As to the tonal position of the modern violin, there is no denying the fact that it has long been an object of suspicion. The wonder is not that this suspicion should exist, but that a new fiddle should have any tonal repute left at all. Let us review some of the causes responsible for this condition of affairs.
In the “good old days” of violin making, say in 1725, when the most famous of all makers were working, surrounded by many who, if less famous, were able to hold their own, there were no fiddle factories swamping the market with machine-made trash, belittling and depreciating the (then) new and less numerous hand-made instrument. There were no dealers in, say, the violins of da Salò, Maggini, and the first Amati, to the exclusion of the new ones of Stradivari, Bergonzi, and Joseph Guarnerius del Gesù. There were no collectors of the old and rare who disregarded the work and tone of the living builders. There were no books on the history of the violin devoting sixteen pages to, let us say, Duiffoprugcar, who worked two hundred years previously, and indicating the living makers thus: “Stradivari, Antonio, now living”—when mentioned at all. There were no “Journals devoted to the interests of violinists,” in which Carlo Bergonzi might have read an article on the work of Antonio Amati, filled with fulsome praise and flattery of the old, but containing little, or nothing, about what was being done there in Cremona at the time. There were no players of the violin who preferred a battered fiddle, made by some unknown maker in 1592, to one made in his home town of Cremona three years previously—in 1722. Having none of these things to contend against, their lines were truly laid in pleasant places if we compare them with the builders of 1916, who have all these things, and many more besides, against the popularity of their instruments. In passing, it is worthy of note that, whatever influence there is against a just consideration of the modern tone work,[F] this influence does not in the least affect the sale of factory fiddles. These are still sold at the rate of some hundred thousand instruments per annum to those who never read fiddle books or literature; to whom a fiddle is just a fiddle; who place all old fiddles in one class, and all new fiddles in another—and this kind of buyer is far more numerous than might be supposed, if figures did not place the matter beyond doubt. But every worker who builds his violin by hand, selecting costly materials and doing his work with loving and painstaking care, knows what this influence means. He knows there are surrounding him many influences, all of which lead the tone-seeker in one direction, namely, towards the old.
Yet the fine modern instruments still survive, and are growing rapidly in tone repute. In spite of everything they still find players whose only consideration is TONE, just as TONE was the only consideration in the days when the old makers flourished. If the new violin can, in the face of all that is against its popularity, still find this favour, it must, indeed, have tone merit so exceptional as to be far in advance of many of those old violins whose praises are so persistently advertised. Everything considered, this strikes us as a happy augury for the immediate future of the new fiddle. I venture to predict that its makers will not be compelled to spend a century or so in the tomb before their good work is appreciated. That these new violins are becoming a factor seriously to be reckoned with is not lost upon those whose interest it is to foster the trade in old instruments of less tonal value. After all, it is tone value that will decide the question between the old and the new, and it is possible the day is not far distant when old violins (outside those by the famous creators of grand tone) will have to stand or fall upon their tone-merit, rather than upon the claim of having been made by some obscure or unknown maker in an equally uncertain but ancient day. Meantime modern makers must expect new work to be ignored by all save those who have no old axe to grind; to be condemned, or “damned by faint praise;” all of which it has stood and will continue to stand. Its claim is founded upon a tone-base too substantial to be shaken. All it requires is a fair trial and comparison with the products of the old masters; and the more famous the old master the better the test; for it may easily prove itself superior to an ordinary old violin without being in any respect remarkable in tone. In order that no question may arise as to the accuracy of this statement, I give, in the next chapter, the results in a contest of tone between six old master violins, and six new instruments by living makers.
I believe that most of us who are lovers of the fiddle began as idolaters of the instrument, rather than of its tone. Of such lovers this may be said: in our early faith we were prone to accept many strange and uncouth gods; but, as we grew older, we became more particular; we selected for our allegiance one out of many; but as even idols cost money, we were not always privileged to possess the one which was our heart’s desire, but worshipped it from afar, meantime living in hope and consoling ourselves with a less potent fetish. It is said of the Chinese that, when an idol ceases to answer requirements, it is chopped in pieces and another purchased. Our progress with fiddles is not dissimilar, only we sell our idol. And thus many of us spend our lives—and money—seeking fiddles when, in reality, it is tone we are after. That we so seldom find it is due to the fact that we make up our minds beforehand where it will abide. Never, I believe, has imagination played me such scurvy tricks as when it caused me, during the years of my novitiate in tone, to invest some ancient and tubby “gourd” with the dulcet voice of a “real Cremona.” I look back upon those distant days with real humiliation. And I recall the assurance with which I clung to my faith!—mainly because I had no such illuminating guide to tone as the one presented in the next chapter.
CHAPTER VII
OLD TONE AND NEW—A CONTEST
On June 22, 1912, the London Daily Mail published the following from its Paris correspondent: “A contest took place in Paris last night which seems to vindicate the contention that modern violins are as good in tone as those of ancient make, for which thousands are paid by enthusiasts. A number of violins were played in a dark room, and at the end of the competition a vote was taken from the numerous musical and artistic audience present, with the result that the finest was judged to be a Belgian instrument dated 1912; the second was a French 1911 violin, and not until the third came a Stradivarius, valued at more than £3000.”
There are lacking in the above report many details which cannot fail to interest the tone-seeker. I am, therefore, indebted to Mr. D. I. Cardozo, of Amsterdam, for a more extended communication on the subject, which I print in full. While this, as well as similar contests, are extremely interesting, the lesson which they convey has already been learned by those who keep abreast of matters relating to tone. The present contest will serve to keep this lesson before violinists, and future competitions will spread further afield the high tone repute of the modern violin.
A point in this communication worthy of careful note is contained in the statement that the winning violins were both produced by a system which enabled their makers to control the tone. I have dealt with this subject at considerable length in previous chapters, but the bare statement of the fact in this communication is incomplete without adding that the maker not only controls and regulates the tone, but creates its quality as well. Manifestly he could “control” with equal facility a poor tone, and, if he possessed no ideals of what a fine tone should be, his regulation of it would still be barren of satisfactory results. Mr. Cardozo writes as follows:—
“Are the violins of the great Italian violin makers of the glorious time of their art—the Stradivarii, Guarnerii, Amatis, Grancinos—without rivals, and are the world’s famous violin players right in paying fabulous prices for such rare instruments and to prefer them to those of modern make? Or have the modern makers brought their art to such perfection that the preference for the old instruments is nothing but a prejudice; that a man with common sense must admit some makers are producing such beautiful instruments, with such a rich tone, that they are by no means inferior to the most beautiful old instruments known?
“This is not a question of yesterday nor of to-day, but the solution has come somewhat nearer since the competition held in Paris some weeks ago. Continuing the competitions of 1909 and 1910, when in both cases the violins and violoncellos of modern makers were awarded the first prize and the Stradivarii were beaten, the Monde Musical has opened this year a new competition.