The Violin / Its Famous Makers and Their Imitators

by George Hart

SECTION XIII

The Violin and its Votaries

Sterne (himself a votary of the Fiddle) has well said, "Have not the wisest of men in all ages, not excepting Solomon himself, had their hobby-horses—their running-horses, their coins and their cockle-shells, their drums and their trumpets, their Fiddles, their pallets, their maggots and their butterflies? And so long as a man rides his hobby-horse peaceably and quietly along the king's highway, and neither compels you nor me to get up behind him,—pray, sir, what have either you or I to do with it?" He further tell us, "There is no disputing against hobby-horses;" and adds, "I seldom do: nor could I, with any sort of grace, had I been an enemy to them at the bottom; happening at certain intervals and changes of the moon, to be both Fiddler and painter."

GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESÙ. 1733.

GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESÙ. 1741. (LATE R. D. HAWLEY, ESQ.)

ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1726. Plate XIX.

The leading instrument is singularly favoured. It may be said to have a double existence. In addition to its manifold capabilities, it has its life of activity on the one hand, and inactivity on the other. At one time it is cherished for its powers of giving pleasure to the ear, at another for the gratification it affords to the eye. Sometimes it is happily called upon to perform its double part—giving delight to both senses. When this is so, its existence is indeed a happy one. The Violin thus occupies a different position from all other musical instruments. Far more than any other musical instrument it enters into the life of the player. It may almost be said to live and move about with him; the treasure-house of his tenderest and deepest emotions, the symbol of his own better self. Moreover, the Violin is a curiosity as well as a mechanical contrivance. Thus it is cherished, perhaps for its old associations—it may have been the companion of a valued friend, or it may be prized as a piece of artistic work, or it may be valued, independently of other associations, for the simple purpose for which it was made, viz., to answer the will of the player when touched with the bow. The singular powers centred in the Violin have been beautifully expressed by Oliver Wendell Holmes, who says: "Violins, too. The sweet old Amati! the divine Stradivari! played on by ancient maestros until the bow hand lost its power, and the flying fingers stiffened. Bequeathed to the passionate young enthusiast, who made it whisper his hidden love, and cry his inarticulate longings, and scream his untold agonies, and wail his monotonous despair. Passed from his dying hand to the cold virtuoso, who let it slumber in its case for a generation, till, when his hoard was broken up, it came forth once more, and rode the stormy symphonies of royal orchestras, beneath the rushing bow of their lord and leader. Into lonely prisons with improvident artistes; into convents from which arose, day and night, the holy hymns with which its tones were blended; and back again to orgies, in which it learned to howl and laugh as if a legion of devils were shut up in it; then, again, to the gentle dilettante, who calmed it down with easy melodies until it answered him softly as in the days of the old maestros; and so given into our hands, its pores all full of music, stained, like the meerschaum, through and through with the concentrated hue and sweetness of all the harmonies which have kindled and faded on its strings." The gifted author of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" has evidently made himself acquainted with the various life-phases of a Violin.

The fancy for the Violin as a curiosity has been a matter of slow growth, and has reached its present proportions solely from the intrinsic merits of its object. The Violin has not come suddenly to occupy the attention of the curious, like many things that might be named, which have served to satisfy a taste for the collection of what is rare or whimsical, and to which an artificial value has been imparted. In those days when the old Brescian and Cremonese makers flourished, the only consideration was the tone-producing quality of their instruments; the Violin had not then taken its place among curiosities. The instruments possessing the desired qualities were sought out until their scarcity made them legitimate food for the curious. Beauties, hitherto passed over, began to be appreciated, the various artistic points throughout the work of each valued maker were noted, and in due time Violins had their connoisseurs as well as their players.

Besides Italy, England, France, and Germany have had their great men in the Fiddle world, whose instruments have ever been classed as objects of virtu. Mace, in his "Musick's Monument," published in 1676, gives, perhaps, the earliest instance of curiosity prices in England. "Your best provision (and most compleat) will be a good chest of Viols; six in number, viz., two Basses, two Tenors, and two Trebles, all truly and proportionally suited; of such there are no better in the world than those of Aldred, Jay, Smith; (yet the highest in esteem are) Bolles and Ross (one Bass of Bolles I have known valued at £100). These were old." From the above curious extract we glean that the Fiddle family was receiving some attention. The makers in England whose instruments seem to have reached curiosity prices are Bolles, Jay, Barak Norman, Duke, Wamsley, Banks, and Forster: the value attached at different periods to the works of these men has nearly approached the prices of Cremonese work. Of course, the high value set upon the instruments of the makers above named was confined to England.

Turning to France, we find that many of the old French makers' instruments brought prices greatly in excess of their original cost. The favourite French makers were Médard, Boquay, Pierray, of the old school, and Lupot and Pique of the modern.

In Germany there have been makers whose works have brought very high prices. Stainer, Albani, Widhalm, Scheinlein, are names that will serve to associate high values with German work. In the case of Jacob Stainer, the celebrity of his instruments was not confined to Germany; they were highly prized by the English and French, and at one period were more valued than the best Amatis. It was not until the vast superiority of Italian Violins over all others was thoroughly recognised, that the love of the instrument as a curiosity reached its present climax. In Italy, the value set upon the chief Cremonese works, though great, was comparatively insignificant, as far as the Italians themselves are concerned, and when France and England came into competition with them for the possession of their Violins by Amati, Stradivari, Guarneri, and the gems of other makers, they at once yielded the contest.

The introduction of Italian instruments into Great Britain was a matter of slow growth, and did not assume any proportions worthy of notice until the commencement of the present century, when London and Paris became the chief marts from whence the rare works of the old Italians were distributed over Europe. By this time the taste of the Fiddle world had undergone a considerable change. The instruments in use among the dilettanti in France and England had hitherto been those built on the German model of the school of Jacob Stainer. The great German maker was copied with but little intermission for upwards of a century, dating from about 1700 to 1800, a period of such considerable extent as to evidence the popularity of the model. Among the Germans who were following in the footsteps of Stainer were the family of Kloz, Widhalm, Statelmann, and others of less repute. In England there was quite an army of Stainer-worshippers. There were Peter Wamsley, Barrett, Benjamin Banks, the Forsters, Richard Duke, and a whole host of little men. Among the makers mentioned there are three, viz., Banks, Forster, and Richard Duke, who did not copy Stainer steadfastly. Their early instruments are of the German form, but later they made many copies of the Cremonese. To Benjamin Banks we are indebted for having led the English makers to adopt the pattern of Amati. He had long laboured to popularise the school which he so much loved, but met with little encouragement in the beginning, so strong was the prejudice in favour of the high model. However, he triumphed in the end, and completely revolutionised the taste in England, till our Fiddle-fanciers became total ab-Stainers! Then commenced the taste for instruments of flat form. Where were they to be found? If the few by the early English makers be excepted, there were none but those of the Italians to be had, and perhaps a few old French specimens. Attention was thus directed to the works of the Cremonese, and the year 1800 or thereabouts may be put down as the time when the tide of Italian Violins had fairly set in towards France and England. The instruments by the Amati were those chiefly sought after; the amount of attention they commanded at this period was probably about equal to that bestowed upon the works of Stradivari and Guarneri at the present time. Violins of Amati and other makers were, up to this time, obtainable at nominal prices. The number in Italy was far in excess of her requirements, the demand made upon them for choir purposes in former days had ceased, and the number of Violins was thus quite out of proportion to the players. The value of an Amati in England in 1799 and 1804 may be gathered from the following extracts from the day-book of the second William Forster, who was a dealer as well as maker—"20th April, 1799. A Violoncello by Nicholas Amati, with case and bow, £17 17s. 0d.;" and further on—"5th July, 1804, an Amati Violin £31 10s. 0d." These prices were probably less than those which William Forster received for many instruments of his own make. It is certain that these low prices did not long continue; the price increased in due proportion to the vanishing properties of the supply. The call for Violins by the Amati was so clamorous as speedily to effect this result; the prices for them were doubled, trebled, and often quadrupled, until they no longer found a home in their native land. The value set on them by the French and English so far exceeded that which the Italians themselves could afford, even though inclined to indulge in such things, that the sellers were as eager to sell as the buyers to buy. During the time of this scramble for instruments of Cremona, the theory of the flat model was fast gaining ground. The circulation of the works of Cremona among the players of France and England led to a comparison of the various forms, and it was found that the elevated model was inferior in every way when tested by the works of the great Italian makers. Hitherto no distinction had been drawn as regards value among the productions of the several members of the Amati family. Andrea had been looked upon as equivalent to Girolamo, Antonio, or Niccolò; but attention now began to be directed towards the works of the brothers, and to those of Niccolò in particular, as the flat model gained in the appreciation of the Fiddling world. Grand Amatis became the coveted Fiddles; they were put up frequently at twice the value of the smaller patterns—a position they still maintain. The taste for the flat form having thus been developed, the works of Antonio Stradivari came to the front, slowly but surely; their beauties now became known outside the circle in which they had hitherto been moving: a circle made up chiefly of royal orchestras (where they were used at wide intervals), convent choirs, and private holders, who possessed them without being in the least aware of their merits. They were now eagerly sought by soloists in all parts of Europe, who spread their fame far and wide. Their exquisite form and finish captivating the dilettanti, the demand increased to an extent far beyond that commanded by the works of the Amati at the height of their popularity.

There were a few Stradivari instruments in England when Amati was the favourite maker, and their value at that period may be estimated, if it be true that Cervetto, the father of the famous Violoncellist, was unable to dispose of a Stradivari Violoncello for five pounds—a circumstance which shows how blind our forefathers were to the merits of the greatest maker the world has had. Among the artists of the early part of the present century who used the instruments of Stradivari were Boccherini, Viotti, Rode, Kreutzer, Habeneck, Mazas, Lafont, and Baillot.

About the year 1820 the fame of Giuseppe Guarneri as a great maker was published beyond Italy, chiefly through the instrumentality of Paganini. That wonderful player came to possess a splendid specimen of Guarneri del Gesù, dated 1743, now sleeping in the Museum at Genoa, which Paganini used in his tour through France and England. He became the owner of this world-famed Violin in the following curious manner. A French merchant (M. Livron) lent him the instrument to play upon at a concert at Leghorn. When the concert had concluded, Paganini brought it back to its owner, when M. Livron exclaimed, "Never will I profane strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is yours." A more fitting present or higher compliment could not have been offered. The names of Amati and Stradivari became familiar to the musical world gradually, but Guarneri, in the hands of a Paganini, came forth at a bound. This illustrious Violin was often credited with the charm which belonged to the performer; the magical effects and sublime strains that he drew forth from it must, it was thought, rest in the Violin. Every would-be Violinist, whose means permitted him to indulge in the luxury, endeavoured to secure an instrument by the great Guarneri. The demand thus raised brought forth those gems of the Violin-maker's art, now in the possession of wealthy amateurs and a few professors. When the various works of the gifted Guarneri were brought to light, much surprise was felt that such treasures should have been known to such a handful of obscure players, chiefly in the churches of Italy. The Violin used by Paganini belongs to the last period of the great maker, and consequently, is one of those bold and massive instruments of his grandest conception, but lacks the beautiful finish of the middle period. The connoisseurs of those days had associated Giuseppe Guarneri with Violins of the type of Paganini's only; their surprise was great when it was discovered that there were three distinct styles in the works of Guarneri, one evidencing an artistic grandeur, together with a high finish, but little inferior to those of Antonio Stradivari. The marked difference between these epochs of Guarneri's manufacture has led to a great amount of misconception. Fifty years since, the world possessed little information on the subject, and the connoisseur of those times could not believe it possible that these varied styles emanated from one mind. The opportunities given to the connoisseur of later days of comparing the various instruments of the several epochs of Guarneri have set at rest all doubts concerning them. They no longer require dates or labels; they are as easily distinguished and classed as the works of Amati or Stradivari.

Attention was claimed for the works of Maggini by the charming Belgian Violinist, Charles de Bériot, who, early admiring the large proportions and powerful tone of Maggini's instruments, decided to use one for public playing. That an artist so refined as De Bériot, and one who attached so much importance to that sympathy between the Violin and player which should make it the vehicle for presenting its master's inward feelings, should have selected a Violin of large size, and adapted for giving forth a great volume of tone, was a matter of surprise to a great many of his contemporaries. Those who judged only from his school of playing anticipated that he would have selected Amati as embodying the qualities he so passionately admired. It is certain, however, that he succeeded in bringing the penetrating power of his Maggini thoroughly under his control. In the instruments of Maggini, De Bériot doubtless recognised the presence of vast power, together with no inconsiderable amount of purity of tone, and to bring forth these qualities to the best advantage was with him a labour of love. The popularity of Maggini's Violins rapidly raised their value. Instruments that, before De Bériot made them widely known, might have been purchased for ten pounds, realised one hundred. The Violin known as "De Bériot's Maggini" remained in his possession till within a short time of his death, when it was disposed of to his friend and patron, the Prince de Chimay, it is said, for the enormous sum of six hundred pounds—a price far in excess of the average value of Maggini's instruments. In this instance, the association of De Bériot with the instrument is sufficient, perhaps, to account for the rare price set upon it.

We now reach the time when Carlo Bergonzi began to be regarded as a maker of the first class. As a Cremonese maker, he was one of the latest to receive the attention to which his exceptional merits fairly entitled him. To English connoisseurs belongs the credit of appreciating this great maker.

The recognised merits of the makers already named naturally caused a demand for Italian instruments generally. If the masters could not be had, the pupils must be found; hence a whole host of Italian makers, quite unknown in England fifty years since, became familiar to the connoisseur. The works of Guadagnini, Gagliano, Grancino, Santo Serafino, Montagnana, and others whose names it is unnecessary to give, passed from Italy into France and England, until the various schools of Italian Violin manufacture were completely exhausted. When we look back, it is surprising that so much has been achieved in such a brief space of time. The knowledge of Italian works in 1800 was of the slenderest kind, both in France and England; in less than three-quarters of a century those countries contrived to possess themselves of the finest specimens of Cremonese instruments, together with those of other Italian schools. We here have an example of the energy and skill that is brought to bear upon particular branches of industry when once a demand sets in. Men of enterprise rise with it unnoticed, and lead the way to the desired end. In the case of Italian Violins it was Luigi Tarisio who acted as pioneer—a being of singular habits, whose position in the history of the Violin, considered as a curiosity, is an important one. This remarkable man was born of humble parents, wholly unconnected with the musical art. In due time he chose the trade of a carpenter, which vocation he followed with assiduity, if not with love. He amused himself during his leisure hours in acquiring a knowledge of playing on the Violin—an accomplishment that was destined to exercise an influence on his future life, far greater than was ever contemplated by the young carpenter. That his playing was not of a high order may be readily imagined: it was confined chiefly to dance-music, with which he amused his friends, Fiddling to their dancing. His first Violin was a very common instrument, but it served to engender within him that which afterwards became the ruling passion of his life. His study of this little instrument was the seed from which grew his vast knowledge of Italian works. So much was his attention absorbed by the form of the instrument that any skill in playing upon it became quite a secondary consideration. He endeavoured to see all the Violins within his reach, and to observe their several points of difference. The passion for old Violins, thus awakened, caused him to relinquish his former employment entirely, and to devote the whole of his attention to the art which he so loved. He soon became aware of the growing demand for Italian works, and felt that, possessed with a varied and proficient knowledge of the different styles of workmanship belonging to the Italian schools of Violin-making, he could turn his present acquirements to a profitable as well as pleasurable use. He resolved to journey in search of hidden Cremonas. His means were, indeed, very limited. His stock-in-trade consisted only of a few old Violins of no particular value. With these he commenced his labours, journeying in the garb of a pedlar, on foot, through Italian cities and villages, and often playing his Violin in order to procure the bare means of existence. Upon entering a village he endeavoured to ingratiate himself with the villagers, and thus obtain information of the whereabouts of any inhabitants who were possessed of any member of the Fiddle family, his object being to examine and secure, if possible, such instruments as were possessed of any merit. It can readily be conceived that at the commencement of the present century, numbers of valuable Cremonese and other instruments were in the hands of very humble people. Luigi Tarisio knew that such must be the case, and made the most of his good fortune in being the first connoisseur to visit them. His usual method of trading was to exchange with the simple-minded villagers, giving them a Violin in perfect playing order for their shabby old instrument that lacked all the accessories. It was indeed the case of Aladdin's Lamp, and as potent were these Fiddles as the wonderful lamp or ring itself. In the possession of Luigi Tarisio they drew forth from the purses of the wealthy gold that would have enabled the humble villagers to have ceased labour. It is an axiom, however, that everything on this earth is only of value providing it is in its proper place, and these rare old instruments, in the keeping of the poor peasants, could scarcely be considered to be in their proper element; their ignorant possessors were alike unable to appreciate their sterling worth, as works of art, or their powers of sound. Luigi Tarisio, after gathering together a number of old rarities, made for his home, and busied himself in examining the qualities of his stock, selecting the best works, which he laid aside. With the residuum of those instruments he would again set out, using them as his capital wherewith to form the basis of future transactions among the peasantry and others. He visited the numerous monasteries throughout Italy that he might see the valuable specimens belonging to the chapel orchestras. He found them often in a condition ill becoming their value, and tendered his services to regulate and put them into decent order—services gladly accepted and faithfully performed by the ardent connoisseur. By the handling of these buried treasures, his knowledge and experience were greatly extended. Makers hitherto unknown to him became familiar. When he met with instruments apparently beyond the repairer's skill, he would make tempting offers of purchase, which were often accepted. Having accumulated many instruments of a high order during these journeys, he began to consider the best means of disposing of them. He decided upon visiting Paris. He took with him the Violins he valued least, resolving to make himself acquainted with the Parisian Fiddle market before bringing forth his treasures. It is said that he undertook his journey on foot, depriving himself often of the common necessaries of life, that he might have more money to buy up his country's Fiddles. His first visit to Paris was in 1827, an eventful year in the history of Italian Violins, as far as relates to Paris. Upon arriving in the French capital, he directed his steps to the nearest luthier, one Aldric, to whom he had been recommended as a purchaser of old instruments of high value. Upon arriving at the shop of M. Aldric, Tarisio hesitated before entering, feeling suddenly that his appearance was scarcely in keeping with his wares, his clothes being of the shabbiest description, his boots nearly soleless, and his complexion, naturally inclined to blackness, further darkened by the need of ordinary ablutions. However, he set aside these thoughts, and introduced himself to the luthier as having some Cremona Violins for sale. Aldric regarded him half-contemptuously, and with a silent intent to convey to Tarisio that he heard what he said, but did not believe it. The Italian, to the astonishment of the luthier, was not long in verifying his statement; he opened his bag and brought forth a beautiful Niccolò Amati, of the small pattern, in fine preservation, but having neither finger-board, strings, nor fittings of any kind. The countenance of the luthier brightened when he beheld this unexpected specimen of the Italian's wares. He carefully examined it, and did his best to disguise the pleasurable feelings he experienced. He demanded the price. The value set on it was far in excess of that he had anticipated; he erroneously arrived at the probable cost from an estimate of the shabby appearance of the man. He had been comforting himself that the Italian was unaware of the value put upon such instruments. He decided to see further the contents of the bag before expressing an opinion as to the price demanded for the Amati. Violins by Maggini, Ruggeri, and others, were produced—six in number. Tarisio was asked to name his price for the six. After much giving and taking they became the property of the luthier. This business was not regarded as satisfactory by Tarisio; he had overestimated the value of his goods in the Paris market; he had not learned that it was he himself who was to create the demand for high-class Italian instruments by spreading them far and wide, so that their incomparable qualities might be observed. He returned to Italy with his ardour somewhat cooled; the ready sale at the prices he had put upon his stock was not likely to be realised, he began to think. However, with the proceeds of his Paris transaction he again started in search of more Cremonas, with about the same satisfactory results. He resolved to visit Paris again, taking with him some of his choicest specimens. He reached the French capital with a splendid collection—one that in these days would create a complete furore throughout the world of Fiddles. He extended his acquaintance with the Parisian luthiers, among whom were MM. Vuillaume, Thibout, and Chanot senior. They were all delighted with the gems that Tarisio had brought, and encouraged him to bring to France as many more as he could procure, and at regular intervals. He did so, and obtained at each visit better prices.

GASPARO DA SALÒ. (LATE LORD AMHERST OF HACKNEY.) Plate XX.	GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESÙ. 1735. (PRINCE FREDERICK WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA.)

This remarkable man may be said to have lived for nought else but his Fiddles. Mr. Charles Reade, who knew him well, says:¹ "The man's whole soul was in Fiddles. He was a great dealer, but a greater amateur; he had gems by him no money would buy from him." It is related of him that he was in Paris upon one occasion, walking along the Boulevards with a friend, when a handsome equipage belonging to a French magnate passed, the beauty of which was the talk of the city. Tarisio's attention being directed to it by his friend, he calmly answered him that "he would sooner possess one 'Stradivari' than twenty such equipages." There is a very characteristic anecdote of Tarisio, which is also related by Mr. Reade in his article on Cremona Violins, entitled the "Romance of Fiddle-dealing":

"Well, one day Georges Chanot, senior, made an excursion to Spain, to see if he could find anything there. He found mighty little, but coming to the shop of a Fiddle-maker, one Ortega, he saw the belly of an old Bass hung up with other things. Chanot rubbed his eyes, and asked himself was he dreaming? the belly of a Stradivari Bass roasting in a shop window! He went in, and very soon bought it for about forty francs. He then ascertained that the Bass belonged to a lady of rank. The belly was full of cracks; so, not to make two bites of a cherry, Ortega had made a nice new one. Chanot carried this precious fragment home and hung it up in his shop, but not in the window, for he was too good a judge not to know that the sun will take all the colour out of that maker's varnish. Tarisio came in from Italy, and his eye lighted instantly on the Stradivari belly. He pestered Chanot till the latter sold it him for a thousand francs, and told him where the rest was. Tarisio no sooner knew this than he flew to Madrid. He learned from Ortega where the lady lived, and called on her to see it. 'Sir,' says the lady, 'it is at your disposition.' That does not mean much in Spain. When he offered to buy it, she coquetted with him, said it had been long in her family; money could not replace a thing of that kind, and, in short, she put on the screw, as she thought, and sold it him for about four thousand francs. What he did with the Ortega belly is not known; perhaps sold it to some person in the toothpick trade. He sailed exultant for Paris with the Spanish Bass in a case. He never let it go out of his sight. The pair were caught by a storm in the Bay of Biscay; the ship rolled; Tarisio clasped his Bass tightly and trembled. It was a terrible gale, and for one whole day they were in real danger. Tarisio spoke of it to me with a shudder. I will give you his real words, for they struck me at the time, and I have often thought of them since. 'Ah, my poor Mr. Reade, the Bass of Spain was all but lost!'

"Was not this a true connoisseur—a genuine enthusiast? Observe, there was also an ephemeral insect called Luigi Tarisio, who would have gone down with the Bass; but that made no impression on his mind. De minimis non curat Ludovicus!

"He got it safe to Paris. A certain high-priest in these mysteries, called Vuillaume, with the help of a sacred vessel, called the glue-pot, soon re-wedded the back and sides to the belly, and the Bass now is just what it was when the ruffian Ortega put his finger in the pie. It was sold for 20,000 fr. (£800). I saw the Spanish Bass in Paris twenty-five years ago, and you can see it any day this month you like, for it is the identical Violoncello now on show at Kensington numbered 188. Who would divine its separate adventures, to see it all reposing so calm and uniform in that case?—Post tot naufragia tutus."

1 "Cremona Violins," Pall Mall Gazette, August, 1872.

The love of Tarisio for the masterpieces of the great makers was so intense, that often when he had parted with the works he so admired, he never lost sight of them, and waited a favourable opportunity for again making himself their owner.

It is related of him that upon one occasion he disposed of a beautiful Stradivari, in perfect preservation, to a Paris dealer. After having done so he hungered for it again. For years he never visited Paris without inquiring after his old favourite, and the possibility of its again being offered for sale, that he might regain possession of it. At last his perseverance was rewarded, inasmuch as he heard that it was to be bought. He instructed his informant to obtain for him a sight of it. The instrument was fetched, and Tarisio had scarcely patience enough to wait the opening of the case, so anxious was he to see his old companion. He eagerly took up the Violin, and turned it over and over, apparently lost to all about him, when suddenly his keen eye rested upon a damage it had received, which was hidden by new varnish. His heart sank within him; he was overcome by this piece of vandalism. In mingled words of passion and remorse he gave vent to his feelings. He placed it in its case, remarking sadly that it had no longer any charm for him.

In the year 1851 Tarisio visited England, when Mr. John Hart, being anxious that he should see the chief collections of Cremonese instruments in this country, accompanied him to the collection, amongst others, of the late Mr. James Goding, which was then the finest in Europe. The instruments were arranged on shelves at the end of a long room, and far removed from them sat the genuine enthusiast, patiently awaiting the promised exhibition. Upon Mr. Goding taking out his treasures he was inexpressibly astonished to hear his visitor calling out the maker of each instrument before he had had time to advance two paces towards him, at the same time giving his host to understand that he thoroughly knew the instruments, the greater number having been in his possession. Mr. Goding whispered to a friend standing by, "Why, the man must certainly smell them, he has not had time to look." Many instruments in this collection Tarisio seemed never tired of admiring. He took them up again and again, completely lost to all around—in a word, spell-bound. There was the "King" Guarneri—the Guarneri known as Lafont's—the beautiful Bergonzi Violin—the Viola known as Lord Macdonald's—General Kidd's Stradivari Violoncello—the Marquis de la Rosa's Amati—Ole Bull's Guarneri—the Santo Serafino 'Cello—and other remarkable instruments too numerous to mention. Who can say what old associations these Cremona gems brought to his memory? For the moment, these Fiddles resolved themselves into a diorama, in which he saw the chief events of his life played over again. With far greater truthfulness than that which his unaided memory could have supplied, each Fiddle had its tale to relate. His thoughts were carried back to the successful energies of his past.

Tarisio may be said to have lived the life of a hermit to the time of his death. He had no pleasures apart from his Fiddles; they were his all in this world. Into his lodgings, in the Via Legnano, near the Porta Tenaglia, in Milan, no living being but himself was ever permitted to enter.² His nearest neighbours had not the least knowledge of his occupation. He mounted to his attic without exchanging a word with any one, and left it securely fastened to start on his journeys in the same taciturn manner. He was consequently regarded as a mysterious individual, whose doings were unfathomable. The time, however, has arrived when the veil hiding the inner life of this remarkable man should be lifted, and here I am indebted for particulars to Signor Sacchi, of Cremona, who received them from a reliable source. Tarisio had been seen by his ever-watchful neighbours to enter his abode, but none had noticed him quit it for several days. The door was tried and found locked; no answer was returned to the sundry knockings. That Tarisio was there the neighbours were convinced. The facts were at once brought under the notice of the municipal authorities, who gave instructions that an entry should be made by force into the mysterious man's apartment. The scene witnessed was indeed a painful one. On a miserable couch rested the lifeless body of Luigi Tarisio; around, everything was in the utmost disorder. The furniture of the apartment consisted mainly of a chair, table, and the couch upon which lay the corpse. A pile of old Fiddle-boxes here and there, Fiddles hung around the walls, others dangling from the ceiling, Fiddle-backs, Fiddle-heads, and bellies in pigeon-holes; three Double-Basses tied to the wall, covered with sacking. This was the sight that met the gaze of the authorities. Little did they imagine they were surrounded with gems no money would have bought from their late eccentric owner. Here were some half-dozen Stradivari Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos, the chamber Gasparo da Salò Double-Bass now in the possession of Mr. Bennett, and the Ruggeri now belonging to Mr. J. R. Bridson, besides upwards of one hundred Italian instruments of various makers, and others of different nationalities. All these were passed over by the visitors as so much rubbish in their search for something more marketable. At last they alighted on a packet of valuable securities together with a considerable amount of gold. A seal was placed upon the apartment, pending inquiries as to the whereabouts of the dead man's relatives. In due time, some nephews came forth and laid claim to the goods and chattels of the Italian Fiddle connoisseur.

2 The house is now turned, with those adjoining, into a manufactory. When Luigi Tarisio lived there it was a small restaurant, similar to those seen in the side streets of Soho.

Luigi Tarisio died in October, 1854. Three months later, upon the news being communicated to M. Vuillaume, of Paris, he soon set out for Milan, and had the good fortune to secure the whole of the collection, at a price which left him a handsome profit upon the transaction, besides the pleasurable feeling of becoming the possessor of such a varied and remarkable number of instruments.

Having given the reader all the information I have been able to collect concerning Tarisio, I will only add that he had advantages over all other connoisseurs, inasmuch as he found the instruments mostly in their primitive condition, and free from any tampering as regards the labels within them. He was thus enabled to learn the characteristics of each without fear of confusion. The days of taking out the labels of unmarketable names and substituting marketable counterfeits had not arrived.

The principal buyers of Italian instruments on the Continent, when dealing in this class of property was in its infancy, were Aldric, MM. Chanot senior, Thibout, Gand, Vuillaume of Paris, and Vuillaume of Brussels. In London, among others, were Davis, Betts, Corsby, and John Hart. There is yet another, the omission of whose name would be a blemish in any notice of the Violin and its connoisseurs. I refer to Mr. Charles Reade, the novelist, who in early life took the highest interest in old Italian Violins. We are indebted to him in a great measure for bringing into this country many of the most beautiful specimens we possess. Impressed with the charms of the subject, he visited the Continent for the pleasure it afforded him of bringing together choice specimens, and thus opened up the intercourse between England and the Continent for the interchange of old Violins which continues to this day. It would be difficult to find an instance where the intricacies of the subject were so quickly mastered as in his case. Without assistance, but solely from his own observation, he gained a knowledge which enabled him to place himself beside the Chief Continental connoisseurs, and compete for the ownership of Cremonese masterpieces. These were the men who laid bare the treasures of Cremona's workshops, and spread far and wide love and admiration for the fine old works. Connoisseurship such as theirs is rare. To a keen eye was united intense love of the art, patience, energy, and memory of no ordinary kind, all of them attributes requisite to make a successful judge of Violins.

Charles Lamb, on being asked how he distinguished his "ragged veterans" in their tattered and unlettered bindings, answered, "How does a shepherd know his sheep?" It has been observed that, "Touch becomes infinitely more exquisite in men whose employment requires them to examine the polish of bodies than it is in others. In music only the simplest and plainest compositions are relished at first; use and practice extend our pleasure—teach us to relish finer melody, and by degrees enable us to enter into the intricate and compounded pleasure of harmony." Thus it is with connoisseurship in Violins. Custom and observation, springing from a natural disposition, make prominent features and minute points of difference before unseen, resulting in a knowledge of style of which it has been well said "Every man has his own, like his own nose."

As an ardent votary of the Violin, regarded from a point of view at once artistic and curious, Count Cozio di Salabue takes precedence of all others. He was born about the time when the art of Italian Violin-making began to show signs of decadence, and having cultivated a taste for Cremonese instruments, he resolved to gratify his passion by bringing together a collection of Violins which should be representative of the work and character of each maker, and serve as models to those seeking to tread the path of the makers who made Cremona eminent as a seat of Violin manufacture. Virtuosity emanating from a spirit of beneficence is somewhat rare. When, however, utility occupies a prominent place in the thoughts of the virtuoso, he becomes a benefactor. The virtuosity of Count Cozio was of this character. His love for Cremonese instruments was neither whimsical nor transient. From the time when he secured the contents of the shop of Stradivari to the end of his life—a period of about fifty years—he appears to have exerted himself to obtain as much information as possible relative to the art, and to collect masterpieces that they might in some measure be the means of recovering a lost art. When in the year 1775 he secured ten instruments out of ninety-one which Stradivari left in his shop at the time of his death, he must surely have considered himself singularly fortunate, and the happiest of collectors.³ That such good fortune prompted him to make fresh overtures of purchase cannot be wondered at. We learn from the correspondence of Paolo Stradivari that the Count had caused two letters to be sent by the firm of Anselmi di Briata to Paolo inquiring if he was willing to part with the tools and patterns used by his father Antonio, and that Paolo replied on May 4, 1776: "I have already told you that I have no objection to sell all those patterns, measures, and tools which I happen to have in my possession, provided that they do not remain in Cremona, and you will recollect that I have shown you all the tools I have, and also the box containing the patterns.... I place all at your disposal, and as it is simply a friendly matter" (Paolo Stradivari appears to have had large dealings in cloth and other goods with the firm of Anselmi di Briata, of Casale, a small city on the Po), "I will give you everything for twenty-eight giliati."⁴ It does not appear that Paolo's correspondents were moved in their answer by any feelings of sentimentality or of friendship: on the contrary, the tone of the letter was clearly commercial, they having made an offer of twenty-three giliati less than demanded. Paolo Stradivari in his reply, dated June 4, 1776, says: "Putting ceremony aside, I write in a mercantile style. I see from your favour of the 13th ultimo (which I only received by the last courier), that you offer me five giliati for all the patterns and moulds which I happen to possess, as well as for those lent to Bergonzi, and also for the tools of the trade of my late father; but this is too little; however, to show you the desire I have to please you, and in order that not a single thing belonging to my father be left in Cremona, I will part with them for six giliati, providing that you pay them at once into the hands of Domenico Dupuy & Sons, silk stocking manufacturers. I will send you the things above-mentioned, conditionally that I keep the five giliati and use the other one to defray expenses for the case, the packing, and the custom-house duty, which will be necessary to send them, and I shall let you have back through Messrs. Dupuy, residing under the Market Arcades in Turin, any balance that should remain, or (if you like) you may pay the said Messrs. Dupuy seven giliati, and I shall then defray all the expenses, and send also the two snake-wood bows which I possess.—(Signed) PAOLO STRADIVARI."

3 These instruments and the tools appear to have been in the possession of Paolo from the year 1743, when Francesco died, and Paolo opened the shop in the Piazza S. Domenico as a cloth warehouse. He therefore seems to have only decided to dispose of his father's tools when he was in a feeble state of health, he having died, as already noticed, before the purchase was settled, aged 68.

4 A giliati was a Tuscan gold coin bearing the arms of Florence, the value of which was 9s. 6½d. Its present purchasing power would probably be three times as much, and therefore the sum asked by Paolo Stradivari would be equal to £38 12s. 10½d.

In reply to this interesting letter, Messrs. Anselmi di Briata appear to have written accepting the terms offered by Paolo Stradivari, and to have explained to him that they had been in treaty with a certain Signor Boroni, relative to the purchase of a Violin, and having come to terms they wished the instrument to be packed with the tools and moulds. Paolo, in acknowledging this communication, June 25, 1776, says: "In reply to your favour of the 10th instant, Signor Boroni will hand me over the Violin upon hearing that the money has been paid to Messrs. Dupuy. I shall then have no objection to place it in the same case together with the patterns and implements left by my father." From this and subsequent correspondence we learn that Messrs. Anselmi di Briata, being wholesale traders, were in a suitable position to act as intermediaries in the purchase of Violins on behalf of Count Cozio. Their business necessitated their visiting Cremona, and thus they appear to have seen the Violin of Signor Boroni, and also another belonging to a monk or friar named Father Ravizza, both of which were subsequently bought, as seen by the following extracts from a letter of Paolo Stradivari:—

"Cremona, July 10, 1776. We learn from Messrs. Dupuy of the receipt of the seven giliati, which you have paid on our account.... As we have already prepared everything, we shall therefore inform Father Ravizza and Signor Boroni; I have, however, to mention that I did not think I possessed so many things as I have found. It being according to what has been promised, it cannot be discussed over again.... It will be a very heavy case, on account of the quantity of patterns and tools, and consequently it will be dangerous to put the Violins in the same package." The writer refers to the two instruments before mentioned: "I fear without care they will let it fall in unloading it, and the Violins will be damaged; I inform you therefore of the fact.... You must let me know how I have to send the case. If by land, through the firm of Tabarini, of Piacenza, or to take the opportunity of sending by the Pò." In passing, it may be remarked that the distance between Cremona and Casale by the river Pò is about sixty miles. The later correspondence makes known the fact of the precious freight having been consigned to the firm of Anselmi di Briata by way of the Pò, and that it was entrusted to the care and charge of a barge-master named Gobbi.

It is by no means uncommon to discover the memories of men kept green in our minds from causes strangely curious and unexpected. Many seek to render their names immortal by some act the nature of which would seem to be imperishable, and chiefly fail of their object; whilst others, obscure and unthought of, live on by accident. Imagine the paints and brushes, the pencils and palettes, the easel and the sketches of Raffaele having been given over to a Pò barge-master, and that chance had divulged his name. Would he not in these days of microscopic biography have furnished work for the genealogist, and been made the subject of numberless pictures? Hence it is that the admirers of Stradivari cannot fail to remember the name of honest Gobbi, who carried the chest wherein were the tools with which the Raffaele of Violin-making wrought the instruments which have served to render his memory immortal.

Soon after the date of Paolo's last letter, he became seriously ill, dying on the 9th of October, 1776. The correspondence was then taken up by his son Antonio. He says in his letter dated November 21, 1776: "I shall send you the case with the patterns and tools of my late grandfather Antonio, which was packed and closed before my father was bedridden. You will find it well-arranged, with mark on it, and with red tape and seal as on the Violins already sent to you." He next refers to other patterns which he found locked up in a chest and which he believes were unknown or forgotten by his father, and offers to dispose of them, with a Viola, and concludes by promising to send the receipts, the copies of which show that the remnants of the tools and patterns were bought for three giliati.

It is unnecessary in this place to make further reference to Count Cozio as a collector, the chief information concerning him being spread over the section of Italian makers. The facsimile of one of the Count's letters here given will serve both as an interesting remembrance of him and as evidence of his keen interest in all relating to the art of which he was so distinguished a votary.

Probably the earliest collector of Italian Violins in England was William Corbett. He was a member of the King's orchestra, and having obtained permission to go abroad, went to Italy in 1710, and resided at Rome many years, where he is said to have made a rare collection of music and musical instruments. How he managed to gratify his desire in this direction seems not to have been understood by his friends, his means, in their estimation, not being equal to such an expenditure. Hence arose a report that he was employed by the Government to watch the Pretender. Corbett died at an advanced age in 1748, and bequeathed his "Gallery of Cremonys and Stainers" to the authorities of Gresham College, with a view that they should remain for inspection under certain conditions, leaving ten pounds per annum to an attendant to show the instruments. Whether the wishes of the testator were carried out in any way there is no information, but the instruments are said to have been disposed of by auction a short time after his decease.

The principal early collectors in this country were the Duke of Hamilton, the Duke of Cambridge, the Earl of Falmouth, the Duke of Marlborough, Lord Macdonald, and a few others. Later, Mr. Andrew Fountaine, of Narford Hall, Norfolk, became the owner of several fine Italian instruments, and made himself better acquainted with the subject, perhaps, than any amateur of his time. Among the Stradivari Violins which Mr. Fountaine possessed was that which he purchased from M. Habeneck, the famous professor at the Paris Conservatoire in the early part of the nineteenth century. Another very fine specimen of the late period, 1734, was also owned by him, a Violin of grand proportions in a high state of preservation, and of the richest varnish. The Guarneri Violins that he possessed were of a very high class. Among these may be mentioned a very small Violin by Giuseppe Guarneri, probably unique, which instrument was exhibited among the Cremonese Violins at the South Kensington Museum in 1872, together with another of the same size by Stradivari, and a third by the brothers Amati.

The number of rarities brought together by the late Mr. James Goding was in every respect remarkable. At one period he owned twelve Stradivari Violins, and nearly the same number by Giuseppe Guarneri, all high-class instruments. It would take up too much time and space to name the particular instruments which were comprised in this collection. The remnant of this group of Cremonese Fiddles was dispersed by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1857. Mr. Plowden's collection was another remarkable one, consisting of eight instruments of the highest class.

The late Joseph Gillott was a collector, who, in point of number, exceeded all others. He did not confine himself solely to the works of the greatest makers, but added specimens of every age and clime; and at one time he must have had upwards of 500 instruments, the chief part of which belonged to the Italian School. When it is remembered that the vast multitude of stringed instruments disposed of by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1872 did not amount to one-half the number originally owned by Mr. Gillott, some idea of the extent of his collection may be gained. Among the many curious instances of the love of collecting Violins, which sometimes possesses those unable to use them, perhaps that of Mr. Gillott is the most singular.

Notable collections, be they of Fiddles, medals, pottery, or pictures, have sometimes had their rise in accidents of a curious kind. Lord Northwick dated his passion for coins to a bag of brass ones, which he purchased in sport for eight pounds. His lordship ended by purchasing, in conjunction with Payne Knight, the collection of Sir Robert Ainslie, for eight thousand pounds, besides sharing with the same collector the famous Sicilian coins belonging to the Prince Torremuzza. The Gillott collection of Fiddles had its origin in a picture deal. Mr. Gillott happened to be making terms in his gallery at Edgbaston relative to an exchange of pictures with Edwin Atherstone,⁵ poet and novelist, who collected both Violins and pictures. A difficulty arose in adjusting the balance, when Mr. Atherstone suggested throwing a Fiddle in as a counterpoise. "That would be to no purpose," remarked Mr. Gillott, "for I have neither knowledge of music nor of the Fiddle." "I am aware of that," rejoined his friend; "but Violins are often of extraordinary value as works of art." Mr. Gillott, becoming interested in the subject, agreed to accept the Fiddle as a make-weight, and the business was settled. A few months later the floor of his picture gallery on all sides was lined with cases, single and double, containing Violins in seemingly endless profusion. It was about the year 1848 he conceived the notion of bringing together this mammoth collection; and in about four years he had made himself master of the largest number of Italian instruments ever owned by a single individual. He suddenly relinquished the pursuit he had followed with such persistency; he disposed of a great number, and laid the remainder aside in his steel-pen works at Birmingham, where they slumbered for upwards of twenty years. The time at last arrived when this pile of Fiddles was to be dispersed. It fell to my lot to classify them, and never shall I forget the scene I witnessed. Here, amid the din of countless machines busy shaping magnum-bonums, swan-bills, and divers other writing implements, I was about to feast my eyes on some of the choicest works of the old Italian Fiddle-makers. Passing through offices, warehouses, and workshops, I found myself at a door which my conductor set himself to unlock—an act not often performed, I felt assured, from the sound which accompanied his deed. To adequately describe what met my eyes when the door swung back on its hinges, is beyond my powers of description. Fiddles here!—Fiddles there!—Fiddles everywhere, in wild disorder! I interrogated my friend as to the cause of their being in such an unseemly condition, and received answer that he had instructions to remove most of the instruments from their cases and arrange them, that I might better judge of their merits. I was at a loss to understand what he meant by arranging, for a more complete disarrangement could not have been effected. Not wishing to appear unmindful of the kindly intentions of my would-be assistant, I thanked him, inwardly wishing that this disentombment had been left entirely to me. The scene was altogether so peculiar and unexpected as to be quite bewildering. In the centre of the room was a large warehouse table, upon which were placed in pyramids upwards of seventy Violins and Tenors, stringless, bridgeless, unglued, and enveloped in the fine dust which had crept through the crevices of the cardboard sarcophagi in which they had rested for the previous quarter of a century. On the floor lay the bows. The scene might not inappropriately be compared to a post-mortem examination on an extended scale. When left alone I began to collect my thoughts as to the best mode of conducting my inquiry. After due consideration I attacked pyramid No. 1, from which I saw a head protruding which augured well for the body, and led me to think it belonged to the higher walks of Fiddle-life. With considerate care I withdrew it from the heap, and gently rubbed the dust off here and there, that I might judge of its breeding. It needed but little rubbing to make known its character; it was a Viola by Giuseppe Guarneri, filius Andreæ, a charming specimen (now in the ownership of the Earl of Harrington). Laying it aside, I pulled out from the pile several others belonging to the same class. Being too eager to learn of what the real merits of this huge pile of Fiddles consisted, I rapidly passed from one to the other without close scrutiny, leaving that for an after pleasure. So entirely fresh were these instruments to me, that the delight I experienced in thus digging them out may well be understood by the connoisseur. After thus wading through those resting on the table, I discovered some shelves, upon which were a number of cases, which I opened. Here were fine Cremonese instruments in company with raw copies—as curious a mixture of good and indifferent as could be well conceived. Not observing any Violoncellos, when my attendant presented himself I inquired if there were not some in the collection. I was unable to make him understand to what I referred for some little time, but when I called them big Fiddles, he readily understood. He had some faint idea of having seen something of the kind on the premises, and started off to make inquiry. Upon his return, I was conducted to an under warehouse, the contents of which were of a varied character. Here were stored unused lathes, statuary, antique pianos, parts of machinery, pictures, and picture-frames. At the end of this long room stood, in stately form, the "big Fiddles," about fifty in number—five rows, consequently ten deep. They looked in their cases like a detachment of infantry awaiting the word of command. Years had passed by since they had been called upon to take active service of a pacific and humanising nature in the ranks of the orchestra. Had they the power of speech, what tales of heroism might they have furnished of the part they played at the "Fall of Babylon" and the "Siege of Corinth," aye! and "Wellington's Victory" (Beethoven, Op. 91). A more curious mixture of art and mechanism could not easily be found than that which the contents of this room exhibited. With what delight did I proceed to open these long-closed cases! The character of the Violins naturally led me to anticipate much artistic worth in the Violoncellos, and I had not judged erroneously. Bergonzi, Amati, Andrea Guarneri, Cappa, Grancino, Testore, Landolfi, and men of less note, were all well represented in this army of big Fiddles. Having glanced at the merits and demerits of these instruments, I observed to my conductor that I imagined I had seen all. "No," he answered; "I was about to mention that there are a few Violins at Mr. Gillott's residence, and perhaps we had better go there at once." I readily assented, and in due time reached Edgbaston. There seemed no doubt as to the whereabouts of these instruments, and I was at once ushered into the late Mr. Gillott's bedroom. Pointing to a long mahogany glazed case occupying one side of the chamber, the attendant gave me to understand I should there find the Violins. At once I commenced operations. Pushing aside the first sliding door, I saw a row of those cardboard cases made to hold the Violin only, which many of my readers will doubtless remember seeing at the time of the sale at Messrs. Christie's. By this time it may readily be imagined that an idea had taken possession of my mind, that I had not, after all, seen the best portion of the collection. The circumstance of Violins being deposited in the sleeping apartment of their owner was sufficient to give birth to this conjecture. Upon removing the lid of the first cardboard case, my eyes rested on a charming Stradivari of the Amati period, a gem of its kind. Gently laying it on the table, that I might examine it later, I opened the next case. Here rested a magnificent Giuseppe Guarneri, the instrument afterwards bought by Lord Dunmore, date 1732. Pursuing my delightful occupation, I opened another case, the contents of which put the rest completely in the shade—here rested the Stradivari, date 1715, the gem of the collection. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I rapidly opened sixteen cases in all, from which I took out six Stradivari, two Guarneri, one Bergonzi, two Amati, and five other Violins of a high class.

5 Edwin Atherstone, born 1788, died 1872; was the author of "The Fall of Nineveh" and "The Last Days of Herculaneum," two poems in blank verse, and of a novel, "The Sea Kings of England," of which Sir Walter Scott wrote approvingly.

It was observed at the time of the sale of this remarkable collection, which took place shortly after the dispersion of Mr. Gillott's gallery of pictures, that "Every well-ordered display of fireworks should have its climax of luminous and detonating splendour, throwing into shade all the preliminary squibs, crackers, and rockets, the Catherine wheels, the Roman candles, and the golden rain. The French, with modest propriety, term this consummation a bouquet." I cannot find anything more applicable than this word to the scene I have attempted to describe. It only remains for me to say, in reference to this array of Fiddles, that I passed a week in their company, and a more enjoyable one I have never had during my professional career.

Dr. Johnson, who understood neither Fiddling nor painting, who collected neither coins nor cockle-shells, maggots nor butterflies, was clearly of the same opinion as the author of "Tristram Shandy," that there is no disputing against hobby-horses. He says: "The pride or the pleasure of making collections, if it be restrained by prudence and morality, produces a pleasing remission after more laborious studies; furnishes an amusement, not wholly unprofitable, for that part of life, the greater part of many lives, which would otherwise be lost in idleness or vice; it produces a useful traffic between the industry of indigence and the curiosity of wealth, and brings many things to notice that would be neglected."