Part 2
To return to “Le Messie.” This wonderful instrument remained in Vuillaume’s possession until his death. He kept it for inspection in a glass case, and never allowed it to be touched, even by the most experienced hands, as we can personally testify. These precautions gave rise to the rumour of its being a violin of his own construction, and the statement written by him inside the belly has, therefore, an additional interest and importance. We have some interesting records of the anxieties attendant upon such precious possessions, in a correspondence which passed between Vuillaume and Madame Alard (his daughter) at the time of the Franco-German war. On the 30th of August, 1870, he wrote—“In my last I spoke to you of Alard’s Violin, of my ‘Messie,’ and of certain valuables which I have here. I do not know what to do with them, for, if one survives, one will be able to recover the valuables when the hubbub is over, as some sous can be buried; but violins cannot be buried.”
In another letter he wrote—“I do not know what to do with the precious things I have; first, there are your violins—what ought I to do with them? The boxes of plate, my medals, and the ‘Messie’—where ought I to place all these in case of pillage?”
The medals referred to are no doubt those conferred upon him in connection with the Paris Exhibitions of 1827, 1834, 1839, 1844, 1855, and the Great Exhibition in England of 1851.
Again he wrote on the 13th of September—“I am going to hide your husband’s violins with the ‘Messie.’ I have found quite a safe hiding place protected from fire—‘puis à la grâce de Dieu’!”
“Le Messie” happily escaped the dangers apprehended by Vuillaume, and after his death (19th March, 1875), in the absence of definite instructions as to its disposal, it was inherited by his only children, Jeanne Emilie and Claire Marie, in common. The former was the wife of M. Alard, the violinist, and the second daughter had married M. Mestayer, in whose charge the violin was left, together with other valuable instruments, during Vuillaume’s absence from Paris in the terrible time of the Commune. After his death the violin was valued for the estate at £1,000, and in 1877 M. Alard bought out his sister-in-law’s half-share for £500 and thus became, through his wife, the entire owner. Vuillaume probably considered it unnecessary during his lifetime to present Alard with this violin, as he was already well provided with instruments, and had the choice of some of the finest that passed through Vuillaume’s hands. These included the famous Stradivari known as the “Alard,” the fine Giuseppe Guarnieri, dated 1742 (presented after Alard’s death to the Paris Conservatoire), and the Grand Nicolo Amati, dated 1645, now in the possession of Baron Knoop.
Delphin Alard was the most eminent representative of the modern French school of violin playing. After studying as a pupil of the Paris Conservatoire, he in 1843 succeeded Baillot as professor, and achieved a great reputation both as performer and teacher, and as the author of a violin school and editor of classical compositions for that instrument. He numbered among his pupils many who have since distinguished themselves, and notably the celebrated violinist Señor Sarasate. At Alard’s death, on February 22, 1888, “Le Messie” came into the possession of his widow and two daughters, Madame Guesnet and Madame Croué—he, like Vuillaume, having left no directions as to the disposal of his instruments. On the death of Madame Alard, M. Croué, on behalf of his wife and her sister, sold the violin, on the 5th May, 1890, to us, on behalf of Mr. R. Crawford, an enthusiastic amateur, of Trinity, Edinburgh, for the sum of 50,000 francs (£2,000), which is the largest authenticated amount ever paid for a violin. It is interesting to compare these figures with Mr. Charles Reade’s estimate of the value of the instrument in 1872 at £600 (_see_ “Readiana”).
Having traced from authentic sources the unbroken record of this famous violin, let us examine the characteristic features of an instrument which has excited the unqualified admiration and ambition of the first makers and connoisseurs of Europe. The plates which accompany this memoir have been admirably executed by Mr. Shirley Slocombe, and reproduced by chromo-lithography under the direction of Mr. Alfred Slocombe; and they offer an accurate and beautiful representation of the instrument.
The striking originality of Stradivari’s work asserts itself in nearly all his productions, there being hardly an instrument of his which is not characterised by some features peculiar to itself. The Salabue violin has several unmistakable characteristics. The most original and distinctive is the height and pronounced sharpness of the wave-like ridge, bordering the surfaces of the back and belly close to the outline. In other instruments of the same maker this _ridge_ is much rounder in form. Let us further illustrate the point. The purfling, which is sunk in the wood at about one-eighth of an inch from the outline, lies generally at the bottom of a hollow which forms the lowest portion of the surface. In our example the surface rises outwards from the purfling in a concave curve to a greater height and to a more sharply defined ridge than in any other Stradivari instrument known to us. Another distinctive feature is the form of the corners, which are cut more square than any we have seen. Both these features are accentuated by the absolute freshness of the instrument. The sound holes are more slanting than is usual in instruments of this period, although this was less rare in those of earlier date. In fact, we have seen no other Stradivari violin of the years 1715, 1716, 1717, or 1718 with sound holes similarly placed.
The model of the violin is decidedly flat, especially in the belly, but the genius of the master asserts itself in the compensation he has provided in the height of the sides.
The wood leaves little to be desired. The back, in two pieces, has a broad, handsomely marked curl, while the pine of the belly has a fine silky grain, neither too coarse nor too fine. The sides and head, as well as the neck, which is original, are perhaps a little plain in comparison with the back; but the great Italians never troubled about matching the sides and head to the back, as is the custom among modern makers. It is not uncommon to meet with instruments with the back cut in slab form, and the sides and head cut on the quarter.
Mr. Charles Reade in some notes in “Readiana,” from which we have already quoted, refers to what he calls a crack in the violin. The mark which has given rise to his statement is in reality one of three insignificant and almost imperceptible shakes in the wood, such as frequently appear during the seasoning of the pine blocks used for bellies. These shakes are easily glued and then become invisible; but are opened again by exposure to the sun during the drying of the varnish. They are, however, in no sense defects.
The varnish is a study in itself, for it is untouched and unrubbed, as if it had been laid on yesterday. It has not perhaps the luscious richness of some of Stradivari’s instruments, and it appears drier and less thickly laid on than usual in violins of the same period. This is especially noticeable on the sides, where the grain of the wood rose as the varnish was applied to it, and still stands up as on the day when the brush left it. On the head again one can clearly see where the varnish accumulated slightly as it flowed round the volute. Such details as these could not be traced but for the wonderful preservation of the varnish.
The necessity of opening the instrument, in order to insert a stronger bass bar, gave us an opportunity of examining the inside, which is as remarkable as the outside. This is only the second occasion on which the violin has been opened in the course of its existence. Vuillaume opened it, and took the opportunity to write inside on the belly the following inscription, which affords valuable corroborative evidence of the authenticity of the record already given.
The bass bar which Vuillaume then fitted was not strong enough, and allowed after a time a slight depression of the belly, necessitating the renewal above referred to. Excepting for the change of bar, everything inside is as Stradivari left it. The blocks and linings, considered in relation to the thicknesses, are a model of consistency, neither heavy nor flimsy, made of the lightest and toughest wood we know, and all finished with the gouge and knife alone. Stradivari evidently disdained the superficial finish given by modern copyists to their interior work by the free use of glass paper.
The thicknesses of belly and back, a point on which Stradivari appears to have made numerous experiments, are of his stoutest.
The whiteness of the label, and the variance of the instrument in some features from the characteristic style of that period of Stradivari’s work, have given rise on different occasions to the supposition that the label was not genuine, and that the violin was of a later date; but the careful examination which we made of the interior when the belly was removed, has enabled us to finally dispose of this idea. The label has never been moved since Stradivari fixed it in its place, nor have the figures upon it been tampered with in any way.[4]
Details of construction, such as we have examined in the preceding paragraphs, offered, to a man of Stradivari’s great originality, scope for almost endless variety of treatment, which has furnished us with a key to the pronounced distinctions between his instruments and others of the Italian school.
In the Brescian instruments, for instance, there is, as a general rule, no hollowing near the edges of the backs and bellies, nor any _bordering ridge_ like that discussed above. They consequently have an appearance of strength and solidity, but lack the style and elegance of the Cremona school. The Amati family, on the other hand, gifted with a keen sense of harmony and beauty of form, gave perfect expression to these ideas in their works; but, unfortunately, at some sacrifice of dignity of appearance. Stradivari attained the happy mean between these two extremes, and carried his ideas into execution with such perfection of detail, that all his successors have had to content themselves with the _rôle_ of copyists, and none have been found to improve upon their model.
There can be no doubt that the Salabue Violin has exercised a strong influence upon modern copyists. The Turin maker, Pressenda (1777 to 1854), who was acquainted with Count Salabue, and his pupil Rocca (d. 1862), who knew Tarisio, were evidently familiar with the instrument. Rocca in particular would seem to have made it his ideal, for we find reproduced in nearly all his copies of Stradivari the characteristic sharp _bordering ridge_, slanting sound holes, and general flat model of the Salabue. As soon as it came into Vuillaume’s possession, he set to work to reproduce it in every detail, and his copies of this instrument are unquestionably the finest violins he made. They are true to the original in bearing no traces of wear; but a few of them are fitted with carved pegs and tailpiece similar to those added by him and still attached to the Salabue. The carving on the tailpiece represents the figure of the Madonna with the infant Christ. Nearly all the other Parisian and Mirecourt makers in turn have copied Vuillaume, but without his advantages in ability, and in having the original model to work from. The copies of the present day are becoming in consequence more and more ridiculous exaggerations of the peculiar features of the Salabue.
The year 1716 appears not to have been prolific of great works from Stradivari, as we know at present of only one fine violin of that year beside the Salabue. This is the one known as the Cessol, belonging to Mr. William Croall. The previous year, 1715, produced five famous violins, two now belonging to Herr Joachim, one to Señor Sarasate, one to G. Haddock, Esq., and another known as the Alard. The year 1717 again produced two notable instruments, a violin belonging to J. G. Orchar, Esq., and the well-known violoncello for many years the property of Bonamy Dobree, Esq., and now in the possession of E. I. Holden, Esq.
For an appreciative description of the beauties of the Salabue we may quote an enthusiast, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, whose writings and lectures upon his favourite study have made the name of Stradivari familiar to thousands of the English-speaking people. Mr. Haweis, referring to the exhibition of the instrument in London, in 1872, wrote—“It is for the first time unveiled in all its intact glory to the gaze of thousands to whom for years it has been a kind of myth. It is as though the ivory Minerva of Phidias, that stood once in the Parthenon, should be discovered hidden away with the utmost care in some deep dry and hermetically-sealed sepulchre of the East, and brought over scatheless to be set up amidst the Elgin fragments. So stands this matchless new violin amidst its time-worn, rubbed, and fractured brethren. It is of the grand pattern; it is massive without looking massive; its strength is hidden beneath its grace. The back is in two parts; the wood very choice. The fine graining of the flat belly is remarkable. The holes are delicately cut, the left =f= a shade lower than the right; a practice so common that it must have been intentional with Stradivarius, his fine eye not tolerating even there a suspicion of mechanical work. We see in this violin what the perfect Stradivari corners were. In almost every other known specimen the corners and the wood are both rubbed. In Le Messie they are untouched and clean-looking; wondrously sharp and wide awake, yet without vulgarity, and of a perfect finish. The ease and neatness of the purfling is incomparable, and over the whole instrument lies a thick rich red brown varnish wondrous to behold; the washing of it is level and lavish, and unworn by time or use. The brush seems to have left it about a week. The neck has been lengthened by M. Vuillaume. The head is light and graceful rather than heavy or powerful, the scroll thrown off like a ribbon lightly curled round the finger and drawn in; one side of the scroll is slightly lower than the other, the fluting smooth, with a surface like that of clear still water, and the lines of the scroll picked out with a thick rim of black varnish that serves to accentuate the outlines of the head, just as purfling calls attention to the contour of the back and belly. In nearly every other violin this black head-rim has been almost entirely effaced, but in Le Messie it remains to show us the maker’s intention. He meant you to take up his violin and see at a glance its whole outline traced and emphasized by a sharp purfling carried out in the head by a deep rim of black varnish. This brooding over the beauty of curves, this anxiety that they should be manifest to all men is most instructive and touching; neither the purfling nor the black varnish added to the tone, nor even the preservation of the instrument—it was the art instinct of the old makers piercing the manufacture.”
That ardent student and devotee of the violin, Mr. Charles Reade, has made some suggestive remarks upon the method of varnishing which he supposed Stradivari to have pursued; and, as Mr. Reade makes reference to the Salabue, his words may prove of interest in the present connection. He preferred to describe the violin as the Vuillaume Strad, and while agreeing with his objection to the name which has clung to it, we regret that the title conferred upon it by Tarisio, the “Salabue,” has not been retained. That name has the merit of historical distinctiveness, and would create a most desirable precedent in violin nomenclature, as a set off to the absurd and confusing nicknames which have become so common. There are no less than three “Jupiter Strads”; one “Emperor Strad”; two “King” Josephs (Guarnieri); and another of the same maker called “Le Diable.”
Mr. Reade begins with some general suggestions as to the great maker’s method, and says: “He began with three or four coats of oil varnish containing some common gum. He then laid on several coats of red varnish made by simply dissolving some fine red unadulterated gum in spirit; the spirit evaporated and left pure gum lying in a rich oil varnish from which it chips by its dry nature and its utter want of chemical affinity to the substratum.... The Vuillaume Strad, not being worn, does not assist us in this particular line of argument; but it does not contradict us. Indeed there are a few little chips in the top varnish of the back, and they reveal a heterogeneous varnish below, with its rich yellow colour like the bottom varnish of the Pawle bass. Moreover, if you look at the top varnish closely you shall see what you never see in a new violin of our day; not a vulgar glare upon the surface, but a gentle inward fire. Now that inward fire, I assure you, is mainly caused by the oil varnish below; the orange varnish above has a heterogeneous foil below. That inward glow is characteristic of all foils. If you could see the Vuillaume Stradivarius at night, and move it about in the light of a candle, you would be amazed at the fire of the foil and the refraction of light....
“A violin varnished as I have indicated will look a little better than other new violins from the first; the back will look nearly as well as the Vuillaume Stradivarius, but not quite. The belly will look a little better if properly prepared; will show the fibre of the deal better....
“... Sand-paper is a great enemy to varnish; it drives more wood-dust into the pores than you can blow out.... The back of the Vuillaume Stradivarius, which is the finest part, has clearly not been sand-papered in places, so probably not at all.”
With regard to the tone of the instrument, some comments written in 1864 by the well-known authority, F. J. Fetis, are worthy of repetition. He writes of the Salabue Stradivari: “This genuine memorial of ancient manufacture—this instrument which has not resounded under the bow for nearly a century and a half—gives striking refutation to the idea that a free and pure tone cannot be produced from a violin until after it has been long in use; for here, in this new instrument, we find in combination all the qualities of power, mellowness, roundness, delicacy, freedom, with a noble and penetrating tone. In a word, this violin is a type of external beauty and of sonorous perfection.”
Nevertheless it is our opinion after a careful trial that the instrument would be greatly improved in tone by further use.
These descriptions of one of the finest instruments in existence, from the hands of devoted and disinterested lovers of the Cremona handiwork, leave hardly anything to be added except the exact measurements of the violin, which are as follows:—
The label affixed to Le Messie is presented below in fac-simile.
+-------------------------------------+ | Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis | | Faciebat Anno 1716 | +-------------------------------------+
Footnote 1:
This account coincides almost word for word with a notice of the instrument by F. J. Fetis quoted in part on p. 30 of this work.
Footnote 2:
The article on Stradivari in Grove’s Dictionary of Music assigns eighty-eight as the maker’s age at his death, but the evidence of Count Salabue, quoted at p. 12, confirmed by further evidence lately obtained from authentic instruments of this maker, point to the conclusion that he lived certainly to 1737, when he had entered his ninety-fourth year. This conclusion refers his birth to the year 1644, which would accord more naturally with the events of his life than the later date suggested in Grove. This question will be treated more fully in a future publication.
Footnote 3:
The information here given concerning Tarisio has been obtained by Signor Sacchi, chiefly from the late Enrico Ceruti, the last descendant of an old family of violin makers in Cremona.
Footnote 4:
There is a curious mistake in M. Vidal’s valuable recent work “La Lutherie,” in which the transcript of the label accompanying the illustration of “le Messie” bears the date 1715.
Transcriber's Notes
All spelling and hyphenation has been retained from the original text.
Pg. 12: Note 1: This transcription of the handwritten Italian is as close to the original as could be determined, but complete accuracy isn't guaranteed.
Pg. 27: Note 2: Bold =f= is here substituted for a small inline figure of a violin f-hole in the original text.