CHAPTER X.
WAYS OF REMOVING THE UPPER TABLE AND THE NECK—CLEANSING THE INTERIOR—PRESERVATION OF THE ORIGINAL LABEL—CLOSING OF CRACKS IN UPPER TABLE.
I recollect many years back, when in company with a violinist of some note, we were talking over various details in connection with the reparation and regulation of violins of a high class, particularly those of the great masters. The fact of so many fine instruments having fractures of the same kind and in the same position was remarked as being curious, why so numerous as to form a very large majority? Well, said the professor, at one time cracks were really fashionable, and an instrument well endowed with them was thought to emit its tone more freely, especially if it had been somewhat stiff before. This might account for some, but not so many coming from all parts, I observed, from their similarity I am inclined to their being due to one principal cause, that of carelessness on the part of repairers in former times and some even of the present. It is through hurry or want of method in removing the upper table, should it be necessary. A repairer once confessed to me that he had sometimes caused these fractures in his impetuousness while going through this preliminary; his excuse was one frequently made for all sorts of bad work, clumsiness and want of judgment, that people would not pay for proper time and care being expended, and so when he cracked the front while taking it off, he glued it up again.
As generally is the case, more than one method can be pursued for removal of the upper table. A somewhat original one was recommended to me once as being very successful and causing the table to part from the rest beautifully without risk of fracture, and that was, firstly to obtain some vessel holding boiling water and with a suitable pipe attached for throwing a fine jet of steam against the glued parts requiring separation. Not having seen this done, or tried it myself, I am unable to speak for or against this process, but there appears to be some risk of damaging the varnish in the vicinity while the steam is forced against the small space for operating upon. I was assured that this was an excellent mode of separation, there being no tearing about or splintering of the wood. It might be a good method where there is perceptibly much impasto of glue, and which, while almost readily yielding to the penetrative power of steam, is a great nuisance under ordinary circumstances. Another method would be that of getting some lengths of soft cotton rag or other substance that would retain moisture well when wetted; these could be laid all round, tucked closely against the junction of the upper table and ribs and left for a reasonable time or kept wetted in dry weather. This, if not quite causing a disjunction, would facilitate the operation of the knife in the usual way. I think, however, that any departure from the rule of using the knife is very rare indeed, any other means necessarily taking time and taxing the patience.
We will now return to the dealer and his assistant or repairer. The matter in hand with them is business, and therefore a regular routine is gone through when the instrument is worthy of first class repair, and everything conducive to the best results in up-to-date regulation has to be calculated and carried out in minute detail. Searching eyes will go over all the fresh parts, looking for any possible inaccuracy, any slip of the tool or ruggedness where a fine, even surface ought to be. In order that all may be conveniently attended to, the first proceeding will be that of sawing off the head and neck, this is done rather close to the body of the instrument. Under present circumstances, more care than usual with modern violins has to be exercised, as the repairer knows that it was customary with the old Italian makers to secure the neck to the upper block by one, two, or at times even three nails. They were driven in from the interior before the final closing up or fixing of the upper table. Sometimes a screw is found in the same place instead of nails. These arrangements point to a want of confidence in glue by these old masters, notwithstanding the evidence we have of their using the finest quality only. In separating the neck from the body, it will obviously be wise to act in a very cautious manner, or the saw may come suddenly upon the nails or screw, and there will be a grating of teeth, and perhaps upsetting of the temper of the performer. It will therefore be a consideration for the repairer whether the instrument has been previously opened, or is in that very rare condition, as the maker left it. Economy of time and labour always more or less being a desideratum, in the supposed instance before us, that of an untouched old master, our repairer having had experience with many Italian violins of different degrees of merit, first proceeds by removing the old fingerboard. This being short and less massive than the modern kind, presents but little difficulty. The cushion filled with sawdust or sand, is now called into requisition. Placing the violin on its back and tilting it up so that the button and the back of the scroll press equally on the yielding surface, it is held in position with some degree of firmness, the fingers of the right hand being placed underneath the wide end of the fingerboard, a sudden pull upward causes the fingerboard in most instances to part with a snap. Should it refuse to do so, other means must be resorted to. The fingerboard may be one of the old inlaid kind, or veneered pine, and worth keeping as a curiosity, in which case the saw must be applied to any part of the neck for removing wood that will not be required again, piece-meal, until the board is free, when it can be further cleared at leisure.
Our repairer, not finding in the fingerboard under his hands any particular merit, it being besides worn into ruts near the nut by performers of the early schools, who used but little more than the first position, moreover, coming away with ease, proceeds to the sawing process. The presence of nails or screw he believes to be fairly certain, therefore instead of sawing down close and even as possible with the ribs, the saw line is made at an angle downward and outward toward the head, or say at an angle of some forty-five degrees, beginning at about a quarter of an inch away from the borders of the upper table. The cut thus made would be free from any nail or screw, unless of extraordinary dimensions. (Diag. 35.)
| DIAGRAM 35. |
In the case of a modern violin, the saw cut could be made close to the border and downward to within a short distance of the button, where another cut at right angles and parallel to the surface of it will free the neck completely. The violin, now as before, is placed front downwards on the cushion or pad, some repairers would hold it on their knees, but only in the absence of either means. In the present instance, being a prize and sure to eventually pay for any amount of trouble and skill expended, the violin is treated in a manner that long experience and judgment dictate as safest. Opening the instrument has been agreed to as being absolutely necessary, the old short bar would certainly prove inadequate to withstand the pressure from above if the violin and its fittings were to be subjected to modern regulation under present conditions. Everything being ready, the operator with steady hands inserts the knife with a sudden push at the under part of the edging—from the position of the violin the knife would now be above it—at the lower quarter of the instrument, this having the largest curve and therefore being weakest in resistance to the plunge of the knife. As the thin bladed knife is worked along, there is a tendency to stick occasionally. This is counteracted by running along, or slightly wiping the surface of the knife, a cotton rag, with the smallest touch of oil upon it; this will enable the knife to go quite smoothly. Great care is exercised that the knife is held on an exact level with the plane of the pine table, or there will be great risk of running the knife into the pine instead of lifting it away from the joint. Evidence of bad judgment in this respect is not infrequently to be met with on otherwise well repaired instruments. A series of sharp cracking sounds come forth as the knife works its way in. It is worked along in either direction until near the corner block or near the nut. At this part, the violin being in the original state as fresh from the hand of its maker at Cremona, the treatment will be slightly different to what it would be after modern regulation.
The knife will come to a full stop here, and be taken out for proceeding with the release of the table on the opposite side. It will be as a matter of course, necessary to place the violin the other end foremost, the larger end being furthest from the operator; the knife, as before, being inserted at the large curve in the same manner and for the same reason, finally stopping as before at each end. The principal reason for stopping at the end is that with most of the old Italian violins there is a short wooden pin, probably used for temporarily securing the table in position before the final glueing down. These wooden pins of hard or tough consistency being driven in firmly, offer considerable resistance to the passage of the knife if the latter is forced through. Most of the violins having these pins originally, give evidence of the exertions of the repairer to press the knife through these obstacles at the risk, ofttimes with certainty, of breaking up or smashing the fibres of the surrounding portion of the pine. Of a dozen old Italians, perhaps on an average ten will be found with this part broken, jagged, or having a portion of fresh wood inserted where ruffianly treatment has bruised the threads of the pine past remedy. Our professional repairers, being men of experience, further, both having a natural disposition and qualification for their calling, know better than to use much violence in this part of their work, so taking the knife away, the operator cleanses it from all glue or resinous particles, and when perfectly dry, passes the slightly oiled rag again over both surfaces. The knife being inserted again and again, is pressed round about the pin and thrust forward so that the increasing thickness of the blade may act as a long wedge, this gradually lifts the table away, leaving the pin standing.
The lower end will require the same treatment for easing the upper table round the pin. In original condition most of the old Italian violins would not give further trouble, but some later or middle period ones, instead of the small piece of ebony or other hard substance slightly inserted or laid half way through the table, have an ebony nut going quite through and down in a triangular form nearly to the tailpin. In these instances a small knife held vertically and pressed along between the parts of the ebony touching the pine will enable the table to come away gradually in the manner indicated. We now may suppose ourselves again in the presence of the repairers, operator and master; the upper table has been successfully and cleanly released from the blocks and along the upper edging of the ribs, very few splinters here and there are left, giving double evidence of neat glueing on the part of the maker and systematic care on that of the modern repairer.
Being now quite free and gently lifted off, the table is turned about for a moment and attention is directed to the interior. The two men look at all the parts with very different eyes. One with eager expectancy, critical eye and much experience, sees at a glance much that intensely interests him, confirms certain views of the old methods of working, whether the wood was white and new when the violin was constructed, how a little of the precious material enveloping the whole structure had dropped through the sound holes during the process of varnishing; watches the form of the drops whether they indicate a thin or a thick solution of the resinous particles, whether these have cracked or blistered in the Milanese or Venetian manner, whether they show signs of having set at once or remained soft and running for a time; the corner and end blocks, their material, and whether the same as those linings let into the middle ones and their being finished off before or after the placing in position. The joint of the back too, and if there remained any evidence of system in working different to what we moderns would do? These and other queries passed rapidly through the mind of the dealer and connoisseur, more of the latter than the former, and that is why he was not more successful by many degrees than any others of the fraternity. To be a dealer in the strictly business sense of the term, a number of valuable violins must to him be no more than potatoes in a basket to a greengrocer, i.e., what they appear worth.
His assistant—a good accurate mechanic in almost all respects, sees in this unearthed "old master," "gem of antiquity," or chef d'oeuvre of Italian art, nothing but the interior of a dirty brown box with a rolling ball of fluff resting in one of the corners.
There are perhaps few things more disappointing than the interior of a violin when opened for the purpose of repairing. Be it a matchless gem of Cremona's art or an old and common Tyrolese worth but a few shillings, the difference to an ordinary observer is so slight as to be uninteresting, indeed to connoisseurs of experience there is not the variation sufficient to excite curiosity to the extent of opening the instrument on that ground solely. The raw and unvarnished wood, with the parts between the threads swollen from damp, begrimed and repeatedly washed by repairers, presents anything but a pleasing spectacle even when the interior of a fine "Strad" or Joseph is laid bare. Many years ago a friend owning a fine Cremonese viola asked me to open it and find out the cause of some buzzing or rattling within that had not been evident till that time. After an examination, finding that opening it would be absolutely necessary, I asked him whether he would like to see the interior of what he had paid so much for; it might not prove an enjoyable sight from the roughness and dirt of ages in combination with clumsily executed repairs while in unskilful hands; being unaccustomed to such sights he wisely restrained his curiosity and waited till all was placed right again.
But to our dealer and workman again; the former, taking up the two portions alternately, at last makes the remark, "Clean work, James, inside as well as out, good tool work, they had some steel in those days, plenty of glass-papering here apparently, unlike some others made at the same period, time seems to have been no object. Possibly the maker was well paid for his work, if not he ought to have been." To these observations the workman only gives a sniff in reply. He thinks that all this can be quite equalled at the present day, if a fellow is really well paid; but this is reckoning with only a part of the subject. A further exclamation of admiration comes from his chief—"Think, James, what a wonderful draughtsman this old Italian was; mind you, this is not a copy, traced from something else as we should do now-a-days, but a first idea, an original design; it is in some respects a departure from the man's best known patterns, good as them, however, although differing; look at the way those lines run from point to point, what ease! the tenderness with which the sound holes are drawn, the lightness and freedom! that man was a born artist if ever there was one!" Another sniff from James, who doesn't believe in born anything, but that good work comes with good tools and a reasonable prospect ahead of good remuneration for extra trouble. "Don't see, sir, why we can't put a bit of purfling round as clean as that! some of those French copies are as cleanly purfled as any part of this!" He is released from the necessity of further illustration by his chief interposing: "Quite true, James, and if these mechanical copyists had put as much energy into efforts at truly original and artistic designs as they have in copying that which seems to have been laid down for their guidance, they would have advanced very many steps further than they have done in the essentials of the art—in the highest sense of the term—of making violins. But we must get to work, there are lots of repairs of all sorts for us to get through the next fortnight, and as there is comparatively little anxious work about this job we will get it out of hand!"
The violin is now subjected to another and final inspection before the active treatment is commenced. "How about that wormhole, James, that we were worrying over before the separation of the upper table?" "That's just what I've been looking at, sir, and as it doesn't go more than a quarter of an inch into the wood—I've tried it with this bit of wire—the maker must have cut this bit of pine from a worm-eaten log, perhaps because it was old and likely to give a good tone!" "There you're wrong, James!" the chief interposes—he is rather inclined to snub his assistant when that essentially practical man gives any indication of a flight of fancy—"the 'worm' is no sign of age, I have known it to affect wood that has been cut but a year before its discovery, and do you think those old Italians were such fools as to make fiddles that would be only fit to be heard when tried by their descendants two hundred years after they died?" James collapses, and getting a basin with some warm water, a cloth and a piece of sponge, proceeds to smear the latter up and down and round the sides of the instrument. The sponge and water soon show signs of the work in hand. "Very dirty, sir, hasn't been washed for a hundred years, I should think! There's a ticket, too, but I can't make out much of it. I'll wash it over a bit." He then begins to try the deciphering, taking one letter at a time. "There's a large H at one part, the next is A or O and then U or N, and next to it there's R or D; its either London or perhaps its one of those we came across the other day, Laurentius something." "It's neither one nor the other," his chief almost roars, while rapidly striding across the room to his assistant, who hastily hands over the portion of the violin, glad to leave the regions of speculation. "There's nothing about that fiddle having any connection with any place but Cremona," and the chief bumps down into a chair to further study the mysterious ticket. "You have not improved that ticket by washing it, the date has gone and the greater part of the print; you should never wash a ticket, that is how the very large majority of even well preserved ones have lost the date or part of it written with ink in which gum has been one of the ingredients and which is easily dissolved, the best way after dusting it is to get some bread and rub gently over the surface, and if that does not bring out the letters or figures you may mostly consider them past recovery."
James does not think much of this attempt at instilling wise maxims into his prosaic constitution, and replies "I don't think you could have seen more letters before I washed the ticket than after, sir, the plainest were what I read out, which looked more like London than anything else. There was another word underneath which I think was alum, that's English, isn't it?" This is intended as a kind of parting shot in a contest during which he has been slightly uncomfortable. The chief answers rather snappishly, "No! that's Latin. I must tell you that at the time so many of the finest fiddles were made the use of Latin was very fashionable, being used much on monumental decorations, signatures to works of art generally, down to the prescriptions of doctors, which we have not got rid of yet; that is the former, the latter are always with us and will be. But stop! why, after all, this is not the original ticket, I think it is one pasted over another! hand me that camel hair brush and the water." This being done, the wetted brush is repeatedly passed over the ticket so as to keep it moist till the water has soaked through and dissolved sufficiently the glue or gum that held it close. After a while, the corner is gently lifted up with the aid of a pointed knife, the end caught hold of and pulled; by degrees the whole of the upper ticket is lifted off, leaving to the pleased eyes of the chief the original ticket in all the better preservation for being covered up. "Yes, there it is! I knew I was right, a fine Nicolas Amati! I believe that top one is the remains of a Laurentius Guadagnini Alumnus Stradivarius, which some wiseacre thought a more appropriate title."
The Guadagnini ticket is laid by till dry and then placed in a small drawer in which are a number of others of various makers and nationalities; it may emerge from its obscurity some day and become of use so far as the condition or its legibility will allow.
The upper table is taken in hand again by the chief, turned over repeatedly and both sides of the border carefully examined for the presence of any cracks, long or short, old or new, the latter being scarcely expected, as the assistant is of a sufficiently cautious disposition naturally and as yet has not been debited with any charge of injury to his work from over haste or carelessness. "There is a very small crack at the lower right side about one inch from the centre, I think, but let us be certain, have you got your glue in good order?" "Quite," is the reply, "fresh and strong too, sir." "Just see if that mark is really a crack or not." The assistant takes the portion in hand, holds it to the light, examines it from different angles of vision, and finally resolves to test it in the following way; holding the plate of pine carefully with the left hand, with the right holding a "camel hair" dipped in clear water, he passes it over the possible crack, then taking the plate again in both hands, with the thumbs placed on each side of the mark, the fingers being underneath, it is very gently bent backward and forward, and the wetted part closely watched. Presently, the water is observed to gradually disappear, having worked its way into the crack. "It is one, sir, but quite clean as if newly done." By this time, the slight bending, or what is really the case, the opening and shutting of the crack by the movement, causes some minute white bubbles to appear along the course, these give an indication of the extent of the fracture, which is something over an inch in length. "I think it is the result of the contraction of the wood from being kept in such a dry place, it is not a repairer's crack, which would have extended further into the centre," so the chief observes, "get the hand vice ready with the paper, and I will hold the parts together." At this time, the fresh warm glue is being applied in a similar way to that of the clear water, the latter enables the glue to work in or follow the course of the moisture, and similar, but whiter, small bubbles are seen along the direction of the crack under the manipulation as before described. The small hand-vice, having several layers of stout white paper or card inserted at the opening or between the teeth, is slackened to receive the part of the border to be held together. The chief, holding the plate with the fractured part furthest from him, and consequently in front of his assistant, it is held in position firmly by both hands. "One moment, James!" he exclaims, "this border has had little or no wear, and the surface is so fresh, that if we use card or paper alone we shall leave a mark of the pressure, hand over those thin pieces of cork and let us put them between the paper and the metal of the vice, there, that will be better for standing the pressure, more elastic you see." The vice under the fresh conditions is now applied, the parts of the table or plate are brought together accurately and held tightly in position by the fingers, the glue exuding from the crack where it can be seen just beyond the reach of the paper, the screw is turned tightly by the assistant, and with the remark, "that will do," the whole is left to him for placing aside while drying.