Violin tone and violin makers

CHAPTER VI

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A NEW VIOLIN AND TONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VII

OLD TONE AND NEW—A CONTEST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VIII

A DOUBLE-BARRELLED THEORY

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

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

CHAPTER IX

THE EXPERT DEALER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER X

IMITATION OLD MASTERS

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XI

LITERATURE OF THE VIOLIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XII

WANTED—A TONE GUARANTEE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIII

HOW TO TEST A VIOLIN’S TONE

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIV

EFFECT OF AGE ON TONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XV

VARNISH AND TONE

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

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

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

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