The Repairing & Restoration of Violins / 'The Strad' Library, No. XII.

by Horace Petherick

CHAPTER II.

SLIGHT ACCIDENTS—MODERN RESTORERS—"CHATTERING"—THE PROPER SORT OF GLUE—ITS PREPARATION AND USE.

Under the above title (dry and unpalatable as the subject may seem at first sight to many) it is proposed to bring before the reader some deductions from observations in general, and particulars in detail that may be interesting as to the past, and suggestive as to the future. In the first place, the simple art of repairing a violin—and as for that, anything that has been fractured by accident or intent—will be in the minds of many associated with the presence of some strong glue or adhesive material, the right pieces to be attached, neatly or not, as the skill or experience of the repairer may be sufficient or available.

The nose or limb of a marble statue knocked off and lying in close proximity to the main body may be thought to give little or no trouble further than the collection of the fragments, the ascertaining of their original relationship, the spreading of a sufficient amount of strong cement over the raw surface and then pressing accurately into position; easy work to a person endowed with average powers of mechanical adaptation, under circumstances where the materials being of an unyielding nature retain their form for any length of time. But if any parts are lost different faculties and powers educated for the work are requisite and brought to bear on the subject. The additions, besides the estimated proportions and form, must necessarily be composed of material differing in age, perhaps in quality, even when of the same supposed class as the original, and make further demands on the trained eye, both for discrimination of material and appropriateness for the work in hand. There will be lastly, but not least, the art of imitating old work, the consideration how far to go and when to stop in the dressing up of new bodies in an old guise so as to produce harmony of effect generally, and where possible in minute detail. Thus far concerning the repair or restoration of objects of art made from rigid materials, including hard wood carving.

Much ability, energy and patience have been expended on the reparation of ancient art work in which materials of various degrees of hardness and texture have been employed, and which require the attention of a restorer of extended knowledge and mechanical dexterity. There is in connection with all of this a kind of law keeping pace with the necessities of the hour. If the works of art of a perishable nature become recognised as more and more valuable during the onward march of time, they receive proportional attention from upper-class or highly skilled workmen. A costly work of art in need of repair or restoration is placed in the hands of an artificer whose reputation warrants the confidence of the owner. The works of art, however, with which our subject is connected, differ in important particulars from those for which gratification of the senses is to be favoured solely through the medium of the eye; they not only frequently demand the exercise of mechanical ingenuity of no mean order for purposes of restoration in regard to general appearance, but further and additionally, the no less important details concerned in a renewal, so far as may be possible, of their powers for the exhibition of acoustical properties such as were implanted in them by their original constructors. In the instance of a re-uniting of separated pieces, the insertion of fresh material to fill up spaces that must not be left open, strengthening, or even renewal of such parts as may have become worn away or—as is too often met with—"honey-combed" from the inroads of those vandals of all time known as "the worm," all the supporting, rebuilding of the interior and re-decoration of the exterior must be taken chiefly as means to an end, that of the resumption of its rightful position among friends or rivals in the same line.

This restitution becomes of increasing importance and necessity every day, a condition arising from the verdict emphatically given by his majesty the public that there are not any instruments of the violin family ready to take the place—that is, worthily—of those made by the principal masters of Italy during the two hundred odd years before the commencement of the nineteenth century, and also that there does not seem to be much probability of others arising at least for a few generations to come. No wonder then that the most energetic searching has been going on for a long time, not only in Italy but over the whole of Europe, with the hope that in some out of the way court or alley there may yet be reposing in obscurity some long forgotten, unrecognised work by an old master of the art of violin making. Should one be unearthed, if but a wreck of its former greatness or even a portion, this is not refused but eagerly grasped and placed—not yet in open daylight before the gaze of the world, but in the hands of a specialist in re-vivifying these dry bones of a bygone age, re-habilitating them—perhaps having by him or given him other portions of a similar maker, or it may be—it has sometimes occurred—the actual missing parts.

The specialist in the repairing and restoring art is now not of the same class as in olden times. When the Amatis, Stradivaris, Guarneris and the like were being turned out one after another, there was not so much necessity for preserving all the pieces or splinters of precious pine that had been separated by the fracture of the upper table from any cause, there was a better remedy at hand, the nearest maker would naturally be sought whose reputation was possibly more than local and whose self confidence prompted him to make a fresh table rather than devote time and labour for which adequate compensation could not be hoped for. As a result, we frequently find old violins and their kindred turning up with fronts and backs which, although fitting well as regards size and outline, have been made by a distinctly different workman, in some instances equal or even superior to the originator. At the present day, however, this kind of restoration is much more rarely attempted and is not resorted to unless the damage is very extensive or vital portions have been irrecoverably lost.

The modern maker has no longer within reach, pine with requisite acoustical properties, of which the old Italian masters seem to have had so large a store, or if not, the knowledge where to obtain it. As a consequence there has, in response to the pressure of necessity, arisen a class of workmen some of whose dexterous conversion of a mere bundle of splinters of an old master into the semblance of its former grandeur of aspect would have astonished the original designers. These modern restorers are not to be confounded with the minute imitators or forgers, than whom they are much more clever, hard-working and honest withal. The art of repairing and restoring has now become so distinct from that of making, that many in the foremost ranks in the increasing large army of restorers may never have made a violin throughout. The faculties, skill and experience directed on the restoration of a violin "on the sick list," differs from those exercised by the first constructor whose mechanical dexterity is an aid or secondary to other qualifications: whereas it is paramount in importance in the constitution of a first class repairer.

The construction of a violin from beginning to end may be said to be an art based on certain fixed principles, not all of them known, however. When these are, as far as possible, acted upon by a workman of sufficient intelligence and training, the progress of the work may be considered as being in a fairly straight and open course. Not so with the restoration of it after fracture or loss of parts great or small, several different courses may be open as to treatment and this will be as the temperament of the restorer will suggest or the exigencies of the moment may demand. Temporary alleviation of symptoms—how to make the thing go somehow—when there is no fiddle physician within beck or call, is a problem frequently arising and very annoying, necessity then being the mother of invention, often of a most curious sort, as most professional repairers who have had the re-consideration of the matter will have impressed on their memories. Among the most frequent of simple ailments the fiddle tribe is subject to, is that known as "chattering" or jarring, caused mostly by some parts having become dis-united, perhaps through damp or accident sometimes of a most trifling nature, and which henceforth, unless remedies are at once applied, make themselves evident in this way, accompanying every note that happens to be in unison with themselves, and lending discord instead of harmony, expressing urgently their thirst and desire for a small drink from the glue pot. Not unfrequently the exact spot where the jarring or chattering takes place is not easy to find by mere examination of the exterior, especially if the separation is fresh and at a part where very little adhesion has taken place at any time, or possibly the very slight portion of glue originally placed at the time of construction, has, with the progress of time, gradually dried away. Should this have occurred at the junction of the upper or lower tables (most frequently the first), the sides, or ribs, the exact spot must be found by gently tapping all round carefully, holding the instrument meanwhile firmly at parts that are least likely to have become disconnected or that are known to be perfectly sound. The tapping or sounding can be done in the way usual with dealers and repairers, that is, by the knuckle joints of the hand rapping round the instrument, but this is sometimes deceptive, the tendons over the bones of the hand interfering and occasionally causing a double sound, and so defeating the efforts at discovery. A more delicate and therefore better means of testing is by the use of a felted hammer of the kind and size acting on the bass string of a grand pianoforte; this will be found very handy. Should the rapping or sounding all round the border not reveal any weak spot, we may be sure the seat of the complaint is to be sought for elsewhere; possibly there is looseness in the interior and therefore something requiring deeper consideration.

We will for the present assume that there has been no uncertainty in locating the weakness, and that it is at the part before referred to as the most frequent in showing signs of disorder—the upper table losing its grip on the ribs. This is one of the many common ailments that are teazing to the violin during its troublous career; a slight accidental tap, or hastily putting the instrument to rest in a too closely fitting case being often sufficient. Sometimes, on the reverse, it is from being in too large a one, getting well shaken while being taken home after some orchestral rehearsal; the joy of having mastered Mozart or battered Beethoven for an evening is turned in the morning to grief and vexation, when in response to the gentle persuasions of the bow there are but chatters and jarrings. Under such circumstances the treatment administered by the hands of non-practical or inexperienced people is akin, more often than not, to that popularly supposed to be effectual in suppressing slight functional disorders of the human system; namely, a prompt and appreciable dose of medicine for the one, a good stuffing of thick dark glue for the other. In both cases it may well be said that not unfrequently "the remedy is worse than the disease." Glue is a good thing in its way and when properly applied, but not so if overdone, even if the kind is the best obtainable.

A few remarks may here be offered as to the qualities that should be present in good glue, especially with regard to violin repairing. Among the makers of it, the glue which will absorb the largest quantity of water ranks as the best. It will, after proper application, resist best the action of moisture in the atmosphere, or in fact take longer time before releasing the two surfaces it may have been holding in contact. There is not much difficulty in getting glue very satisfactory in most respects—as good animals die now-a-days as ever got into the gluepots of the old masters—but it must be selected. That kind used extensively in the German manufactories is said to be a fish glue, remarkably hard, very light in colour and almost opaque. This is not to be recommended for violin repairs; it holds the parts together with such tenacity that fresh fractures are likely to be caused in undoing a portion, a process often very necessary; professional repairers will tell you "it tears the wood too much." The glues mostly in favour among upper class repairers are those known as Russian, Cologne and Isinglass, all good; they are light in colour, very firm, not too brittle, and transparent. There are other varieties to be had of excellent quality and which conform to the conditions required. Thick cakes of a dark brown colour with an unpleasant odour should be avoided; they are too easily affected by the atmosphere, turn bad in the gluepot under very little provocation from damp warm winds, and spoil the look of good and refined workmanship. There are many different kinds of glue sold under various titles, some termed "liquid glue," others cement, apparently for saving the very insignificant time and trouble in warming up the orthodox solution; but none appear satisfactory in general and many of them are even detestable. There are some adhesive materials used in India where warmth and damp have their full play and make short work of an old master's joints, but these cements of the Eastern Hemisphere are likewise unsuitable for the kind of work under consideration, as when once dried, being unaffected by damp to any extreme, they are of course difficult to remove when further repairs have become necessary.

One of the special advantages of glue to the repairer is its yielding to the direct application of moisture, so that in future repairings the old stuff can be washed completely out and fresh glue used over clean work. Let all amateur repairers therefore, abstain from seeking after a vain thing of the nature of glue impervious to moisture. One word more, as preachers say, and that is as to the preparation or melting of the glue—simplest of processes—some pieces of selected glue put into a small glazed gallipot with two-thirds of clean water and left to soak during the night will only require warming in the morning by placing the pot in a larger one and surrounding it with hot water. The quantity of glue being varied according to requirement is far preferable to the old-fashioned iron glue-pot which darkens the glue and is in other ways objectionable. If the injury or want of adhesion extends only to a trifling distance round the edge and has happened at a time when good glue and proper appliances are not to hand, the routine pursued must still be the same as if they were: first by obtaining a well-worn table knife, the thinner the better (but if the household knives happen to be new and strong you may call on some artist friend, borrow his palette knife, clean it, have ready some clear water, a cushion or a substitute, and some rather thick gum). If time will allow, the strings should be taken off the violin, and then placing it face downwards on the cushion, the knife having been dipped in the water, can be inserted gently at the part requiring attention. (Diagram 1.)

DIAGRAM 1.

You will soon tell by the sound in moving the knife about whether the separation has been recent or of long standing, if the latter, the slipping of the knife will cause a slight grating sound and when drawn out will show signs of dirt. The knife must be rinsed and re-inserted a sufficient number of times until all the evidence of dirt has disappeared, the knife coming away clean and not gritty. Care should be taken meanwhile to keep the violin on the tilt so that the water introduced on the surface of the knife does not run inside but outward to the edge; the parts should also each time be wiped by a clean absorbent piece of cotton or linen. The knife can then be charged with gum instead of water and inserted as before, the process being finished by the wiping.

But now the question will arise how about the closing up and pressing together of the parts. For this, assuming that the part to be rejoined is not of great extent, the chin-rest—almost every player now uses one—can be applied to the part and fixed in the usual way. If there is not one to be had, some pieces of ordinary deal, the softer the better—fire wood will do—cut into shape as depicted (Diagram 2) can be fitted, but very loosely to allow of thin wedges being used to tighten the grip (Diagram 3). They must be very gently pushed in, or the border of the violin will be damaged. Some paper placed between the wedge and the border will help in preserving the latter from injury or marks. The above suggestions are only intended to be applicable when the violinist may be out of reach of any professional or competent repairer. Gum arabic or dextrine are not comparable with good glue for repairs, although with care and attention to the details enumerated here I have known it answer when in pressing haste, and even for a permanency.

DIAGRAM 2.	DIAGRAM 3.