Ole Bull Part 23

MY CONCERT GASPAR DA SALO.[29]

[29] These descriptions were given one day at the request of a friend.

Once after a rehearsal in Breslau, in the year 1862, an old amateur and esteemed friend, Amtmann Zoller, who had purchased a collection of violins, wished me to look at them. I went, in company with a violinmaker, and saw the collection. The instruments were very fine, but I said, "The pearl of all is this Gaspar da Salo." The Amtmann answered, "I think so myself, and I am much pleased to find you agree with me. But the connoisseurs here are unwilling to see any special merit in the instrument, and if it should be sold I do not think it would bring so much as some of the others." When we left his house,-we had breakfasted with him,-the violinmaker said, "Why did you praise that violin so highly? You surely did not think that a superior instrument?" He then asked me why I did not offer to buy it. I said I could not think of offending the Amtmann by offering to purchase, for I did not suppose the violin was for sale. I consented, however, that he should ask him. The following morning he came to me, saying he had been to the Amtmann, who wished to see me. At our interview, in answer to his question whether I thought the instrument would entirely suit me, I a.s.sured him that it was a violin the tone of which could be graded in all different colors, and that I was in love with it. He then offered it to me at the price he paid for it (800 thalers); an offer I immediately accepted. A German musician, Lansberg by name, had been living in Rome for some twenty years, and had there made a collection of ancient violins. At his death, these were sent to his home in Breslau. The Amtmann Zoller purchased about a dozen of them, and among these was the Gaspar da Salo. Since I purchased this violin I have used it in all my public concerts.

I have another violin by a maker contemporaneous with Gaspar da Salo-in all probability Matteo Bente, Brescia, 1580. It very much resembles my concert violin in the model and _f_ holes. I received it in Rome in 1835, from the librarian of the Vatican, Michael Angelo Lanzi. During my stay in Rome I had given some lessons to a boy who was a favorite of his, and who had some talent for playing. As a return, he presented me this violin from the Vatican. In the Vatican vocal music only was given, and formerly violins and ba.s.ses and violas were used in training the choirboys. Of late years, this method falling out of use, the instruments gradually found their way into the hands of performers. I have not used this violin in concerts. It has a very peculiar flutelike tone, not capable of great variety of expression, but always in the whole range or compa.s.s preserving the same character. Nor is it capable of filling a large hall. The small turns of the _f_ holes are very near together, the large ones correspondingly far apart. This nearness of the upper turns necessitates a narrow bridge, which interferes with the development of a great tone. It is evidently specially adapted for playing in company with flutes, guitars, mandolins, and other softtoned instruments.

MY NICHOLAS AMATI.

I purchased this instrument in London in the year 1861. It had belonged to Sir W. Curtis, a director of the East India Company.

There is an anecdote of George the Fourth, that, as he played the violoncello, and wanted a quartette by Amati, and of course of the best, he applied to Sir W. Curtis, who sometimes played with him, and was financially his creditor in large sums. On the king's inquiring if he would sell his violin, he replied that his majesty could not afford to buy it, as he did not wish to see him sink deeper in debt. From Sir W.

Curtis the violin pa.s.sed into the hands of a Mr. Oliphant, also an East India director. I purchased it from his son. Mr. Plowden, of London, a violin collector of great judgment, was much annoyed on finding I had become the owner of the violin. He p.r.o.nounced it the finest specimen of Nicholas Amati in the world, and declared that he had waited forty years for the chance of being its possessor. He further offered in its place the choice of any two violins from his collection.

THE BRIDGE.

The position of the bridge should be such as to affect the whole violin equally, and not to favor one tone more than another. The centre of the bridge should be always directly over the centre line of the top.

Whether it should stand slightly backwards or forwards of, or directly on a line drawn across the top from the inner notches of the _f_ holes, will depend upon the character of the instrument, and can only be determined experimentally. It should incline toward the tailpiece in order to better withstand the forward pull of the strings in tuning.

The construction of the bridge has great influence upon the tone.

Thinness of the centre of the bridge tends to make prominent any nasal quality or shrillness latent in the instrument. A proper solidity conveys sweetness and compactness, but too great thickness m.u.f.fles the tone.

Highbuilt violins mostly require low bridges, and such should be particularly thick at the edges where the strings rest.

The bridge should be perfectly flat on the side toward the tailpiece.

It may be slightly convex on the other side.

The material of which the bridge is made should be invariably maple.

That which is known as the silvergray maple is preferable to the brown or yellow, as having a more close and elastic grain.

The incisions in the sides of the bridge should extend each one third of the distance toward the centre. The French model of Aubert of Mirecourt, though open to some objections in special cases, is one of the best.

These bridges are made of excellent wood, and are thick and strong.

The top of the bridge should be thick. Properly constructed, a bridge may be made quite heavy, and so made it will always convey a rounder and fuller volume of tone. The distance measured along the top, between the G and the E strings, should be 110/32 inches. The G string should be 8/32 of an inch above the fingerboard at its larger extremity; the E string, 5/32 of an inch. The average height of the feet of the bridge should be about 3/16 of an inch. The thickness at the base, a scant 5/32 of an inch; at the top, a full 1/16 of an inch. The feet should be 7/16 of an inch long.

THE SOUNDPOST.

In general, the soundpost should stand from 1/8 to 1/4 of an inch to the rear of the right foot of the bridge. Its outer edge should be in line with the outer edge of the foot. From this position its upper or lower end, or both, may be moved with advantage to secure certain qualities of tone. It should in all cases fit the curves of the top and back absolutely. Moving the lower end toward the centre favors the lower strings. If the lower strings are weak and the upper at all sharp or hard in tone, then a very loose post should be used. If the reverse is the case, a long and tightly fitting soundpost is required. Moving the upper end outward will help all the strings, if the tone before was hard and shrill; but if the upper strings happen to be dull and heavy, then the post should stand a little inside the line of the foot of the bridge, and a little further back. The soundpost should be made of finegrained soft spruce. The grain should cross that of the top, as this will prevent the marring of the inner surface of the top in putting the post in and adjusting it.

THE BOW.

I use a bow longer by two inches than the ordinary standard. A powerful, heavy bow is required for fourstring pa.s.sages and many _tours de force_. The bow, while elastic, should be extremely stiff, so that if dropped upon the strings the rebounds are very rapid. It should have weight to give force to these rebounds, as in many pa.s.sages the weight of the hand cannot be applied to a.s.sist the bow; as in the tremolo, arpeggio, and staccato volante. In this last example the bow is thrown upon the strings and runs its length in a series of little rebounds, neither the fingers nor wrist having anything to do with the result. In order to graduate, as it were, the different colors of sound, we favor certain overtones by causing the hair to act at greater or less distances from the bridge. The nearer we approach the bridge the more the upper overtones, and the nearer the neck the more the lower overtones will be favored. In the first instance, the resulting tone resembles that of the trumpet; and in the second, that of the horn and clarinet. With a heavy bow, in forte pa.s.sages, only slight a.s.sistance is needed from the hand. The wrist is not cramped or stiffened in producing the pressure. In piano pa.s.sages, the little finger should partially sustain the weight, and the stick should be inclined toward the neck, so that only part of the hairs act upon the strings.

The great stiffness and elasticity of the heavy bow gives a freer, clearer tone than can be produced by one of a lighter and more sluggish nature.

The length of the bow is two feet, six inches; the length of the hair two feet, four inches. The number of hairs is about one hundred and sixty. Half of the hairs are put in one way, the other half the other.

It is known that the hairs, as seen when magnified, have little sawlike teeth running in one direction. By thus dividing the hairs, they present the same friction on either the up or down stroke. The best hair is from Normandy. It should be round and even, and not flat in places.

THE BAR.

The princ.i.p.al object of the bar is to resist the pressure of the strings upon the top. All old violins require to be rebarred, owing to the height of the present musical pitch over that of one hundred years ago.

The old short bars are no longer adapted to the greater strain, and more powerful ones are needed. From long continued strain, the pulling of the two extremes toward the centre, and the downward pressure of the bridge at that point, the tops of many old violins have bulged up at the ends and sunk down in the centre. The adjustment of a new bar will have a tendency to remedy this. As the bar was originally placed by Gaspar da Salo, so it should be placed now; that is, not in the direction of the fibres of the top, but obliquely, the end under the fingerboard being nearest the centre. In this position it appears to give ample support to the bridge and to allow a fuller and richer tone.[30]

[30] See Mr. Colton's note p. 376.

THE VARNISH.

In a search after an elucidation of this socalled lost art, three facts immediately present themselves: first, this varnish was employed by the very earliest of the Italian makers as well as the later; second, its use was common only in Italy; third, it ceased to be applied to violins after A. D. 17501760.

In texture this varnish is extremely supple; it will yield to pressure, but breaks or scales off under a sudden blow. It is entirely transparent, and of all shades of brown, red, and yellow. The vehicle in which the gums and colors are dissolved is an oil. Applied to a violin, it compacts the tone together, without rendering it shrill or harsh, and gives additional beauty to the wood. That its ingredients were indigenous to the Italian soil is out of the question. It is well known that much of the maple used by the violinmakers of that day came from Turkey. Imported to Venice, it was employed in the construction of oars, etc. The extremely curly pieces, owing to their liability to fracture under rough usage, were consequently rejected, to be appropriated by the violinmakers. Venice and Genoa held great command over the entire Eastern trade, and undoubtedly through these ports came the various gums and coloring substances of which this varnish was made.

Turning to other countries of Europe-Germany, France, and England-and examining the productions of their most celebrated violinmakers contemporaneous with the Cremonese school, scarcely a trace of the Italian varnish is to be met with. In German instruments, the varnish is distinguished by extreme hardness, a gla.s.sy l.u.s.tre, and an absence of all delicate shades of color. The vehicle or menstruum, moreover, is alcohol. In France, the coloring was sometimes good, but in general too p.r.o.nounced. The varnish of the old English makers lacked transparency.

In both these countries the vehicle was oil, but the varnish in quality and texture differed essentially from the Italian.

Three questions occur: first, was this manufacture a secret? second, how was this secret lost? third, are there any writings or clues for perusal and examination? Answers to these questions should clear up the mystery of this socalled lost art.

To begin, then, with the first question, was the manufacture of this varnish a secret? There is no reasonable doubt that it was, but only in a certain way. For a period of about two hundred years, from the time of Gaspar da Salo to that of the Bergonzi, the varnish was common to every Italian violinmaker. Cremona had no monopoly, for the knowledge and use of it extended to Padua, Venice, Rome, and Naples. It is impossible, therefore, during this long time to say that the selection of ingredients or the methods of preparation employed in the manufacture of this substance, so well known and widely used, were in any sense a secret. But a little later quite a change is observable. From a hundred Italian instruments of this later date, only a notable few can be selected as possessing the true varnish; and that this marked characteristic in the case of these few is not the result of mere chance is apparent from the fact that the artists who made them have consistently applied it to all their productions. From about 1745 to about 1760, then, the manufacture of this varnish may be properly called a secret, as being confined to a chosen few.

A bitter rivalry had always existed between the Neapolitan, Venetian, and Cremonese schools. Alessandro Gagliano, probably a pupil of Stradivarius, had established himself at Naples. Dominico Montagnana and Sanctus Seraphino were the masters of the art in Venice. The Cremonese makers seem to have relied on their sonorous, well selected wood, their established principles of construction, and their ancient reputation; the Venetian, on the beauty of their wood, and careful finish; and the Neapolitan, on their exceedingly low price.

As a knowledge of the varnish became at last confined to a few, instances are not wanting of the persecution of such by their less fortunate fellowworkmen. It is quite evident, that, apart from any considerations of beauty, the importance of the varnish as an acoustic element was well recognized.

The second question now presents itself: how was the secret lost? A careful and repeated examination, extending to a vast number of objects, reveals the fact that the varnish of the Italian violinmaker of the time of Stradivarius and before him was common to the painter, the varnisher, and the gilder as well. Let an ancient piece of Italian furniture-a chair, a cabinet, the case of a spinet or harpsichord-be examined, and, provided it has escaped modern retouching, the varnish might be by Stradivarius himself. Generally it is colorless, then the quality and texture are the indications; but occasionally it is of brilliant hues, and then it proclaims itself to the eye at once. Let specimens of a later date, say 1760, be examined; here is no such varnish. This is smooth, fairly l.u.s.trous, hard, and durable. The chair of 1725 presents a surface broken and worn away; that of 1760, one comparatively smooth, and fairly able to endure further vicissitudes of time.

Between the years 1740 and 1760, great changes in the manufacture of varnish were introduced. The old soft gums and their menstrua, capable in themselves of dissolving them, were discarded in favor of newer and more complicated processes, producing a result more durable and unchangeable under exposure and rough wear.

The old fas.h.i.+on of ornamenting all articles of furniture, whether of ornament or utility, with carvings, had given place to a more sober style. Broad, unrelieved surfaces, depending on the intrinsic beauty of their material, were found a relief to the eye tired with unraveling the mazes of complex carving or painted arabesque. The old, soft, badly wearing varnish no longer sufficed for protection and covering of such surfaces; hence the new processes, and, for such utilitarian purposes, superior results. The hard copal gums, hitherto undissolvable or only partially so, were found to yield entirely on proper heating and fusion.

In 1750, a patent, covering a period of twentyfive years, was granted by the King of France to one Simon Martin, a fan painter, for a process of making varnish from amber, by driving off the succinic acid by means of heat, and the subsequent combination of the residue with oil. From that day to the present, various improvements in this art have gone on uninterruptedly. The field of discovery, the gates to which were opened by such pioneers as Simon Martin, being once entered, the problem of durability, hardness, and unchangeableness was soon solved. But with the laying aside of the old receipts, the Italian violin varnish became a lost art. The knowledge of its composition, naturally confined to the general manufacturers, was forgotten. There is no doubt that some of the Cremonese and other makers knew how to prepare it, but, as has been shown, its use was not confined to them. The new ingredients-the copals, amber, etc.-would naturally supersede the old as articles of import, and so by degrees those who possessed the secret-for a secret it was certainly regarded by its latest possessors-would find increasing difficulty in obtaining the old const.i.tuents. Moreover, the days of violinmaking in Italy were over. England, France, and Germany were eager compet.i.tors; the stolid build of the first, the gaudy color of the second, the baked wood of the Mittenwalder, or artist of the Black Forest, and the general cheapness of all, held the market. And so it has happened that the art of the old varnish is not lost, but buried in the dust under the wheel of progress. For two hundred years it was in the hands of a nation; and though now a desire for this forgotten knowledge is confined to only a few, it would be absurd to say that persistent inquiry must fail to unravel a skein of so many ends.

The third question now presents itself: Are there any writings or clues for perusal and examination? There are many. An ingenious Frenchman, who long ago wrote a treatise on varnish, has given the following excellent list of authors who have treated upon this subject:-

"Alexis," Piedmontese [real name of author, Hieronymus Ruscellai]: Secrets des Arts; Milan, 1550.

Fiavoranti: Miroir Universel des Arts et des Sciences; Bologna, 1564.

Auda: Recueil Abrege des Secrets Merveilleux; --, 1663.

Zahn, Jean: Oculus Artificialis, etc.; Nuremberg, 1685.

Morley, C.: Collections; London, 1692.

Coronelli, Vincent: Epitome Cosmographique; Venice, 1693.