Violin tone and violin makers

CHAPTER XVI

TONE AND THE VIOLIN PLAYER

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVII

THE IDEAL TONE

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW TO ACQUIRE AN IDEAL TONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIX

TWO STYLES OF TONE PRODUCTION

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

CHAPTER XX

MODERN VIOLIN MAKERS

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXI

NOTES ON TONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONCLUSION

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

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

NOTICES

BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL

OF THE PRINCIPAL VIOLIN MAKERS
OF THE VARIOUS SCHOOLS AND OF THEIR WORKS

By TOWRY PIPER

PREFATORY NOTE

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

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

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

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

Bexhill, August 21, 1916.