Notwithstanding this, it may be said there are scarcely two violins alike in respect of expression of these adornments of the structure, each instrument is made to convey its own impression, or display its particular kind of beauty. There is a difference, scarcely to be measured mathematically, that in one will be suggestive of masculine strength, while in another it will be exquisite feminine grace.
In none of the imitations of the master are there seen these qualities expressed in the same degree and kind. It has often been said, and there is more than a substratum of truth in the remark, that, "to copy a Stradivari successfully"—of course, in the fullest sense of the word—"the copyist must be a Stradivari himself." There might, appropriately, be an addition put to this, namely, that a man who could work up to the dizzy height of his ambition in this way, would not copy, but make originals.
Another detail of the workmanship always attended to by the master himself, was that of the purfling. Much has been said of the wonderful accuracy of Stradivari's purfling and that as a purfler he stands unrivalled. This must not be taken in the widest sense, as there have been, and are living, scores and scores of makers who have cut a rut round the border of a fiddle as sharply, and inserted the three conventional lines of dark and light wood as deftly as it could be by the hand of any man, be he named Amati, Stradivari, Ruggieri, Tononi, or Montagnana. There is a degree of evenness and keenness of cutting and clean insertion beyond which it is not possible to go. But there the imitatorscome to a full stop. Without the inventive power which will make this curious, simple, yet wonderful little fillet, aid in giving the desired expression to the whole work, the imitator is not—as people say nowadays—in the race. The finishing of the border, the corners and the delicate and often very elaborate system of curves around the sound holes, the hollowing of the wings of these latter, and the final surfacing of both back and front, I have no doubt had Stradivari's individual attention. All the delicate and small work of the scroll, perfecting that elegant flow of line and finish of each turn of the volute, as if everything depended on the exactness of its individuality, obliterating all marks of the tooling and giving his own impress to the gouging of the shell and even the completion of the peg-box; then last and not least, the preparation and application of that pellucid envelope that was to serve two purposes, utility and enrichment of effect.
With regard to this, much has been written and said about its incomparable quality, its elasticity, colour and transparency, with other excellences needless to dilate upon. Summarily taken as a whole, the simple fact is, that in no respect is his varnish different, or better than that of his predecessors, the Amatis and masters of the Brescian school; it had been done before and his most famous contemporaries were doing it still, and he was in this position for the simple reason that no better could be done.
If it was not possible for Stradivari to improve upon the varnish of the Amatis who had preceded him and the masters in the art belonging to the Brescian school,—among whom may be mentioned Giovanni Maggini, Antonio Mariani, and the first one to use it on violins, Gasparo da Salo—it was strictly in accordance with his invariable rule of putting forth his best that he so dexterously manipulated it, probably both as to its composition and final application, that faultiness in some respects to be seen in specimens of other masters is not noticeable in his. Thus, as is well known, theBrescians, perhaps without exception, were often very careless regarding the thickness of the film, it being occasionally of irreproachable evenness, at other times having almost the appearance of being laid on with a large brush in great haste. On some connoisseurs this haphazard fulness of treatment, this oft times generously effusive manner, carried out with a careless consciousness of power, acts as a charm, inciting to intense admiration the like of which is roused by the rich, juicy brush of Rembrandt and the masters of the Venetian school of painters. But this is not the perfect realization of aim with regard to the envelopment of masterpieces by the old Italian liutaros; in the instances referred to, and sufficiently numerous, we wonder at the wealth of material and smile at its manipulation. Antonio Stradivari would in no wise act thus at any time. To him it was enough that he was possessor in full of the knowledge of materials, and to deviate from the good paths pursued by the artistic Amatis, was not to be considered for a moment; we therefore find that with him the best material was laid with the utmost skill and care. It must be indeed rare that "frizzling," or contraction of the upper surface of the varnish, is to be seen to any appreciable extent. I do not recollect one instance, while with the Ruggieris, most of the Venetian school, and a number of makers of lesser note, it is quite common.
Concerning the colour or variety of tints adopted by Stradivari at most times, it was most likely done to the requirements of his different patrons, many having a desire for the rich orange, some, the light red or "cherry" tint, while others were not content with any than the red or rich full bodied port wine tint. The simple brown seems to have been less in demand, as it is during the period under consideration, rather exceptional. While using the lustrous coverings for his works with consummate skill, there is one qualification that must not be lost sight of. Beautiful, refined and artistic in the strictest sense of the term, Stradivarinever gave way to a desire to outbid the rest of the fraternity for congratulations in respect of gorgeousness, he seems never to have fallen back upon his reserves in the direction of intensity of colour. Thus if a finely preserved specimen of his orange varnish is viewed side by side with one by Joseph Guarnerius, I.H.S., the extra degree of fieriness will be on the side of the latter, but it by no means places Stradivari on a lower level, as the combined qualities of his work, taken as a sum total, is not reached by any liutaro of old Italy.
It may be fairly taken as certain that if there was any master having at command all the necessaries for turning out musical instruments of matchless superiority, both as to acoustical and artistic qualities, it was Stradivari, and many connoisseurs would expect to find nothing but maple used of the richest curl, and that would throw up with delightful effect the lustrous varnish so carefully laid upon it; but, strangely enough, his most magnificently curled backs and sides are mixed with a few that are comparatively plain. A variety of reasons might be assigned for this, but that which bears the greatest probability about it is—that the instruments being chiefly made to order, the maple of richest curl was not always to be had, at least in time for the construction as required. In other respects these plainer mapled instruments are fully equal to anything that came from his hands. Of the proper tone-giving pine he seems never to have been short; there it is, always of beautiful growth, having, like his own handiwork, both delicacy and strength and of a general appearance such as would attract the eye of the veriest tyro in the liutaro's art. How many imitators of the great manipulator have looked at this growth of pine and wondered where the old master obtained it! and how he knew that it possessed the proper qualifications for his purpose. Swiss pine of course! obtained from the lower parts of the forests of the Alps, is an immediate loud response, and cut only from the south or sunniest side of the particular tree when found of course.
This idea was started in the early part of this century in books on the violin, professing to tell the reader all about it or nearly so, and he had only to go, get the stuff, and make Stradivari violins, in fact with the addition of the amount of scientific knowledge of the subject peculiar to modern imitators, he would make "old Strad" "take a back seat." This has been often tried by would-be "Strads," "Guarneris," or "Bergonzis," and full of specious promises that if you will but purchase their wares you be rewarded for your pains by being possessor of everything good that they could endow the instrument with. Keep it, persevere, and the precious qualities will come; some were daring enough to assert that they were already there, if even your mental vision was so obtuse as not to perceive it, absurd prejudice was the cause of this they said, oblivious to the fact that the best musicians of Stradivari's time used the violins fresh from the atelier of the master perfectly new, expressing their unbounded admiration for their beautiful acoustic properties or "pleasurable sounds."
Is the like said of new violins at the present time? These imitators, some of them might be with perfect truth termed forgers, are legion, as in the case of everything that is of a high standard of excellence and which makes acquisition desirable. These artificers had their day, so far as forcing their imitations upon the credulous and unwary could be accomplished, and others have replaced them, yet there aloft still sits the grand master upon his high eminence, unapproached, with the whole world clamouring and struggling for the possession of what in the earnestness of his purpose was only his everyday work.
Before leaving the imitators and forgers, for they are distinct one from the other, the first simply taken being honest, the other not, it may be as well to refer as briefly as possible to the general aspect as afforded by such specimens of Stradivari's art that remain with us after fairly constant usage during the generations that have passed since his decease. Most connoisseurs anddealers are well acquainted with the appearance of a "Strad" of fine model, work and varnish that has done its duty in former times, and is yet able and willing to answer all requirements of the present day and many to come. If the instrument has not been hidden and forgotten in the cabinet of some deceased collector, but has been handed down from one player to another, kept in healthy exercise, not meddled with, muddled, and maddened by the numerous would-be improvers, bridge regulators, sound post agitators and varnish vivifiers, then—it will probably present an appearance of what is called handsome wear, or as a writer has termed it, "adorned, not injured, by a century's fair wear."
Striking the eye first will be the varnish that has been chipped off from the back chiefly, often from a large space of a rough triangular form; the front being usually more smoothly denuded of its lustrous envelope. This chipping away of the varnish from the maple has been effected a long time ago, and is the result of a custom in olden times of hanging the instrument after use on a peg attached to the wall, or may be the interior of a cabinet. Fiddle-cases seem to have been used almost solely for travelling purposes. They are now in general use as the best means of preservation against damage and a good resting place at all times. During the last century there were scores and scores of makers in Italy who were ready, willing to, and did turn out excellent instruments with fine, artistical and acoustical properties, but the race has died out and their remaining works are of daily increasing value, and consequently much under lock and key, out of harm's way as much as possible. This old habit of hanging up violins not wanted for the moment was, as a matter of course, effected with a slight bang or two each time, and a corresponding cost, small or large, according to the blow to the top layer of varnish most highly charged with colour. Each instrument used in this way will declare to the sufficiently acute observer, its course of handling and even the peculiarities to some extent of theowner; for it will be seen that the chippings give indication of different degrees of energy or hurry, when the violin has come in contact with the more or less hard surface of the wall.
It must be borne in mind that the times referred to were prior to the introduction of wall-papers; the good, old-fashioned panelling of oak or hard wood, often of bold design, shattered or nicked away much of the old, delicate and precious varnish used for enveloping the works of the Italian masters. All these constantly recurring slight collisions by degrees brought about the results that have been defined by some as picturesque wear or accidental adornment, if such a thing be reasonable. Besides this there was going on the wear caused by handling by one or another of players, rough or mild, contact with the garments, especially the sleeves, all being larger and looser than are fashionable at the present time. The action of these would be more gentle if more continuous. It is noticeable at the lower end of the back of the violin, which is often worn away much below the penetration of the varnish, the corners being rounded down and if rather protuberant, even losing their original character. The upper table of pine being incapable of equal resistance to the destroying influence, wears away sooner, also the border at the lower end and at both sides of the tail-piece—for the old performers placed their chins on the contrary side to what is thought best now—and the right upper shoulder where the palm of the hand and part of the wrist is apt to work, too often, against the edge. We thus see when a handsome, fairly worn specimen of Stradivari's work comes under our notice, the different pieces of tell-tale evidence, varying of course in degree with each instrument. Now all this must have been going on during the time the master's works were being sent out to parts of Italy and to other countries. It had been progressing and was showing the onward march of Father Time in the instruments left by the Brescian makers a century before.
As before observed, the varnish of Stradivari has,often as not, been worn, chipped or cracked off in, as some fanciers still call it, a picturesque manner or adornment, although from the highest prices being given for those specimens that have the least of it, the taste seems to be growing healthily in favour of perfection of preservation as far as is possible.
It would be out of reason to suppose that full consideration of the subject was omitted by a genius with such far reaching mental vision as Stradivari. That he gave all the necessary study and forethought to the effects of ordinary wear and such as was occasionally going on within his knowledge, there is evidence enough. He saw how the delicate work of his master, Nicolas Amati, was rapidly disappearing under sometimes rough and too often ruffianly usage. It was not in his power to prevent or interfere with this by any peculiarity of construction or quality of the varnish used by him. But this he doubtless knew—that the generally substantial work and total absence of any weak point of detail in design and execution was all that an artist could do. This strength shown over all of Stradivari's designs, even from the commencement, shows that in his grasp of the highest scale of requirement he was also anticipatory and in this wise, that he followed up the self evident principle in art, that the best combination of forms, proportions and masses will answer best for their permanence.
The numismatist knows full well how, on the coins used in various countries, the masters of basso-relievo had concentrated their skill on the subject. The balance of projection and depression for good and proper effect under different situations of light and shade, or even independently of them on occasion—is of paramount importance in all branches of art in their widest range. The omission of proper thoughtful attention in this direction is one of the obstacles to success among copyists in any direction of art. In architecture the imitator or restorer of some early English mouldings has often made ignominious failures from the non-application ofknowledge of this kind: just a trifling variation from the original while in progress being deemed of little consequence, but when finished and left for exhibition under the truth testing rays of the sun, the qualities that should have been there are, as the saying is, "conspicuous by their absence." In full view of the above and with an intelligence unsurpassable, Antonio Stradivari so arranged his forms and masses in construction that under fair usage and wearing down of the projecting parts, the original beauty of the whole should be retained as long as possible. A fine Stradivari much worn still retains its air of distinction, and very much of its material must have disappeared under bad treatment to make it beyond recognition almost at a glance.
There can be very little question of there being more than mere admiration for the appearance. Simply viewed, there is the spice of romance in connection with it, the history is written in language more or less intelligible of the knocks and bruises inflicted, unwillingly in most instances, but not invariably so. And here attention may perhaps be appropriately drawn in these pages to what has been asserted by a few, very few, dealers and others, whose general intelligence should have been a guarantee against the dissemination of utter nonsense and which has even been in print! that—just think of this—Antonio Stradivari, the acknowledged master liutaro of Cremona in his own day, and of whose growing fame no one can foretell the limits—actually imitated wear and tear of varnish on his violins. I have not the print at hand, and so cannot give the exact words in which this scum from the boilings of a distorted imagination was conveyed; nor point to the first unfortunate who let it flow abroad. In all probability it came from the same old source, a desire to lift up to a high level worthless imitations of the master, confuse the public mind so as to make it more and more difficult to tell "t'other from which."
A fine specimen, and well known, of Stradivari's art was once lying on a table before me. An amateur ofconsiderable attainments and honesty of purpose then present was dilating upon its many beauties and fine preservation; he, I soon found, had by some means become infected with the absurd notion of the varnish having been artistically pecked away by the original maker! Just fancy this—Raphael slitting a hole in his chef-d'œuvre to make it look old—Michael Angelo chipping some bits from the ceiling of the Sistine just before the scaffolding was removed, or Phidias snapping off a limb and browning the raw surface to please future connoisseurs.
They might all have done this with an equal deficiency of reason and consistency if we allow for one moment any possibility of the genius of such a stamp as that of Antonio Stradivari descending to such depravity. Those who have lent themselves to this incongruous notion, hastily generalising from insufficient particulars, have strangely overlooked the fact that the same kind of chipping is seen on the violins of other masters, Joseph Guarnerius, Carlo Bergonzi, and others of the Cremonese and Venetian School, besides—going far back—the older ones of Brescia and Pesaro, any number in fact over all Italy.
CHAPTER VI.
Some Modifications in Stradivari's Works—Variation in Finish of Details—The Interior of His Violins—The Blocks and Linings—Thicknesses of the Tables—Heads or Scrolls of His Different Periods.
WE will now resume our consideration of the handiwork of the Cremonese master as regards other details. We left him steadily working through his so-called "Grand epoch" or, more strictly speaking, his period of finely settled designs in outline and modelling. He had arrived at the goal of his ambition and produced works of excellence which—taking them as a whole—it seemed impossible to improve upon. He was henceforth content to put into them such slight modifications as would prevent too great similarity. Thus we find some were flatter in the arching, others a little shorter, being a trifle under the usual fourteen inches, others again were over it, but there was the same general contour, his now well-known accentuated design, complete as possible in all its details.
From the great number of finished works that were turned out one after another, it is quite reasonable to assume that there would be occasionally some little evidence of extra pressure of business and consequently less time spent over minor details. That this actually occurred at times there is no doubt and can be perceivedclearly when looked for. One instance occurs to me in which the purfling had been cut off a trifle short at the corners and did not quite fill up and make a good mitreing, otherwise all along the border the easy, swift, yet powerful stroke was maintained up to his usual standard of accuracy. In other instances the point or "bee-sting," as it is sometimes called, is not so sharply defined perhaps in two corners, while the others were the perfection of minute finish.
It seems fairly certain that the great Cremonese was not at the time thinking of the almost microscopical scrutiny of critics certain to occur one hundred and eighty or so years in the future. These little differences in accuracy of unimportant detail or accidents of work may be taken as evidence that Stradivari was labouring day by day to meet the requirements of patrons different in disposition and perhaps patience. When at the same period he has been allowed to put his full time and attention to his work, then we find the four corners of equal unsurpassable finish, and other minute details over the whole structure so intently studied that nothing could possibly go beyond. These should really and appropriately be termed his "grand pattern." There is present in those instances the combined excellences in the highest degree of mechanical precision, beautiful proportion and drawing, such as no master designer of the Renaissance could surpass, the choicest materials, including splendid varnish, the whole united and capped with that essential, a beautiful tone.
A few words about the interior of Stradivari's instruments; one kind of work is perceptible in all of them. There is not, as we may see in the works of other masters, that off-handed, or even slovenly want of finish inside while the whole attention of the maker has been concentrated on the exterior. With Stradivari all is well done, the blocks, end and corner ones are carefully faced and have little, if any can be seen, of the tool marks left upon them. The linings let into the corners are in every instance done with minute exactness. Thewood of these and the blocks is a kind of Italian poplar, sometimes called willow and by the French sallow; it is light and has no threads like pine to cause difficulty in the manipulation. Too much importance has been attached by critics to the presence of this wood in Stradivari's violins. That it had nothing whatever to do with the excellence of tone quality is clear from the fact of makers of inferior skill and less renown for tone having used it in the same parts. The most likely reason is—as most repairers have concluded—the absence of thread, its lightness, pliability and evenness of texture, being thereby adapted for the necessary long strips for fitting round the curves. Some makers used it invariably, while others did so occasionally, perhaps not always having a stock on hand. When for some reasons, such as being worm eaten or badly fractured, it has been found compulsory to remove them and substitute others in their place and of other wood, there has been no perceptible deterioration in the tone either as regards quality or quantity. Not only so, but there is the fact that many of the Italian masters and theirnumerous pupils, to say nothing of makers of a lower order, as often as not sent forth their violins without linings, some even without corner blocks. In most of these instances, however, the ribs were left very stout in substance in order to retain a sufficient holding surface for the glue. The subtle curvings of the ribs of an Amati, and more so of a Stradivari, almost precluded the use of a very thick material, especially so when the curl or figure was bold and elaborate. In consonance with this, we find with Stradivari that the thin plate or veneer from which the ribs have been cut is not thick, but of accurate and equal measurement along its course. The linings being equally true and fitting in the closest manner to the ribs, are in their original state somewhat stouter, the middle or waist ones parting slightly on approaching the corner blocks each way and thus giving a gradually increasing area of attachment (diag.h). All of the four blocks are well trimmed off and their surfaces levelled, being quite regular in their form and size and trimmed to proper measurement. The end blocks serving to sustain the greatest amount of strain longitudinally, are also found well finished, in contrast with so many seen in instruments by makers of eminence that are simply hacked roughly into size and shape. They were carefully estimated in their proportion for strength sufficient to resist the strain caused by the size, length, and pull of the strings in use at the time of Stradivari, and with something to spare, so that even now, underthe enormous strain of the modern high pitch, when in perfect and original condition they are equal to their task. In a number of instances, when much repairing, good or bad has been done, the end, and often the corner blocks, have been replaced by modern ones. There is, of course, under these circumstances less of Stradivari present, but it has often been a case of painful necessity or question of expense as to the choice between two steps for restoration to health and particularly for strength. The form viewed vertically adopted by Stradivari was that of a parallelogram with two rounded corners (diag.i.). The upper block was left a little thicker, the junction or root of the neck necessitating this. The renewal of one or both of these has also been caused incidentally by the deep insertion of the modern and longer neck, thus lessening much of the grip or purchase of the block on both upper and lower table. The same may be said of the nut over which the tail string passes, this being—owing also to the rise of the modern tone pitch and increase of tension—much larger than in Stradivari's day, and he may in a sense be said to have had to buckle to modern requirements.
Diagramh.
Diagrami.
While the seat as it were of our criticism is at the present moment in the interior portion of the admirable structures bequeathed to us by the great Cremonese, we may consider further the surface work of this part. Everyone knows that the interior of a violin is left unvarnished by violin makers. Stradivari was in no way anxious to become an exception to this rule. The reasons for its adoption were, and are, still obviously wise, although not necessitous. He knew that his work, in common with that of other craftsman, would be liable to fracture, and that in the process of restoration the surfaces and junction of parts must be laid bare, and varnish where not obviously necessary would be an obstruction.
For the satisfaction of the anxious inquirer it may be stated that varnishing the interior has, to my knowledge, been tried by an excellent modern workman as an experiment and did not bring any adequate reward byperceptible improvement in tone quality. In another instance, to prevent the encroachment of the collector's arch-enemy, the worm, the innovation seemed to have proved ineffectual. Stradivari may have tried this and perhaps, for once at least, met with failure. The bar—there is but one—ofttimes erroneously called sound-bar or bass-bar—is, in common with all the violins of the old Italian school, quite inadequate for modern requirement, that of supporting the upper table on the fourth string side against the pressure caused by the tension of the third and fourth, the heaviest strings.
That the length, thickness and disposition of the bar has much to do with the good going order of every violin there is no disputing. Stradivari did not live long enough to make acquaintance with the numberless proposals for acquiring his quality by making this part longer, shorter, thicker, or thinner, besides various modes of attachment. That some of them would have raised a smile on the features of the veteran Cremonese, we may be quite sure. That he was quite content with the size of the bar in general use during his life-time there can be no doubt, as there is no record or evidence of any experiments having been made by him, fair argument that none were considered necessary; the instruments finished, the ordinary bar of the period was inserted and there was an end. The whole of the interior indicates an absence of any question of improvement on what had been done before by his master Nicolas Amati and his predecessors, apart from good finish.
A few words as to the thickness of the upper and lower tables. Of this much has been written, an extremely small portion being from actual observation, and most of the other parts being reiterated assertions started many years back by people whose supposed knowledge rested solely upon simple conviction, without an iota ofbona fideevidence in support. To them the fact, well known to everyone engaged in the manufacture of sound-boards of musical instruments, that a very thick sound-board produces different results to that of avery thin one, was sufficient, therefore the secret of Stradivari with regard to his tone, was "the adjustment of the thicknesses," whatever that may mean. The assertion seeming perhaps rather bare, and wanting some sort of support, was bolstered up with another no less instructive, that if you "pinged," or tapped the separated upper and lower tables of a Stradivari so that they each gave out a note there would be found the difference of a tone between them! Here was something for the "babes and sucklings" of the craft of violin making to swallow. It was stated also which table would give the higher tone. Unfortunately for some would-be Stradivaris, the particulars of the tonal difference were copied loosely and reversed and so came "confusion worse confounded."
The illustrations of sound holes, orf fcommonly so called, will, it is hoped, be interesting as showing the modification or development from those of Nicolas Amati to the latter part of the period of Stradivari's career, called "the grand." They are all reproduced from fine specimens of the great Cremonese masters, and are the exact size of the originals. The first (a) shows thefof a violin of the Nicolas Amati's late period, 1663, unaffected—at least in this detail—by the individuality of his hereafter eminent pupil. (b) While still going under the name of Nicolas Amati, 1678, thefshows the actual interference of Stradivari, it is more vertical, but the peculiarities of the upper and lower wings are retained. (c) 1684. The design is quite changed, there is some return to the flow or inclination of Amati, but the whole thing is more extended, is slender, and the upper and lower wings are widened, this modification was retained for a permanency. (d) 1690. There is some return to the vertical design, but the width of the wings is retained, while the lower part of the design is of larger proportions. (e) 1700. The design is more equalised and is more substantial. (f) 1715. The same proportions are kept with an increase of gracefulness. It will be perceived the lower wing approaches at its lowest part the opposing curve more closely, the upper one likewise; in some specimens of this period it is still closer. (g) 1725. While the upper part is very like the preceding, the lower part is more contracted and curled up. There is a somewhat heavier expression about the upper part in consequence.
SEE PAGE48.
SEE PAGE48.
History does not relate which of those parties who may have practically followed up the experiments were successful in arriving at the goal of their ambition; they mayeven still be continuing the struggle for supremacy with their master.
We have not to look far for ascertaining whether these assertions have borne fruit. There has been time enough for works built upon these so-called discoveries of fixed principles to have settled down, and the popular verdict now is—that those which guided Antonio Stradivari have yet to be discovered. The numbers of announcements of fresh discoveries—repeatedad nauseam—are in themselves some evidence that what has gone before was founded on deceptive evidence, and therefore to begin anew was the only course left.
The illustrations of scrolls by Nicolas Amati and Antonio Stradivari, being from good specimens by the masters, will be interesting as showing the progression of the modification in detail under the hands of the latter. In fig.a, Nicolas Amati, c. 1670, it will be seen that the first or smallest turn after leaving the axis or "eye" is kept for some distance rather close. Every effort seems to have been made for keeping the turns or winding from being too circular, there being a general dip downward and forward. The gouging is deep from the commencement. The aim of the artist in the whole design appears to have been towards perfection of gracefulness.
Fig.b. Antonio Stradivari, 1683, the openness and bold swing of the first turn at once on leaving the "eye" is very striking, it also commences higher up, there is almost an absence of flow or downward tendency. The throat underneath the volute is very massive, although all the edges are finished off with the utmost delicacy and sharp tooling. All the details of scroll carving by Stradivari at this period are marvels of mechanical dexterity of handling. The different depths of the gouging are carefully calculated for solidity of effect, each portion being deep in proportion to its width, the smaller turns thus having less depth than the larger. With the Amatis there seemed to be a striving after attainment of the greatest depth possible in the smallergougings, those nearest the axis reaching frequently to almost the same depth of level as the outer or broadest one. In no part of his work does Stradivari show more clearly the result of careful calculation after closely studying the work of his master and others that had gone before.
Fig.a.See Page49.
Fig.b.See Page49.
Fig.c. The period 1715 shows the result of further calculation for general effect and a consequent modification in respect of minor details; there is present, as always, the sufficiently bold swing of the first turn from the axis. In choice specimens the point of commencement is as sharply and clearly defined as the mitreing of the purfling at the four corners of the body of the violin and which it seems impossible to excel. The throat, with the whole of the peg-box, is reduced slightly but consistently with strength and beauty of appearance. The public verdict has remained unshaken with regard to these scrolls being in respect of the combination of excellencies the best carvings of the great artist. They are in the most trifling degree smaller than those carved before the period of 1700. Among those cut about the 1710-15 period, or even later, are a few that seem to have been intentionally both smaller and more upright. Although having all the essential excellencies of detail they can scarcely be considered as coming up to the standard of the others in respect of refined grandeur. This type may be said to be mixed up and continued with more or less persistency to the last, and of this Fig.dgives a good representation. There is frequently a more emphatic or energetic gouging at the commencement of the turns, a more developed "ear" as it is often termed. It is gouged with quite as much care as the rest. Speculation has been rife as to the possible influence or even personal help of Joseph Guarneri at this point, but there is no solid foundation for surmising the presence of one or the other. If the gouging of this part may be said to bear any sort of resemblance to the emphatic or impetuous touch of Joseph, it is confined strictly to this portion; other essentials are wantingthat would be absolutely necessary for crediting artists of distinctly opposite tendencies with—it might be almost rightly termed—tampering with each other's designs.
Fig.c.See Page50.
Fig.d.See Page50.
But if the name of Carlo Bergonzi is brought into the field of speculation—granting for a moment that Stradivari was not very likely to step aside occasionally from his accustomed groove—then we have much more of a possibility or even probability in the matter. It has always been asserted, and I believe never contradicted, that Carlo Bergonzi was for a time actually working in the atelier of Stradivari—whether as pupil or only assistant matters not—but we have in the fact of his presence a distinct factor in any of the supposed anomalies of the later periods of the grand Cremonese master. To this, however, we may put some consideration further on. There is further in these later scrolls a modification, alteration, or supposed attempt at improvement in the edging of the turns, these being left a trifle stouter than at the commencement of Stradivari's career.
This is continued along over the top and down the back of the scroll to the shell, which seems to be a little less elongated than the early specimens. It may be more apparent than real in most instances in consequence of the bolder edging. The hollowing of the "shell" is seemingly less delicate, but this may be taken as a natural result of the foregoing. Further on these details will come in again for review.
To continue our remarks on the question of "thicknesses and their adjustment" with each other. This is a department of the luthier's art, to which perhaps much more attention has been directed by theorisers than by practical workers. The latter class have no doubt been influenced by the former to a considerable extent, oftentimes having their views expressly carried out under their personal supervision. By musical amateurs it is found to be a good theme for conversation when the excellencies of the works of various masters are dilated upon. Thatthe richness of quality in a "Joseph" is the result of his having left "his wood" thick in certain parts and not so much in others, and that this, combined with the flat modelling, was the secret, and that it was written that some of the Josephs were too thick in the back, and therefore the freedom of the vibration was checked and the tone to some degree stifled and deficient in penetrative power.
Among my early musical acquaintances, I remember an amateur violinist who would "wax eloquent" on the power of his Strad, asserting that it was owing in a great measure to its having been "left thick by the maker" all round near the border. This, no doubt, many other amateurs, acquainted with what used to be in print on the subject, will recognise as being in opposition to what had been accepted as being the rule generally observed by Stradivari, that the arching in its thickness gently decreased towards the border where it was about a third less than at the centre. This gentle gradation was said to be the cause of the beautiful "silky" and "sympathetic" quality so prominently characteristic of his instruments. The explanation of "the thing in action," as mechanicians would term it, was thus—the greatest thickness being at the part all round by the feet of the bridge, was able to sustain the vibration, or the successive shocks caused by the bow, which were transmitted through the wood of the upper table and were gradually lessened in intensity as the thickness decreased toward the border, where they subsided, or were lost.
I do not know what explanation was given, if any, of the "system" of thickness adopted much by some of the Milanese school, which was that of hewing away the wood until it was thinnest at the part all round by the feet of the bridge and thickest by the lower wings of the sound holes. Judging by the before mentioned assertions as to the association of power of energetic vibration with the thickest wood under the bridge, these Milanese makers were acting very wrongly, but, strange to say,many instruments of very great power were made by them under these conditions.
Many years ago I was conversing on the subject of thicknesses with an English maker of experience and who seemed to believe in certain "thicknesses," and having then as yet made no practical experiments myself in the matter, I put the following to him. There are many violins to be met with that through ill-usage and pressure on the bridge have depressions instead of the level wood at the part we should expect it to be, and yet the tone is considered fine, how is this? The answer was remarkable, and not unworthy of the class of makers to which he belonged—that although the wood had become thinner from pressure, "the original amount was all there," it was only squeezed closer together. The instruments were, no doubt, "rightly gauged" in the first instance. "Now there," he said, pointing to a 'cello hanging up almost out of reach and looking in rather a woe-begone condition, is a bass that "never would go well because it was badly gauged when first made." Age and usage were to be of no avail in bringing this wretched piece of workmanship up to the standard of the average.
This last assertion might have been of considerable weight had the maker been a personal pupil of Stradivari, but the public verdict has been that there was a great gulf between the two, and that the first had not been initiated into the secret of the others. Foreign as well as English makers have announced in the most impressive manner at their command that their instruments were identical in all respects, including the system of thicknesses in the originals, buy them, use them, and be convinced that in time they would be just as good as the real thing.
The foregoing is perhaps enough to indicate whether or not the secret of Stradivari, or indeed any of the other Italian masters, great or small, had been discovered by caliper measurement. It is strange that the impression has held sway so strongly that the genius of the greatmaster lay in his manner of distribution of the thick and thin parts of the upper and lower table. The first thought in this direction would be that if the theory was good, its practical application with ordinary skill and care would be sure to bring about the desired result. But more than this has been done in experimenting on originals and copies from time to time. We have within a mile of Charing Cross no lack of workmen capable of gauging and copying with sufficient exactness the thicknesses of any Stradivari brought to them, if that were all, or the principal means necessary for reproducing the famous qualities of the great Cremonese. It seems to be forgotten that hundreds of clever workmen have lived since his time, in his own as well as other countries, who have given the most assiduous application to the making of exact copies and with a like result—that of total failure. For a moment let us turn our thoughts to the nature of the materials comprised in the sum total of the structure known as a violin. We have for the upper table, or front, a thin slab of wood known as pine, from a species of tree that grows all over the world. The varieties are, however, innumerable and the purposes to which they are put, equally so. For the lower table, or back, a more dense and tough wood is used. That the particular kind used in the construction of the famous instruments of the great masters, and mostly that known as curled maple or "hare wood," was chiefly on account of its beauty, is evident from the fact that all the best Italian makers had recourse at times to other and less showy wood. Beech was occasionally used by Carlo Bergonzi. Other tough woods grown in Italy, even poplar, have been used by some makers, seemingly when the supply of better looking material ran short. That there are extant some "Strads" with backs of some plain wood other than maple is more than likely. We have, then, for the upper table of the violin a wood of soft but elastic consistency, the strength of which lies mainly in the threads running lengthwise, and which, when the woodis cut in the manner usual with all violin makers since its invention, serve the purpose of small joists running from end to end of the upper table. The soft material lying between these is very susceptible to damp, especially when fresh cut. Thus, if a piece of pine be cut ever so smooth with a sharp gouge or chisel, a slightly wetted brush drawn along the surface will at once cause the softer parts to swell and so leave a ribbed or "corduroy" appearance when it is dry. This will serve to show how far this wood is suitable for regulating by such very minute differences as would be necessary when the thicknesses theory is confided in and efforts made to reduce it to practice. The exactness reasonably expected of such a master of quality as Stradivari would be upset in an instant by the application of a little moisture, and which either by accident or during the process of repairing would be fairly certain to occur some time or other to every violin that left the hands of its maker.
CHAPTER VII.
Stradivari's Tone and System—Those of his Pupils and Assistants—Qualities of Tone Produced in Different Localities.
WE may now refer to actual observation or close examination of Stradivari's work with reference to the question of system, whether there is evidence of its presence and how followed by him. That his violins should have been from time to time well measured by the very numerous army of identical imitators, fair copyists, and all sorts of connoisseurs and theorists during the present century will be at once admitted, and the results may be summed up in a few words. Stradivari did not leave clearly defined any evidence of a system of gauging which he strictly followed, at any rate in such a manner as to enable the least approach by such to be made by any followers in his steps with any measure of success. In short, he was guided by the exigencies of the moment as to the amount of wood left in his ordinary or choicer specimens.
It has been stated before that his quality of tone was one, not several, and for these his patrons flocked to him, as his admirers have also more and more earnestly sought for him since the supply has ceased. But it was not desirable that the greatest possible power should be given to instruments that were in many cases to simply charm a small family circle of friends in an apartment of modest dimensions. He would, therefore, naturally enough vary the amount of wood left. This would be quite in accordance with what is perfectly well known toall makers and repairers of experience—that with a violin if very "thickly timbered," the tone is less easy of emission, or actually weak. On the other hand, if too thin the emission is comparatively easy, but lacks intensity and is termed "hollow." Under these circumstances we should expect to find a variation in the thicknesses of different violins of Stradivari, which is in accordance with fact.
Some connoisseurs have been in their enthusiasm too hasty in their reference of general principles from a few particular instances and their researches—as time thereafter showed—did not bear the fruit so anxiously looked forward to.
An instance comes to mind of two well known dealers, one British, the other foreign, meeting together one day and opening some half-a-dozen Strads, that appeared up to that moment to have had their interiors undisturbed, or perhaps it might be said untampered with. What a meeting! and what a parting! let us hope that each table, upper or lower, that had so long been working in harmony, eventually became again properly mated and gave no cause for lawyers to "put their fingers in the pie." The results of the examination is related thus:—"In no two of the instruments were thicknesses alike; some had thick places and thin places; some were thicker on one side than the other; all were thicker in the centre of the upper table and all had these as three to five for the back."
Another is that of a well known continental repairer in his day, relating how he had repaired a very large number of real Strads and found the upper tables to be of the same thickness, two and a half m's. all over, but that the backs varied in thickness. Some discrepancies here seemingly. To add to this, a correspondent says the Strads he has measured "have certainly not been thickest in the centre of the upper table."
My own observations as to thicknesses I am afraid will not afford much comfort to those who have beenhopeful at any time that the calipers would drag forth the precious secret. I recollect many years back seeing a very fresh Strad, and a hasty measurement possible at the time revealed too much wood, that is judging according to our modern ideas of regulation.
One instance of a Strad, once my own property, comes to my mind. It had something wrong with the interior that necessitated opening. The violin was of good reputation for its tone of fine quality, quantity and ease of emission. There was no help for it; much against my inclination the separation of the upper table from the ribs would have to take place, either by my own hands, or those of some other person, the rectification being impossible from the exterior as it sometimes may be. With all necessary care, guided by past experience, the opening was safely accomplished, and after a very interesting examination of the interior, which to an ordinary observer would have seemed but peering into a dirty old wooden box, having nothing perceptibly different from any other, was in what would be called a fair state of preservation. I took the calipers in hand, expecting to learn something, but found all the original thicknesses had been lost under the hands of numerous repairers.
The supposed system or rule followed by Stradivari—that is, according to what critics and writers have declared was his habit—was certainly not demonstrated in this instance: in fact the eyesight alone was sufficient to perceive that whatever theory the master had believed in as necessary for the production of his inimitable quality, or whatever rule as to gauging should be followed in order to obtain enough power and freedom of emission were, in the present instance, we will not say ignored, but quite imperceptible; and why? because the fiddle at one time had been what we moderns—with our ideas of regulation and fitting—would term "too thick in the wood." The instrument had undergone much affliction from various physicians, but, judging from various little details of evidence, been at almost all timeshighly prized. Here and there were the studs or buttons of various kinds of pine stuck by repairers of different nationalities and degrees of skill, some placed with apparent good intention, others without reason at all, while several parts bore indications of studs having at one time rested there and been afterwards removed by succeeding repairers. Now all these men had a thought of doing their work properly, and in finishing off their studs with gouge or glass-paper, had whipped off around each spot some of the precious wood of Stradivari, with a general result of a series of hollows and gentle prominences not at all pleasing to the eye of the believer in the thickness theory, but nevertheless instructive.
Other instances in which the master's work—while still good and serviceable, with much evidence of unskilful repair, or want of proper attention at the time of accident, have come under my notice, enough, long ago, to have, as the saying is, "knocked into a cocked hat," all that has been put forth regarding the mathematical precision of the thicknesses over the different parts of a violin by Antonio Stradivari. One or two further remarks may be interesting on this part of our subject. The fact must not be lost sight of that the pupils of the now well established master of his art in Cremona were working either at that place likewise, or in the large cities of Italy, and had become famous, or were soon to be so and themselves surrounded by learners of the art. All these had been initiated in the secrets, if any, of their craft and in the particulars which distinguished them from others, or we may say, they were of the Stradivari school, showing in a more or less degree the same species of tone which the master had brought to maturity, and which he retained with consistency and never swerved from to his latest day.
It is quite a reasonable supposition that most, if not all, of the personal pupils were taught by the master, or had the way pointed out to them by which they might, with the right ear for discrimination of tone quality and enough of industry, impart to their worksthe identical qualities of those of their teacher. But what are the facts left for our consideration in connection with caliper measurement? the pupils admittedly of his teaching, among whom we may mention Lorenzo Guadagnini, his son Joannes Battista, Alexandri Gagliano, one or two of his sons and Carlo Bergonzi, as the best known, each adopted their own, or shall we say, left no more evidence for us of having a set rule for thicknesses than their master. The nearest approach to the asserted system of Stradivari, that of a gentle declination of substance in the wood down to the edge, was made by Lorenzo Guadagnini in his extra sized violins; but then the tone, wonderfully fine, is not Stradivari, but Guadagnini. Carlo Bergonzi's system, if we may for a moment call it, was quite unlike Stradivari, and yet connoisseurs have frequently credited him with having got "the same beautiful quality of tone." From these few references it will be sufficiently plain that the grand secret of tone quality must not be sought for with the aid of calipers, so we will dismiss this part of our subject and proceed to other considerations.
Besides those who have pinned their faith to the thicknesses, there are those who take up with the "air mass" theory. I am afraid the arguments in favour of this last will not bear even so much knocking about as those just considered.
We have in the first place to take into account the fact of the larger modern bar taking up more room than the old obsolete one of, not only Stradivari, but all the other masters of his time and before. The upper and lower end blocks have been enlarged in many instances to obtain a better hold on the upper and lower table. These alterations have been each of necessity, not of ignorance or mere whim, and moreover have proved efficacious for the end in view. The restorers, or regulators who have performed these operations must—according to the "air mass" theory—have been acting quite "in the teeth" of it and Stradivari's regulation, further there is not one fiddle in a hundred—perhaps notthat—which has been in use for a generation but what shows a sinking one side or the other, or, when the modelling is full, a depression in the middle of the upper table, and very frequently a greater fulness at the back where the sound post touches and presses from the inside. These alterations, individually or collectively, alter the "air mass" of the interior, and the violin thus, according to the theory, contains within itself the elements of its own early dissolution, so far as fine quality is concerned. Facts, however, go to prove the contrary, and with the modern regulator's efforts to obtain the best amount of a good thing known to be present, it is quite probable that Stradivari himself never heard his instruments to such advantage as they may be now, notwithstanding the unreasonably high pitch to which violinists are obliged to conform their tuning.
There was another theory promulgated many years back by certain people of some degree of eminence in their own walk in life. A grand discovery was announced, that the excellence of the violins of Stradivari consisted in the tonal difference between the upper and lower tables peculiar no doubt to that master. This sort of committee of scientific experimenter, violin dealer and author, did not—while centralising their efforts on the violins of one master—say whether the same relationship existed between the back and front of a Nicola Amati, Maggini or Gasparo de Salo, they made something of a slip when they mentioned the violins of the great Joseph Guarnerius as showing the same tonal difference.
It would have been very interesting to have heard of results after further trials by the same experimenters upon upper or lower tables of violins by now not very much less celebrated makers, who, although of the same class or school, were living—for those times—far away from the central luminary of the Cremonese art. What would have been said of Montagnana of Venice? a star of the first magnitude, curiously near in quality and quantity to the great centre to which he was willing topay obeisance and throw out a reflected light; of Gobetti, perhaps more "Straddy" than any other Italian, Gofrilleri, Seraphino, two or three of the Tononis, besides other lights of lesser magnitude, with exceedingly fine qualities, but perhaps open to the charge of intermittency. Further, several of the Milanese school,—offshoots of the Amati and Stradivari,—of Lorenzo Guadagnini, a master of his art in all its details, if ever there was one, his son Joannes Battista, steadier in his working, but more uncertain in his results—shifting from place to place, may have had some connection with this—and the occasionally fine artificers of the same place, Landolfi, the Grancinos and Testores and later on Balestrieri of Mantua and Storioni of Cremona. These men, always good, and when circumstances were favourable, great in their art, often grand in their individuality and power, were, by these modern scientific interrogators placed aside or quietly ignored, apparently either as unworthy of their recognition, or of such inferior renown as not to come within the scope of their investigations.
A close and searching inquiry into the causes that enabled different masters of their art to bring about the desirable end of their labours, that of imparting a distinct quality and individuality of tone, might have enabled them to get at least a hint as to the means whereby Stradivari gratified the tastes of his patrons at the time and connoisseurs in general of the present day. As indicated before, the Venetian masters were—probably by the same means—able to put before their patrons that kind of tone most in agreement with the luxurious surroundings of the Venetian nobility, or offered and found acceptable to the musical public generally there.
A prolonged, earnest examination of the peculiarities of tone attached to the violins of the makers of the chief seats of violin making, has led to the inference that the difference in kind or degree was not from individual choice, but chiefly owing to outside influence.
What is known as the old Brescian type of tone wasdoubtless suitable to the tastes of musical circles, among whom the then new style of musical instrument was introduced in Brescia. When settled down, the Amati family, a group of thorough artists, proved themselves alive to the requirements of the fresh district that was henceforth to be the scene of their labours for generations. The Brescian quality had either been found by them, or was known beforehand, to be too ponderous or insufficiently endowed with the more feminine quality desirable in the minds of the Cremonese. The Amatis seem to have been in full possession of the means necessary for producing the kind of violin in demand and supplied it.
As time went on, musical compositions changed in style, advancing by degrees towards the culminating point of nearly a century later. The simple, oft-times wondrously sweet, yet quaint effusions of the early composers for the violin, were gradually giving more and stronger indication of what was possible and likely to follow soon and in its turn, like all other things, become antiquated and old-fashioned. Undoubtedly, it was this progressive condition of the music of the period that induced Stradivari, early in his career, if not at the time he was with Nicolo Amati, to take up the study of tone calibre as a matter of essential importance, in order not only to keep pace with the times, but if possible, anticipate further advances in musical development.
It was daily becoming more evident that the qualities of refinement and sympathy would not in themselves be sufficient in an instrument with such a future as the violin seemed to have. Melodic forms were being modified, while harmony was becoming more varied and divided.
The art of appropriate phrasing was also being studied, while practical musicians were bowing to the necessity of leaving old stereotyped forms for those having more emotional qualities. In short, the violin wanted in Cremona was one of substantial power and suitable for more dramatic expression on the part of the performer. To bring forth a violin of this desirable type, Stradivaridirected his energies. With what measure of success, the whole musical world up to the present day have emphatically declared.
Now, we may ask, was the difference of tone between the violins of Stradivari and those of the other makers of the Brescian, Cremonese, Venetian, Milanese, or Neapolitan school, in consequence of the tonal difference between the upper and lower table, as supposed to have been discovered by the modern Parisian investigator? was it resulting from the correct air mass inside? the relative thickness of the tables, or we may as well include the straight and fine grain theorists, the amber varnish in the wood theorists, the wood of great age theorists, and the generations of use theorists, and lastly those who mix them altogether. If Stradivari practically worked upon one, some or all of these theories, there is still more mystery concerning the close proximity at which his pupils or assistants arrived, several of whom we might conclude were possessed of all necessary means of acquiring to the full their master's excellencies.
Just for a moment or two we may turn aside and notice the kind of variation or the distinguishing difference between the tone in the general acceptation of the term—of Antonio Stradivari and other makers, or, as time has proved, masters of their art, if not on an equal standing with him. There is frequently among musicians a disposition to set down as inferior any tone that may seem to differ in degree or kind with that of Stradivari; that is the ideal type, it must be Stradivari and no other; some have even gone so far as to say, "there is only one quality," that of Stradivari, and when other masters did not produce it, they were unable to do so; this is more than a hint at condemnation of the head of the Cremona school as having been very lax in the proper and thoughtful training of his number of pupils; this latter an almost necessary consequence of eminent rank, taken apart from the usual assistance found to be obligatory from pressure of work. If we glance over the Italian schools taken one after another,the facts, if acknowledged, will be seen to point in other directions. Taking for instance the Milanese master, Lorenzo Guadagnini, who tells us himself that he learnt his art under Antonio Stradivari, we find distinct traces of it in his tone, the general calibre is the same and most of the fine, distinguishing features noticed in the tone produced by his master; the difference, however, is that which is peculiar to the master makers of Milan, that of a slightly less reedy emission of sound. Some have called it harder, which is not a correct description. Chords are produced with it as easily and roundly as with any other, the individual notes blend beautifully and give an impression of homogeneousness in no wise inferior to anything produced in Italy. There was no apparent difficulty in the way of Milan acquiring and cultivating the variety of Italian tone known as the Cremonese had they been so disposed; we are therefore led to infer that each place with its musical world held its own opinions as to the most satisfactory quality of tone for its purpose and considered it the best. Milan is situated in Lombardy, north-west of Cremona, and distant from it between forty and fifty miles; not a very long way at any time, but quite sufficient for each place to cultivate or indulge in any artistic or musical fancies or whims independently of the other. We find maker after maker in Milan keeping within certain limits as regards the quality of tone produced there; I do not know of one whose instruments emitted other than the Milanese quality.
We may, I think, safely assume that so far from loosely and superficially instructing his pupils, Stradivari's tuition was of a deeper, far-reaching kind than has ever been suspected. If the tone of Lorenzo Guadagnini is compared with that of the makers who were working in Milan when he arrived, it will not be difficult to perceive that the Milanese type is still retained, although much enlarged and matured, in fact become freshly developed, throwing out the additional qualities for the obtaining of which the great master of Cremona had carefullytrained his gifted pupil. All this is not in the least interfered with by the fact of Joannes Battista Guadagnini's tone differing in some respects—and more at times—with that of his father, but rather helped by it; both assert on their tickets that they were instructed by Stradivari, and both show the results of their training in that largeness and impressiveness which is so much beloved of violinists and which without doubt came from their great teacher. Josef, the son of Joannes Battista Guadagnini, appears also to have either been instructed by Stradivari or to have assisted under his personal supervision—which would amount to much the same thing. We may perceive in the tone of this maker also the influence of the great master in the same directions as are manifested in the works of his father and grandfather, they are all of the Stradivarian school.
Let us now turn in another direction. Alexandri Gagliano of Naples tells us that he too was a pupil of Stradivari, and looking at his work there is nothing about it inconsistent with his statement; his typical design is formed upon that of Stradivari, and many of his details of workmanship are such as can only have been carried out as the result of either a lengthy study, or from being under the immediate supervision of the master.
The quality of tone produced by the Neapolitans is as distinct as possible from that of Milan, it is clear, lively, suggestive of a sunny clime, and free in its emission, but leaves an impression on the ear of a lack of sufficient profundity, nearly the opposite in fact of the early Brescian school. Here the best of the Gaglianos—for it is not at all certain that there were not more than two of them assisting at different times in Stradivari's atelier—brought the same kind of improvement to Naples as the Guadagninis did to Milan, the scale was better regulated so as to give greater breadth of effect, notwithstanding the general quality—seemingly native to the place—being uninterfered with. Here then was the influence of Stradivari having taught his pupils the means whereby the particular tone quality most appreciatedin the locality could be brought forward in its most developed, or mature condition.
Carlo Bergonzi we shall have to consider more fully further on, and for the present only refer to him as a pupil or assistant much more in immediate connection with the atelier of Stradivari than any maker known to us. Irregular workman as he was, swayed about this way and that by matters unknown to us, he kept steadfast to the Stradivarian lines to the end. The rest of his family were either his own pupils, or they may have even been at times with his master, as they all—so far as I am acquainted with them—are of the same school. These particulars all point in one direction—that Stradivari was not anxious and made no special efforts at introducing any new kind of tone—development of that already in existence was his aim, and on this line he appears to have led his immediate or personal pupils.
There is great probability that some very clever workmen whose names are lost to us, were with Stradivari for a time, long or short, and were able to imbibe the valuable precepts enjoined similarly on the other disciples. It is not at present known whether the sons of Stradivari had pupils or assistants, the rarity of their work seems to point to the contrary; their father having been so successful from the commercial point of view, apart from the higher aspect of his career, there may have been—we might say—the usual disposition amongst sons of successful fathers to take life more easily and repose among the laurels won for them, requiring only a little caretaking. There is some possibility of Thomas Balestrieri, of Mantua, having worked for a time under Stradivari, but not as a pupil; there is much in his work suggestive of this theory. His tone quality does not belong to the Amati school, in which tradition has it he was trained. He may have gone as help to Stradivari—for loose as was his general tendency, he could work finely when the fit was on him. Whether he went or not, there remains tone quality evidence ofthe strong influence of Stradivari, besides the throwing aside of the Amati traditions concerning proportions, curves and archings.
Of the other places to which personal pupils of the master went, we may take a passing glance at Genoa, a city not replete with makers of refinement, or numerous, but nevertheless with some sterling qualities. Among them and the most "Straddy" is Bernardus Calcanius; his earliest dates, if we can rely upon them, and they may prove at any moment to have been earlier than hitherto known, almost preclude the possibility of his having worked under Stradivari except as a youth. The influence of the master is, however, decidedly paramount in his work and no other tendency being noticeable, if not an immediate pupil, he took all possible pains to acquire the excellencies that were to his knowledge peculiar to Stradivari alone.
Among the Venetian makers there does not seem to be one that can—from his style and workmanship—be picked out as showing all necessary evidence of his having qualified under the great Cremonese as a personal pupil. Nevertheless there is much indication, and such as cannot be passed over, of the influence of Stradivari among the aristocracy of the business there. This was not, as in the instances of the other schools of violin making outside Cremona, in the first ten years of the century, but after the different individuals of the group of eminent Venetians must have been well known and of established reputation. In this there is some apparent indication of one if not more of the party having taken a trip to Cremona and brought back a few hints of no inconsiderable value, perhaps received personally from the master. On the other hand, if this was not the case, his works must have been brought into Venice and their merits artistically as well as acoustically well thought over. The outcome was a change, the Amati genius hitherto presiding uninterfered with, seemingly immutable, had to give way to that which was pronounced an improvement or a step higher in the progress ofthe liutaro's art. As in Cremona, the Amati characteristics were too deeply rooted in the affections of the Venetians to be eradicated, and we consequently find in the designs of a few of the prominent makers the strong influence of Stradivari in conflict with that of Nicolas Amati, and the two swaying in balance with the settled convictions of the followers of Jacobus Stainer.