In the Brescian instruments, for instance, there is, as a general rule, no hollowing near the edges of the backs and bellies, nor any bordering ridge like that discussed above. They consequently have an appearance of strength and solidity, but lack the style and elegance of the Cremona school. The Amati family, on the other hand, gifted with a keen sense of harmony and beauty of form, gave perfect expression to these ideas in their works; but, unfortunately, at some sacrifice of dignity of appearance. Stradivari attained the happy mean between these two extremes, and carried his ideas into execution with such perfection of detail, that all his successors have had to content themselves with the rôle of copyists, and none have been found to improve upon their model.
There can be no doubt that the Salabue Violin has exercised a strong influence upon modern copyists. The Turin maker, Pressenda (1777 to 1854), who was acquainted with Count Salabue, and his pupil Rocca (d. 1862), who knew Tarisio, were evidently familiar with the instrument. Rocca in particular would seem to have made it his ideal, for we find reproduced in nearly all his copies of Stradivari the characteristic sharp bordering ridge, slanting sound holes, and general flat model of the Salabue. As soon as it came into Vuillaume’s possession, he set to work to reproduce it in every detail, and his copies of this instrument are unquestionably the finest violins he made. They are true to the original in bearing no traces of wear; but a few of them are fitted with carved pegs and tailpiece similar to those added by him and still attached to the Salabue. The carving on the tailpiece represents the figure of the Madonna with the infant Christ. Nearly all the other Parisian and Mirecourt makers in turn have copied Vuillaume, but without his advantages in ability, and in having the original model to work from. The copies of the present day are becoming in consequence more and more ridiculous exaggerations of the peculiar features of the Salabue.
The year 1716 appears not to have been prolific of great works from Stradivari, as we know at present of only one fine violin of that year beside the Salabue. This is the one known as the Cessol, belonging to Mr. William Croall. The previous year, 1715, produced five famous violins, two now belonging to Herr Joachim, one to Señor Sarasate, one to G. Haddock, Esq., and another known as the Alard. The year 1717 again produced two notable instruments, a violin belonging to J. G. Orchar, Esq., and the well-known violoncello for many years the property of Bonamy Dobree, Esq., and now in the possession of E. I. Holden, Esq.
For an appreciative description of the beauties of the Salabue we may quote an enthusiast, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, whose writings and lectures upon his favourite study have made the name of Stradivari familiar to thousands of the English-speaking people. Mr. Haweis, referring to the exhibition of the instrument in London, in 1872, wrote—“It is for the first time unveiled in all its intact glory to the gaze of thousands to whom for years it has been a kind of myth. It is as though the ivory Minerva of Phidias, that stood once in the Parthenon, should be discovered hidden away with the utmost care in some deep dry and hermetically-sealed sepulchre of the East, and brought over scatheless to be set up amidst the Elgin fragments. So stands this matchless new violin amidst its time-worn, rubbed, and fractured brethren. It is of the grand pattern; it is massive without looking massive; its strength is hidden beneath its grace. The back is in two parts; the wood very choice. The fine graining of the flat belly is remarkable. The holes are delicately cut, the left f a shade lower than the right; a practice so common that it must have been intentional with Stradivarius, his fine eye not tolerating even there a suspicion of mechanical work. We see in this violin what the perfect Stradivari corners were. In almost every other known specimen the corners and the wood are both rubbed. In Le Messie they are untouched and clean-looking; wondrously sharp and wide awake, yet without vulgarity, and of a perfect finish. The ease and neatness of the purfling is incomparable, and over the whole instrument lies a thick rich red brown varnish wondrous to behold; the washing of it is level and lavish, and unworn by time or use. The brush seems to have left it about a week. The neck has been lengthened by M. Vuillaume. The head is light and graceful rather than heavy or powerful, the scroll thrown off like a ribbon lightly curled round the finger and drawn in; one side of the scroll is slightly lower than the other, the fluting smooth, with a surface like that of clear still water, and the lines of the scroll picked out with a thick rim of black varnish that serves to accentuate the outlines of the head, just as purfling calls attention to the contour of the back and belly. In nearly every other violin this black head-rim has been almost entirely effaced, but in Le Messie it remains to show us the maker’s intention. He meant you to take up his violin and see at a glance its whole outline traced and emphasized by a sharp purfling carried out in the head by a deep rim of black varnish. This brooding over the beauty of curves, this anxiety that they should be manifest to all men is most instructive and touching; neither the purfling nor the black varnish added to the tone, nor even the preservation of the instrument—it was the art instinct of the old makers piercing the manufacture.”
Vincent Brooks Day & Son Lith.
That ardent student and devotee of the violin, Mr. Charles Reade, has made some suggestive remarks upon the method of varnishing which he supposed Stradivari to have pursued; and, as Mr. Reade makes reference to the Salabue, his words may prove of interest in the present connection. He preferred to describe the violin as the Vuillaume Strad, and while agreeing with his objection to the name which has clung to it, we regret that the title conferred upon it by Tarisio, the “Salabue,” has not been retained. That name has the merit of historical distinctiveness, and would create a most desirable precedent in violin nomenclature, as a set off to the absurd and confusing nicknames which have become so common. There are no less than three “Jupiter Strads”; one “Emperor Strad”; two “King” Josephs (Guarnieri); and another of the same maker called “Le Diable.”
Mr. Reade begins with some general suggestions as to the great maker’s method, and says: “He began with three or four coats of oil varnish containing some common gum. He then laid on several coats of red varnish made by simply dissolving some fine red unadulterated gum in spirit; the spirit evaporated and left pure gum lying in a rich oil varnish from which it chips by its dry nature and its utter want of chemical affinity to the substratum.... The Vuillaume Strad, not being worn, does not assist us in this particular line of argument; but it does not contradict us. Indeed there are a few little chips in the top varnish of the back, and they reveal a heterogeneous varnish below, with its rich yellow colour like the bottom varnish of the Pawle bass. Moreover, if you look at the top varnish closely you shall see what you never see in a new violin of our day; not a vulgar glare upon the surface, but a gentle inward fire. Now that inward fire, I assure you, is mainly caused by the oil varnish below; the orange varnish above has a heterogeneous foil below. That inward glow is characteristic of all foils. If you could see the Vuillaume Stradivarius at night, and move it about in the light of a candle, you would be amazed at the fire of the foil and the refraction of light....