Chapter 30

Scarcely a day passes without my hearing of a Cremona having been secured in the manner I have attempted to describe. My experience, however, teaches me that the whole thing is a delusion, and that the thoroughbred Cremona does not fall away from the companionship of its equals, once in the space of a lifetime, and that when this does happen, the instrument rarely falls to the bargain-hunter.

The following exceptional incident will, I hope, not be found wanting in interest as bearing on this theme. A votary of the Violin purchased an old Fiddle for some two or three pounds from a general dealer in musical instruments in his neighbourhood. He was well satisfied with his acquisition; and after subjecting it to a course of judicious regulation, so great were the improvements effected that the vendor regretted having sold it for such a trifling sum, and the more so when it was whispered about that the instrument was a veritable Amati--a report, by the way, very far wide of the mark, as it was simply an old Tyrolean copy.

Some little time after the occurrence related, the lover of Violins heard that the same instrument-seller from whom he purchased the imagined Amati, had secured a job lot of some half-dozen old Fiddles, the remnant of an old London music-seller's stock, and that he was offering them for sale. Our hero decided to pay another visit, and judge of the merits of the new wares, with a view to a second investment. Upon presenting himself to the local seller of Violins, he was at once informed that if he selected _any_ instrument from the lot, he must be prepared to pay 10 pounds, the dealer having no intention of again committing his former error in selling a Cremona for some forty shillings. Upon this understanding the visitor proceeded to examine the little stock, which he found in a very disordered condition--bridgeless, stringless, and dusty. Among the whole tribe, however, was a Violin which seemed to elbow its way to the front of the group, and clamour for the attention of which it appeared to deem itself worthy. Unable to resist its seeming appeal, the intending purchaser decided to remove it from the atmosphere of its companions, and begged that he might be permitted to take the importuning Fiddle and string it in order to test its qualities. His request being acceded to, he carried it away. Upon reaching home, he took it from its case, and gently removed the dust of years. The varnish appeared to him as something very different from any he had ever seen before on a Violin; and being an artist by profession, qualities of colours were pretty well understood by him. With the Violin poised on his knee, somewhat after the manner seen in the well-known picture of Stradivari in his workshop, he thus communed with himself: "I have never seen the much-spoken-of Cremonese varnish, but if this instrument has it not, its lustre must indeed be more wondrous than my imagination has painted." After again and again examining the Violin, he retired to rest, but not to sleep. The Fiddle persisted in dodging him whichever way he turned on his couch. At the dawn of day--five o'clock--he was up, with the Fiddle again on his knee, thinking he might have been labouring under some infatuation the night before which the light of day might dispel. Convinced he was under no such delusion, he soon made for the music-seller's establishment, whom he delighted by paying the price demanded for the Violin. It was now time, he felt, to obtain professional advice on the matter; in due course he paid me a visit. Upon his opening the case I was unable to restrain my feelings of surprise, and demanded if he had any idea of the value of the Violin. "None whatever," he answered. Without troubling the reader further, I informed him that his Violin was an undoubted Giuseppe Guarneri, of considerable value. He then recounted the circumstances attending its purchase, with which the reader is familiar.

DOMENICO DRAGONETTI--HIS GASPARO DA SALO.

Signor Dragonetti succeeded Berini as _primo basso_ in the orchestra of the chapel belonging to the monastery of San Marco, Venice, in his eighteenth year. The procurators of the monastery, wishing to show their high appreciation of his worth, presented the youthful player with a magnificent Contra-Bass, by Gasparo da Salo, which had been made expressly for the chapel orchestra of the convent of St. Peter, by the famous Brescian maker.

Upon an eventful night, the inmates of the monastery retired to rest, when they were awakened by deep rumbling and surging sounds. Unable to find repose while these noises rent the air, they decided to visit the chapel; and the nearer they got to it the louder the sounds became. Regarding each other with looks of mingled fear and curiosity, they reached the chapel, opened the door, and there stood the innocent cause of their fright, Domenico Dragonetti, immersed in the performance of some gigantic passage, of a range extending from the nut to the bridge, on his newly-acquired Gasparo. The monks stood regarding the performer in amazement, possibly mistaking him for a second appearance of the original of Tartini's "Sonata del Diavolo," his Satanic Majesty having substituted the Contra-Basso for the Violin. Upon this instrument Dragonetti played at his chief concert engagements, and though frequently importuned to sell it by his numerous admirers, declined to do so; in fact, though for the last few years of his life he gave up public performance, he resolutely refused most tempting offers for his treasure--800 pounds, to use an auctioneer's phrase, "having been offered in two places," and respectfully declined. In his youthful days he decided that his cherished Gasparo should return to the place from whence he obtained it, the Monastery of San Marco, and this wish was accordingly fulfilled by his executors in the year 1846. The occasion was one of much interest; it was felt by Dragonetti's friends and admirers that to consign the instrument upon which he had so often astonished and delighted them with the magic tones he drew from it, to the care of those who possibly knew nothing of its merits, was matter for regret.

Being desirous of furnishing the reader with all the information possible relative to Signor Dragonetti's instrument I communicated with Mr. Samuel Appleby, who was his legal adviser, and probably better acquainted with him than any other person in this country. He very kindly sent me the following particulars, which are interesting:--

"BRIGHTON, _July_ 2, 1875.

"MY DEAR SIR,--

"Your letter of yesterday needs no apology, as it will afford me pleasure at any time to give you any information in my power respecting the late Signor Dragonetti, having known him well from 1796 to his death.

"His celebrated Gasparo da Salo instrument, or Contra-Basso, was left by his will to the Fabbricieri (or churchwardens) for the time being of the Church of St. Mark's, at Venice, to be played upon only on festivals and grand occasions. I was present on one of such festivals, which lasted three days, in July, 1852. I then saw the Basso, which was played on in Orchestra No. 1, there having been two bands for which music had been composed expressly.

"In April, 1875, being again in Venice, I inquired from the Verger of St. Mark's if Dragonetti's _Violone_ was in the church, and I could see it. The reply was in the affirmative, but as the Fabbricieri had the care of the instrument, under lock and key, it would be necessary to see them and get their consent for its production. As this would cause me some little trouble, I left Venice without carrying out my intention.

"Dragonetti by his will left me his Amati Double-Bass, which is now in this house, and I believe the only one of that make in England, and consequently highly prized by

"Yours truly, "SAMUEL APPLEBY.

"Mr. Hart."

THE BETTS STRADIVARI.

The Bibliophile tells us of Caxton, Aldine, and Baskerville editions having been exposed for sale by itinerant booksellers, men who in opening their umbrellas opened their shops. Collectors of pictures, china, and Fiddles, have each their wondrous tales to tell of bygone bargains, which are but the echoes of that of the Bibliophile. It is doubtful, however, were we to search throughout the curiosities of art sales, whether we should discover such a bargain as Mr. Betts secured, when he purchased the magnificent Stradivari which bears his name, for twenty shillings. About half a century since, this instrument was taken to the shop of Messrs. Betts, the well-known English Violin-makers in the old Royal Exchange, and disposed of for the trivial sum above-mentioned. Doubtless its owner believed he was selling a brand-new copy, instead of a "Stradivari" made in 1704, in a state of perfection. Frequently importuned to sell the instrument, Mr. Betts persistently declined, though it is recorded in Sandys and Foster's work on the Violin, that five hundred guineas were tendered more than once, which in those days must have been a tempting offer indeed! Under the will of Mr. Betts it passed to his family, who for years retained possession of it.

About the year 1858 it became the property of M. Vuillaume, of Paris, from whom it was purchased by M. Wilmotte, of Antwerp. Several years later it passed to Mr. C. G. Meier, who had waited patiently for years to become its owner. The loving care which this admirer of Cremonese Violins bestowed upon it was such, that he would scarcely permit any person to handle it. From Mr. Meier it passed into my possession in the year 1878, which change of ownership brought forth the following interesting particulars from the pen of the late Charles Reade, the novelist and lover of Fiddles:--

"THE BETTS STRADIVARI.

"_To the Editor of the 'Globe.'_

"SIR,--As you have devoted a paragraph to this Violin, which it well deserves, permit me to add a fact which may be interesting to amateurs, and to Mr. George Hart, the late purchaser. M. Vuillaume, who could not speak English, was always assisted in his London purchases by the late John Lott, an excellent workman, and a good judge of old Violins.[13] The day after this particular purchase, Lott came to Vuillaume, by order, to open the Violin. He did so in the sitting-room whilst Vuillaume was dressing. Lott's first words were, 'Why, it has never been opened!' His next, 'Here's the original bass-bar.' Thereupon out went M. Vuillaume, half-dressed, and the pair gloated over a rare sight, a Stradivari Violin, the interior of which was intact from the maker's hands. Mr. Lott described the bass-bar to me. It was very low and very short, and quite unequal to support the tension of the strings at our concert pitch, so that the true tone of this Violin can never have been heard in England before it fell into Vuillaume's hands. I have known this Violin forty years. It is wonderfully preserved. There is no wear on the belly except the chin-mark; in the centre of the back a very little, just enough to give light and shade. The corners appear long for the epoch, but only because they have not been worn down. As far as the work goes, you may know from this instrument how a brand-new Stradivari Violin looked. Eight hundred guineas seems a long price for a dealer to give: but after all, here is a Violin, a picture, and a miracle all in one; and big diamonds increase in number; but these spoils of time are limited for ever now, and, indeed, can only decrease by shipwreck, accident, and the tooth of time.--I am, your obedient servant,

"CHARLES READE. "19, ALBERT GATE, _May 9, 1878_."

[Footnote 13: The hero of Mr. Read's "Jack of All Trades, a Matter-of-fact Romance."]

LEIGH HUNT ON PAGANINI.

"'I projected,' says Leigh Hunt, 'a poem to be called "A Day with the Reader." I proposed to invite the reader to breakfast, dine and sup with me, partly at home, and partly at a country inn, to vary the circumstances. It was to be written both gravely and gaily; in an exalted, or in a lowly strain, according to the topics of which it treated. The fragment on Paganini was a part of the exordium:--

"So played of late to every passing thought, With finest change (might I but half as well So write!) the pale magician of the bow," &c.

I wished to write in the same manner, because Paganini with his Violin could move both the tears and the laughter of his audience, and (as I have described him doing in the verses) would now give you the notes of birds in trees, and even hens feeding in a farmyard (which was a corner into which I meant to take my companion), and now melt you into grief and pity, or mystify you with witchcraft, or put you into a state of lofty triumph like a conqueror. The phrase of _smiting_ the chord--

"He _smote_; and clinging to the serious chords With godlike ravishment," &c.

was no classical commonplace; nor, in respect to impression on the mind, was it exaggeration to say, that from a single chord he would fetch out--

"The voice of quires, and weight Of the built organ."

Paganini, the first time I saw and heard him, and the first time he struck a note, seemed literally to _strike_ it--to give it a blow. The house was so crammed, that being among the squeezers in the standing-room at the side of the pit, I happened to catch the first glance of his face through the arm a-kimbo of a man who was perched up before me, which made a kind of frame for it; and there on the stage, in that frame, as through a perspective glass, were the face, bust, and the raised hand of the wonderful musician, with the instrument at his chin, just going to commence, and looking exactly as I have described him.

"His hand Loading the air with dumb expectancy Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath. He _smote_; and clinging to the serious chords With godlike ravishment, drew forth a breath So deep, so strong, so fervid, thick with love-- Blissful, yet laden as with twenty prayers, That Juno yearned with no diviner soul, To the first burthen of the lips of Jove. Th' exceeding mystery of the loveliness Sadden'd delight; and with his mournful look Dreary and gaunt, hanging his pallid face 'Twixt his dark flowing locks, he almost seemed Too feeble, or, to melancholy eyes, One that has parted with his soul for pride, And in the sable secret lived forlorn."

"'To show the depth and identicalness of the impression which he made upon everybody, foreign or native, an Italian who stood near me said to himself, after a sigh, "O Dio!" and this had not been said long when another person, in the same manner, uttered "O Christ!" Musicians pressed forward from behind the scenes to get as close to him as possible; and they could not sleep at night for thinking of him.'"--_Timbs's Anecdote Biography_.

THACKERAY ON ORCHESTRAL MUSIC.

"I wish I were a poet; you should have a description of all this in verse, and welcome. But if I were a musician! Let us see what we should do as musicians. First, you should hear the distant sound of a bugle, which sound should float away; that is one of the heralds of the morning, flying southward. Then another should issue from the eastern gates; and now the grand _reveille_ should grow, sweep past your ears (like the wind aforesaid), go on, dying as it goes. When, as it dies, my stringed instruments come in. These to the left of the orchestra break into a soft slow movement, the music swaying drowsily from side to side, as it were, with a noise like the rustling of boughs. It must not be much of a noise, however, for my stringed instruments to the right have begun the very song of the morning. The bows tremble upon the strings, like the limbs of a dancer, who, a-tiptoe, prepares to bound into her ecstasy of motion. Away! The song soars into the air as if it had the wings of a kite. Here swooping, there swooping, wheeling upward, falling suddenly, checked, poised for a moment on quivering wings, and again away. It is waltz-time, and you hear the Hours dancing to it. Then the horns. Their melody overflows into the air richly, like honey of Hybla; it wafts down in lazy gusts, like the scent of the thyme from that hill. So my stringed instruments to the left cease rustling; listen a little while; catch the music of those others, and follow it. Now for the rising of the lark! Henceforward it is a chorus, and he is the leader thereof. Heaven and earth agree to follow him. I have a part for the brooks--their notes drop, drop, drop, like his: for the woods--they sob like him. At length, nothing remains but to blow the Hautboys; and just as the chorus arrives at its fulness, they come maundering in. They have a sweet old blundering 'cow song' to themselves--a silly thing, made of the echoes of all pastoral sounds. There's a warbling waggoner in it, and his team jingling their bells. There's a shepherd driving his flock from the fold, bleating; and the lowing of cattle. Down falls the lark like a stone; it is time he looked for grubs. Then the Hautboys go out, gradually; for the waggoner is far on his road to market; sheep cease to bleat and cattle to low, one by one; they are on their grazing ground, and the business of the day is begun. Last of all, the heavenly music sweeps away to waken more westering lands, over the Atlantic and its whitening sails."--"_An Essay without End_."

ADDISON ON THE PERSONIFICATION OF THE LEADING INSTRUMENT.

In the pages of the _Tatler_ (April, 1710), Addison with much ingenuity and humour personifies certain musical instruments. He says: "I have often imagined to myself that different talents in discourse might be shadowed out after the same manner by different kinds of music; and that the several conversable parts of mankind in this great city might be cast into proper characters and divisions, as they resemble several instruments that are in use among the masters of harmony. Of these, therefore, in their order; and first of the Drum.

"Your Drums are the blusterers in conversation, that with a loud laugh, unnatural mirth, and a torrent of noise, domineer in public assemblies; overbear men of sense; stun their companions; and fill the place they are in with a rattling sound, that hath seldom any wit, humour, or good breeding in it. I need not observe that the emptiness of the Drum very much contributes to its noise.

"The Lute is a character directly opposite to the Drum, that sounds very finely by itself. A Lute is seldom heard in a company of more than five, whereas a Drum will show itself to advantage in an assembly of five hundred. The Lutenists, therefore, are men of a fine genius, uncommon reflection, great affability, and esteemed chiefly by persons of a good taste, who are the only proper judges of so delightful and soft a melody.

"Violins are the lively, forward, importunate wits, that distinguish themselves by the flourishes of imagination, sharpness of repartee, glances of satire, and bear away the upper part in every _consort_. I cannot but observe, that when a man is not disposed to hear music, there is not a more disagreeable sound in harmony than that of a Violin.

"There is another musical instrument, which is more frequent in this nation than any other; I mean your Bass-Viol, which grumbles in the bottom of the _consort_, and with a surly masculine sound strengthens the harmony and tempers the sweetness of the several instruments that play along with it. The Bass-Viol is an instrument of a quite different nature to the Trumpet, and may signify men of rough sense and unpolished parts, who do not love to hear themselves talk, but sometimes break out with an agreeable bluntness, unexpected wit, and surly pleasantries, to the no small diversion of their friends and companions. In short, I look upon every sensible, true-born Briton to be naturally a Bass-Viol."

WASHINGTON IRVING ON REALISTIC MUSIC AND THE VIOLIN.

"_Demi-Semiquaver to Launcelot Langstaff, Esq._

"SIR,--I felt myself hurt and offended by Mr. Evergreen's terrible philippic against modern music in No. 11 of your work, and was under serious apprehension that his strictures might bring the art, which I have the honour to profess, into contempt. So far, sir, from agreeing with Mr. Evergreen in thinking that all modern music is but the mere dregs and drainings of the ancient, I trust before this letter is concluded I shall convince you and him that some of the late professors of this enchanting art have completely distanced the paltry efforts of the ancients; and that I, in particular, have at length brought it almost to absolute perfection.

"The Greeks, simple souls, were astonished at the powers of Orpheus, who made the woods and rocks dance to his lyre--of Amphion, who converted crotchets into bricks, and quavers into mortar--and of Arion, who won upon the compassion of the fishes. In the fervency of admiration, their poets fabled that Apollo had lent them his lyre, and inspired them with his own spirit of harmony. What then would they have said had they witnessed the wonderful effects of my skill?--had they heard me, in the compass of a single piece, describe in glowing notes one of the most sublime operations of nature, and not only make inanimate objects dance, but even speak; and not only speak, but speak in strains of exquisite harmony?

"I think, sir, I may venture to say there is not a sound in the whole compass of nature which I cannot imitate, and even improve upon;--nay, what I consider the perfection of my art, I have discovered a method of expressing, in the most striking manner, that indefinable, indescribable silence which accompanies the falling of snow."

[Our author describes in detail the different movements of a grand piece, which he names the "Breaking up of the ice in the North River," and tells us that the "ice running against Polopay's Island with a terrible crash," is represented by a fierce fellow travelling with his Fiddle-stick over a huge Bass-Viol at the rate of 150 bars a minute, and tearing the music to rags--this being what is called execution.]

"Thus, sir, you perceive what wonderful powers of expression have hitherto been locked up in this enchanting art. A whole history is here told without the aid of speech or writing; and provided the hearer is in the least acquainted with music, he cannot mistake a single note. As to the blowing up of the powder-bank, I look upon it as a _chef d'oeuvre_ which I am confident will delight all modern amateurs, who very properly estimate music in proportion to the noise it makes, and delight in thundering cannon and earthquakes.

"In my warm anticipations of future improvement, I have sometimes almost convinced myself that music will in time be brought to such a climax of perfection as to supersede the necessity of speech and writing, and every kind of social intercourse be conducted by the Flute and Fiddle. The immense benefits that will result from this improvement, must be plain to every man of the least consideration. In the present unhappy situation of mortals a man has but one way of making himself understood: if he loses his speech he must inevitably be dumb all the rest of his life; but having once learned this new musical language, the loss of speech will be a mere trifle, not worth a moment's uneasiness. This manner of discussing may also, I think, be introduced with great effect into our National Assemblies, where every man, instead of wagging his tongue, should be obliged to flourish a Fiddle-stick; by which means, if he said nothing to the purpose, he would at all events 'discourse most eloquent music,' which is more than can be said of them at present.