Evidences in Stradivari's Work of Old Age—His Death and Burial—Work Left by Him—The Advance in Value of His Work Since His Decease.
RETURNING to the analysis of the individuality of the mechanical work on the violins of the latest epoch of Stradivari, one or two further details are worth consideration. The size, style and tool work of the scroll have always been admitted to take up a large share in the estimation of evidence present for identification of authorship. In some of the late specimens of Stradivari we can see at once that the hand has become less firm, the bold turns seem to have lost much of their former vigorous expression, and although thick enough in edge are closer, and impress the connoisseur of the inability of the artificer to spend more time and attention than was absolutely necessary. The groove down the back to the shell is less refined than previously, besides being more heavily gouged at the termination. Almost in contrast with these parts there are seen on other "very late Strads" a neatly cut shell widening out a trifle and minus the thick edging; an examination of the turns of the scroll will reveal the fact of its having been gouged in quite a different manner, the declevity being more concave, the result of running the gouge along the course instead of towards the centre which was the manner of the Amatis. This hollowing out of the turns was so frequently done by Carlo Bergonzi that it might be called his most natural mode of treatment; we can here see what evidence there is of this maker's probable help in the work of his master. If we admit the possibility of these being entirely Antonio Stradivari's handiwork, then there were more phenomenal aspects of the master's working powers left for our consideration than he had hitherto given the slightest hint of during his extraordinarily long career.
THE CHURCH OF ST. DOMENICO.
Taking therefore all the facts at our command in connection with the circumstances of the time, and the artist himself with his extended life, sifting these carefully we find the residue left is,—that his working powers gradually lessened in a perfectly natural way and that such entire work as left his hands during the last few, say six or seven years was, taken at the best, small in quantity; they came forth as from the last flickering embers of a decaying power whose influence, bequeathed to the world at large, was destined to increase indefinitely and whose secrets were left unrevealed, to be sought for earnestly, but in vain, by generation after generation.
Time, he with his hour glass, passing by the home of Antonio Stradivari in Cremona, found him full of years and honour among his own little world of friends and acquaintances, for beyond the borders of his country his name could have been known to few, and those only recognising him as a clever and successful practitioner in perhaps their own craft; his world wide fame had as yet received but a slight impetus when it became known that no more of the unapproachable gems of art were to issue from the unassuming house in the square of S. Domenico, Cremona.
Antonio Stradivari died in his 94th year at Cremona on the 18th of December, 1737, and was buried in the chapel of the Rosary in the Church of San Domenico. This church was situated exactly opposite his house, where, standing at his door—as he must have done many a time—the tomb which was to be his final resting-place came directly on the line of vision in front of him, but within the third recess or chapel past the intervening wall. So far as our scanty knowledge goes, there were no circumstances connected with his death that called for any special notice at the time. Possibly little more was remarked by the neighbours than that the aged musical instrument maker of the Piazza di San Domenico had died, and his two sons were to carry on the business. Perhaps none of them gave a thought to the immensely enhanced value of each of his works of art—or as they may have described them—the goods that he sold—that might be remaining two centuries forward.
He had lived to an almost patriarchal age, over ninety-three years. It is rare to find in the world's history a leading light among professors of science or art completing such a career of almost incessant labour both mental and physical. It is still more so to find the work of such a genius, large as was the quantity, increasing in value by "leaps and bounds" as time progressed after his decease. Most probably at the present day—supposing there to be extant as much as one-eighth of what he put forth—and that may be very much over the mark, the market value of what is recognised as his handiwork would still be a very long way above that of the whole of the work put forth throughout his life. It is on record that when he died there were ninety violins remaining unsold. There may be several good reasons for this; among them the fact that Carlo Bergonzi and Joseph Guarneri were working in rivalry at the time, and bidding for public favour less on account of fine workmanship than force and magnificence of style and general aspect, and that public attention was to some extent diverted in their direction; further, and perhaps more cogent, the recognition of the great brilliancy and largeness of Joseph Guarneri's tone, that must have seemed to the musical cognoscenti of Cremona remarkably fresh and vigorous.
But when the master had departed it was not long before the loss was seen to be irreparable. His work was sought for, there being none other of the kind to supply its place; further and further as time advanced it was becoming more and more evident that his like was not to be hoped for, notwithstanding the favour with which the public viewed the two rivals who were destined to work for a comparatively short period. When these two at last disappeared, it was a signal for another rise in the monetary value of Stradivari's work, and which was to continue progressing indefinitely until such time when there may be signs of an approaching renaissance.