The Violin

Quitting the balloon, however, and confining ourselves to the violin —what (let us enquire) are the component parts that make up the “form and pressure,” the “complement extern” and intern, of this material ministrant to our joys and sympathies; —what, also, are the several most remarkable patterns, or models, of the completed instrument; – and who were the originators, respectively, of those varieties of conformation? This latter point of enquiry will lead us to advert, before concluding this chapter, to certain innovations that have been attempted, with more or less felicity, in our own days.

A curious little work on the Construction, Preservation, Repair, &c. of the Violin, written in German by Jacob Augustus Otto, appeared in 1817, and was translated into English some years afterwards. The author, himself an instrument-maker, professes to have studied “music, mathematics, physics, and acoustics,” which respectable preparation certainly adds not a little to his claims to attention, in undertaking to be instructive. It may be worth while here to present, in a condensed form, some portion of his matter, which is both indicative and preceptive. Such of my readers as, with a stronger impulse of curiosity, may desire to possess the whole of the information furnished by his treatise, are referred to the latest English edition of it, which, supplied with an appendix by the translator, Mr. John Bishop, has been issued by the publishers of the present work.

Otto states that the Violin, when complete, consists of fifty-eight different parts – a fact, by the by, which the ordinary observer would be little inclined to suspect68, and of which, indeed, many a good player is probably not aware. The author makes general complaint, indeed, of the ignorance on the part of many Violinists of celebrity, as to the construction of the instrument. Then, as to the wood– for, “ex quovis ligno non fit Mercurius;” that is to say, a fellow so mercurial as your fiddle is not to be created out of any chance piece of timber; – the wood that is generally used is of three sorts: sycamore for the back, neck, sides and circles: Tyrolese soft red deal for the belly, bass-bar, sound-post, and six internal blocks: and ebony for the finger-board and tail-piece. The greatest care and judgment, it seems, are requisite in the selection of the material for the belly of the instrument, on which its tone entirely depends. The wood for this purpose is prescribed to be cut only in December or January, and only that part to be used which has been exposed to the sun.

As to the Cremonas (a word of fondest association to all votaries of the violin!), the oldest of them are those from the hands of Hieronymus (or Jerome) Amati, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, or rather earlier. Next come those of Antonius Amati, belonging to the middle of that century; and then those of Nicholas Amati, towards the end of it. To these makers are to be added Antonius Straduarius, and afterwards (at the commencement of the eighteenth century) Joseph Guarnerius. All these men of Cremona, so renowned for the products of their ingenuity were (according to M. Otto), mathematical builders, and nice observers of the proportions best calculated for imparting a full, powerful, sonorous tone. The instruments by the three Amati are rather higher, or less flat, in the model, than those of Straduarius. Of all the Italian Violins, Hieronymus Amati’s are the handsomest in shape, and the best in make. They are now more than two centuries and a half old, strongly constructed, and likely to retain their excellence another century. Nicholas Amati’s are of rather small size, and somewhat abrupt in the swell of the form. The instruments of Straduarius are most esteemed by Concert performers for the power of their tone. Those of Guarnerius are beautifully constructed, and with a good deal of similarity to those of Nicholas Amati.

The fine Tyrolese instruments – those of the celebrated Jacob Steiner– differ much from the Cremonese, both in shape and tone. In the latter respect, they are of sharper and more penetrating quality. The later Tyrolese makers have been rendered the great source of deception by dealers, &c. – their instruments having been made to pass as classics. The best among them are those of Klotz. The Tyrolese imitations of the Steiners and Cremonese are chiefly distinguishable by the coarse and wide grain of the deal, and by the thin spirit varnish upon them, instead of the Italian strong amber varnish.

The author treats individually of the principal German makers. Statelmann, of Vienna, of high fame as a studious maker, was a close imitator of Jacob Steiner; as were also Withalm of Nuremberg, and Riess of Bamberg. The flat model of Straduarius has been imitated by Buckstädter of Ratisbon, and Jauch of Dresden. Martin Hoffman, and Hunger, both of Leipsig, were excellent as tenor-makers, and good in violins. The instruments by Eberle of Prague, one of the most celebrated German makers, are like the Cremonese, but less round and full in their tone. Bachmann of Berlin, also very eminent, was strictly careful as to proportions.

Against the class of repairers in general, as so many botchers, tinkers, and spoilers, the author is emphatically severe; and he points the especial finger of scorn at one Kirchlag, who, about 1787, made a visit of destruction, under pretence of repair, to most of the towns in Germany.

Instruments, it appears, should be sufficiently well-timbered; their durability is much affected when they are finished off too weak in wood. The bass-bar and sound-post are not inserted to strengthen the instrument (as many have supposed), but to increase the vibration. The vibratory principle, according to M. Otto, has been as yet but imperfectly investigated, and is little understood. Recent experiments, however, have somewhat further extended our knowledge of it. Great nicety is requisite as to the erection and proportions of the bridge: when it is too high, the effect is a dull tone, difficult to be brought out – when too low, a shrill sharp, and thin tone. In good instruments, the sound-post stands half an inch below the left foot of the bridge: in defective ones, it may be placed rather nearer, to increase the strength, and assist the tone. The screw-holes must not be rubbed with rosin to tighten them: the best appliance is chalk. Some wise-acres pretend that a violin is to be improved in tone by breaking it to pieces, and mending it again! Others disturb and shift about the bridge and sound-post, till the tone is almost gone. Others again, with a taste worthy of Hottentots, have daubed over the “belly part” with a coat of glue, mixed with powdered glass; and some there are, who have tampered with instruments by an absurd plaster of varnish and white of eggs, under the unwholesome idea of closing up the pores! It is suggested that flies should not be allowed to introduce themselves into the f holes. (Children say, by the by, that f “stands for fly:” and, in the case in question, it stands open; so there seems, at least, a pretty good excuse for the intruders.) The inside of the instrument is to be cleaned out once in six months, by means of a handful of barley, made warm, poured in at these f holes, and well shaken. The best strings are those from Milan (called Roman), which are clear and transparent as glass, and should have as much recoil, when opened out, as a watch spring. A very important article of requirement is good refined rosin: the common brown rosin of commerce is quite unfit, because of its thickness and clamminess.

The author, deflecting entirely from the prevalent notion on the subject, asserts that it is not age, but constant use, that is the means of producing a smooth, clear tone. He lays it down as a position, which he has himself verified in various experiments, that any instrument is to be greatly improved by working at it daily for three months together, with a strong bow – taking two tones at a time, fourths or fifths. This method of improvement, it is clear, must be somewhat costly, and infinitely tedious – but it is much recommended by our author. Hapless indeed must be the condition of the human being destined to labour at fourths and fifths, with a strong bow, for three months together! If such a system were introduced among us, it is to be feared that the announcement of “Improvers wanted” would frequently be made in vain. What (we may ask) would become of the intellects of a human being so employed? As for the reason why so beneficial an effect belongs to this peculiar practice, M. Otto has declined unfolding it – his “duty to his family” forbidding such divulgement.

Thus far, Jacob Augustus Otto – dismissing whom, with thanks for the information picked out of him, we proceed to other details, derived from other sources.

To the names of the Amati family already mentioned, should be added that of Andreas, brother of Nicholas. These two brothers, as well as the other makers in that family, constructed instruments of a soft and rich tone, but deficient in the brilliancy which modern players regard as so great a requisite. They (the two above specified) supplied, about the year 1570, some violins of large pattern for the chamber-music of Charles IX, King of France, which are remarkable for beauty of shape, and nicety of finish.

Contemporary with Andreas and Nicholas Amati, was Gaspar de Salo, of Lombardy. He was especially renowned for his instruments of the viol species, at that time more in request than violins. His instruments of this latter kind, somewhat larger in pattern, have more power than those of the Amati; but their tone has been said to be too analogous to that of the tenor. Of a similar quality are the violins of Giovanni Granzino, who operated at Milan, from about 1612 to 1635.

Another noted Italian fabricator, whose doings come within about the same range of time as those of Granzino, was Giovanni Paolo Magini, who established his factory at his native town, Brescia. Magini’s violins are usually large, although he produced a few of small pattern. Their convexity is very positive; and the back is a good deal flattened towards its upper and lower extremities. The sides are softened off, at the various points of angular projection. A broad double fillet sweeps round the belly and back, and, on the latter, sometimes terminates in an ornament, situated near the neck of the instrument, and having the shape of a large clover-leaf. He made use of spirit-varnish, of a fine golden colour. The tone of his violins, less soft than that of a Straduarius, and less potent than a Guarnerius, approaches that of the viol, and has in its character a touch of melancholy. Magini’s instruments came (or rather, returned) into high consideration some years ago, from the fact of De Beriot’s having adopted the custom of playing on one of them. There are but few of them in existence. One, that was pretty loud in tone, was sold, years ago, by an ingenious fiddle-fancier at Kensington, to Reeve, principal “Second Violin” at the Italian Opera House. It had been long in the possession of old Baumgarten, who was orchestra-leader at Covent Garden for forty years, and died at Kensington Gravel-pits.

From about the middle of the seventeenth to that of the eighteenth century, the Italian renown for instrument-making attained its climax by the productions of those two Cremonese “men of pith,” Straduarius and Guarnerius– or to give them their local names, Antonio Stradivari, and Giuseppe Guarneri. Violins – tenors – basses – all was admirable, that came from their hands; but they are distinguished from each other by qualities that are sufficiently appreciable. In the large Concert-hall, the Guarnerius has the greater sonorous power; while, for the combination of brilliancy with suavity, nothing can equal, in a private music-room (and especially where a quartett is in hand), a well-conditioned Straduarius.

Born in 1664, and employed for years in the factory of the Amati, Straduarius began his own separate career, by imitating their models; but, at the commencement of the eighteenth century, taking leave of his masters, he changed the proportions of his instruments – adopted a larger size, with a diminished convexity – and was as studious about the gradations of thickness, as in the choice of his wood. Nothing was omitted, that the careful mind of this artist could devise, for the production of the finest quality of tone. His instruments, nicely-balanced, provoke no unseemly opposition of character among the four strings. Add to these advantages, a graceful outline – high finish in the details – a brilliant harmony in the varnish – and you have the accomplished, the complete Straduarius.

Giuseppe (Joseph) Guarnerius, the most distinguished among a family noted for the construction of bowed instruments, belongs, in date of birth, to the latter end of the seventeenth century. He is said to have studied his art in the factory of Straduarius, although the products of his hand shew none of the high finish characteristic of that maker. His build is often very slovenly; the f holes are cut almost straight, and with angularity about the ends; the fillets are badly traced – and, indeed, there is so little in the look of his violins to proclaim the master, that one might be tempted to attribute their fine quality to the excellence of the materials he used, rather than to any bestowed workings of his mind. Close examination, however, has decided that he must have been guided by some positive principles, howsoever attained, and that his productions have an originality derived from these. Of his violins of the large pattern, there are but few: those of the smaller size, which are more numerous, exhibit very little convexity, and are thicker, in the thick parts, than those of Straduarius. The effect of his instruments is more gratifying at a little distance, than at “close quarters.”

The art under consideration seems to have gone on in Italy with hardly any change, since the time of the above two celebrated makers – their successors having been content with one or the other of them, for model. Lorenzio Guadagnini, of Placentia, a pupil or apprentice of Straduarius, copied the small-pattern fiddles of his master. His instruments give a round and clear tone from the first and second strings – but are dull on the third. He had a son, who worked at Milan, till about 1770, after his father’s mode, but with smaller success. The Gagliani were also imitators of Straduarius, but were far from equalling his instruments, and were not very scrupulous in their selection of wood. Ruggeri and Alvani, who were among the copyists of Joseph Guarnerius, have produced good violins, but none that could attain the estimation enjoyed by their prototype.

Of the noted Tyrolese fiddle-fabricants, Jacob Steiner, a man of chequered fortunes, was the ingenious chief. Born about 1620, at Absom, a village near Inspruck, he had, as an instrument-maker, a career marked by three distinct epochs. At first, under the Amati at Cremona, he produced some violins of admirable finish, but now very rarely to be met with. Their convexity is still more decided than that of the Amati; while the heads, or volutes, are less prolonged, and broader in the anterior part – and the labels within them are written and signed by the artist’s own hand. His second epoch is when, married, and settled at Absom, he produced, from 1650 to 1667, a prodigious number of instruments, constructed with little care. Even then, however, after languishing for some years in misery, and personally hawking about his violins, for which he could get no better price than six florins, he regained his position through some rays of aristocratic patronage that suddenly shone upon him; and, with his genius thus revived, again produced some fine instruments, distinguished by their scrolls, ornamented with heads of animals – by the close fibres of the belly-wood – and by the varnish of red mahogany-colour, browned by time. Steiner’s third epoch commences when, on losing his wife, he retired to a monastery. In that tedious seclusion, he resolved to signalize the end of his artistic career by some first-rate doings. Having obtained, through the influence of the Superior, a supply of most exemplary wood, he made sixteen violins – the intended concentrations of every gathered perfection – and sent one to each of the twelve Electors of the Empire, presenting to the Emperor himself the remaining four. These sixteen instruments, whereof but three are (so far as is known) extant, have acquired the name of Elector Steiners. A pure, ringing, ethereal tone, comparable to that of a woman’s perfect voice – a shape of elegance – studied finish in every detail – a diaphanous varnish, of golden hue – such are the characteristics of these productions of Steiner’s third, or last epoch. Their labels, unlike those of his second period, which are printed, bear his autograph inscription and signature.

The imitations of the instruments of Steiner by the brothers Klotz have reference to his second epoch, and are distinguishable from his own manufacture by the varnish, which, instead of being red, is of a dark body, with a tinge of yellow. From the pupils of the Klotzes, likewise, have resulted numerous Tyrolese imitations of the Cremona patterns – but always discernible by the inferior quality of the wood, by the duskiness of the varnish, and the want of clearness and power in the tone.

The high market-value borne by the best instruments of the best Italian and Tyrolese makers, is a point well known to those who take a particular interest in the violin. It has formed the subject of admiration to all, of exultation to a few, and of disappointment to many. The money that would buy a house, has been sometimes demanded for a fiddle! The subjoined passage from Mr. Gardiner’s “Music and Friends, ” will serve (among other purposes) to illustrate in some degree this exorbitancy: —

“Mr. Champion, an Amateur, had just purchased a Stradivari violin and tenor (in one case), for which he gave three hundred guineas. They seemed to have been untouched since the day they were made. They were of a beautiful yellow colour, inclining to orange, and appeared to have ripened and mellowed into excellence. Mr. Salomon’s violin was the celebrated one that belonged to Corelli, with his name elegantly embossed in large capital letters on the ribs. Probably three such valuable Cremonas were never before brought together. There can be no question that the instruments made by Stradivari are superior to those of any other Maker in the world. Dragonetti’s double-bass was made by the same artist. Mr. Salomon, the Jew, has offered him eight hundred guineas for it; but he will not part with it for less than a thousand.”

As in their own country, so in others, the great Italian and German Makers have had their “servum pecus,” their crowd of imitative followers, who have sometimes copied with a plausible neatness, and sometimes caricatured with a coarse barbarity. The most prominent names in France are, successively, those of Bocquay, Pierret, Despons, Véron, Guersan, Castagnery, Saint-Paul, Salomon, Médard, Lambert (whose rough and ready doings got for him the name of “Le Charpentier de la Lutherie”), Saunier, Piete (whose instruments were given as prizes to the pupils of the Paris Conservatory, at the commencement of the present century) – and, lastly, Lupot, a studious artist, whose instruments, finished with a loving care, have a real value in the eyes of the discerning, and are in request where a good Cremona is unattainable. For one of Lupot’s best instruments, an offer equal to sixty guineas has been known to be refused. – Of the English Constructors, a scanty knowledge limits me to a slender account. Richard Duke, who belongs to the middle of the last century, flourished in Red Lion Street, near Gray’s Inn Passage. The Forsters, old and young, grandfather and grandson, have, in their department of art, a name that lives. Banks, of Salisbury, also claims notice. His violoncellos (observes Mr. Gardiner) are of the finest quality of tone – not so strong and fiery as old Forster’s, but, in sweetness and purity, excelling them. Banks’s are more adapted to the chamber, and Forster’s to the orchestra. The names of Betts, Davis, Corsby, Kennedy, and Hart (all London Makers) are likewise entitled to respect.

Although the great Italian and German Constructors, who have so long served as models and guides, did unquestionably somehow arrive at certain proportions highly favourable to the development of beautiful sound, it does not appear that those proportions, observed (as they were) with mathematical exactness, were founded upon any clearly understood philosophic principles. “Until recently,” says Monsieur Fétis, from whose ingenious labours are derived some of the details in this chapter, “the art of making bowed instruments has perceptibly been cultivated, in turn, by inspiration, and imitation. Science, as an element, did not enter into their construction. We have now reached an epoch of transformation in this respect, though perhaps rather, as yet, in the way of establishing principles, than of attaining results.” Into this subject, it behoves us to enter with some particularity.

At about the same time as that of the publication of Otto’s little book in Germany, an ingenious Frenchman made known the results of some experiments he had undertaken with reference to the principles of construction. M. Chanot, officer of maritime engineers, and amateur of music, professed to have discovered a method for determining invariably the processes to be employed in the construction of bow-played instruments.

His views are contained in a Memorial addressed to the French Academy, during its sitting of the 27th of May, 1817. This memorial was submitted to the consideration of the musical section of the Academy, to whose labours, in making the investigation required by the committee, were added those of MM. Charles and De Prony.

The first part of this memorial advocated the division of the Monochord, so as to split the interval between the key-note and its octave into twelve equal semi-tones. The short algebraic formula employed by M. Chanot was found correct. Thus, a violin with a finger-board graduated after this method, like the finger-board of a guitar, would be fit to accompany all instruments which make no difference between the sharp and flat through the enharmonic division. But the imperfection of these instruments precisely consists in this equality: to confine the violin to the same limits, would therefore be to deprive it of its superiority over them. The committee accordingly disapproved of this innovation, and M. Chanot renounced it with readiness.

The second and most important part of the memorial points out the ordinary construction of the grooved violin, with a view to produce more sonorous vibrations, or to multiply the vibrations in the fibres of the wood, and to obtain, as an accessary, a greater degree of solidity in the body of the instrument. Projecting edges and grooves were employed in the new example, and the angles covered with hard wood, in order to resist concussions. This simple form enables the maker to employ one single piece for the side curvatures, and to dispense with the use of blocks, which diminish the general elasticity. This construction was considered favorable to the production of some vibrations which otherwise would not exist. M. Chanot chiefly attributed the sonorous quality, in the vibrations of his new violin, to the method of cutting the sounding-board; – to the form of the parallel holes on each side, which were made to approximate as closely as possible to the curvatures, and were therefore straighter than what are called the f holes: – to the situation of the bar in the centre of the sounding-board, in the form of a splint – and likewise to the geometrical cutting of the instrument.