The effect of this beautiful coruscation upon the backs of Violins is obtained by cutting the wood upon the cross, or, as the French term it, sur maille. It is seen, though rarely, on backs divided, when the wood is particularly handsome in curl. The varnish on such instruments is of a rich golden hue, highly transparent; it is lightly laid on. The size of these works varies; they are sometimes a trifle smaller than the other specimens of Guarneri. In the last epoch we find Violins of an altogether bolder conception, dating from about 1740 and a little later. They are massively constructed, and have in them material of the finest acoustic properties. The sound-hole loses the pointed form so much associated with Guarneri: the purfling is embedded, the edges heavy, the corners somewhat grotesque, the scroll has a mixture of vigour, comicality, and majesty, which may force a smile and then a frown from the connoisseur. The comparison may seem a little forced, but the head of a thoroughbred English mastiff, if carved, might give some idea of the appearance sought to be described. Mr. Reade says of these instruments with much truth, "Such is the force of genius, that I believe in our secret hearts we love these impudent Fiddles best, they are so full of chic." Among the Violins of this period may be mentioned Paganini's, and M. Alard's, both rare specimens. These splendid chefs-d'oeuvre are strangely mixed with those commonly known as the "prison Fiddles"—a sorry title. The name arose from the story current in Italy that Guarneri made some Fiddles whilst undergoing imprisonment, and that the gaoler's daughter procured him the necessary materials, which were of the coarsest kind. M. Fétis refers to the story, and mentions that Benedetto Bergonzi, who died in 1840, used to relate it. Allusion is also made to it by Vincenzo Lancetti, to whom it was doubtless communicated by Count Cozio di Salabue. These references lead to the belief that the tradition has some foundation in fact, though not to the extent that he ended his days in durance vile. Lancetti refers to the offence as an encounter with some person in which his antagonist lost his life.11 A deplorable circumstance of this kind may have occurred without the accused having been criminally at fault, though he may have suffered the penalty of being so. His reported love of wine and pleasure, his idleness and irregularity, in all probability were statements added by successive narrators of the prison story. A recent search made by Canon Bazzi in the obituary registers of the cathedral at Cremona, discovers the fact that one Giacomo Guarneri died in prison on October 8, 1715. Bearing in mind how frequently we find fact and fiction jumbled together in historical pursuits, the prison story in connection with the name of Giuseppe Guarneri may have no other foundation than a story, long current, that a person named Guarneri was imprisoned, and wholly regardless of identity.
11 Alexander Gagliano is the subject of a similar story.
I have referred to the three periods of this remarkable man's life in relation to his art, and it remains to point out some other features in his work and material. His selection of wood, when he had the opportunity of exercising his own judgment, was all that could be desired, and the belly wood in particular was of the choicest description. He seems to have obtained a piece of pine, of considerable size, possessing extraordinary acoustic properties, from which he made nearly the whole of his bellies. The bellies made from this wood have a singular stain, running parallel with the finger-board on either side, and unmistakable, though frequently seen but faintly. If we may judge from the constant use he made of this material, it would seem that he regarded it as a mine of wealth. The care he bestowed, when working it, that none should be lost, affords clear evidence of the value that he set upon this precious piece of wood. I have met with three Violins by Carlo Bergonzi, having bellies evidently cut from the same piece of pine, and these instruments passed as the work of Guarneri for a long period. The sycamore that he used was varied both in appearance and quality; it is chiefly of a broad description of grain, the whole-backs being impressively marked like a tiger's skin. There are a few instances where, in his jointed-backs, the markings of the wood are turned upwards.
Upon examining the works of Guarneri with respect to their graduation, it is found that he varied very much as to the quantity of wood left in the several instruments. Notwithstanding these differences, however, it will be found, upon closer comparison of the thickness, that there is every reason to be sure that he had a guiding principle in their management. They vary with the quality of the wood; and hard material was treated as needing a slighter solidity than wood of a softer nature.
His workmanship in numerous instances is, without doubt, careless; but, even in the instruments where this negligence is most observed, there is an appearance which at once excites the admiration of the beholder, and forces from the most exacting the admission that, after every deduction on account of want of finish, there remains a style defying all imitation. Who can fail to recognise the quaint head, into which he seems to have thrown such singular character by the mere turn of his chisel, and which, when imitated, always partakes of the ludicrous, and betrays the unhappy copyist who is unable to compass that necessary turn! In matters of the highest art it is always so; the possessor of genius is constantly showing some last resort, as it were, impregnable to imitation.
The sound-hole, also, of Guarneri always preserves its distinctive character, and a grotesque humour which at once pleases the eye, though it is found to vary considerably with the three periods of his life. Again, the button—that portion of the back against which the heel of the neck rests, which forms a prominent mark in all Violins, and an evidence of style, has a remarkably pronounced development in the Violins of Guarneri, and, in fact, may be said to give a vitality to the whole work. There are many instances where excellent and original specimens of workmanship have been, speaking artistically, ruined for want of skill in handling that simple factor of the Violin.
Having endeavoured to point out the chief features in the work and style of this remarkable maker, I have only to add that his imitators would far exceed in number all the Violin-makers that the city of Cremona ever sheltered. There has ever been a diversity of purpose with these Guarneri imitators, distinct from those of Stradivari and others. They may be divided into three orders, viz., the bonâ fide copyist, the subtle copyist, and the wholesale copyist. The first sets about making his instrument resemble the original as closely as possible, and when completed, sends it forth as a copy, and nothing else. Among these legitimate imitators were Lupot, Gand, Vuillaume, and others. The subtle copyist takes advantage of the disturbed styles belonging to Guarneri, coupled with his misfortunes, manufactures and translates at will. He "spots" a back on an old fiddle, in which he sees Guarneri in embryo; he secures it. In his possession is a belly which, with a little skilful manoeuvring of sound-holes and corners, may be accommodated to the back. The sides need well matching in point of colour; workmanship is purely secondary. The scroll he sets himself to carve, giving it a hideous, burglar-like appearance. The inevitable label is inserted, and the Violin leaves the translator's hand a "Prison Joseph." Now comes the difficulty. How is this "Joseph," unaccustomed to elbow his legitimate namesakes in the world of Fiddles, to maintain the character he has assumed? The subtle copyist puzzles his brain without arriving at anything very satisfactory. He resolves to slip it into a sale of household effects. It is described in the catalogue, in glowing terms, as having been in the possession of Geminiani (he not being alive to dispute the assertion). Previous to the sale the instrument is viewed. The knowing ones pass it by with contempt. The half-informed turn it over and over, puzzled, and replace it in its case disconsolate. The thoroughly ignorant looks inside; "Joseph Guarnerius Cremonensis faciebat 1724," in old type, stares him in the face; he puts the bow on the strings and demands the maker's name—his thoughts are echoed back in gentle sounds: "Joseph Guarnerius." He returns it to its case, shuts the lid, and exultingly sallies forth, congratulating himself again upon his good fortune in having at last the opportunity of securing the real thing at the price of "a mere song." The time of sale arrives. The beauties of the instrument are dwelt upon by the auctioneer; he begs to be permitted to say two hundred guineas to commence with. Silence around. "Well, gentlemen, shall I say one hundred and fifty guineas?" Dogged silence. "Come, come, gentlemen, this is mere trifling. A 'Joseph Guarnerius' for one hundred and fifty guineas! Shall I say one hundred guineas?" The customary witty frequenter of sale-rooms, unable to restrain himself longer, cries out, "I'll give yer a pound!" The auctioneer sees the whole thing; it is a copy that he is selling, and not the original. The pound bid is capped by another from our friend, who fondly fancies himself behind the scenes. The subtle copyist, seeing his eagerness, bids on his bid, and the "Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù" falls with the hammer to the anxious buyer for ten pounds. He demands possession of it at once, in case another may be substituted, and retires, perfectly satisfied with his day's work. The wholesale copyists are those who manufacture Violins in Bavaria and France in large factories, where the Violins undergo all kinds of processes to make them modern antiques. The wood is put into ovens and baked until it assumes the required brownness, or steeped in strong acids until it becomes more like a piece of charred wood than anything else; the sharp edges are removed by the file; the wear of years is effected in a few moments by rubbing down those parts subject to friction; it is ticketed and dated, regardless alike of orthography and chronology, the date being generally before or after the original's existence. These imitations are so barefaced as to render them comparatively harmless.
GUIDANTI, Giovanni, Bologna, about 1740. High model; sound-hole long; purfling badly let in; the outer form inelegant, particularly the middle bouts. At the Exhibition at Milan, 1881, a Viola d'Amore was exhibited, signed "Joannes Guidantus, fecit Bononiæ, anno 1715," ornamented with a beautiful head artistically carved, representing a blindfolded Cupid.