist, which exhibit a very high degree of finish, great neatness of workmanship, and other characteristics which do not appear in examples by other workmen employed by Niccolò, but which, when compared with instruments admittedly made by Hieronymus II. after his father’s death, are sufficient to proclaim their authorship. In these the cutting of the scrolls and sound-holes is clearly the work of a maker in the full maturity of his powers. The varnish on some, at least, is of a somewhat redder hue than the typical Amati yellow, and the rise of the arching more gradual. The instruments are not after the grand pattern in their design and proportions. Messrs. Hill suggest that Stradivari may have been concerned in the making of some of them, as probabilities point to that maker having continued to work for Niccolò (besides working on his own account) down to the time of his death. Hieronymus II. continued to produce and repair instruments after his father’s death, and his label, stating that he executed repairs, may still be seen in a few old instruments. The writer has seen more than one such. When he first began to insert his own labels in his work does not seem to be clear, but most of those cited in books, and all seen by the writer, have been dated after 1700. In most of his tickets he states that he was Niccolò’s son. For some reason—possibly because his father’s death left him in easy circumstances—specimens made by him after that event are by no means plentiful, and the information about them contained in most of the books on the violin is meagre, unreliable, and quite fails to do justice to his undoubted abilities. A fine violin of his make, dated 1710, is figured in the last edition of the work on “Violin Makers” by the German writer, von Lütgendorff.

AMATI, Nicolaus.—Bologna; about 1720 to 1740; commonly called “Dom Nicolaus Amati;” was a priest who made violins and other instruments of moderately good workmanship and fair tone. The writer has met with two or three violins and a viola of his make. It is not known if he was related to the Cremonese family.

AMBROSI, Petrus.—Rome and Brescia; first half of eighteenth century. According to labels the maker was a Cremonese, and in some the name is spelt “Ambrogi.” Moderate workmanship and varnish. Rough Stradivari pattern. The name may not unfrequently be seen in common fiddles, such as are sold in pawnshops.

ANDERSON.—At least three makers of the name worked in Scotland during the nineteenth century; one named John was a pupil of Matthew Hardie and a prolific workman. He lived chiefly in Aberdeen, and died there in 1883.

ANTONIAZZI.—The name of several makers in Italy in the last century. Gaetano (died 1897 in Milan) was a good workman, and obtained medals for his productions; another, Romeo, was working in Cremona recently, and makes instruments in various styles, but has a model of his own.

AUDINOT.—A Mirecourt family of the nineteenth century who have made many useful instruments. The best known is Nestor Dominique, born in 1842, who is in good repute both as a maker and repairer in Paris.

BAADER, J. A. AND Co.—Mittenwald; contemporary. A well-known firm who manufacture instruments of various classes on an extensive scale.

BACHMANN.—The name of several German makers; the two best known, Anton and Karl Ludwig, worked in Berlin in the eighteenth century.

BAGATELLA, Antonio.—Paduna. Died in 1829. Instruments scarce. Writer has seen one or two double-basses of some merit which were assigned to him. Best known as the writer of a pamphlet, published in 1782, on scientific violin making.

BAILLY, Paul.—A well-known modern French maker, who worked in Mirecourt, Paris, and London. He was a pupil of J. B. Vuillaume, and died recently.

BAIRHOFF, Giorgio.—Naples; latter half eighteenth century. Like several other makers working in Naples he was of German origin. Has produced useful instruments of the Gagliano type.

BALDANTONI, Joseph.—Ancona; 1784-1873. Was a clever mechanic and an inventor in a small way; he has left a number of well-made instruments of good form and tone.

BALESTRIERI, Tommasso.—Mantua; appears to have worked until after 1770. His instruments have long been appreciated amongst players on account of their tone, which is usually of a rich sonorous quality. He was an unequal workman, some of his violins and basses exhibiting a high amount of finish, whilst others leave a good deal to be desired in this respect. On some specimens the varnish is of excellent quality, but there are others in which it is much inferior both in appearance and texture. He seems to have used a variety of labels, from which it appears that he was a native of Cremona. Spurious tickets are fairly plentiful. The form of his violins bears a rough general resemblance to some of those of Stradivari, but he is no longer accounted a pupil of that maker, as was formerly the case. He is said to have worked in Cremona until 1757, when he removed to Mantua. The writer has seen a considerable number of his instruments, but does not recall meeting with specimens dating from Cremona. Messrs. Hill, in their monograph on Stradivari, state that he was a pupil of Peter Guarneri (“Peter of Mantua”). Some of his violoncellos are exceptionally good. Another Balestrieri, named Peter, worked in Cremona, and in his tickets calls himself a pupil of Stradivari.

BANKS.—The name of a Salisbury family of makers, of whom the best was Benjamin, born 1727, died February, 1795. His work belongs to the school of Wamsley. Copied Amati with uncommon skill, and instruments have sometimes been re-labelled, and passed as the work of Niccolò. He used on his best productions a very fine reddish-brown varnish, which resembles Italian. Violins and violoncellos are substantially built, and have stood wear well. The violoncellos are splendid instruments, and the larger ones fetch high prices; some of the violins are also excellent, and the resemblance to Amati work is close. In the sound-holes he did not always succeed in catching the true form of the originals he copied. They bear a resemblance to those of Stainer, and the scrolls in all his work are German in character and cut. He stamped the blocks and interiors of many of his productions with his initials, but some of his finest efforts are unstamped. He was assisted by various workmen, including three sons: Benjamin, who also worked in London, and Liverpool, where he died in 1820; Henry and James, both of whom died in Liverpool in 1830 and 1831, respectively. He made instruments of inferior quality for the trade, some of which bear the stamp of Longman and Broderip.

BARNES, Robert.—London. Died 1794. Principally known as a dealer, and member of the firm of Norris and Barnes.

BARRETT, John.—London; to about 1740. Long-bodied, high-built instruments, having ink lines in place of purfling. Tone small, but generally of good quality.

BARTL (or Partl).—Vienna. The name is usually spelt “Partl” in labels. Several makers of this name worked in Vienna in the eighteenth century. In some specimens the work is good.

BARZONI.—The trade name of a well-known class of modern cheap instruments made on the Continent. They are well made, and the tone is usually good.

BAUSCH.—Dresden and Leipzig; nineteenth century. A family chiefly noted as makers of bows, many of which are highly esteemed, but there are many spurious specimens about.

BEARE, John and Arthur.—London; contemporary. Well known dealers and repairers. Arthur Beare is an excellent repairer, and a sound judge of old instruments.

BELA, Szepessy.—Contemporary. Born in Buda Pesth, and well known amongst English amateurs.

BELLOSIO, Anselmo.—Venice; eighteenth century. Said to have worked with Serafino. Tone usually good, but instruments are of unequal merit and workmanship.

BERGONZI.—A celebrated Cremona family of makers, the last of whom, Benedetto, died in 1840, and seems to have been chiefly occupied as a repairer. Carlo, an artist of the first rank, was born in or about the year 1686, and is said to have died in 1747. The date of birth was discovered by the late Signor Sacchi, who ascertained from the Registers of the suppressed Church of San Matteo in Cremona, that Carlo Bergonzi was living in 1746 in the house formerly occupied by Stradivari, and his age was stated to be sixty years. Two of his sons, Michael Angelo and Zosimo, were then living with him. He worked with and for Stradivari, and in some of his instruments copied him with great exactness. In other examples he introduces modifications of the great master’s patterns; these are chiefly noticeable in the form of the sound-holes, which are of slightly pointed form, and the corners, in which a decided droop is observable. The boss of the scroll is frequently more prominent than in Stradivari violins. The arching varies, but the declivity is generally inclined to flatness. Wood usually very handsome, and varnish of different shades, from amber to deep red. It is of beautiful quality, and apparently similar in composition to that of Stradivari. The violins are from 13⁷/₈ to 14 inches long, and, so far as writer’s experience goes, he did not exceed the latter measurement. The tone of great beauty, but distinct from that of Stradivari. His fiddles have been repeatedly relabelled and sold as the work of Guarneri, del Gesù, and genuine labels are not very plentiful; even in his own work the dates and tickets cannot always be relied on, as they have in some instances been inserted to replace forged Stradivari and Guarneri labels, attached by unscrupulous dealers and others. Some of the better judges question the existence of either violas or violoncellos of his make, but very fine examples of both forms of instrument exist which have been assigned to him by connoisseurs of the first rank. The same remark applies to a few double-basses of great merit whatever their authorship. Strange as it may seem, none of his sons would appear to have used varnish of the true Cremonese type. Carlo’s name and label may be found in many instruments, both genuinely old, and of the “modern antique” class, with the making of which he had nothing to do. Nicolò, his eldest son, is supposed to have worked until about 1782. He was a good workman, and seems to have made many instruments, but they are very inferior in style to those of his father. Wood and varnish are of second-rate quality, the latter, judging by appearances, being of a hard alcoholic nature. Michael Angelo Bergonzi, the second son, was born, according to the registers quoted from by Sacchi, in 1722, and worked until about 1765-70. The finish is very passable, but pattern generally inelegant, the corners in some examples being elongated in unsightly fashion. The third son, Zosimo, born 1725, worked until about 1780, according to dates in instruments. It is said that his violoncellos are his best instruments. The writer has not met with any, but has seen a few violins of good tone, large pattern, somewhat high arching, and outline of Amati character. The varnish, a somewhat dull dark red, of soft quality. A second Carlo, who died about 1820, and was a son of Michael Angelo, seems to have been chiefly a guitar maker, and repairer of instruments.

BERNARDEL.—A well-known family of makers and dealers who carried on business in Paris in the nineteenth century, and were associated with the equally well-known Gand family under the style of Gand and Bernardel. The founder was Auguste Sebastien Philipp, born at Mirecourt in 1802, died 1870. Worked with Lupot, and later with the elder Gand. A clever maker whose instruments are in high esteem. Other members of the family were Ernest Auguste, died Paris, 1899; Gustave Adolphe, born 1832; and Leon, born in Paris, 1853. All these have continued to follow the style and traditions of Nicholas Lupot.

BERTOLOTTI.—Brescia; sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The chief member of this family was the celebrated Gaspar da Salò, born at Salò (province of Brescia) in or about 1542, died in City of Brescia, April, 1609. He certainly made violins, usually of rather small form, at least a dozen of which are recognised by the best authorities as authentic; but it is by no means clear that he was the first man to make a fiddle strung with four strings and generally of the form in which the instrument is now seen. The authorship of the true violin has been assigned to others: e.g. Duiffoprugcar, a viol maker, whose claims have long since been dismissed by competent judges as unsupported by evidence of any value. Gaspar’s violins, as might be expected, are of primitive appearance and character. One of them, belonging to the late Lord Amherst of Hackney, and of unquestioned authenticity, was seen many years ago by the writer, and is the only violin by da Salò of undisputed genuineness with which he has met during a long course of years. Several violas of large size (“tenores”) still exist, but the majority have been reduced, often very unskilfully, in size. Of those seen by the writer all have been remarkable for their fine tone. A number of large bass viols (violoni) still survive. They were built to carry a number of strings, but have mostly been converted by modern repairers into three or four string double basses. A very fine and perfect example of these is in the possession of the Reverend Leigh Blake. It is said that he made violoncellos, but this is probably incorrect. Instruments of various types formerly assigned to him are now recognised as the work of his pupil and follower, Gio. Paolo Maggini. Interesting information relating to him, including the date of his death, was discovered, and published in 1891, by Cavalier Livi, who also ascertained that his father was a viol maker, and that a son Francesco, who died in 1614, assisted him. Gasparo’s genuine labels are undated.

BERTRAND, Nicholas.—Paris; circa 1685-1730. Best known as a viol maker. Writer recently saw and repaired a violin by him with manuscript label, date 1710, of good workmanship and sweet tone; arching high. Some examples are branded.

BETTS.—London. A well-known family of makers and dealers in old instruments. The founder of the business was John Edward Betts, “Old John Betts,” born Stamford, 1755, died London, March, 1823. Worked with Richard Duke, and made some instruments, but employed in his own business the best workmen of the day: Bernhard Fendt, John Carter, Vincent Panormo and his sons, together with several others. The instruments made for him generally bear his stamp under the button, and this has been forged of recent years in the most wholesale manner; it may be seen, in pawnshops and elsewhere, on instruments of the commonest class and foreign make. Betts was a first rate judge of old Italian work and many fine examples passed through his hands. A nephew, Edward, was associated with him; he was a careful workman and made some good copies; he died about 1820. Other members of the family were at one time or other connected with the business, amongst whom may be mentioned two named Arthur Betts, the first a brother of John, and the second a nephew.

BIANCHI, Niccolò.—1796-1881. Born in Genoa, died Nice. A clever workman who was employed by several makers of repute, including Bagatella, G. B. Ceruti, and Pressenda. He was for some years in Paris; his own instruments are said to be very good, but he was much employed as a repairer.

BIMBI, Bartolommeo.—Siena and Florence; second half of eighteenth century. Violins usually of rather small pattern, high built, and with very pretty red-orange varnish.

BINDERNAGEL, Johann Wilhelm.—Gotha. Died 1845. Instruments highly valued in Germany. Copied Amati pattern chiefly, but also Stradivari. Was a pupil of Ernst.

BISIACH, Leandro.—Milan; contemporary. Is regarded as one of the cleverest workmen and imitators of old instruments now working in Italy. His best violins and other instruments display very fine workmanship, have generally an excellent tone, and are already in much request amongst players.

BITTNER, David.—Vienna; died 1887. A good copyist of Italian work.

BLAIR, John.—Edinburgh; to about 1820. Worked with M. Hardie. Instruments branded “J. B.”

BLAISE, Joseph.—Mirecourt and Geneva; died 1882. Little known, except as instructor of P. and N. Silvestre of Lyons.

BLANCHARD, Paul François.—Lyons. Born Mirecourt 1851. Worked formerly for Silvestre’s firm. Has made some excellent copies with good varnish.

BODIO, Gio. Battista.—Venice; to about 1830. Moderate work. Examples scarce. Writer has seen a violin with belly inlaid with ebony at edges of sound holes. Seems to have made instruments with ornamental heads.

BOIVIN, Claude.—Paris; about 1840. Chiefly guitars and similar instruments. Violins rare.

BOOTH, William.—Leeds. Died 1856. Little known. Said to have been a good workman.

BOQUAY, Jaques.—Paris. Worked until about 1735-40. One of the better makers of the older French school. Violins in two sizes, the pattern resembling Amati. Good wood, dark red-brown varnish. Back usually stamped with initials. Tone frequently very good. Very well cut scrolls, but original heads are often absent, having been transferred to old instruments by other makers.

BOULLANGIER, Charles.—London. Born Mirecourt, 1823; died London, 1888. A well-known and excellent maker. Worked in Paris with Vuillaume and Gand. In 1849 employed by Edward Withers, senior, with whom he remained until 1856. Copied both Stradivari and Guarneri with skill, and employed red varnish of different shades.

BOUMEESTER, Jan.—Amsterdam; seventeenth century. One of the best of the older Dutch makers, but his labels are not very often seen. It has been surmised that in many cases they have been removed and the tickets of Italian makers substituted.

BOURGEOIS, Séraphin.—Geneva; about 1830. A few years ago a large violin by a maker named Bourgeois was the subject of a law-suit, certain “experts” having declared it to be the work of Guarneri, del Gesù.

BOVIS, François.—Nice; contemporary. Maker to the orchestra at Monte Carlo.

BRAGLIA, Antonio.—Modena; about 1800. A good bow-maker.

BRANDILIONI, Filippo.—Brescia. Said to have worked there in latter half of eighteenth century. Work is described as resembling that of Mittenwald rather than Italy.

BRANDNER.—Name of numerous family working in Schönbach in the last century.

BRANDSTAETTER, Matthäus Ignaz.—Vienna; died 1851. Maker and excellent repairer.

BRAUN.—There were numerous German makers of this name in the last century.

BRETON, Le.—Mirecourt; died 1830. Good work, but rather commonplace in style. Instruments branded on back, and stamp may be seen on many spurious examples. An earlier Breton worked in Paris.

BROWN.—London; eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Makers of the name worked principally for the dealers. The best known is James Brown, “Brown of Spitalfields,” a good workman, who died about 1830.

BRUGÈRE.—Nineteenth century. A well-known Mirecourt family who worked in Paris, Marseilles, and elsewhere. The best known is Charles, born in 1865. A careful workman; frequently uses a large ornamental ticket.

BRUNO, Carlo Colombo.—Turin; contemporary. Has obtained medals for instruments in Paris, Turin, and Marseilles.

BUCHSTETTER, Gabriel David.—Ratisbonn; second half of eighteenth century. Instruments not often seen in this country.

BUTHOD.—Mirecourt; nineteenth century. A maker of the name worked for J. B. Vuillaume. Labels may be seen in large numbers of cheap violins, etc., of the “factory class.”

CABROLY.—Toulouse; about 1740. Said to have come from Milan. Instruments seemingly scarce.

CAHUSAC.—London; eighteenth century. The label may be seen in many old fiddles which were obviously the work of different makers, but he seems to have made some himself. Writer has seen examples of Amati outline, and with very pretty varnish.

CALCAGNI (Calcanius), Bernardo.—Genoa; to about 1750. Medium size violins, slightly arched and with very pretty reddish-yellow varnish. General workmanship well finished.

CALVAROLA, Bartolommeo.—Bergamo; circa 1750-1770. Instruments scarce. Medium workmanship without much character. Yellow and yellow-red varnish. Pattern looks rather narrow. Scrolls small and of poor design.

CAMILLI, Camillo.—Mantua; to about 1760. A maker whose instruments have rapidly risen in value of late years. They are of unequal merit and workmanship. In good examples the wood and form are handsome. Sound-holes rather short and wide open. Varnish red, of varying shades and good texture. The tone usually excellent. The pattern usually seen bears some resemblance to violins of Stradivari. Labels both written and printed.

CAPPA, Goffredo.—Saluzzo; born 1647, died August, 1717. It is important to note the dates of birth and death, as in most books on the violin these appear as having occurred fully a century too early. Cappa’s name and work have been the subject of almost wholesale fraud, forgery, and misrepresentation. His own genuine labels are very rarely seen, and the frequent appearance of Amati tickets in his instruments gives some colour to the theory, propounded in Hill’s work on Stradivari, that he himself inserted them. Whatever may be the truth, the resemblance to Amati in his smaller pattern violins is very marked, both in form and choice of material. The varnish also is of similar quality and colour. The sound-holes, which are much more slanting than in Amati fiddles, at once betray the maker to the experienced eye; and the heads are quite unlike the type associated with the Amati name. The violins of larger build are rare, and those seen by the writer have differed so materially in form and build from those just described that they might easily be taken to be the work of another hand. Violoncellos of good form and style exist, and generally command high prices. Other makers of the name and of very doubtful existence are mentioned by different writers.

CARCASSI.—A Florentine family of makers of the eighteenth century, numbering about half a dozen members. Of these the principal workmen were Lorenzo and Tomaso, who worked both independently and in partnership from about 1740 onwards. The pattern belongs chiefly to the school of Amati, though no very close resemblance exists. Work in some cases well finished, arching fairly high, pretty wood, and varnish of good colour and texture. The name is one of those which have been freely used by forgers, and a number of spurious examples are to be met with.

CARTER, John.—London; about 1790. Worked on his own account in Wych Street, but was chiefly employed by Betts.

CASINI, Antonio.—Modena. Seventeenth century, to about 1690.

CASTAGNERI, Andrea.—Paris. Worked to about 1750. He was of Italian extraction, and his genuine violins are Italian in style. Flat arching. Outline of Stradivari type. Tone generally powerful. An earlier maker of the name is said to have been his father, and to have worked in Paris.

CASTELLO, Paolo.—Genoa; latter half of eighteenth century. Well built violins of good form and tone. Middle bouts sometimes appear rather narrow.

CAUSSIN, François.—Neufchâteau. Also spelt Coussin. Worked between about 1845-81. Was a very clever imitator of old Italian work and varnish, and his instruments have frequently been sold as originals. Pattern varies.

CELONIATI, Gian. Francesco.—Turin; circa 1730-50. The work somewhat resembles that of Cappa. Outline generally of Amati character. Varnish clear and of yellow or yellow-brown colour. Instruments generally well finished, and the tone of good quality.

CERIN, Marc Antonio.—Venice; about 1790.

CERUTI.—Cremona; eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. A family well known to modern players. Giovanni Battista, the earliest of the name, worked with Storioni, and succeeded to his business, dying somewhere between 1817 and 1820. Made a large number of instruments of varying patterns, in some of which the characteristics of more than one of the classic makers are combined. The wood of the backs and sides is often of native growth and small figure, and the varnish varies both in colour and quality. Tone frequently excellent. He used a label with an ornamental border, and containing a monogram within a circle. His son Joseph died in Mantua in 1860 and was a clever workman. He worked with his father, whose label has been found in his earlier productions. A younger son, Enrico, died in 1883. Instruments well made and of varying form. He obtained exhibition medals for some of his work.